Chapter 11

 

Paul cranked the John Deere to life and pulled into the barn aisle as Ben joined us at the pasture fence. The herd swooped down to the far end of the field, but before long, one mare stopped to paw the snow, followed by another. In the next minute, the rest of the herd lost interest in their romp and joined in the search for blades of withered grass buried beneath the snow. The three of us kicked the snow off our boots as we trudged into the storage area. Paul was waiting for us in the barn aisle.

He stood by the first stall on the right, leaning on a pitchfork. "It's about time. This damned snow's gonna make us late unless we pick up the pace."

We cut over to the tool rack. Ben selected a pitchfork, and Ronnie argued that it was his favorite.

Ben rolled his eyes and held out the fork. "Here, have it. What do I care?" Ben lifted another pitchfork off the rack and hefted it, testing its balance. "Paul's right, you know? Last time it snowed like this, we was a hour late getting home, ain't that right, Ronnie?"

Ronnie nodded. "They yank Tiller off a crew to run the plow, what do you expect?"

"And Bruce didn't stay for the morning work, either," Ben said. "Remember?"

That caught my attention when I realized they were talking about the day before Bruce quit.

Ronnie grabbed the newest-looking rake before anyone else had a chance. "What was worse, it was a Friday."

"Yeah, well, it's not like you had a date or anything," Ben said, and Ronnie punched his shoulder. "Hey, cut it out." Ben chuckled and kneaded his arm. "Course, we would've been later if Dr. Nash had done her rounds like usual."

"Why didn't she?" I said, and Ben and Ronnie turned and looked at me. Maybe they were beginning to wonder why I asked so many questions, so I threw in another. "Does the snow alter her rounds, too?"

"Not usually," Ronnie said as Ben eyed the rake he'd selected. "I think she went up to the house."

I grabbed a rake with three missing tines. "Is that unusual?"

Ben and Ronnie looked at each other, and Ronnie raised his eyebrows. "Never known it to happen since I been here, and I been here a long time."

"Yeah. Dr. Nash is real efficient." Ben tested his rake in the dirt. "She never breaks her routine."

"Not 'nless she gone, like today," Ronnie said.

"Well, yeah. There's that." Ben hooted. "Hey, maybe we won't be late, after all."

Paul stepped around the corner and scowled at us. "You shits keep running your mouths, we're gonna be late, Dr. Nash or no Dr. Nash."

The three of us listened to him clomp down the aisle; then Ronnie mumbled under his breath, "Must have a hot date planned."

"Ronnie," I said quietly. "Do you think he ever did anything more than shove Bruce?"

"Why?" Ronnie whispered.

"I work with Maddie, remember? It would be nice to know what to expect."

Ronnie scratched his head, and the dreadlocks sticking between his fingers jerked around like bunches of dried cornstalks. "Nah. He talks the talk but don't got the balls for the walk."

"I hope you're right."

A smile broke across Ronnie's face. "Just keep your distance from his girl, Steve."

"And what if Bruce didn't?"

Ronnie pondered that. "I don't know, Steve. I just don't know."

We got busy on the stalls. I was on my third one when Ronnie's walky-talky squawked, and Elaine's thin voice vibrated from the speaker.

"Ten-four," Ronnie said, and the talky squawked again as he poked his head in the doorway. "Head over to the clinic, okay?"

"All right."

"Find Elaine. She'll tell you what to do."

The cloudbank had fragmented in the east, and broad shafts of sunlight cut between purple-bottomed clouds and streaked toward the earth. The breeze had kicked up, and the air was filled with tiny specks of snow that glittered against the sky.

The farm's cell phone rang as I slipped behind the steering wheel. "Cline."

A female voice giggled. "You sound so serious," Rachel said.

I smiled. "Of course I do. What's up?"

"We got eight inches here. I don't think you should drive up tonight."

"No big deal," I said, then belatedly remembered the piece-of-shit tires I had on the truck. Adding weight to the bed only worked to a point.

"I know it isn't for you, but I'd spend half my evening worrying about you. Plus, I need to study. We have a test Monday."

"Did that guy bother you last night?"

"He wasn't there. Like I said, he hardly ever comes to class."

I started up the Ford and shifted into gear. "What about this weekend? You think you could come down? I work most of Saturday, but I get off at midnight. You could stay the night and Sunday day."

"I don't know. It depends on how I'm doing getting ready for this test." She hesitated. "Is Corey going to be there?"

"I expect so, but that doesn't matter."

"What do you two do?"

"Search Bruce's apartment, talk to people, spend a lot of time in the library combing through newspaper accounts."

"Sounds like fun." She paused. "Does Corey stay in the apartment . . . overnight?"

I smiled. "No. If she's here both days, she books a hotel room. It would be awkward, otherwise."

"Just wondered," Rachel said with a mixture of relief and embarrassment in her voice. "What if I come up next weekend, after I get this test behind me?"

"Great." I eased the truck onto Stone Manor. "I miss you."

"I miss you, too."

She said goodbye. I listened to the connection break, then slowly flipped the phone closed.

I found Elaine in the clinic, yanking our timecards out of the wall rack. She'd forgone nylons and a skirt in favor of a pair of black jeans and practical boots. She glanced over her shoulder when I opened the door.

Elaine shuddered. "Close that door. It's freezing."

I stepped in and clicked the door shut. "You need something?"

"Yeah. Give me a minute." She took another card out of the rack and carefully inserted it among the others.

Elaine grabbed another card, and apparently one was stuck to the back, because it floated to the ground. I picked it up. As I straightened, I noticed a card protruding from the bottom of the rack, wedged between the metal and drywall. I handed the card to Elaine, then crouched down and pried the other card free. I glanced at the name, and an icy tingle shot down my spine and coiled around my gut.

Claremont, Bruce was printed across the top edge.

I read through the dates and times of his last week at Stone Manor. Nothing looked out of the ordinary until the last day. He'd punched out on Friday morning at six-fifty when he normally wouldn't have left until noon. At least that concurred with everyone's account of his last weekend. He'd gone home early because he hadn't felt well.

He'd punched back in Friday night, January thirty-first, eleven-fifty-five p.m. Right on time to start his long day.

But he never punched out.

Elaine nudged my arm. "Didn't you hear me? What is it?" She stepped to my side and peered at the card.

I handed it over.

"Oh, I wondered where this got to. I had to cut him a check based on an estimation."

I pointed to the card. "He went home early Friday."

"Yeah, somebody complained about that." She tapped the card. "Oh yeah, that was the morning it snowed, and everybody was annoyed because of the plowing and extra work. Thank God I overheard them. If I'd paid him all the way to noon, I'm sure Dr. Nash would have objected."

"The snow caused the horse trailer to arrive late," I mumbled more to myself than to her.

"I'm not surprised. I barely made it to work, myself, my tires are in such rotten shape." She sighed. "I hate snow. To top it off, the kids had a two-hour delay. And that's always a pain in the rear since I have to leave them with my mother."

"He came back at eleven-fifty-five," I said. "Why didn't he punch out in the morning?"

Elaine raised her elegant eyebrows and shrugged. She'd twisted her hair into a complicated pattern at the back of her head, and loose wisps fell to her shoulders.

"Was he fired? If that's the case, maybe he didn't bother."

"No. Monday morning, Victor told me he quit."

"Well, why didn't he punch out?"

"You got me," she said. "Maybe he forgot, or maybe he couldn't find his card. If you haven't noticed, they get jammed in here ever which way."

I pictured Ronnie struggling to find his card every morning and figured his eyesight was partly to blame.

A cluster of thin gold bracelets jangled on Elaine's wrist as she sorted and alphabetized the rest of the cards. She wore a green sweater with gold threads embedded in the weave and gold hoop earrings. She didn't seem in any hurry to be rid of me, and to be honest, I wasn't exactly eager to join Paul and the rest of the guys.

I considered how closely she worked with Dr. Nash and the insider information she was privy to as a result. One of the guys had mentioned that she was divorced, but I checked her ring finger to be sure. "Hey, I'm going to that party at Mr. Hadley's house tomorrow evening, but I'd rather not go alone. Would you like to go?"

"Are you kidding? Of course I would. Have you seen his house?"

I shook my head.

"Oh, my God. It's incredible, and I've only driven past. I can't imagine what it's like inside."

"Good. Then we're set. Is seven-thirty okay?"

"Oh, yes. Wonderful." Elaine scribbled her phone number on the back of an intake form used for new arrivals at the farm. Then she drew a map so I could find her house, and I had an uncomfortable feeling that she would send out a posse to hunt me down if I didn't show.

After she explained that the sidewalks needed to be cleared and told me where to find a shovel, I left her standing in the clinic, smiling to herself.

At noon, I drove back to the apartment, took a shower, and fixed a bowl of cornflakes. I sat at the dining room table, spread out the calendar and newspaper photocopies, and read through everything again.

I looked at what I'd printed in the block for Friday, January thirty-first. I'd noted that someone other than Bruce had dropped off his car, but I'd already decided that that wasn't likely. I was fairly certain his car was dropped off early Saturday morning, so I scratched out CAR and added LEFT WORK EARLY and SNOW. I flipped through the photocopies and verified that the accident on 95 happened early Friday morning. I printed I-95 in the block. Maddie told me that Bruce had been surprised when a van came in on his shift Friday morning, so I added VAN FROM FL to Friday's block, as well.

I dumped more cornflakes into the milk at the bottom of the bowl; then I read through the notations and tried to piece together Bruce's last weekend at Stone Manor.

It must have started snowing Thursday evening because the semi had jackknifed on the interstate around one in the morning. Bruce had reported to work around three, as usual. Then, he'd been surprised by the horse van from Florida, which I could only assume arrived late because of the tie-up on 95. And since the trailer originated from Florida, it offloaded at the bank barn. Bruce had left early Friday morning, supposedly because he hadn't felt well, and that had pissed everyone off since they expected to run late because of the snow. Then, for some reason unknown to the crew, Dr. Nash called off her barn rounds, an event unusual enough to catch Ronnie's attention. So, why the break from routine?

Saturday was Bruce's long day, and he'd returned to the farm Friday, just before midnight. And, as far as I was concerned, that's when it really got weird. Why did someone other than Bruce drop his vehicle in the apartment parking lot an hour and a half later?

That took me to Saturday morning. When the crew arrived at seven, Bruce wasn't in the clinic or on the farm as far as anyone could tell. But since he got off at seven, it didn't seem important. But why hadn't he punched out? And he certainly didn't come back Saturday evening because, according to Paul, Frank was working in Bruce's place when Maddie came in around midnight. And when, exactly, had Bruce told Mr. Nash he was quitting?

I drained the last of the milk from the cereal bowl and pondered a course of action. As far as leads went, I'd exhausted the apartment. That left trolling Sullivan's. I glanced at the photocopies spread across the table. Or the library. The coverage on the fires had led me nowhere. Not in the present, anyway. But they did point to the past. To a twenty-year-old fire that had taken the life of Dr. Nash's fiancé.

I grabbed Bruce's Ravens windbreaker and drove to the library.

Bodell had mentioned that the fire had happened in the fall, so finding an account didn't take long once I selected the correct year.

Nineteen years ago, on October twenty-third, splashed across the front page of the Fauquier Times-Democrat were the following words:

FIRE TAKES LIFE OF WARRENTON MAN

A fatal fire that took the life of a Warrenton man Tuesday evening has been ruled accidental according to county fire officials.

Lloyd Strauss, 24, of Warrenton, Virginia was killed in a blaze that leveled a horse stable at 8303 Bear Wallow Road early Tuesday evening. Strauss, a recent graduate of the University of Virginia School of Law, and an avid foxhunter, had returned from an afternoon of foxhunting with the Farmington Hunt Club in Albemarle County and was tending his horses when the fire broke out.

Strauss had recently announced his engagement to Deirdre Thorndike, daughter of Dr. and Mrs. Philip Thorndike of Stone Manor Farm. Funeral services will be held at Moser Funeral Home, Warrenton, Saturday at 11 a.m.

County Fire Marshal Cornelius Newcomb reported that the blaze appeared to have started in the haymow.

Seven horses also died in the fire.

I fed a quarter into the machine and printed the article. When I flipped forward in time, looking for his obituary, I blew right past it but found something much more interesting.

Five days after Strauss's death, a bank barn west of town went up in flames.

I advanced the knob slowly and felt a chill go down my spine when a grainy photograph of a huge barn engulfed in flames inched onto the screen. The headline read: EARLY MORNING FIRE RIPS THROUGH HUNDRED-YEAR-OLD BARN. Arson was the cause of a . . .

I didn't have to read further to know that the present was repeating the past.

But why?

All in all, I discovered write-ups covering two additional arsons in a ten-mile tract west of Warrenton. I backed up and scanned the months prior to the fatal Stone Manor fire and determined that the blaze that killed Strauss had been first in the series.

During my search, I also discovered a feature article, complete with an extensive photo spread, covering an extravagant engagement party thrown for the lucky couple at L'Auberge Chez Francois in Great Falls. By all accounts, the party had been a huge social event. The photos were grainy, but I spotted Dr. Nash and her betrothed easily enough. Actually, she'd been Deirdre Thorndike back then. In one photograph, they had their arms entwined as they prepared to sip from flutes filled with what I assumed was champagne. She'd tilted her head back, and as she gazed into Strauss's face, her expression was so intense and vibrant, I had an overpowering feeling that she'd been oblivious to everyone else in that room. Her long curls, entwined with ribbons and sequins and lace, tumbled onto her bare shoulders and complimented the simple evening gown she wore.

I read through the shorter engagement announcement, printed everything, then searched forward in time for coverage on Deirdre's engagement to Victor Nash. The microfiche tightened on the spool, and when I tried to advance the knob, the film broke.

"Shit." I glanced at my watch. I was ready to quit, anyway. I swung by Sullivan's for dinner and went to bed early.

* * *

I polished off my second glass of Piper-Heidsieck Rare--try saying that three times when you've got a buzz going--and reminded myself I was there for a reason.

Unfortunately, Elaine had ditched me as soon as we'd crossed the threshold, effectively eighty-sixing my plan to question her. But I had to hand it to Hadley. He sure knew how to throw a party. Platters of food weighted down tables in a long dining hall that overlooked a formal garden with one of those vanishing edge pools that blends with the horizon. In this case, a lake that, at the moment, was locked under a layer of snow. The fact that the outdoor pool was closed for the season was of no consequence since an indoor pool, located behind a glass wall to my right, was in full swing. A steady stream of guests traipsed outside, braving the freezing temperature and a few stubborn flurries to sink into one of several spas that bubbled steam into the night air.

Fans turned lazily overhead, and a staircase behind where I stood accessed a balcony that overlooked both the dining area and pools. I'd spotted Elaine up there earlier, so I snagged another champagne and climbed the steps. For the occasion, I'd borrowed a pair of slacks and sport coat from Bruce's closet. I'd had to tighten my belt three notches to snug the pants, but I couldn't do anything about his loafers. They were a size too large and scuffed the carpeted steps on my way up.

Where the lower level consisted of bright lights and gleaming tile and glass and white wicker furniture, the lighting upstairs was subdued, and Sarah McLachlan sang broodingly from hidden speakers. Shag throw rugs bolstered the plush carpet underfoot, and piles of color-coordinated floor pillows lay scattered among groupings of sofas and mahogany coffee tables and chairs you'd need a crane to get out of. The jumbled sounds of voices and silverware and chairs scraping across the floor downstairs carried upward from the guests that mingled below, but the upper level carpet and furniture dampened the sounds.

Ripples of light moved languidly across the ceiling, reflected from the pool in the next room. I spotted Elaine in a far corner, gazing down at the crowd.

When I stepped to her side, she glanced over her shoulder and smiled. "This is wonderful, isn't it?"

"Yeah. It's something, all right."

She'd propped her forearms on the railing, and a mixed drink dangled from her hand. "You don't approve?" Her voice sounded raspy, and a slight lisp that hadn't been there before slurred her words.

"What's not to like? It's fantastic."

The back portion of the house was geared for pool parties and boat outings and casual gatherings. However, to reach it, we'd passed doorways that accessed a formal drawing room, a library, and a dining room that comfortably sat twelve. The rooms and halls were decorated with dark wallpaper and elegant wood molding, thick carpeting underfoot, and French Provincial furniture and gilded antiques that I strongly suspected were not reproductions.

"I didn't know Mr. Hadley kept horses here," I said, referring to an impressive stable visible on the drive in.

She nodded, and her drink tilted in her hand.

"Why don't we sit down?"

She looked around and selected a sofa that faced the indoor pool. A group of women were seated behind us, but their voices were soft murmurs. "Shane foxhunts most days of the week. He keeps his hunters here, where it's convenient, but of course, his breeding stock, he keeps with us."

"Of course." I swallowed some champagne, and the bubbles fizzed around my teeth. "I heard he owns Covington Square."

Elaine nodded. "This is the start of his fourth season with us."

"Who owns Order of Command?"

"Deirdre and Victor. They own Irish Dancer, too." Elaine settled into the cushions.

So, they owned the shy boy, as Jenny had described the stud that didn't like an audience and was bred in the late afternoon when the farm was quiet.

"You know," Elaine said, "we can go swimming if we want."

"I didn't bring--"

She flapped her hand. "They have everything you need down there."

"Are you going to?"

"I might. As much as I hate winter, it would be fun to get in one of those hot tubs with the snow piled all around."

"Yeah, it would." I had to figure a way to muscle the conversation around to the last big snow but didn't know how to do it without seeming obvious. I plunged in obliquely and hoped for the best. "Did you have any trouble driving home?"

"No. The roads were fairly decent."

"Not like the last big snow, huh?"

"You got that right," she said.

"I'm surprised they didn't cancel school that day. The roads were bad enough for it," I said like I knew what in the hell I was talking about.

"They should have."

"This morning, someone mentioned that Dr. Nash didn't do rounds that day. Was that because of the snow?"

"Oh, no." Elaine sipped her drink. "Well, maybe. Mr. Hadley came in right around nine and talked to Deirdre, then she hurried up to the house. Because of the two-hour delay, she still had to put Jenny on the bus, and to be honest, I think she lost track of the time. Anyway, Shane looked in on his stud like he always does. I thought he was waiting for Deirdre, but as soon as she came back, he left." Elaine swirled her drink and took another sip. "What happened next was weird, though."

I resisted an urge to lean toward her and lowered my voice, instead. "What?"

"He came back not more than five minutes later. Maybe I'm wrong, but he seemed agitated. I could hear their voices through the wall."

"What were they talking about?"

Elaine shrugged. "Something about the lock being broken on the trunk of his car. Well, what would Deirdre have to do with that? Unless something happened while it was parked in the lot, which I doubt. Anyway, they left."

I raised my eyebrows. "Together?"

She looked at me funny. "Why would they do that?"

I shrugged. "You don't know where Dr. Nash went, do you?" I said and was damned thankful she had a slight buzz going.

She shook her head. "So, there I was, running behind schedule and trying to get the employees' checks signed, which Deirdre has to do, by the way, and Victor comes in and pulls all the employee files and leaves. Well, you tell me. How was I supposed to get my work done?"

"Sounds tough. What do you suppose he needed them for?"

Elaine rolled her eyes. "Taxes." She crossed her legs and looked damned sexy in her black nylons and skimpy black dress that had slid halfway up her thigh. What was the thing with women and black dresses, anyway? "Of all the days to fool around with that, he picks a day I have to get the payroll out."

"What did you do?"

"Deirdre came back a little while later, but I'd already distributed the checks. Some of the employees cash them on their lunch break." She leaned closer and whispered in my ear. "Don't tell anyone, but I had to forge her name, and let me tell you, that was a first." Elaine straightened in her chair. "Well, I guess I won't be getting in the hot tub."

I followed her gaze. A young blond woman, who might have been eighteen, stood in the spa and jiggled her breasts. Under normal circumstances, that would have caught my attention pretty damned fast, but the fact that she was topless, clinched it. She spun around and straddled some baldheaded guy for an up-close-and-personal, in-your-face lap dance.

"Where'd you say they kept the bathing suits?" I said.

Elaine giggled and smacked my leg, and her daiquiri sloshed onto the sofa cushion. "Ohmigosh."

I grabbed a napkin off the end table and blotted the liquid before it had a chance to soak into the pile.

"Here he is."

I stood as Shane Hadley and two other men stepped around in front of us. "Hello . . . Shane."

He pointed at me and grinned. "Almost caught you," he said, and it took me half a second to realize he was referring to the fact that I'd almost called him Mr. Hadley. He flipped on that high-wattage smile of his. "Ah, Elaine. You look lovely," he said before turning to his associates.

I glanced at Elaine and noticed she was blushing.

Hadley introduced us, then added, "This young man here just saved me a bundle, gentlemen."

The gentlemen murmured politely.

As Hadley recounted Sumthingelse's bloodlines and that of the stud's, my gaze wandered back to the spa. It appeared that the lap dance had progressed to a very public grope and squeeze. As I watched, the amorous couple was joined by two young women clinging to a man wearing neon green trunks. Both girls had shed their tops, assuming they'd worn them in the first place.

"To be honest," Hadley continued, "I never thought I'd get a foal out of her, and now I have a colt by Elusive Quality."

A dark-skinned man, wearing khakis and a navy blazer, moved alongside the spa and raised a drink to his lips. Initially, he'd caught my attention because he was clothed, but something else about him sent a chill down my spine. There was something predatory in the way he moved into position, languid and loose-limbed, so he could leer at the blond who had advanced to something more than a grope. She'd gripped the spa's rim with both hands and practically smothered the baldheaded guy with her breasts while the suds lapped at her waist.

I pried my gaze from her muscled back and firm round breasts and tried to focus on the guy in the blazer. Something else bothered me about him, besides his overt voyeurism. But what?

Hadley cleared his throat, then slowly turned his head and followed my gaze. He chuckled. "I see my guests are getting out of hand." He squeezed my shoulder. "Why don't you join them, Steve?"

"Uh . . ."

Elaine stood and looped her arm around mine. "Oh, that's all right. Steve's going to drive me home soon."

Hadley's eyes crinkled as he smiled broadly at Elaine; then his gaze shifted to me, and he winked. "Another time, perhaps."

I smiled. "Perhaps."