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9:35 a.m. Friday, August 28th, 1992
BAILEY popped open the rear door of the red SUV and grabbed the two giant suitcases he’d loaded last thing, though that still left a massive mound of luggage piled into the back of the vehicle. Balanced by one heavy case in each hand, he stalked after Elaine Keener and her son Stanley as they walked up a few broad stone steps to the main entrance. The proper-looking butler opened the doors to them as they approached and waved mother and son inside. Bailey followed with the bags.
Standing in the middle of the foyer with its two-story vaulted ceiling, the blonde widow took off the sunglasses she hadn’t needed in the first place. She cast her gaze around as if seeing the mansion for the first time, perusing the place with a propriety air as if she already knew she’d be getting the island under her recently deceased husband’s will. The question of what was in that will and who had known about it was one in the forefront of Bailey’s thoughts. But no matter what Brandt Keener’s testamentary dispositions were, both the man’s wife and only son would reasonably have expected to benefit by his death. It still seemed a bit premature for the widow to be appraising the property at this point though.
She turned to the butler and favored him with a wide smile. “Padget, do be a dear and show my man where our rooms are, so he knows where to put our luggage.”
“Your man, Mrs. Keener?” The butler was likely aware already that Bailey had been hired by the lawyer for the estate to help all the guests for this weekend’s gathering.
Elaine clearly thought he was asking something else. “Valet, footman, butler—whatever you want to call him—it’s all the same, isn’t it?”
Padget winced. Bailey had of course recognized the man’s name from the news coverage of Keener’s death, the same butler who’d been here on the night it had occurred. One of the important witnesses. If the suspicious demise was in fact a homicide, then a suspect as well.
Reading between the lines of newspaper reports had told Bailey the police weren’t satisfied about the circumstances of Keener’s passing, but it was just as clear that they didn’t have evidence of a homicide—not enough to open an official investigation. Which meant there was little indeed to go on. Right now or in the future. The records from this era were spotty at best, and there was nothing in the histories to say if Keener, who was only a footnote, had been killed, much less by whom.
The butler was nodding at Mrs. Keener. “I’ll tell him what he needs to know, and I’ll find the maid to send up to your rooms to help you unpack.”
Elaine pursed her lips in displeasure, then without a word whirled around and walked across to the main staircase, her sulky son trailing after her. She seemed to be a bit prickly.
Bailey turned to the butler with a shrug. “Can I bring in the rest of the bags before I begin carrying them upstairs?”
Padget shook his head. “The rest of Mrs. Keener’s luggage is still in her vehicle? You can park it in the garage, then take their bags in through the staff section and up the back staircase to their rooms.”
“Which are where?”
The butler jerked his chin up and to the side in the direction of Elaine Keener, who had reached the second floor, as she turned and went down the hall to the right. “Young Mr. Keener is in the first suite on the left, and his mother the second, and there’s a connecting door between them. Be sure to take the back stairs. It’s closer to the garage entrance.”
Bailey nodded. “Thanks, that will save me some effort.” He didn’t mind hard work, but the staff apparently didn’t traipse up and down the main staircase. And going to the garage then coming in by the back would be helpful in another way.
Padget squinted at him. “What am I supposed to call you?”
“I’m Bailey.” He smiled at the butler and resisted the temptation to call himself a valet. “I’m to be at the service of the guests, but if there’s anything I can do to help you out, just say the word.”
The butler nodded curtly. “The offer is appreciated, Mr. Bailey. Now, if you’ll follow me, I’ll quickly show you where the back staircase is and how you get there from the garage, but then I must track Talia down and send her up without delay.”
Padget turned on his heel and stalked so swiftly away, Bailey didn’t have the chance to respond that he wasn’t a ‘mister’ and Bailey was his first and only name. Which was just as well. Everyone in this era had three or more, so it might sound strange.
In a hurry himself, Bailey picked up the suitcases he’d just set down and strode along after the butler across the expansive foyer and through the small door at the back into the staff portion of the house. Padget pointed out the back stairs, then down a hall to the right, which looked as if it passed the kitchen on its way to an outside door in the distance.
“Through there you’ll find the staff entrance on one side, and the laundry room, and the door to the garage on the other.” Then the man turned again to head the opposite direction down another long corridor.
Bailey put the luggage down in a little nook next to the stairs, then, with nobody likely around to see, he whirled and sprinted back through the foyer and down the steps onto the gravel drive, but the second SUV was already pulling up behind the first. Barbara Keener, Brandt’s first wife, waited for the wheels to scrunch to a stop before she hopped down out of the driver’s seat and came charging up to Bailey.
The irritated brunette was still striking, though she scowled fiercely at him. “Why did you leave the two of us stranded down at that dilapidated shack of a boathouse while you chauffeured Elaine here as if she were royalty? You’re supposed to work for all of us, aren’t you?”
Glancing over her shoulder, he saw a gangly girl with glasses still struggling to extricate herself from the passenger seat of the SUV. She would be Stephanie, Keener’s daughter from his first marriage. “It so happens Mrs. Elaine asked me to drive her here, and you didn’t.” The woman had clearly been capable of chauffeuring herself. “I work for Mr. Keener’s estate, and until he tells me otherwise, that means I work for the lawyer, Mr. Dobson. And he didn’t instruct me to show preference toward any guest over another.”
Barbara Keener’s eyebrows raised immediately at that, then lowered in thought. Evidently he’d given her something to consider carefully. Behind her, Stephanie was slowing sliding out of her seat to the ground.
He tried smiling. “I would’ve been glad to come back to the boathouse to act as your chauffeur, Mrs. Keener, if you had asked.” But only after he’d taken a short side trip.
She snorted. “I wasn’t about to wait around for you, was I? But I’ll remember that I have to ask if I need your help in the future.” She glanced over her shoulder to see Stephanie finally coming up behind her. “And you had better call me Barbara. I haven’t been Mrs. Keener in a long time, and I definitely do not want to be confused with Elaine.”
“Of course not. And certainly, Mrs. Barbara.” It would be difficult to mix up Brandt’s wives. He just had to make sure he didn’t slip up and call them by their first names without the honorific needed from someone of his supposed station. He was not here to offend but to investigate.
Barbara gave him a fixed look. “Bring our bags in, won’t you?”
“Of course. If you’ll leave me the keys, I can put your vehicle in the garage, then bring your luggage up to your rooms. I believe the butler is sending the maid up to help you all unpack, though I’m afraid I can’t say where you’ll find him to ask which rooms you’ve been assigned.” Which Bailey also needed to know.
She sent him a withering glance. “I know where our rooms are, the same suites Stephanie and I used when I was married to the—” She stopped abruptly and changed course. “It sounds as if you’re the one who needs to ask Padget where to find our rooms—they’re right across the hallway from Elaine and her son.” Casually tossing him her keys, she beckoned her daughter to follow, then gave him her last word. “Now don’t dally.”
As the first Mrs. Keener stalked up the stairs to the house with an air of grim determination, trailed cautiously by the girl, Bailey did not waste any time shoving her keys into his pocket and rushing over to the back of Elaine’s SUV. He hurriedly took away a few more bags to reveal a small pocket of space—as well as Sam’s slight form curled into a tight ball. He had carefully constructed that place of concealment for her, but there hadn’t been much room, and he’d been worrying about her running out of air.
He saw Sam slowly open one eye to stare at him for a moment. Then she opened the other, blinking as her eyes adjusted to the light, while she began to shift around a bit. She’d been crammed in there in that position for too long, and it would take time to stretch so she could move properly without pain.
Sighing, he gave her an apologetic look. “I did get to you as quick as I could—I was worried you’d be asphyxiating.”
She smiled her queer little smile, and not for the first time Bailey wondered what went on inside that head of hers. “It grew a bit stale back here, but you needn’t think I was in any danger of expiring. Stop worrying so much.”
Bailey shook his head. It was his job to be concerned for her welfare. Sam could say stop, but she couldn’t force him, and someone had to worry over her since she never seemed to think about her own safety. “Stay put a little longer, okay? I’ll drive this around to the garage in back, where there shouldn’t be anybody else about. Then we can talk.” Between trips upstairs with all the luggage he had to unload. He had to keep doing the job he’d been hired to do, or somebody would start getting suspicious.
She nodded solemnly, and Bailey shut the back of the SUV. At least she had plenty of air now. Then he ran around to the driver’s seat, where he had left Elaine’s keys in the ignition, tossing the bags he had taken to give Sam some more space into the passenger seat. Satisfied now that she was alright, he took his time backing down the driveway and turning the SUV to travel along the little gravel lane that circled around behind the house.
He didn’t care much for Sam’s plan, or the idea of investigating Brandt Keener’s death at all. Better to leave it to the contemporary authorities. Particularly since it was nineteen ninety-two. If they had to do this though, and he was supposed to obey Sam’s instructions, at least they were in this out of the way place and hardly likely to run into anyone.
Arriving at the back of the mansion, Bailey saw the modern multi-car garage Keener had added on and noted that the doors were open. He didn’t imagine the butler had lifted them especially for him, so they must have been left raised. Not very secure, but then this was an island.
He got out and brought the door of the bay he’d driven into down before he popped the rear hatch of the SUV for Sam. Her plan would be ruined if anybody saw her, and he wasn’t going to be responsible for that. Though they were alone, he kept his voice low. “Here we are. And there’s no rush, so feel free to take your time getting unkinked.”
She’d mostly unfolded during the ride, and now she slid to the ground to stand on wobbly legs, looking around as she slowly stretched stiff muscles.
Bailey walked around to pick up the bags he had deposited in the passenger seat, then smiled at Sam as he passed by the back of the SUV. “I’d better hurry and get some of this luggage to their rooms. Otherwise they’ll start to wonder what happened to me. Back in a minute.”
He trotted to the door into the house and came through it into the corridor Padget had pointed out. Jogging past the laundry room, he went through the door to the hall leading to the back staircase and to the nook, where he grabbed the two giant suitcases he’d left behind. Then he pounded up the stairs as fast as he could. Opening a door there led him out onto the second floor a little way along from where the main staircase landed.
Leaving the door ajar behind him, Bailey strode down the corridor to the open door to Elaine’s suite where the widow was waiting impatiently. Looking in, he saw the son lounging in a plush chair and the maid Talia standing in the middle of the room and sulking. She looked just like the pictures of her that had appeared in the news—small, dark, and pretty in an exotic way.
Elaine frowned at him. “The gray case is Stanley’s. Leave it in his room—” She waved at the connecting door which was also open. “And let him unpack for himself. Now, hurry up with the rest of my bags so I can settle in before lunch.”
Bailey just nodded and deposited the luggage in his hands, all except the gray suitcase, in the middle of the floor in front of the maid. Then he hustled on through the connecting door into Stanley’s room to drop the boy’s bag at the foot of the bed before leaving through the other door to the hall and returning to the back stairs. Less than a minute later, he’d arrived again at the garage.
Sam must have been stretching the whole time, as she now padded around as lithely as a cat. “You saw some of the suspects? What did you learn?”
“Give me time. And since we can’t even be sure Brandt was murdered, there may be nothing to find out. Be careful, though. If Keener was killed, then the murderer must be one of the guests coming for the weekend. And the role you’ve chosen for yourself is precarious.” Bailey believed his own role included protecting her, but she would make it more difficult. “It leaves you too vulnerable.”
“Only if I’m caught, and I don’t plan to be. Besides, they weren’t looking for another maid, so we had to smuggle me in. We’re fortunate you got this job—you said servants saw everything. Do you not like your job? You agreed to all this.”
He realized she’d meant that in more than one way. “I like my job just fine. It’s yours I’m worried about.” He needed to push back sometimes, or she would take it for granted that he’d always go along with whatever she wanted to do. “Not being caught is easier said than done.”
At least on this isolated island with so few people, the worst threat to Sam’s safety was over. One of them might be a murderer, but the hypothetical killer wouldn’t have any reason to desire her death. And hopefully no one would ever even know she was here. Off the island would be where the real threat waited for her—any time they came farther forward than the summer of nineteen ninety-one, she had a price on her head. They had argued about that, but she had refused to let it stop her.
She looked up at him with a strange expression on her face. “I’ve had a lot of experience not being noticed. But I will be careful.”
That would have to be good enough. He shifted gears. “I don’t know yet which room they’ve put me in, but it should be at the west end of the back of the house. That seems to be where the staff stays.”
“Since you’re wearing your watch, it’ll be easy to figure out which room you’re in. I’ll just wait for all the staff to go to their rooms for the night, and then I’ll track you down. Where are they now?”
He reached around her to grab some more bags from the back of the SUV. “All four of the family are up in their rooms on the second floor getting settled in, and the maid is there helping them unpack. But I don’t know where the butler and cook are.”
Sam stared at him without blinking. “I imagine the cook is in the kitchen, getting the midday meal prepared.”
“That still leaves the butler, and he gets around a lot, so he could pop up anywhere at anytime.”
She nodded solemnly. She might scorn his trying to keep her out of danger, but she paid attention to his advice when she wanted to. “Once the family goes down to lunch, though, that will likely give me the opportunity I need, and you as well. The butler, maid, and cook should all be occupied, and we’ll be able to move freely around the rest of the house.”
Bailey controlled an inner flinch. Back when he had been an enforcer, he’d had to follow strict rules, and Sam’s casual attitude always made him uncomfortable. She only followed her own judgment, and she intended to search people’s possessions without their knowledge. That was against the rules, unless you got specific permission. But there were no rules anymore.
Sam was his leader, now, and his job was helping her. Unfortunately, what that meant had never been clearly defined, so he had to figure it out.
Bailey took a deep breath. “Well, I’ll have to go get Barbara Keener’s car and start taking her things up. We want to keep everyone busy so you can slip into the house and hide without being seen. Try to stay put then, until they’ve all gone to lunch.”
Leaving her alone in the garage, he took more of Elaine’s bags and dropped them off at the nook next to the back stairs, then went through the door to the foyer and jogged across and out the main entrance. He took the keys to the other SUV and jumped into the driver’s seat.
Rolling along toward the back of the house, he considered the suspects he’d seen so far. The butler and maid were both fairly new, so they wouldn’t expect to benefit by Brandt’s will—either might have a motive of a different kind, but the press had not discovered it if they did, so they seemed unlikely candidates. The family was a different story.
Elaine and her son Stanley and Brandt’s daughter Stephanie would all expect to profit by the man’s death—and a mother could easily kill for their child, so Barbara was a strong suspect too. Financial gain was a frequent motive for murder.
Bailey pulled the SUV into one of the open bays and got out to find that Sam had already gone. Presumably into the house for her part of the plan. He grabbed some of Barbara’s bags and headed in himself, eyes and ears open. In case somebody slipped up and revealed themselves to be a killer.