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4:25 a.m. Sunday, August 30th, 1992
SAM woke with a start to find herself tucked up in bed and staring at a dark ceiling above. Struggling to sit up, she turned her head and saw Bailey sleeping on the floor in the middle of the room, and she remembered. This was his room and his bed.
Last night, exhausted from all the instructions Padget and Mrs. Trimble had given her as much as the work itself, Sam had gone to her room when the pair had finally let her go, but instead of lying down to rest, she’d waited for a chance to sneak into Bailey’s room. More than anything she wanted to compare notes with him about what they’d been able to find out.
The butler and cook had both been suspicious, but with Turner to vouch for her, they hadn’t asked too many questions. Sam had told them that she’d been trying to stay out of everyone’s way. They had assumed she’d been trying to avoid work. That explanation had earned her scorn, but it had been accepted, which was what counted.
Since she was already on thin ice, she could not afford to be caught going into or coming out of Bailey’s room, though, so she’d waited until she could be reasonably certain that the others had retired to their own rooms for the night before slipping down the hall and into Bailey’s. She’d found it empty.
Without any idea where her helper was or what he was up to, she’d had no choice but to wait some more. So sitting down on the bed, Sam had leaned back against the wall and closed her eyes to consider what little she’d learned. And then fallen asleep. Bailey must’ve returned to his room and, instead of waking her up as he should’ve, tucked her into bed like a child. Incensed at being treated that way, she found herself fully alert.
She turned to look at the cheap digital clock on the nightstand and saw that it was already half past four in the morning. The question she had now was when and how to forgive him. She knew she’d have to, but she didn’t want to undermine her authority with him any further—as it was obviously on shaky ground. She was tempted to wake him with a swift kick but settled for shaking his shoulder. She didn’t want to injure her toes.
Bailey’s eyes snapped open as if he hadn’t been asleep at all. His voice was little more than a whisper. “Good morning, Sam. Sleep well?”
She answered the twinkle in his eye with a hard glare, but she spoke just as softly. “We need to talk.”
“We certainly do.” He shifted to a sitting position and looked at her quite soberly. “The ferry will arrive sometime this afternoon to pick up Dobson, and somebody will have to be waiting there, both to get the captain to radio the police and to keep anybody from actually leaving the island. It may take a couple hours or more for the authorities to make it out here, but we need to be gone before they do.”
“No. What we need to do is find the person who murdered Mr. Oak, and presumably Brandt Keener as well.” If she let him tell her what to do, he could get into the habit. “Hopefully we can do that before the police show up, but if we don’t, we can’t just up and leave with everything unresolved.”
“There’ll be little doubt that it’s a homicide this time, and I’ve made sure the evidence will be there for the police, to get them started at least, and they will find the murderer. We’re no longer needed.”
Sam scowled at him. “And what will they think if the two of us have simply disappeared? Presuming they are convinced Oak was murdered, they will probably think we did it. And not even look for the real killer.”
Bailey nodded reluctantly. “It’s a point. While there may be plenty of people here who had motive to murder both men, most of them are very important types the police won’t want to annoy. It might be too convenient for everyone if we vanished.”
“Particularly the murderer.”
“Even if we stay, Talia makes a good suspect in Keener’s killing, and the authorities can annoy her all they want without worrying about a high-priced lawyer causing them heartburn.”
Sam sat back on the bed. “Well, she may be the murderer.”
“That’s what I thought at first, but it leaves too much unexplained—how the evidence disappeared and what happened to the telephone wire. I have a hard time seeing Talia being responsible for either of those things.”
She stared. “What are you talking about?”
Bailey had the decency to look apologetic. “We haven’t seen each other since early yesterday, Sam, and we didn’t have much chance to speak then. So I’ve got a lot to tell you.”
Listening to her helper as he reported, she had to admit that he’d discovered a lot—a lot more than she had. He told her about various things he’d seen and heard throughout the day. He described what had happened during dinner, culminating in Oak’s dramatic death, and revealed to her that the butler was actually an undercover federal agent. And Bailey relayed what Padget had told him about the official investigation into Brandt Keener’s death, what there was of one and why it hadn’t went anywhere. He finished on an even more serious note.
“And somebody had gone to a lot of trouble taking out that section of phone line so we wouldn’t be able to contact the police after Oak’s death.”
Sam nodded. She’d heard about the phones being out from Padget and Mrs. Trimble, but most of what Bailey had reported was new to her, and there was a lot they needed to talk over. First, though, she should reciprocate by sharing the relatively little she had learned. So she told him about her two encounters with Turner and how she had come across Quill searching Oak’s suite. “Turner’s still holding something back, but he’s not the murderer. And I wish I had a clue what Quill was looking for.”
Her helper shook his head, and she knew he still thought she trusted their fellow Traveler too much, but he didn’t say it. Instead he lifted the corners of his mouth in an approximation of a smile. “Maybe Oak stole something from Quill as well as Keener.”
She sniffed. “Well, without knowing what, that sort of speculation doesn’t help.”
Bailey glanced over at the clock and stood. “We don’t have long before the others will be up to start the day, and you’ll want to be gone before then. Or wait until everyone’s left this section to start work. And I need to get ready.”
He moved over to the small basin and looked at himself in the mirror before turning on the tap and splashing some cold water in his face. Then he began to shave.
Sam tried to order her thoughts as she watched him. “Alright, I accept your reasoning for why Oak didn’t commit suicide, and why he was likely murdered by the same person who killed Keener. That must surely help us figure out who it is. Take Talia. In addition to your point about how could she have stymied the police investigation, she doesn’t have a motive for murdering Oak, does she?”
Drying his face and neck with a towel, her helper’s response was muffled. “No, but she had plenty of motive for killing Keener. The man had been dallying with her, and she had expectations of becoming his third wife, but instead she was about to lose her job. And whoever murdered Keener might have a good reason to get rid of Oak. And the same suspects who had opportunity for the first murder had the same for the second. So no, it doesn’t help.”
“But what do you mean when you say Keener’s killer would have a motive to murder Oak?”
Bailey turned and gave her an indulgent smile. “One of the strongest reasons people kill is fear. It may be that Oak knew something that made him a danger to Keener’s killer. We can’t know what that might’ve been, but maybe he’d seen or heard something that would provide a vital clue to the murderer’s identity.”
Sam thought about that. “It’s speculation. But it makes sense. And now we’ll never know.” Whatever knowledge Oak had, he’d taken it to the grave. “So is Talia still a suspect?”
“Certainly. As are all four family members, who found out Oak had apparently been stealing money they think should be coming to them. There’s Quill—who hated Oak, in addition to any other motive he might have had. And then there’s Turner. You can’t know he isn’t the killer, and he stands to benefit the most under Brandt’s bizarre will.”
She shook her head. “I told you that he doesn’t want the position of president, or the responsibilities Keener tried to foist on him as an executor and trustee, no matter what the rewards.” And despite all Brandt had apparently done for him.
“That’s what he told you.”
“And I believe him.” Even if there was more to the story that he wasn’t sharing. “So you can hand back my watch. Now that I’m not hiding any more, he can find me easily enough if he wants to, whether I’m wearing it or not.” And if Turner did come looking for her, it would probably be something important.
Bailey sighed, but he reached into the pocket of his jacket hanging on the back of the door and drew out her leader device and handed it over. Taking off his watch that she’d borrowed, she made the trade with a sense of relief. She didn’t think he would’ve Traveled her away when the police came, not without her telling him to, but he was so protective she couldn’t be sure. Now she knew it would be her decision when to go.
She strapped her watch around her ankle while Bailey wrapped his around his wrist. Then leaping to her feet, she walked over toward the door. “Now don’t wander too far off. When I do decide it’s time to leave, I don’t want to have to search high and low for you.”
“As long as you don’t leave me behind.”
She gave him a level look. “I’m not Traveling if you’re not in range.”
Bailey grinned. “Good. Anything else we need to talk about before you go?”
“What about Mrs. Trimble? Have you given up on her as a suspect at last? I know her now, and she surely wouldn’t hurt a fly.”
“Tell that to the flies—she doesn’t like them one bit. And you’d be shocked what the unlikeliest people would do for a hundred thousand dollars. But I don’t suspect Mrs. Trimble, no.”
Sam nodded. “That only leaves the lawyer and the butler to talk about.”
Bailey paused as he was slipping on his jacket. “The lawyer and the federal agent, you mean. And I don’t think this government goes in for assassinating American citizens. Not for tax evasion anyway. And if Padget’s not a hitman, then whom did Dobson hire? He may have a lot to gain by Brandt’s will, but he wasn’t here, so he would have needed one of those who were to do the deed for him.”
“And if the same person killed Oak, then we’re looking at six suspects.” The family, Quill, and Talia. She wasn’t including Turner, and from the look on Bailey’s face he’d understood that perfectly well. But he didn’t argue the point. “And I’m grateful you smelled the cyanide—I didn’t like the thought that I might’ve given the man a heart attack playing with the lights and chandelier.”
“Trust me, you weren’t that scary as a ghost.”
Sam hesitated. “What should I be doing now?” Her ‘haunting’ had come to an end, and she wasn’t sure what was the best way to investigate, now that she was out in the open. “How can I get us closer to finding the murderer?”
“Just keep your eyes and ears open while you’re going about your regular duties. We get to see and hear a lot that might be useful because most people don’t pay us any attention.”
“My regular duties? I still don’t know what they are. I mean, I know what Padget and Mrs. Trimble had me doing last night, but what am I supposed to be doing first thing in the morning?”
“Why don’t you go wake up Talia and ask her? I imagine she’d appreciate that.”
Sam narrowed her eyes at him. Had that been a joke? It was so hard to tell with him. “I think I’ll do that. She did offer to lend me her sewing kit so I could take up a couple of uniforms so they’d fit me properly, and now would be a good time to get that done, before I have to start the day’s work.” Whatever that was. “It’ll make a good excuse for getting her up, and she can fill me in on all my duties while I sew.”
Bailey raised his eyebrows. “She’s not mad that you stole her clothes?”
“I don’t think she noticed. She doesn’t seem to think of the maid uniforms as her clothes. And apparently there are a couple of spares in the laundry room, and she assumed I took one of those, rather than out of her room.”
Nodding, he pulled the door open wide enough to poke his head out for a look up and down the corridor, which he did. Then he closed the door again and grinned at her. “All clear. Just make sure you keep your wits about you—there’s a murderer here among us, and we don’t know who.”
Sam acknowledged the wisdom of the warning but silently, to herself. She also had to discover the truth, and that would mean taking risks like asking Talia about her relationship with Brandt Keener. If the woman had murdered him, maybe she’d reveal something incriminating. With their time running out, it was a chance worth taking.
Opening the door a crack and peering carefully out for herself, Sam saw the hall was still empty and slipped out. She darted diagonally across the corridor to Talia’s room. Now for all anyone knew, Sam could have come from her own quarters.
Still, she rapped softly on the door at first, hoping she wouldn’t disturb anyone else. But when she got no response, she had to knock harder. Finally, she gave up and tried the knob and found the door unlocked. She eased it open and looked inside with a feeling of dread.
All the lights were off, but even after she hit the wall switch to turn them on, it took her a minute to realize what she was seeing on the floor beyond the door. It wasn’t Talia, not anymore.
Sam forced herself to take a long look and study closely what remained of the maid. Lying with legs twisted, half on her back, Talia was wearing a nightgown, and her tongue was protruding from an empurpled face. And the wire which had strangled her was still wrapped tightly around her throat, cutting into the flesh. There was no question she had been murdered.
Whirling around, Sam ran right back to Bailey’s room, pushing the door open without a knock and startling him as he was taking a swig of coffee. She kept her voice low as she explained. “Talia’s dead. Murdered. And I think I’ve found that length of telephone wire you were telling me was missing. But you’d better come and see for yourself.”
He downed the rest of his coffee in one big slug and set the mug on the top of the dresser before he followed her out and across the hall. Sam watched his face as he stared at the corpse on the floor. His expression didn’t alter at all, but his features hardened somehow, and when he turned and talked, his voice was wintery.
“Go get Padget. And tell him to bring his camera and some plastic gloves. And please remember to be careful.” He left unsaid a repetition of his earlier warning. There’s a killer among us.
She nodded. She’d always believed Keener had been killed, but recalling what Bailey had taught her about modus operandi, she wondered now if there might be two murderers in the house.