I awoke after a couple of hours of restless sleep on the settee in the living room of the shelter with a stiff neck and a headache. Karen and Cheryl gave me an odd look at the breakfast table, but I waved off their questions with a vague story about having drunk too much and not wanting to drive home last night. My haggard face certainly supported the lie. I poured myself a cup of coffee and slumped over the kitchen table.
“Any news about Sheila?” Cheryl asked.
“Nothing new,” I replied truthfully. “Neither of you’ve heard from her, I take it?”
I watched the two girls across the table from me. Cheryl shook her head and continued chasing a piece of cereal around the bottom of her bowl with a spoon. The milk had turned an unappetizing shade of blue as a result of some dismal-looking marshmallows floating on the top. I turned my attention to Karen. As usual, she was hiding behind a curtain of hair. “Karen?”
She jumped at the sound of her name. “No, no. I haven’t heard anything from her.”
“Were you surprised to hear that Duncan Ross is a suspect in Jenny’s death?” I asked point-blank. The question noticeably startled both girls. Karen looked up and met my eyes for a moment and Cheryl let go of her spoon, making a loud noise on the side of the bowl.
These two were hiding something, I was sure of it. I’d keep on poking at them until one of them finally told me what it was. “You two were the last ones to see Jenny alive. How was she feeling?”
I waited patiently for them to consider what to say. I was under no illusion that they would tell the truth, but sometimes lies are just as insightful.
“Jenny was pretty out of it,” Cheryl began slowly, weighing her words. “She was complaining she’d have bruises by the morning, Ross’d grabbed her so hard.”
“So Jenny actually told you about fighting Ross off after she got home?”
“Didn’t have to tell us, we heard it,” Karen interjected. “Jenny sent me a voice file from her phone. I didn’t find it till the morning, but you could hear her wrestling with the bastard.”
I looked at her, stunned. “A voice file?”
Karen nodded. “Jenny taped Ross that night on her cellphone. She was trying to get up the nerve to report him to the cops. She thought they might believe her if they could hear him in action.”
“What did you do with the file?”
“Gave it to the lady copper. It was a good thing she thought to send me a copy ’cause she lost her phone on the way home from the Rosses’.”
No wonder the police felt comfortable filing preliminary charges against Ross. They had an audiotape. “Good. At least someone is being held accountable,” I said.
“It’s no more than he deserves,” Karen insisted. “And it’s been a long time coming. He’s hurt so many women, at least now he’s going to pay.”
Cheryl nodded silently, turning her phone over in her hand. “Jeez, look at the time. I’m going to be late for work.” She rose and dropped her bowl by the sink. Karen followed her out the door. Something still struck me as odd about those two. Karen seemed stronger and more confident since Ross’s arrest, or maybe she was simply stepping up in Sheila’s absence. Cheryl, on the other hand, looked more frightened than vindicated. Maybe the police would have better luck sorting it out. I had to remain focused on finding Sheila and bringing her home alive.
I checked the street below from the front window and saw no sign of a black sedan. I took the opportunity to slip down the street to my car and put in a private call to Michaelson.
“Anything from the CCTV?” I asked without pausing for pleasantries.
“One possible lead. A young man in a green anorak was seen going in but not coming out. They figure he must have slipped out the back door.”
“Have they identified him?”
“Not yet. They’re scanning through the college records to see if he’s a student.”
“What about CCTV from the neighboring bars? See if he’d been somewhere else just before.”
“Calm down. Harry’s on it. No more communications from the kidnapper?”
“Not yet.”
“Where are you?”
“Still at the Shepherd’s Rest. I wanted to be close. Did the police have eyes on Sam last night?
“He was at home and didn’t go out.”
“What about Urquhart?”
“He had dinner at his club and didn’t leave till gone midnight,”
“And Colin Templeton was at La Mer having a business meeting,” I finished.
“How did you know?”
“I was there having dinner with Patrick before I made the drop. Patrick and the owner are friends.”
“Trust Elliot’s men to handle this. The last thing we need at this point is you doing something else rash,” Michaelson said. “Just call us if you hear anything more.”
I was sure that Michaelson would consider going over to Duncan Ross’s place “something rash,” but I wanted to talk to the housekeeper again. I hoped she might have something to say about Urquhart’s visits to Duncan. When I pulled up in front of the house I noticed that the black Vauxhall wasn’t in the drive. With any luck, that meant Lila Ross was absent as well.
Maria answered the door, looking less than pleased to see company. “I’m sorry, but Mrs. Ross is not at home at the moment.”
I breathed an internal sigh of relief. “It was actually you I came to see. Could you spare a few moments to answer some questions?”
“I’m sorry, but no.”
I put a hand out to stop the door from closing. “Please. Just a couple of quick questions. Your employers aren’t here.”
I sensed her hesitation and I pulled out a picture of Sheila that I’d borrowed from Amanda. “Have you seen this woman around here?”
Maria took a close look at the photo before shaking her head in the negative.
“Are you sure?”
“I try to keep my head down,” she insisted. “In my country that is how you stay out of trouble.”
“Where are you from?” I asked, trying my best to find a point of connection between us.
“Chile.”
“I was there a couple of years ago. Beautiful country, but a hard and violent life.”
“Things are better here,” she admitted, “mostly. At least I don’t fear for my life anymore when I walk down the street.”
“You don’t, but others do.” I held up the picture again. “Sheila’s gone missing and I’m trying to find her. You know what it means to mourn the disappeared.”
Maria opened the door a fraction and motioned me inside. “The woman in the picture used to work as a nanny for the children,” she said quietly. “She lasted about three weeks. Longer than most, but she escaped as quickly as she could.”
“So you knew her?”
“Not well. Staff comes and goes here all the time. Doesn’t do to get friendly.”
“Have you seen Sheila around here more recently?”
“No. I don’t see anything. I’m paid to be silent and unseen.”
Not nearly enough, I’d wager. “But you do see things, don’t you?” I cajoled. “Was Richard Urquhart a regular visitor?”
Maria shrugged but didn’t deny his visits.
“Can you remember the last time he was here?”
Maria shook her head. “I don’t want to get involved with the police.”
“I understand, but can you at least tell me? I don’t want to cause trouble. I just want to find Sheila before it’s too late. She has a daughter, you know. Eleven years old and wondering if she’ll ever see her mother again.”
Maria’s shoulder’s sagged and she looked unhappy. “Mr. Urquhart was at the house on Wednesday night,” she said finally. “He and Mr. Ross were having an argument in Mr. Ross’s office.”
“What about?”
“I don’t understand their business matters.”
“But you heard some of what was said. Can you remember words?” I prompted.
“I heard them speaking about a vote.”
I nodded encouragingly. That was the day after the board meeting. It would make sense they were talking about the vote. Urquhart must’ve been angry. “What else?”
“I heard them mention Templeton Farms several times. And at the end Mr. Ross just kept insisting that he didn’t want to get involved.”
“Involved with what?”
“I didn’t hear and I didn’t want to. It’s best not to know.”
Could Urquhart have been enlisting Ross’s aid to help get rid of Sheila? Was that what Ross didn’t want to get involved with? If he was willing to talk, that could be just the lead the police needed to go after Urquhart. And in his present situation Ross might be very willing to trade information if he had any.
“And you couldn’t hear what they said about the Templetons?”
“No,” Maria answered firmly.
Urquhart had been pressuring Greer to change her vote in the days following the meeting. He was probably trying to get Ross to put pressure on her as well. “Did Mr. Ross go out again that night?”
“I don’t believe so.”
“Was Mrs. Ross home?”
“No.”
“I understand she’s not around much. Do you know where she stays when she’s not here?”
Maria pursed her lips. “She has a sister on the other side of town. She claims she goes there, but I’ve seen the clothes she packs. You do not wear those with a sister.”
“She came home the night that Jenny Woodyard was minding the children.”
“I saw her come home and I knew it wasn’t going to be a good place to be, but it was raining. I wanted to sneak back into the house and hide in my room, but when I got to the door Mrs. Ross was standing in the front hall screaming at Mr. Ross. Calling him an idiot and telling him she was tired of cleaning up after him.”
“Was she surprised by what she found?”
“Surprised?” Maria considered for a moment, choosing her words. “No. Mrs. Ross, she tries to ignore the women, but the other night it was impossible to ignore. She is very protective of her family name. She kept telling him he was scullerying their reputation.”
“Sullying?”
“Si, sullying. What does this mean?”
“It means he was soiling their family name. Is it true that Mrs. Ross took Jenny back to the shelter that night?”
Maria nodded. “First, she went to pack another bag. Said she was going back to her sister’s. When she came down, the girl was sitting on the bench in the front hall, saying she thought she was going to faint.”
“Did she?”
“No. Mrs. Ross got her a glass of water, told her to drink it, and then loaded her in the car to drive her home.”
“Mrs. Ross got her a glass of water? Not you?”
“I offered, but she said no.”
“Didn’t that seem odd to you?”
“Si, but she insisted.”
Why would Lila Ross insist on getting Jenny a drink? Had she spiked Jenny’s drink as well, hoping to make her confused about the events of the night? Maybe confused enough to make her an unreliable witness should she go to the police the next day. It would make her insistence on driving Jenny home make more sense.
“What happened next?”
“The girl left with Mrs. Ross.”
“Did anyone help her to the car?”
“No. I’ve said all I can say. You need to go.” Maria hustled me out the door and I stood on the steps wondering whether both Lila and Duncan Ross were to blame for Jenny’s death. It would make a lot of sense. If they had both given her a dose of Rohypnol, combined with the alcohol and the Prozac, no wonder it was too much for her system. Once we sorted out the situation with Sheila, I’d have to make sure Elliot’s people spoke to Maria again.
For now I was more interested in the fact that Urquhart had been at the house the night Sheila disappeared. Had he told Ross what he was planning to do with Sheila? Had Ross balked at the idea in general or only because he was already nervous about Jenny’s death? As I walked to the car, I sent Michaelson a text suggesting that Elliot’s people question Ross about the meeting as long as they had him in custody.
Maria said that Ross and Urquhart were talking about Templeton Farms. What did Templeton Farms have to do with either Sheila or the Manorcare deal? Nothing, as far as I could tell. Had I missed something? Could the Templetons be involved in Sheila’s disappearance? If so, why would Colin Templeton offer to help pay the ransom? I had no answer for that one. Maybe it was time to pay the Templetons another visit. I picked up the phone, dialed the house, and got Greer on the line.
“I know it’s a Sunday, but the light’s beautiful today and I have a bit of time on my hands. Would you mind if I stopped over to start taking some of the photos for your new brochures?”
“I’d love that,” Greer enthused. “Are you sure you have time?”
“I can squeeze you in. Be there in about half an hour.”
“Perfect.”
I checked my phone for what felt like the hundredth time in the past two hours. Still no news from Amanda, and nothing about Sheila.
I hadn’t completely lied to Greer. The light was beautiful today. A thin layer of clouds cast a muted glow over the land. The colors spoke of the arrival of spring, and as I drove up the drive to the house, I mentally assessed the diffused light and picked the best angles for capturing the new growth pushing up through the soil.
Greer ran down the front steps to meet me as I pulled Hope into a space under a tree.
“I’m so excited. This is going to be great. Where do you want to start?”
I grabbed my gear from the trunk of the car and stood, looking around. “I notice you have a widow’s walk on the top of the house. Any way to get up there? It would be great to get a shot of the grounds from above. It’s such a pretty layout.”
“Haven’t been up there in years, but we should be able to access it from the attic.”
Exactly what I hoped Greer would say. I followed her inside the house and up a grand flight of stairs from the ground floor. The first level looked like bedrooms, but the doors were all closed. The second floor was storage rooms and servants’ quarters left over from the days when a house this size would have had a full complement of upstairs and downstairs servants. Easy enough to conceal a prisoner if the owners were cooperating. I wanted to run down the hall and fling open all the doors, but Greer continued along at a determined pace.
At the end of the hall, Greer opened a narrow door that led to the attic. I climbed the stairs behind her, looking for signs of recent use. If I’d hoped to find a prisoner tied and left in a giant chest or cupboard, I was going to be disappointed. The attic itself was largely empty. A few boxes were stacked up at the far end, covered with dust, and a few pieces of wicker furniture had been left to rot.
The exit to the roof was a metal door with a padlock that wasn’t engaged. We stepped outside and were greeted by a stiff breeze and a lovely panorama of the fields below. The plastic tops on the seasonal greenhouses had been rolled back to allow the sun to penetrate, and this was a perfect angle to appreciate the color and diversity of the plants below.
Greer took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. “Isn’t it lovely? I don’t think I’ve ever seen the grounds from this angle.”
“Tell me what I’m looking at,” I said, snapping photos.
“Down there, to the left, are the heirloom potatoes and lettuces. As you move round to the right, the reddish-looking leaves are golden beets, after that miniature gourds, shallots, chives, and parsley, and round the edges are rosemary and oregano bushes. In the back by the tree line are lavender bushes and some lemon verbena and sage. Over to the right side are strawberries, lingonberries, and black currants.”
“It all seems to be thriving.” I pointed to the navy shed with the small porch off to the right side. “That’s your herb shed, right?”
Greer nodded. “Yes. I’ve had to move my packaging activities to the greenhouse for the moment. Colin’s having the floorboards refinished in the shed itself.”
“Have you had problems?”
“Not yet, but Colin says it’s just a matter of time, and if I’m going to be in there a lot, it should be safe.”
“What are the other buildings we can see from here?”
“The one straight back hidden in the tree line is our machine shed. We keep a small tractor and a hand-driven tiller in there. I’d do it all in the old-fashioned way, but Colin’s not as patient. He always wants us to get on and get growing.”
“And the other building? What was that again?” I said, pointing to the long, low building off to the far left side of the gardens.
“That’s our outdoor junk room. Everything we don’t really need but think we might one day. Too much clutter for me. That’s Colin’s domain. He’s the family pack rat.”
I took several photos of the building from outside. The low metal building had a shallow roof with four large skylights, all encased in dust and grime, and the grass around it had died off, leaving nothing but bare dirt and rock. The only dead space in all that vibrant green.
I took a number of shots before turning back to Greer. “Right, let’s go see those herbs then, while the light holds.”
We retraced our steps through the house and back outside. No sign of Colin. Perhaps he was with Amanda, trying to keep her mind off the situation with Sheila. For her sake, I hoped so.
“Where’s Colin?”
“He stayed in town last night with a friend. He’s not back yet.” After a long pause she added, “He’s young.”
“He’s the same age as you,” I observed.
“I know. He just hasn’t outgrown that pub and partying scene yet. I suppose he’s still looking for what makes him happy.”
“Is he seeing anyone special?”
“Not that he’s told me. He likes to keep his private life private. As he likes to remind me I’m his sister, not his mother.”
“Probably just as well he’s not dating, right? Keeps his mind on the business.”
Greer led us back along the halls hung with paintings of horses and dogs. “Honestly, I’d rather he found someone that makes him happy and settles down.”
“What about you?” I asked. “Have you found what makes you happy?”
“This is what makes me happy. All this.” Greer gestured with a wide-sweeping arm as we stepped out onto the terrace. “What more could you want out of life?”
“A partner,” I suggested.
“I’ll get to that in good time. But it’ll have to be someone who shares my love for growing things.” Greer blushed slightly and steered me away from the topic. “Do you want to start with the drying shed or the herbs out here?”
“Let’s start out here while the light is good.” I got down on my hands and knees and crawled through the dirt, taking close-ups of the various herbs where they grew. Lush green and immaculate, they would make great images for a brochure. While I was there, I took some extreme close-ups of the junk shed from my vantage point in the garden. There were two doors, one on the side and one at the rear. Both were padlocked and the windows were opaque with grime and dust. I’d like to get a closer look at that shed. Something was odd about it, but I had no way to justify it, especially as Greer was anxiously waiting to take me over to the herb-drying shed.
We approached the neat shed with the bright green door. I took photos of the outside and more again of the inside. Things looked the same as when I’d been in there last, including, I had to say, the floor. The old boards creaked under our weight, but if work was being done, it wasn’t much. It seemed to have been swept recently but the floorboards still looked the same. None of them new or replaced. There were four oak barrels in the corner that reminded me of the barrels we used at Abby Glen. “What’s in here?”
Greer pulled off one of the lids. “Nothing yet. I’m going to fit rods on the bottom of the barrel lids so I can hang and dry some of the herbs that are more appealing to the rodents on the inside. I hope that will keep them from being nibbled at.”
“If you ever need more barrels, let us know. We usually have an assortment of spent ones lying around.”
Greer slid the empty barrel back against the wall and I noticed the line of a trapdoor in the floor in the corner.
“Where does that go?”
“There’s a dank little basement level under here. Used to be used for storing beer kegs in the days when home brewing was a thing we did. Now it’s just empty.”
We heard a footfall on the porch and turned toward the door. “Greer, I’ve told you to keep out of here until the floors are fixed. It’s dangerous.” Colin stepped into the door and saw me in the corner with my camera slung around my neck. It was only a fractional motion, but I could have sworn his eyes narrowed. “I didn’t realize we had company.” He stepped back and gestured for both of us to leave the shed.
“I hired Abi to take some photos for the brochures for the new herb business,” Greer said.
I tried to smile genuinely and raised the camera slightly. “Got some great shots of the plants in the fields. Just needed a couple of them drying in the shed. It’s a great product. You should do really well with it.”
“Greer has certainly put her heart and soul into it, but I’m surprised to find you here. I thought you were waiting for news about Sheila.”
“We are waiting, but I can’t just sit. That’s why I thought I’d come take a few photos out here in the fresh air. It calms my nerves.”
Greer and I followed Colin back to the house. “I find being out with the plants calms me, too,” Greer said. “Abi got some beautiful close-ups of the plants and a series of amazing aerial shots of the property I never would have thought of.”
Colin looked surprised. “How did you get aerial shots?”
“From the roof,” I admitted. “Greer and I climbed up through the attic. Gorgeous view from the crow’s nest up there, especially with the plastic roofs rolled back.”
“You’re lucky you weren’t injured. No one has been up there for years. It could have been unstable. God knows Mother wasn’t much of a one for basic maintenance.”
Was it my imagination or did Colin’s eyes suddenly lose their playful glimmer. The eyes that looked back at me were sharp and watchful. “Seemed sound enough to me, and it’s a beautiful house.”
“Yes, I suppose it is,” Colin said, draping an arm around Greer’s shoulder. “So many memories here for us. Hard sometimes to separate the good from the bad.”
“But it’s good now, isn’t it.” Greer smiled. “Thanks so much for taking the time to do the photos.”
“Can’t wait to see them,” Colin said. “Especially the aerial shots. Maybe we could use some of those on our website, if you don’t mind, that is. It’ll be a new perspective on the place.”
“Sure, I’ll send you the proofs tomorrow. Feel free to use what you like.”
I packed up the rest of my gear and drove away as quickly as I could. My hands were gripping the wheel so tightly that my bones were standing out in sharp relief. Templeton Farms sat on a large estate, one that Richard Urquhart was intimately familiar with. After all, he’d been going there for years. I was suddenly convinced that what Maria overheard was not Urquhart seeking Ross’s help to kidnap Sheila, but to conceal her. Ross had declined to help, but Colin was willing to vote with Urquhart in order to maintain his business connections. What else was he willing to do? Possibly hide a kidnapped woman or a body on his estate.