When Jane returned to the lake house the following morning, she found Cordelia sitting at the kitchen table, dragging a spoon lethargically through a bowl of cereal.
“The prodigal returns,” said Cordelia, lifting the spoon to her lips.
Jane had sent Cordelia a text last night, telling her she wouldn’t be back until morning. “Stick a sock in it, okay? I don’t want to hear any of your jokes. And I’m hardly the prodigal.”
“If you haven’t been a tiny bit prodigal, I’d be supremely disappointed.”
Jane rolled her eyes. “You’re up early.”
“I’m having my midnight snack.”
“It’s just after nine.”
“So? I didn’t get to bed until four. And then the blasted pea inside my mattress kept me awake until well past five.”
“Why were you up so late?” Jane removed her jacket before stepping over to the coffee pot to pour herself a cup. The Granholms’ kitchen hadn’t been updated all that much over the years, but with lots of counter space, it was a comfortable spot in which to work. The only problem this morning was that the screaming yellow walls were almost too bright for Jane’s tired eyes.
“Major dinner party, remember? Everyone who met at the resort came back here afterward. I suggested we play charades, and before I knew it, it was after two and everyone was leaving. I dazzle at charades, Janey.”
“I know. We play them every Christmas.”
“We decided to do movie titles, so I went upstairs, found a couple feather boas, a few period hats, and various and sundry other props to help with my performance.”
“You brought all that with you?” No wonder Cordelia’s suitcases were so heavy.
“You never know when you’re going to need something to help establish a character. I may never have been a Boy Scout, but I do believe in being prepared.”
“Okay, but then why were you up until four?”
She gave a weary sigh. “After everyone took off, Emma got out the peppermint schnapps. You know me and peppermint schnapps. About four shots in, she started to open up about her marriage—and about the local guy she’s been dating all summer. I, of course, in my often-called-upon role as earth mother and romantic-advice columnist, felt I should stay and listen, just in case she needed my sage advice.”
Jane pulled out a kitchen chair and sat down. “Who’s she been seeing?”
“Scott Romilly.”
“Sam’s brother?”
“The very same.”
“Boy, that must feel weird, after dating Sam in high school and then finding out he was murdered. Is she serious about him?”
“Oh, it’s the usual tangle,” said Cordelia, pushing her bowl away. “If I’m to believe what she says, she’s still got a few stray feelings for her husband. Philip is apparently a cad, but lovable. I see them as Rock Hudson and Doris Day, but it’s probably more like Michael Douglas and Kathleen Turner in The War of the Roses. Emma was talking to her daughter yesterday afternoon and found out that Philip’s trophy girlfriend hasn’t been around in weeks. Trouble, it would seem, in paradise.”
“So Scott was just a summer thing.”
“That’s what she thought. He apparently saw it differently. When it came up that she would be leaving soon, he was aghast. He thought they were serious and that she planned to stay so they could make a life together. She said he’d been drinking and that he got pretty insistent about them staying together. So insistent, it turns out, that he frightened her.”
“Not good.”
“There’s more. While we were at the restaurant last night, Scott appeared and floated somewhere near the bar until Emma saw him. He motioned her over so he could tell her how sorry he was about the way he’d behaved. He said he’d been drinking too much because he was distraught over his brother’s death.”
“How did he know she’d be at the resort?”
“Leave it to you to zero in on the problem. He followed her, Janey. That’s stalking behavior.”
“Has he done it before?”
“Emma didn’t think he had, but as we were talking, it occurred to her that she’d seen him a couple of times when she’d been out with a friend. He didn’t try to talk to her, but still, he was there.”
“Creepy.”
“I suggested that she stay away from him.”
“And?”
“She said she’d already promised to have dinner with him tonight at his place.”
“Call it off.”
“She thinks she’s overreacting.”
“Women can be so dumb.” Jane included herself in that critique. When she looked back at Cordelia, she saw that she was being examined. “What?”
“I can read you like the proverbial book, Janey. There’s something you’re not telling me. I’ve felt it for months. I assumed you would, eventually, but you haven’t. Come on, what is it? Don’t you trust me?”
“Of course I trust you. I’d trust you with my life.”
“Then what?”
Jane had already concluded that it was time to tell Cordelia the full story about Julia. But the whole thing was embarrassing, and anyway, it wasn’t something she needed to do right this minute. In an effort to put off the inevitable, she changed the subject. “I have some news about that house fire.”
“You’re deflecting, dearheart. I’ll let you get away with it for now, but not forever. I do want to hear about the fire. And if I’m going to listen to something like that, I need real sustenance.”
“Brussels sprouts? Kale? Quinoa?”
Opening the refrigerator, Cordelia removed a quart of chocolate milk and held it up as if she’d just won an award. She gave a small bow, then sat back down, opened the top, and drank straight from the carton. “You may continue.”
“Leslie happened to have my favorite tea, Yorkshire Gold, so while I was making us a pot, Sgt. Tamborsky of the CLPD showed up at the front door. From what Emma had said about him, I expected a titan of the gridiron going to seed.”
“Dragging his knuckles and grunting all the way.”
“He was actually very nice. He wasn’t terribly tall, but he was big, with a heavy, square face and a rather florid complexion. He was very respectful.”
“He was talking to the mayor, Janey.”
“Well, yes, I’m sure he was on his best behavior. When Leslie introduced me, he seemed to know who I was.”
“Ah, the poster in the window of the art center again; the gift that keeps on giving.”
“I suppose. Anyway, we all sat down in the living room while he explained that human remains had been found in the basement of the Gilbert house. They’ll have to do forensic testing, but he was pretty sure it would turn out to be Carli. He said it was arson and speculated, with no evidence, that someone might have used the fire as a cover for murder. I got the impression that he watches a lot of cop shows.”
“How ghastly. Does he have any suspects?”
“The investigation is just getting started, so no. Leslie asked him if he had any new information on Sam Romilly. He said he’d been taken off the case and put on the Gilbert case instead. Sgt. Bobby Saltus is now in charge. Tamborsky pretty much said that the older case had to take a backseat to the arson/murder, which is why the switch was made. Tamborsky has seniority over Saltus.”
Cordelia tried to stifle a yawn. Taking a last swig of milk, she folded the top closed. “This is all terribly fascinating, but I’ve got to get some shut-eye.”
“To be continued,” said Jane.
“What will you be up to while I’m getting my beauty sleep?”
“Not sure. Finding Sam’s remains has produced more leads than I anticipated.”
“Don’t do anything important without me.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it.”
On her way out of the room, Cordelia paused and turned around. “By the way, I’m free for dinner. I suppose you’re spending the evening with the mayor.”
“Nope. She has a planning-commission meeting tonight. Why don’t we find a good place to eat? My treat.”
“No, Janey, it should be mine. You carried in all the luggage. You cleaned up the kitchen the other night. And you’re going to put the chocolate milk away, right?”
It was easier to buy dinner than it was to schlep and scrub, but Jane didn’t mind. “Deal.”
“Night night. I promise, I shall be better company anon.”