Whiskey Beach Part 34

"Yeah, nutsh.e.l.l. Abra was a.s.saulted last night. He had to cut the power to get in. He wasn't expecting her. He knew I wasn't here. Maybe he's working with Duncan. Duncan knew I was in Boston. You said he showed you receipts, gave you timelines. He could've given the person who broke in the all-clear. I'm in Boston, get in, get digging."

"For what?"

"Vinnie, you and I might shake our heads at the whole Esmeralda's Dowry nonsense, but plenty don't."

"So somebody gets Ms. Landon's key and pa.s.scode, copies them. I can go with that. It's not that hard. He uses them to gain access to the bas.e.m.e.nt, starts digging his a.s.s off. One night he attacks her, knocks her down the stairs."

"She can't remember. Yet."

As the image came, as it always did, of her lying broken, bleeding, Eli paced off the fury. "Maybe she heard something and came down. Maybe she just came down then heard something. She tried to get back up. Her bedroom door's thick as a plank, and locks from the inside. Get in, call the cops. Or maybe he just scared her and she tripped. Either way, he left her there. Unconscious, bleeding, broken. He left her."

"If it happened that way." Vinnie put a hand on Eli's shoulder. "If."

"If. A lot of activity here for a couple weeks after she fell. The police, Abra in and out getting things for Gran. But then it settles down a little, and he can come back, keep digging. Until word gets out I'm coming to stay. Until Abra changes the security. Vinnie, he had to know the house would be empty for several hours yesterday. It had to come from Duncan."

"We'll talk to Duncan again. Meanwhile, I'm going to get somebody in here to take pictures, measurements. We'll take the tools in. We'll get them processed, but that's going to take a little time. We're small fries around here, Eli."

"Understood."

"Get that security fixed. We'll add a couple more drive-bys. You ought to think about getting a dog."

"A dog? Seriously?"

"They bark. They have teeth." Vinnie's shoulders lifted in a rolling shrug. "We're not exactly a hotbed of crime over at South Point, but I like knowing there's a dog in my house when I'm not. Anyway, I'll get some people out here. Why dig way back here?" Vinnie wondered as they started back.

"It's the oldest part of the house. This section was here when the Calypso went down off the coast."

"So what's his name, the survivor?"

"Giovanni Morenni, according to some. Jose Corez, according to others."

"Yeah, them. And I've heard other stories that say it was Captain Broome himself. Arrgh!"

"And a hearty yo-ho," Eli added.

"Either way, he drags the dowry box-which conveniently came ash.o.r.e with him-up here, buries it? I always like the one where he stole a boat, went out and buried it on one of the offsh.o.r.e islands."

"There's the one where my ancestor came down, found him, brought him and the treasure to the house and nursed him back to health."

"My wife likes that one. It's romantic. Except for the part where your ancestor's brother kills him and throws his body off the bluff."

"And the dowry's never seen again. The fact is, whatever the theory, the man who did this is a believer."

"Looks that way. I'll stop by the B-and-B, take another pa.s.s at Duncan."

It wasn't the way Eli would've chosen to spend the day, dealing with cops, the power company, insurance company, alarm security techs. The house felt too crowded, too busy, and brought home to him how much he'd grown accustomed to s.p.a.ce, quiet, solitude. He'd discovered an apt.i.tude for quiet and solitude at odds with the life he once led. Gone were the days filled with appointments, meetings, people, the evenings filled with parties and events.

He wasn't sorry about it. If a day spent answering questions, making decisions, filling out forms struck as an anomaly, he decided he could live with it.

And when at last the house and grounds were empty again, he let out one sigh of relief.

Before he heard the mudroom door open.

"Jesus, what now?" He crossed over, opened the interior door.

Abra took one of the market bags weighing down her shoulders, set it on the washer. "You needed a few things."

"I did?"

"You did." She pulled out a bottle of laundry detergent, put it inside a white cabinet. "It looks like you're hooked back up."

"Yeah. We've got a new security code." He dug in his pocket for the note, handed it to her. "You'll need it, I guess."

"Unless you want to run downstairs on my mornings." She glanced at it, tucked it in her purse. "I ran into Vinnie," she continued, moving past Eli and into the kitchen. "So I told him I'd pa.s.s along that Kirby Duncan appears to have checked out. He didn't formally, as in telling Kathy at the B-and-B he'd be leaving early, but his things are gone. Vinnie said to call if you had any questions."

"He just left?"

"So it seems," she said as she emptied the bags. "Vinnie's going to reach out, don't you love that? Such a cop term. He'll reach out to the Boston PD, as if they'll follow up with Duncan due to the excavation in your bas.e.m.e.nt. But since he's gone he can't snoop around and invade your privacy. That's good news."

"Did the client pull him back? I wonder. Fire him? Did Duncan just cut his losses?"

"Can't say." She tucked a box of wheat crackers into a cupboard. "But I do know he was paid up through Sunday, and had made some noises about possibly extending his stay. Then poof, packed up and gone. I'm not sorry. I didn't like him."

With the groceries put away, she folded her bags, slid them into her purse. "So, I think this calls for a celebration."

"What does?"

"No snooping private investigations, the power's back on and your security is once more secure. That's a productive day after a really c.r.a.ppy night. You should come into the pub for a drink later. Good music tonight, and you can hang out with Maureen and Mike."

"I lost most of the day on all this. I need to catch up."

"Excuses." She tapped a finger to his chest. "Everybody can use a little lift on a Friday night. A cold beer, some music and conversation. Plus your waitress, who would be me, wears a really short skirt. I'm going to grab a water for the ride," she said, turning to open the fridge.

He slapped a hand on the door, making her eyebrows arch as she turned back. "No water for me?"

"Why do you keep pus.h.i.+ng?"

"I don't think of it that way." He crowded her in, she realized. Interesting. And whether he realized it or not, s.e.xy. "I'm sorry that you do. I'd like to see you there in a casual, social setting. Because it would be good for you, and because I'd like to see you. And maybe you need to see me in a short skirt so you can decide if you're interested in me or not."

He crowded her in a bit more, but instead of stirring caution or wariness-probably his intent-it stirred l.u.s.t.

"You're pus.h.i.+ng b.u.t.tons you shouldn't."

"Who can resist pus.h.i.+ng a b.u.t.ton when it's right there?" she countered. "I don't understand that kind of person or that kind of self-denial. Why shouldn't I want to know if you're attracted to me before I let myself be any more attracted to you? It seems fair."

So much going on in there, she thought. Like a storm circling.