Carolyn Haines [Sarah Booth D Bones of a Feather (epub)

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.“At the back of the property is Jerome’s cottage,” Eleanor said.She’d opted to stay in the house in case Monica returned.If that happened, she’d call us.“Can the gardener help us look?” Tinkie asked.“He could if he were home,” Eleanor said.“I’ve called repeatedly, but there’s no answer.”The hair on the nape of my neck tingled.Jerome and Monica were absent.A tête-à-tête or an abduction? It could be either, or neither.But it was at least a good place to start.Tinkie had come to the same conclusion, and we set off through the maze of the garden, our flashlights allowing us a narrow path in the dense darkness.When we were out of earshot of Eleanor, Tinkie pulled me to a stop.“Do you think Monica is boinking the gardener?”“Maybe.”“I don’t buy that business of giving up on men,” Tinkie said.“Women who are doing exactly what they want say stuff like that.I mean, I expect you to say it any minute.”“What are you talking about?” I wondered if Jitty were somehow influencing Tinkie.“You’re so determined to be upfront and honest and put everything out there.Men don’t like that.They want to be deceived and coddled and catered to.They need the illusion of control.Surely by now you’ve learned that, Sarah Booth.”We were standing in the middle of a garden at an estate that looked like the setting for a Frankenstein movie with one half of our client team missing and Tinkie was lecturing me on appropriate behavior with men.“Let’s find Monica, then you can sort my love life.”“Point taken.” She aimed her flashlight and set off to the north.The stiff breeze blew strands of my hair into my eyes, and slender oak and dogwood branches slapped at my face.By the time we made it to the gardener’s cottage, I was exasperated.A bottle tree clanked and jangled in the wind.The multicolored bottles that had been stuck on bare limbs would be beautiful in sunlight.Now, though, the noise was unsettling.The beam of our flashlights showed a modest, Creole-style cottage set on six-foot pilings with an inviting front porch.A single light burned in the front window.We headed up the steps.Tinkie knocked loudly on the front door.“Mr.Lolly! Mr.Lolly!”No answer.“Do you think he’s inside?” Tinkie asked.Emptiness seeped from the house.“No.” I didn’t think anything alive was in residence at that moment.While the structure of the house was symmetrical and handsome, something was off.I felt as if someone watched me, excited by our presence.If Jerome Lolly was as creepy as his house, I didn’t want to meet him in the dark.“Listen!” Tinkie’s fingers dug into my arm.A muffled sound drifted from the east.I couldn’t be certain what it was.There was a rhythm, a familiar cadence, but I couldn’t put my finger on it until I heard the wild whinny of a horse.“Holy Christmas.” Tinkie’s grip tightened until I winced.“If the Headless Horseman comes crashing out of the tree line, I’m breaking into the cottage.”I wasn’t certain inside was any safer than out, but I respected Tinkie’s decision.I had the thought we’d been dropped down into a really bad fairy tale.All sorts of evil spirits and ghoulies might roam the grounds of Briarcliff.“See if the door’s unlocked.”She gave the knob a twist, and the door swung wide without a sound.“We don’t have permission to enter,” she reminded me.“Lolly is Eleanor’s employee.She sent us to find Monica.I think we’re within our rights.” I stepped over the threshold and fumbled for a light switch.When I found it, I prayed as I flipped it up.Warm, wonderful light filled the room.Glancing around, I could say two things about Jerome Lolly.He was a neat man and he loved horticulture.Books on plants and gardening filled one wall, but my eye was drawn to a meticulous miniature re-creation of a schooner.Tinkie and I approached it together.Lillith was the boat’s name.“Wasn’t that Barthelme’s ship’s name?” Tinkie whispered, though there was no one in the cottage to hear her.“Yes.” My skin rippled with goose bumps.The replica of the Lillith could have any number of interpretations.Maybe it was as simple as the fact that Jerome liked boats, but I didn’t think so.“There’s no obvious sign of Monica,” Tinkie said.“We might as well search the whole place.” We were there.We’d already entered.It only seemed logical to make the most of our current situation.Besides, Jerome Lolly had begun to interest me.He didn’t fit the picture in my head of “the average gardener.”To prove the point we found a half-empty bottle of expensive red wine and the remnants of a meal on the oak counter in the kitchen.Two plates and two glasses implied Jerome hadn’t dined alone.Tinkie held a glass up to the light.“There’s a lipstick stain.Could be Monica’s shade.” If anyone could match a color, it was Tinkie, or our journalist friend, Cece Dee Falcon, formerly known as Cecil.They took matters of appearance seriously.“A kidnapping victim doesn’t generally swill wine and eat cheese and expensive crackers.” Tinkie put the glass down.“Jerome had company, but it doesn’t mean it was Monica.”A voice boomed from the doorway.“You’re right about that.Such clever lasses.”We whirled to find a fifty-something-year-old giant of a man planted at the threshold.He filled the frame with his large shoulders, long legs, and big hands.“Care to tell me what you’re doing here in my wee cottage?” A beard hid his expression.“Looking for Monica Levert.” Jerome looked and sounded like he’d been carved from highland rock.He was a manly man, and the idea of an affair between him and Monica no longer seemed unlikely.“She’s gone missing, and her sister asked us to find her.Eleanor said there was a gardener’s cottage back here.We thought maybe she’d gotten ill and—”“Cut the bullshit.You thought I’d abducted the woman.” He took a step.“Holding the lovely employer hostage, for…” He shrugged [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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