Jimmy addressed a golf ball. He swung an iron back, then down through the ball and forward. The ball hooked to the left.
I stood a few feet away. There was no joy in his practice. His face was drawn in a tight, grim frown. He hit the balls, one after another, with ferocity. If he had skill, it was lost in the fury of his swings. Usually, the balls hooked.
Finally, he glanced at his watch, yanked up a golf bag, and flung three irons into it.
The crowbar, hammer, and chisel would have fit easily into the bag.
He walked with his head down, oblivious to the chitter of starlings and the low cry of mourning doves. On the terrace, he hesitated, then swung toward the rear of The Castle. In a moment, he was looking through a window into the kitchen. His young face was taut with unhappiness, his gaze uncertain, his lips pressed together.
The Castle kitchen was impressive, everything up-to-date, with granite countertops, gleaming silvery appliances, stone floors. Daffodil yellow curtains framed the window. Shannon emptied the contents of a juicer. Fresh orange juice glistened in a clear glass pitcher. She worked swiftly, competently, but her expression was distant, as if she were far away, where no voice could reach her.
Jimmy took a step toward the door, then, with a mutter, swerved and disappeared around the side of the house.
Inside the kitchen, several platters waited on a counter. Margo’s face was flushed with exertion. She retrieved the last few strips of bacon from a skillet, dropped them onto a paper towel. “You’d better take that tray up.”
Shannon looked irritated. “As if I don’t have enough to do to get the buffet in place. Why can’t she come down to breakfast like everybody else?” Shannon added a napkin to a tray and condiments, including jam and ketchup.
I nodded in approval at a plate with bacon and sausages, scrambled eggs, a Danish, toast, and coffee. The note I’d left last night had requested that breakfast be delivered to Kay’s room at eight A.M.
Shannon’s face twisted in resentment. She turned to pick up the juice pitcher.
I used the tongs to add more bacon and eggs. I slipped an extra plate beneath the first.
“Maybe last night upset her.” Margo gestured toward the window. “I went out to look this morning. She must have been terrified.”
“Too bad the vase didn’t hit her.”
“Shannon.” Margo’s voice was sharp.
“I don’t know who she is, coming in here and acting like Jack belonged to her.” Shannon’s hand shook as she poured juice. “And she insisted on staying in his room.”
“I suspect she knew him better than anyone here.” Margo’s voice was dry.
“Jack didn’t care about her. I know who he was sneaking around to see.” Tears brimmed in Shannon’s eyes, spilled down her face. She gulped back a sob as she grabbed the tray and hurried to the door to the back stairs. She opened the door, left it ajar.
Margo’s eyes burned. “He isn’t worth your tears. He was…” Her words were lost in the clatter of Shannon’s shoes on the uncarpeted stairs.
I was waiting inside Kay’s room when the knock sounded on the hall door. From the bathroom, I heard the splash of the shower. I called through the panel. “Leave the tray on the floor. I’ll get it in a minute.” I’m quite good at mimicking voices.
I waited a moment, eased open the door. As soon as I heard the door to the service stairs close, I retrieved the tray and closed the door. As I placed the tray on a table near the window, I hummed “Oh What a Beautiful Morning.”
The extra plate was perfect. I found a glass at the wet bar and poured half the juice in the tumbler. As for silverware…I shrugged, picked up the spoon. Kay could make do with the knife and fork. I fixed the plates share and share alike, each with bacon, sausage and eggs, half a Danish, and a piece of toast. I replaced the plate cover over Kay’s portion.
Would it be remiss to begin without her? I called out, “If you don’t mind, I’ll start before the eggs are cold.”
Kay appeared in the doorway of the bathroom, pulling on a terry-cloth robe. She looked at the table and the settings. Slowly she lifted her hands, covered her eyes, waited a moment, let them fall.
“Delicious.” I added a dash of ketchup to my eggs. “Thanks for sharing.” I lifted a spoonful of eggs.
Her eyes dark, her face strained, she stalked to the table. She pawed the air, bumping my arm.
The spoon tipped and the eggs fell. Fortunately, they landed on my plate. “Don’t be rude.” I retrieved the eggs. “I’m here. I’m not going anywhere. Get used to it.” In case Wiggins was attuned, I added, “Please.”
She uttered a sharp, short expletive, then grimly sat in the opposite chair. “A spoon in the air. A floating glass of juice. I thought a good night’s sleep would clear up my mind.”
Apparently, floating cutlery and glasses unnerved her. “I’m sorry.” I appeared. This morning I chose a floral-swirl print shirt, blossoms in rose red and hydrangea blue, and white cotton trousers. I spared a quick glance in the mirror, smoothed a vagrant red curl. “Eat your breakfast. You need food for strength. We have lots to do today.”
She grabbed the Danish, took a bite, poured a cup of coffee. “How did breakfast get here?”
“I put a note in the kitchen, requesting a tray for you.”
“A note. Like the note I found in the bathroom. Now I’m writing notes I don’t remember writing.” She darted a wild look toward the door, clearly dismayed that a note had been left in the kitchen. She shook her head and began to eat, ignoring me.
I finished and poured a cup of coffee into a mug from the wet bar. Mmm, excellent coffee. “I don’t believe I’ve told you about the tools. You see, I thought you made a mistake in preventing an investigation.” I described my clever arrangement of the tools in the cabinet by the front door last night and their subsequent disappearance. “Anyone in the house could have found and removed them.”
She was thoughtful. “My mind is all screwed up. I didn’t want the police. No way I would have put tools out to be found.” She brightened. “Of course I wouldn’t. That’s why they disappeared. My mind is making up for that nutty idea.” Suddenly she looked forlorn. “Why do I keep having these thoughts?”
I gazed at her without warmth. She had to be one of the most stubborn women I’d ever encountered. “Have you ever thought about Zen?”
She flung down her napkin. “This has to stop. Okay, mind, listen. I will not be diverted. Hush. Now.”
I sighed. “I am not diverting you. I want to find out who pushed Jack ASAP, so I can leave you in my cosmic dust. If you’ll hush, I’ll let you in on what I discovered while you were relaxing in a hot shower.” I ticked off the occupants of the house, one by one. “This morning Evelyn was on the upper terrace, checking out the vase. Ronald Phillips surreptitiously watched her from the balcony. When Ronald returned to their room, he and Laverne had a curious exchange. Diane cut fresh flowers this morning and talked to her dead husband’s picture. She’s desperately worried about something. In the kitchen, Margo and Shannon talked about Jack. Jimmy practiced hitting irons on the third terrace.”
Kay spread marmalade on her toast. She gave me a defiant glare. “Big deal. People are up and around. So?”
My eyes slitted. “Has anybody ever told you that you have a smart mouth?”
Her grin was immediate and delighted. “This is more like it. Let’s level with each other. You don’t like me. I don’t like you. Why don’t you take a hike?”
I opened my mouth, grabbed my temper, pressed my lips firmly together. I managed to sound pleasant when I spoke. “Actually, it should be the other way around.”
She crunched bacon and quirked an eyebrow.
“You are lucky to be alive this morning, thanks to my timely intervention. I understand—and I’m sure Heaven does as well—that your motive in coming to Adelaide was admirable. You believed Jack’s death was murder. The note on your pillow and the toppled vase prove you were correct. However, now that I am here, the wise course is for you to leave. You can be assured I will continue to investigate.”