Kay shrugged and spoke rapidly, as if in a hurry to answer and be done with his questions. “Evelyn Hume. Diane Hume, James’s widow. Diane and James’s son, Jimmy. Laverne and Ronald Phillips, friends of Diane. Margo Taylor, the housekeeper, and her daughter, Shannon Taylor, occupy a small cottage on the grounds.”
“Why were you in the garden?”
“I read late. I wasn’t sleepy.” She sounded relaxed and untroubled. “I decided to take a stroll.”
Cobb looked both suspicious and puzzled. “Were you alone?”
“Yes. I walked down to the second terrace. It was lovely in the moonlight. I paused by the cul-de-sac that faces the pond. I heard a noise. I was turning to see and the vase landed behind me. My lucky night.”
Cobb glanced at her torn slacks. “How did you rip your slacks?”
Her eyes flared a little. If she’d faced the balcony and fallen forward, she would have been hit by the vase. “Everything happened so fast.” She made a deprecating gesture. “I suppose—yes, I think I was turning to look up and I realized something was falling and I whirled and stumbled toward the pond.”
“Did you see anyone on the balcony?”
“It was dark.”
“When you came to the front porch, you were with a tall, thin woman in black.”
“Laverne Phillips. She heard the crash and came to see.” The tension had eased from Kay’s body. She knew the interview was almost over. Laverne Phillips had seen me with Kay, but I supposed that Kay doubted the police would speak to Laverne. Or, if they did, Kay would deny Laverne’s claim of a redheaded woman. After all, the police would find it hard to prove I had been there. Kay obviously was willing to gamble.
Cobb flipped shut his notebook. His face creased in thought as he looked toward the steps leading down to the garden. “The balcony seems to be a site for accidents.” His gaze swung to Kay. “Were you here the night of June sixth?”
Kay’s face was somber. “No. I was at home.”
“Where is home, Mrs. Clark?”
“Dallas.”
“What brought you to The Castle?”
He could not have been as eager as I to hear her answer. If only I’d been more attentive when Wiggins had briefed me.
Her lips moved in a faint smile. “Business.”
He waited.
She met his gaze in silence.
How maddening.
“Very well.” His words were clipped. “Get in touch if you remember anything helpful.” He turned to walk away.
I seethed. Kay was not only foolish, but an ungrateful wretch. Refusing to tell the police that someone had toppled the vase placed her, in my view, in further danger. I’d saved her once. Who knew if I could manage to save her again?
If I’d been visibly present, I knew my eyes would be glinting and my lips pressed tight. But I wasn’t visibly present. So…I took two quick steps and plunged my hand into the capacious pocket where she’d dropped the note found on her pillow.
Kay made a gurgling sound in her throat. She seized my wrist.
Chief Cobb turned to look. His eyes widened.
As we struggled, she listed to her right. To an observer, Kay’s posture was odd.
“Let go,” she hissed.
“Mrs. Clark?” The chief took a step toward her.
She yanked herself upright, but maintained her tight grip on my wrist. “Sorry.” She was breathing fast. She made an effort to move forward, but I braced my feet against the balcony floor. She continued to appear strained. “I’m a bit unsteady. Shock.”
Chief Cobb took a step forward. “Can I help you?”
“No.” The word was forced between breaths. Kay twisted free and used both hands to shove me.
I lost my balance, but I had the note.
She flung herself in pursuit of the folded sheet and grabbed the note. As she whirled toward the railing, she tore the paper into tiny pieces and threw the particles out into the night. Her chest heaving, she faced the chief. “Sometimes I have trouble breathing. Asthma, you know. That accounts for my unsteadiness and…and the choking sounds. If you’ll excuse me, I’ll go to my room.”
Chief Cobb’s massive face was a study in disbelief.
No doubt he was trying to reconcile what he had seen with what she had said. The note had been small. The movement of her hands could have been a flutter of distress. The pieces of paper were now well disposed of.
“If you’re certain you are all right…” Cobb spoke slowly, his gaze bewildered.
“I’m fine. Thank you.” She strode past him.
Reluctantly, I gave her an unseen thumbs-up. She was a worthy oppo—oh. I must not align myself against her. Unless forced to do so by circumstances beyond my control.
Chief Cobb and I gazed after her as she walked swiftly toward the steps leading down to the garden. Whatever he thought, he surely realized that there was more to this evening than met the eye.
As for me, I was willing to cede the first round, but I wasn’t through. Kay wanted a verdict of accident. I had no idea why she had made that decision. I was determined to engage the police. An active investigation of attempted murder would protect Kay. Keeping her safe was my priority. For me, that goal had neared the status of a search for a unicorn. However, I would not be thwarted by obdurate, stubborn, impossible Kay Clark.
My eyes narrowed in consideration. No tools had been found on the balcony. Tools were kept in a workshop. One quick thought and I again found myself in total darkness. I slipped my hand over the wall and turned on the lights. Any handyman would have been thrilled with the collection of tools in The Castle workshop. Tools were arranged in niches or holders on one wall. I spotted a collection of chisels and hammers and three crowbars of varying size. The tools appeared clean and shiny, but I would expect no less in a well-kept tool room. There was nothing to suggest any of these tools had been used to loosen the vase, but nothing to show they had not. I chose a claw hammer that had a nice heft and a moderate-size chisel. In my nonvisible state, I didn’t have to be concerned with fingerprints.
However, burdened with tools, I had to transport them through actual space. I could no longer envision a destination and immediately arrive. Turning off the light, I opened the workshop door and stepped outside. I was near the garages. The Castle blazed with lights. Flashlight beams danced in the garden.
The tools should appear to be well hidden, yet I wanted to place them where they’d be easily found. Moreover, I hoped to put the tools inside the house. I hadn’t forgotten the sound of that closing door. I wanted the police to look very hard at the occupants of The Castle.
I moved from shadow to shadow, edging ever nearer the garden.
The stark glare of a flashlight swept over me. I wasn’t there, but the crowbar glittered silver.
I dropped to the ground.
“Hey, Joe. Something moved over there near the mimosa.”
Heavy footsteps moved cautiously nearer. “Police. Hands up. Police.”
Three flashlights cut bright swaths near me. The searchers held the flashlights to one side to avoid providing a silhouette.
Keeping the tools barely above the ground, I retreated, escaping those seeking beams by inches. My heart was thudding by the time I reached a huge oak with a massive trunk. I rose. The tools hidden by foliage, I watched the police officers below. As the search of the lower terrace continued, I zipped, still hidden by trees, to the front of the house.
In my absence, the fire truck and ambulance had departed. The chief’s car and several cruisers remained in the drive. The brightly lit porch was empty. Happily, the front porch wasn’t visible from the terrace. I found the front door closed and locked. I placed the tools on the welcome mat and moved through the wooden panel. Once inside, I turned the lock, opened the door, retrieved the tools, closed and locked the door.
A low-wattage yellow bulb burned in a wall sconce. Otherwise, the hallway was dim. The stairs stretched up into darkness. I wondered how well the occupants were resting after the late-night interruption.