Marta Perry - How Secrets Die

“At Blackburn House? Well, let me think. He must have met Nick Whiting and his father, who run the cabinetry business, and Sarah at the quilt shop, but I don’t think any of them ever got close. And of course the bookshop owner was much older.” She seemed to brighten a little. “There’s Nikki, the receptionist. She’d have been more his age, and I think she stopped by a few times. And Rich Willis, the young attorney whose office is upstairs. He might have known Jason.”

“I hadn’t thought of him. I might stop by and introduce myself.” She couldn’t remember that Jason had ever mentioned the man, but it was a possibility. And she’d have to cultivate Nikki’s acquaintance.

Mac’s warning about staying away from Bart Gordon slithered into her mind. Too bad she’d managed to make an enemy of Gordon at their first meeting. But that hadn’t entirely been her fault. Gordon had overreacted to her presence, badly overreacted. That had to mean something.

While Kate had been busy with her speculations, Mrs. Anderson had been burbling on, seemingly an inexhaustible source of local information. “...previous bookshop owner was killed, right there in Blackburn House.” She leaned forward, emphasizing her words with a tap on the table. “Right next door, can you imagine it? Such a scandal, it caused.”

Wheels turned. “Was that when Jason was here?”

“Oh, no, dear. That happened just this past spring. It turned out he’d been blackmailing someone.”

Impressive, but it didn’t seem to have any possible relationship to her brother. “Who runs the bookshop now?”

“That would be Emily Waterston. She’d clerked there for years, and he left everything to her. Poor Emily.” She shook her head. “I’m afraid it’s all been overwhelming for her. And now the high school girl who helped her part-time has gone off to college, leaving her in the lurch. Well, I mean, of course the young woman had to go on to college, but Emily hasn’t been able to find anyone reliable to fill in.”

A bell rang in Kate’s mind. A part-time job at the bookshop—what could be better? It wouldn’t tie her down, and it would give her a legitimate reason for being in Blackburn House whenever she wanted.

“If she hasn’t filled the position, do you think she might be interested in taking me on, just for the month? I...I could stand to have a little extra money coming in until I start a new job.” Actually she was fine financially since Tom had so unexpectedly left everything to her.

But as a reason, it seemed to satisfy Mrs. Anderson. “Why, I’m sure she would. That would give her time to look for someone more permanent. She’d be so relieved.” The woman rose as she spoke and headed for the telephone. “I’ll call her right now and tell her.”

“You don’t need...” she began, but Mrs. Anderson was already punching in the number.

Kate made an effort not to listen to Mrs. Anderson’s side of the phone call, but it was hard not to hear. She got the impression the unknown Emily was jumping at the chance of immediate help.

In a few minutes Mrs. Anderson hung up, turning to Kate with the satisfied smile of one who has done a good deed. “She’s so pleased. You can go over and talk with her right away and set something up.”

“That’s great.” Really great, that it had fallen into her lap so easily. Too easily? She had an almost superstitious mistrust of anything easy. Still, she couldn’t ignore the opportunity. Draining the rest of her iced tea, Kate stood. “Thanks so much.”

Mrs. Anderson flapped away her thanks. “No trouble at all.”

Kate couldn’t stop the triumphant smile that curved her lips as she headed out the door. So much for Mac Whiting’s warning. Not even he could turn a job at the bookshop into a matter of harassment. She’d like to see his face when he heard.

Not that she cared, of course.

* * *

MAC TOLD HIMSELF he’d done everything he could about Kate Beaumont’s troubling presence in his town. Unfortunately, his efforts hadn’t amounted to much. As for Kate herself, she made him think of nothing so much as a barricaded fortification—impenetrable walls bristling with weapons, ready to fire at the slightest provocation, or even at nothing at all.

Kate had every right to be here in Laurel Ridge. He just wished he could get rid of the feeling that she was nothing short of a roadside bomb, ready to explode at the slightest vibration.

Kate lingered at the back of his mind throughout the routine on his plate for the afternoon. Plans for the usual fall safety talk at the elementary school reminded him of Kate, saying that her stepfather had drilled self-defense into her. A meeting with the downtown merchants’ association over a rash of shoplifting made him think of her insistence that someone had tampered with her computer.

By the time he went back to his office, Mac had made up his mind. He had to find out more about Kate Beaumont, even if it meant letting her know he’d been inquiring about her. His lips twisted wryly. The words “police harassment” would undoubtedly be heard.

Marge lifted her eyebrows at him as he walked in. “Something funny?”

“Not really. Be sure all the usual stuff is collected for the elementary school safety talk, will you? We’re supposed to do it Friday afternoon.”

Marge nodded. “Will do. Johnny is down at the bank. A fender bender in the parking lot.”

Johnny was young John Foster, a raw patrolman who showed little signs of ripening. He sighed. “Maybe I’d better get down there.”

“You told me to remind you that he has to learn to do a few things on his own, remember?”

Marge was right. She usually was.

“Okay. I guess he can’t mess up a minor accident report too badly.” Doubt assailed him even as he said the words, but the kid had to do something to earn his salary.

Besides, Mac had something else to do. “Tell him to check in with me when he’s finished.” He headed into his own office. “I need to make a couple of calls.”

Actually there was one call on his mind. Phil Durban had served with him briefly in Afghanistan before returning to the Philadelphia PD, and he’d been Mac’s contact point over the whole disturbing business of Jason Reilley’s death. Phil knew the family, and if there were any rumors floating around about Kate Beaumont, he’d be aware of them.

Luckily Phil was in the station. Mac leaned back in his chair, which creaked in protest, propped his feet on the pulled-out bottom drawer and prepared to exchange the usual backchat with an old comrade.

The genial exchange of friendly insults over with, Mac got down to business. “Listen, Phil, I need some information.”

“Don’t tell me one of our local boys has ventured as far as the middle of nowhere to cause you trouble.” There was the ordinary gibe in the words, but he could sense Phil’s attention sharpen.

“Nothing like that, but someone has shown up here unexpectedly. Kate Beaumont.” He waited for a reaction. Phil might look as bright as a trout, but he had a brain that never forgot a thing.

“Tom Reilley’s kid.” Phil’s voice had slowed. “I wondered.”

“Wondered what?” Mac prompted. “Don’t be too forthcoming now, old buddy.”

“It’s not like I really know a lot, but I did stop by and see Tom once in a while. Poor guy.” Mac could almost see him shaking his head. “He took the boy’s death hard, and then when the cancer showed up, it was like he didn’t have the will to fight it.”

“Rough.” There wasn’t really anything else to say.

“Yeah. Not easy to be a cop’s kid, I guess. My wife not only carries the load, she knocks sense into me when I start bringing job issues home. Tom wasn’t so lucky.”