“Right, auntie. Whatever you say.” Leslie popped a kiss onto Cherry’s cheek then headed off to hercar.
She had to admit, she’d taken her time rearranging the cabinets and chatting with her aunt. She suddenly found she wasn’t all that eager to return to a large, dark, empty housealone.
For the first time since moving in, Leslie was fully aware of how isolated Shenstone was, up on its low hill, surrounded by a generous, forested area. Even though the town was less than a mile away, the house felt farther away from everything because it was higher up and shrouded inwoodlands.
And now that she’d learned about Kristen van Gerste—hadn’t her body been found in the same wooded area? Farther away, closer to the highway, butstill…
“That was thirty years ago,” Leslie told herself out loud as she turned down herstreet.
And then there was the movement in the brush she’d seen—or thought she’d seen—just before she left tonight, while she was navigating down the wooded, S-curveddrive.
“Don’t be an idiot,” she lectured herself as she nosed her Mercedes into the driveway. It was probably a deer. Or a dog. Or a figment of herimagination.
Who wouldn’t be on edge after having the bejesus scared out of her by Declan Zyler showing up at herwindow?
Leslie didn’t see anything out of place as the car crunched up the drive (going to have to get it paved before winter, she thought), and her high-beam headlamps spread a large and comforting semicircle as she turned into the parkingarea.
The lights were on inside, just as she’d left them, and her house looked as inviting and homey as usual. Feeling relieved, and rather foolish for her apprehension, she climbed out of the car, keys jangling in herhand.
But Leslie had just reached the back door when, from the corner of her eye, she caught a movement at the edge of the woods. She spun around, heart in her throat, just as the bushes shook andtrembled.
Something wasthere.
Seven
Leslie stifleda shriek just as the largest cat she’d ever seen bolted out of the bushes and tore across the yard. She had only a glimpse of a taffy-colored, bushy-furred feline, and then it was gone. Back into the darkness, leaving the bushes shuddering in its wake and Leslie weak-kneed with her heartthudding.
“Well,” she said when her lungs started working again. “Well, that wasfun.”
She stood there for a moment, wondering what had caused the cat to burst from the woods at top speed, then dart back into the night. Had something been chasingit?
The night was still. Not even a breeze to ruffle through the leaves or stir her hair. The warm glow of lamplight spilled from the kitchen window, and Leslie let herself in atlast.
She gave one last look out into the night, wondering if the cat had been a stray (she hadn’t seen a collar when it streaked past her), then closed thedoor.
Inside the kitchen, where the new-grout and -paint smell still lingered and the appliances gleamed, she made a pot of chamomile tea (Orbra would approve) and sat down with her laptop to research Red Eye Sal and his lost jewels. Tomorrow she’d take photos of the paintings, and see if she could determine who the artist hadbeen.
By eleven, she had found several interesting sites and articles, and was also yawning. It had been a long day and tomorrow would be just as busy. Leslie already regretted agreeing to break up her morning by giving a tour of the speakeasy room to Iva and John Fischer, but she’d committed, and that was the plan. Hopefully they wouldn’t staylong.
And then tomorrow night was the high school football game. Leslie couldn’t even remember how she’d been wrangled into going—oh, right. It was Homecoming, and Orbra’s Tea House was one of the sponsors. They were going to be giving away samples of hot cinnamon spice tea to the attendees. Leslie hadn’t graduated from the local high school, but she knew it was going to be the event of the week. She wondered if Maxine Took would go and thwack her way through the rows of bleachers with hercane.
Just as Leslie was climbing into bed, she remembered she hadn’t told Cherry and Orbra about the pink velvet stole and glove she’d found in the stair railing. She’d show Iva in the morning, and maybe one of the ladies would have an idea about the origin of those pieces of clothing, and why they’d been stuffed inside thestairway.
So many things to do…so many things to think about…the least of which was launching her new bed and breakfastbusiness…
She must have slept, for all at once, Leslie was suddenlyaware. Her eyes flew open wide and her heart thudded with the shock of an abrupt awakening. There’d been a noise…a loud, tumbling, rollingsound.
Inside thehouse.
She sat up, listening hard.Silence.
Her hands were clammy. She felt utterly out of sorts, having been snatched from the depths of deep sleep. It was two a.m., according to herclock.
“Maybe something fell over in the front room,” she told herself, happy to break the silence with her own voice—though she didn’t speak very loudly. It was probably something just like the broom that had fallen earlier tonight and caused her to get all wiggedout.
But that hadn’t sounded like a broom. It was heavier. And it thudded and clattered and clumped, as if it were rolling across thefloor.
Could part of the stair railing have come loose and tumbled to theground?
