“I’m fine. But I do have a few questions I’d like to ask, if you have a minute.”
“Happy to oblige. Just let me take Shandy inside and I’ll meet you in the garden.”
“I was thinking inside.” I gestured toward Chapters. “Everyone’s out, except for Alicia, and she told me she was going to spend the day cleaning upstairs, so we should have the library to ourselves.”
Ellen shaded her eyes with one hand and stared at me for a moment. “All right,” she said slowly. “But I still need to take the dog back to the house.”
“No rush. I’m just going to head inside and wait in the library. I’ll leave the back door open for you.” I turned away and marched up the two steps of the back stoop. Holding the screen door open with one foot, I focused on unlocking the deadbolt on the wooden door. When I glanced over at Ellen, she’d already disappeared into her own house with the dog.
I dropped my purse off in my bedroom before heading for the library. Taking a seat in one of the room’s armchairs, I sankback against the leather upholstery and contemplated my next move.
Because I knew Ellen had information that would explain my great-aunt’s past. All I had to do was to figure out how to get her to share it with me.
Resting my elbows on the chair’s padded arms, I templed my fingers and tapped one thumb against the other. I’d called Ellen a “Sherlock” to my “Watson” in jest, but now I suspected I’d been more prescient than I’d ever suspected.
My seventy-five-year-old neighbor was, to all appearances, simply a retired film-location scout with a love of small dogs and a taste for exotic fashions. But I now suspected she was much more than that. Someone cleverer than her carefully cultivated old-lady-who-gardens persona. Someone more devious.
Someone, perhaps, far more dangerous.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Ellen joined me in the library several minutes later.
“I locked the back door,” she said, as she sat in the armchair facing mine. “I thought that was best, all things considered.”
I rubbed my sore shoulder. “You’re right. Thanks.”
“First things first.” Ellen stretched out her legs. Her purple-and-lime-green-print wide-legged pants clashed violently with the muted tones of the Oriental rug. “I did talk to the owner of that restaurant, and he confirmed our suspicions regarding Damian. It appears that Lincoln Delamont was the person behind Damian losing the position.”
“Which does give Damian a legitimate reason for wanting him dead.”
“Yes, I’m afraid it does.” Ellen looked me up and down, her eyes narrowing. “But this isn’t why you wanted to talk to me, is it? I imagine you want to ask me more questions related to Isabella’s past.”
“Yes, and I hope you can be more forthcoming this time.”
“You’re in luck, then.” Ellen ran her fingers through the vividly colored streaks of hair at her temples. “I’ve just received approval from the higher-ups to share a few things with you.Now that so much time has passed, most of the information is no longer of any importance, anyway.”
“What sort of higher-ups?”
“My old bosses. Well”—Ellen tipped her head and offered me a sardonic smile— “not so very old, as it turns out. They seem to keep getting younger as I continue to age.”
“That happens,” I said, clutching the arms of my chair with both hands. “Not to pry, but are you actually retired? I mean, if you still have to check with bosses …”
Ellen held up one foot, seemingly intrigued by the laces of her magenta sneaker. “One never actually leaves my old job. Not completely. I continue to have to clear certain things with the powers that be.”
“Still secrets you need to keep?”
“Definitely.” Ellen dropped her foot with a thump. She studied me with her piercing blue gaze before speaking again. “Tell me, what is it you suspect? That I was working for U.S. intelligence?”
“That’s my first choice.” I released my grip on the chair and crossed my arms over my chest. “Were you ever really a film-location scout?”
“Oh yes, I did the work. Even though that was just my cover for other activities, I had to do enough to make it appear legitimate.” Ellen fingered the hem of her lime-green silk tunic. “I was quite good at that job, actually. And, of course, it offered an acceptable reason for jetting off to all sorts of strange and out-of-the-way locations.”
“Including trips that had nothing to do with movies or TV?”
“If you’re asking if there were some advance scouting expeditions that were more about other matters, then, yes.”
“You were a spy.” I’d never expected to address these words to anyone, but I knew they were appropriate in this case.
