The Secrets She Kept
“What are you doing here?” Nancy asked in surprise.
Maisey shook the rain from her umbrella as Nancy stepped back to admit her. “I need to talk to you.”
Nancy almost glanced around to find her purse so she could check her phone. If Maisey had tried to call, she hadn’t heard the ring. “You okay?”
She nodded. “Just trying to make sense of...of what’s happened.”
Nancy peered through her front window at Maisey’s Audi. Was it running? “Are the kids outside?”
“No. I dropped them off at Rafe’s mother’s. She’s been dying to have them, and I need the time to take care of a few things.”
“I’m glad Rafe’s mom is so supportive.” Especially since Maisey’s own mother hadn’t been the type to babysit, although she’d liked having Laney over now and then. Nancy had heard a great deal about those visits—because Josephine’s interest in Laney had been so unexpected.
“Her arthritis is getting bad enough that she can’t take Bryson very often,” Maisey was saying. “But Laney’s there to help, and I felt I really needed to be free today.”
“I can watch them for you, too,” Nancy said, “on days like today, when I’m off, or after work. So keep that in mind. I’m sorry about your mother, by the way.” They’d talked once, briefly, over the phone, but Nancy didn’t feel she’d properly expressed her condolences. She’d been too stunned to hear that Josephine had died.
A sad smile curved Maisey’s lips. “I appreciate that. Thanks for the flowers you sent home with Rafe.”
“I knew he was working over at the church, and I didn’t want to intrude on your grief, in case...in case you needed some time alone.” She’d paid for those flowers herself, and hoped Maisey would realize that but didn’t mention it.
“You’re always welcome at my house, no matter what,” Maisey said.
Guilt for feeling relief at Josephine’s passing made Nancy cringe. Here she was expressing her sympathy, and yet she was secretly glad Josephine was gone. “So...what’d you stop by to talk to me about?” she asked. “Have you decided on the date of the funeral?”
A shadow passed over Maisey’s face. “Not yet. We’re getting our own pathologist to do the autopsy, and that’ll take more time, which makes it difficult to proceed with...what normally happens when you lose a loved one.”
“Why go to the trouble? Of hiring a pathologist, I mean? Haven’t they already determined what...you know...caused her death?” Nancy hesitated to use the word suicide. That was such a painful thing for surviving family members to face. But even if Maisey hadn’t called on Tuesday morning, Nancy would’ve heard what the police had found—and what they thought. Everyone in Keys Crossing was talking about the fact that Josephine had taken her own life. Not much happened on the island that didn’t churn through the gossip mill. Josephine had been an important person, after all.
“Between you and me, Keith feels the coroner has reached the wrong conclusion. He wants someone who’s unbiased to take a look,” Maisey said.
No one would be keen to accept a suicide ruling. Nancy understood that and felt sorry for Keith and Maisey. But she was more affected by the mention of his name than any other aspect of the conversation, which only made her more disgusted with herself. She should hate him for using her the way he had. And even though she didn’t—couldn’t, for whatever lame reason—she would never be stupid enough to get involved with him again. So why was she still hanging on?
It was pathetic.
“What does Keith think happened?” she asked.
“He’s not sure,” Maisey replied. “No one is. We just...need more information.”
“Because she must’ve had a heart attack or slipped and hit her head, right? Not because you suspect foul play.”
Maisey grimaced. “To be honest, we’re not ruling anything out.”
“Wow.” Nancy shoved her hands in the pockets of her robe.
“It’s hard to imagine that anyone would hurt her,” Maisey said. “But we should gather all the facts before...before we proceed.”
Nancy nodded. She wouldn’t bury her mother, either, not until she’d done everything possible to answer any questions that remained—except this could never happen to her, since her mother had passed away years ago. “It’s always better to be thorough. If that includes getting someone you feel more comfortable with to do the autopsy, then so be it. That way, if questions arise later, you’ll be able to feel you did all you could.”
Maisey frowned in apparent uncertainty. “I hope it’s the right move.”
“How can it be the wrong one?”
“I’m just worried in general. What if the autopsy isn’t conclusive? What if it sends us on a wild-goose chase? What if we start to believe my mom was murdered and begin to suspect our friends? What if those friends are innocent? Or what if she was murdered and we can’t find the culprit—or he gets off for some reason? None of that would be easy to deal with.”
Nancy slid the clasp of her necklace around to the back. In that case, maybe ignorance was bliss. “Was she having trouble with anyone in particular?”
“My mother had trouble with everyone. Well, I guess you couldn’t call it trouble. It was too one-sided for that. Other people put up with her because they had to, while she did pretty much whatever she pleased. Maybe someone got sick of her throwing her weight around.”
Nancy was one of the people who’d had to put up with Josephine and hadn’t always liked it. But she would never have done anything to harm her. She had, however, imagined—more than once—telling her off. “You mean someone here on Fairham?”
“If we’re lucky, it was an outsider.”
“We don’t get a lot of those this time of year.”
“Exactly,” Maisey said on a sigh. “An outsider would stand out.”
Nancy hadn’t noticed anyone around town she didn’t recognize. And how would Josephine make someone who didn’t even live in the area angry enough to murder her? What would this person’s motivation be? “Could it have been a man she was dating?”
“Possibly. Or an old flame. Like Keith, she left quite a few broken hearts in her wake.”
Nancy’s heart was one of those Keith had broken, but she was glad Maisey didn’t acknowledge that.
“I’m trying not to jump to conclusions, though,” she went on. “I actually had another reason for stopping by.”
“What is it?” Nancy tightened the belt on her robe. “If there’s anything I can do, I will.”
“There’s nothing. Not yet. But thank you. I’ll keep that in mind. I just... I wanted to let you know...Keith’s back on the island.”
Already? Nancy suddenly found it difficult to breathe, although she’d expected him to show up. “I’m glad he was able to make it,” she lied. “Considering what’s happened, this is where he should be.”
Maisey peered at her more closely. “You’re okay that he’s here? You won’t mind if you run into him around town?”
She shook her head as carelessly as possible. “Of course not. We may not even bump into each other.”
A skeptical expression claimed Maisey’s face. “Keys Crossing isn’t that big. And I’m guessing he’ll stop by the store. Since you’re usually there, you’ll probably see him. I know how you used to feel about him, and—”
“Oh, don’t worry about that,” Nancy interrupted with a dismissive gesture. “That’s in the past. I’m dating someone else now—a guy I met online who lives on the Isle of Palms.”
“Tom?”
Nancy wished she had another name to offer up, but she couldn’t think of one fast enough. She wasn’t used to lying, wasn’t much good at it. “Yeah. Tom.”
“I thought you said there weren’t any sparks between you.”
She wished she hadn’t volunteered quite so much information. She wasn’t interested in Tom, but he was still emailing and texting her, hoping to get her to go out with him again. That should count for something. And she had plenty of other men on that same dating site who were showing interest. “I’m trying not to make up my mind too soon.”
“Smart.”
Nancy almost asked where Keith was staying, if he was at Coldiron House or the rental bungalows on the other side of the island, which Maisey and Rafe managed. The vacation properties at Smuggler’s Cove were empty during the winter, so there’d be room. If he stayed there, it’d be a lot easier to avoid him.
But if she really wanted Maisey to believe she wasn’t interested in Keith, she couldn’t probe for information, regardless of the reason for her interest. “Tom’s a nice guy.”
“I’m glad to hear that. You deserve the best.” Maisey bent to pet Simba. “So how are you doing at the store? You don’t mind keeping the business going until we can get my mom’s affairs sorted out, do you?”
“Not at all.” Nancy enjoyed her work—and would enjoy it even more now that she knew Josephine wouldn’t be coming in to lambaste her with one complaint or another. Since learning of her employer’s death, she’d been toying with the idea of buying Love’s in Bloom. She’d thought that might be a possibility one day, but it had seemed much further off...
“Can you keep up?” Maisey asked. “Or do you need help?”
“Everything’s under control,” she replied. “I’ve got Marlene to spell me when I need it. She’s there now. So don’t worry about Love’s in Bloom. With Christmas over, it won’t be terribly busy, not until February when we gear up for Valentine’s Day. Marlene and I can manage for the next few weeks.”
The concern on Maisey’s face cleared, which lifted Nancy’s spirits. Perhaps she could take some of the pressure off Josephine’s daughter during this difficult time. That assuaged her conscience for being so darn relieved that Josephine was out of the picture.
“That’s comforting. I appreciate it.” Maisey straightened. “You’ll call me if anything changes, won’t you?”
“Don’t worry. I’d never let the business fall apart.”
Maisey gave her a quick hug. “Of course you wouldn’t. I’d trust you with my life. Somehow that renegade brother of mine has gotten filthy rich, so I’ll make sure he pays you until we can get my mother’s estate sorted out.”
Great. Just what she wanted. Keith paying her salary. But at least he was capable of doing so. He wasn’t on drugs anymore; he’d exhibited quite a dramatic turnaround. Not many people could pull that off.
Nancy felt a measure of pride in what he’d done—and tried to quash it. She didn’t need anything else to admire. His good looks and sex appeal already created a formidable challenge.
“I’ve got some savings, so I can wait if you need me to,” Nancy said.
“No need for that.”
Nancy kept a smile pasted on her face—and waved cheerfully—as she stood at the door and watched Maisey go. But as soon as Keith’s sister was gone and she allowed her hand to drop, her smile faded, too. She’d expected Josephine’s death to be difficult, had known there’d be a lot to resolve, with the flower shop, all the Coldiron real estate holdings, which included a good portion of the land outside Keys Crossing, and Josephine’s many other assets. Nancy had also known the whole ordeal would start with a funeral and the very real possibility that Keith would return for that reason.
But she’d assumed he’d stay for a few days, maybe a week at most. If Josephine’s death turned into a full-fledged murder investigation, who could say how long Keith might remain on Fairham?
“Hopefully, he’ll have too much business in California,” she muttered and decided to get her grocery shopping done before taking Simba for a walk.
5
A KNOCK ON his bedroom door woke Keith. He’d been up so late the sun was about to rise when he’d fallen asleep. His mind had been too busy to let go—and it didn’t help that he was still on California time. With the shades drawn, he’d slept late as a result.
“Mr. Lazarow?”
He yawned and adjusted his pillow. “Come in.”
Pippa poked her head into the room. “I hate to disturb you, sir, but your sister is here and would like to speak to you.”
Keith’s first thought was of the letters he’d found in his mother’s desk and the odd, haunting sensation that reading those letters had given him. He’d loved his mother; he even missed her, in a way. They’d had some good times. But loving someone and being able to get along for more than an occasional day or two were sometimes different things, at least when it came to Josephine.
I had to leave to survive, he reminded himself. But he’d been reminding himself of that ever since he’d received word of her death.
“Sir?”
Rising up on one elbow, Keith blinked at the housekeeper. “I called you last night,” he mumbled.
“Yes. By the time I got your message, it was too late to call you back. But...thank you for telling me I can return to work.”
Except for the extra gray in her hair, she hadn’t changed a bit. She was still wearing her crisp blue and white uniform, as if she’d stepped out of the 1960s South—or as if his mother was around to make a fuss if she didn’t. “Just so you know...you don’t have to wear that anymore.”
“Excuse me?”
He almost repeated himself, then sighed. “Never mind.” Perhaps she gained as much comfort from custom and tradition as his mother had. In any case, now wasn’t the time to challenge such trivial things.
His bleary eyes sought the fancy perpetual-motion clock on the nightstand. It was nearly eleven. He’d had all of five hours’ sleep. “You said Maisey was here?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Where?”
“In the drawing room.”
“Why didn’t she come up?”
“To your bedroom?”
He nearly laughed out loud. Pippa had been trained by his mother, all right. “No, of course not. That would be unseemly,” he said. “Tell her I’ll be down as soon as I get dressed.”
“Yes, sir. And...Mr. Lazarow?”
He paused before throwing off the covers. If Pippa was scandalized by the idea of his sister coming straight up to his bedroom, she’d probably faint if she saw him buck naked, the way he liked to sleep. “It’s good to have you back, sir. I’m sorry your return is under such dreadful circumstances.”
She sounded sincere, so sincere that it took him off guard. “You liked her, didn’t you?”
She seemed startled by the question. “Her?”
“My mother. You liked her.”
“She was a dynamic person,” she said as she left.
Keith fell back on his pillows. Even Pippa had admired Josephine but couldn’t quite say she’d liked her. “Pippa?” he called in an effort to catch her before she could move out of hearing distance.
Now that she’d done her duty by letting him know he had a visitor, his door inched open only as far as necessary. “Yes, sir?”
“I’d like to talk to you after Maisey leaves. Will you be around?”
“I’ll be here as long as you need me. With Maisey’s permission, I stayed home for the past few days. I was too upset to do much else. But I was grateful you offered to have me back today. I’ve been coming here for so long. And the place needs looking after.”
“I understand. I’d rather you stayed on and continued to do your job. I’ll see to it that you get paid. I’ve told Tyrone the same.”
“Yes, I saw Tyrone on my way in, sir. It was a comforting sight. I believe it’s a good decision to keep him. We couldn’t have the yard here at Coldiron House getting overgrown.”
Obviously, she took great pride in where she worked. “No. That would be a real tragedy.”
She hesitated, as if she could tell he was being facetious, even though his first tongue-in-cheek comment about the impropriety of Maisey’s coming to his room had sailed right past her. She seemed to be waiting for some further cue from him, so he said, “That will be all, thanks,” and she left without additional comment.
He waited for the sound of her footsteps to fade before he got up. Then he burrowed through his suitcase for a pair of boxers, jeans and a T-shirt. When he retrieved his phone from the nightstand, he could see that he’d missed several calls from Maisey, as well as a few texts, because he’d turned it on Silent.
Coming, he wrote and sent it to her, although he was confident Pippa had already conveyed that information, and went into the bathroom to brush his teeth and hair.
By the time he hurried downstairs and entered the drawing room, Pippa had served Maisey tea and biscuits with honey and jam. He wasn’t groggy anymore, but traipsing around Coldiron House without his mother in residence felt odd. She’d always taken complete command of her home, even when his father was alive. She’d been such a dominant presence for so long, it was easy to forget Grandpa Coldiron had lived here first.
At the sound of his approach, his sister swallowed the bite she’d just taken and looked up. “Morning.”
“Same to you,” he said.
“You sleep okay?”
Her skeptical expression told him he didn’t look rested. “Not really. You?”
“Sort of.”
“Where’s my niece and my nephew? Are the kids with Rafe?”
“They’re at his mother’s. He’s repairing the vestibule of that old church near the marina today.”
“Will you bring the family over later?”
“Of course.” She lowered her voice. “I’d rather Laney didn’t hear us talking about her grandmother the way we need to this morning. Laney might be one of the few people who’s never felt conflicted when it comes to Grandma Josephine. And, oddly enough, Mother loved her. Inexplicably. Diligently. Even kindly.”
“That’s somewhat redeeming.” He helped himself to a biscuit without bothering to sit down or get a plate—something his mother would never have tolerated. “Have you heard anything new?”
“I stopped the autopsy.”
He’d received her text last night, which was why he hadn’t set an alarm to get up early this morning. “I saw that.”
“And just a few minutes ago I got permission to call in our own pathologist. I also made an appointment with the new chief of police. I guessed you’d want to talk to her.”
“Old Man Reuben finally retired?” Keith was fairly certain Maisey had mentioned it. She’d kept him abreast of the more noteworthy changes on the island. But he’d had no particular reason to remember that. He’d rarely had to deal with Chief Reuben himself. His mother had interceded whenever he got into trouble. She’d exacted her own retribution afterward, which was arguably worse than what he would’ve received had he been remanded to the police. But she would not allow scandal to befall the Coldiron name—another reason he couldn’t accept that she’d kill herself. What could be more scandalous than suicide? That had been her primary complaint when, in desperation, he’d felt it was his only escape.
“Yeah. We have a woman now. The city council’s showing how progressive they can be.”
“A woman, huh? How old is she?”
“Can’t be more than forty-one. Attractive, too. Really attractive.”
“Any good at her job?”
“Seems to be. There was a big write-up in the paper when they hired her. The article made her sound like a solid candidate. She’s from Chicago.”
“She have a family?”
“No. Her husband was in the military. Died in Afghanistan before they could have kids. They’d grown up two blocks from each other. Gone to high school together. I suspect that was part of the reason she was willing to leave the big city behind. Too many memories.”
“I can see wanting to leave, but what brought her here, of all places?”
“A kinder, gentler existence. Lots of sun and sand. Less violence. And there was a job for her, I guess.”
“What time do we meet with her?”
She checked her phone. “Yikes! We’ve only got twenty minutes—barely enough time for you to shower.”
“So that’s why you’ve been trying to get hold of me!”
“Yes.”
He broke off part of his biscuit, popped it in his mouth and slipped the rest onto her plate. “I’ll be down in fifteen.”
He was halfway up the stairs when Pippa stopped him. “Mr. Lazarow?”
The tone of her voice seemed uncertain, which made him curious. He turned to face her. “Yes?”
She opened her mouth, then seemed to reconsider. “Never mind.”
“What is it, Pippa?” he pressed.
“I...I was wondering what you’d like for dinner, that’s all.”
He could tell that wasn’t what she’d had on her mind, but Maisey had come out of the drawing room, and Pippa seemed hesitant to speak in front of her. “What’re my options?”
“Salmon? Steak? Chicken? Pasta?”
“I’ll have salmon.”
“Will you be dining alone?”
He looked over at Maisey. “Do you and Rafe and the kids want to join me?”
“That’d be fun,” Maisey said.
“Is salmon okay?” Keith asked. “Will Laney eat it?”
“Sure. We all like salmon.”
Pippa acknowledged this with a nod. “Then I’ll plan for five.” She began to scurry off, but Maisey stopped her.
“Are you enjoying Mom’s Yorkie, Pippa? Or would you like to bring her to me?”
“I’d be happy to keep her—unless you have other plans.”
Maisey smiled. “No, Athena doesn’t do well with the cat we rescued. She’ll be much better off with you, but I’m happy to cover her expenses.”
“No, that’s fine. If she’s going to be my dog, I’ll take care of her.” Pippa cast Keith one final glance, reminding him of that moment a few seconds earlier when he’d been positive she had something to say. He was tempted to go after her, to ask what she had on her mind. He had the impression it was important. But he was also fairly certain she didn’t want Maisey to hear.
Question was...why?
6
THE NEW CHIEF of police at Keys Crossing was every bit as attractive as Maisey had said. About five foot six, 125 pounds, she didn’t look particularly strong, but she had a no-nonsense, direct approach, which Keith liked, and clear, intelligent blue eyes. Once he’d met her, he was glad the old chief had retired. Reuben had had a great deal of experience with minor infractions such as traffic violations, breaking and entering, petty theft and drunk and disorderlies during the summer, when the tourists arrived. But to Keith’s knowledge, he’d never investigated a homicide.
Since Chief Underwood—she hadn’t offered her first name—hailed from Chicago, he was hoping she’d have more familiarity with violent crime. But once he met her, he didn’t feel that was going to be the benefit he’d anticipated. She was fully convinced his mother had committed suicide and nothing he said seemed to sway her.
“There’s no reason to assume she’d take her own life,” he argued when she refused to change her mind.
“I hear what you’re saying,” she responded. “I noticed the suitcases myself. But there was no sign of anyone else having been in the house and no indication that she was sexually assaulted, for instance. That’ll have to be confirmed when the autopsy is performed, of course—we’re not jumping to conclusions there—but so far all signs point away from it.”
“There’s heart attack, stroke.”
“Which will also have to be considered and addressed during the autopsy. But the coroner said she didn’t have a flushed face. Her carotid artery wasn’t swollen. There was no bluish tinge to her nose, eyes or fingertips—all typical signs of cardiac arrest. I’m afraid the preponderance of evidence, at this point, suggests suicide.”
“Even with her impending trip?”
“It’s possible she didn’t decide to...to do what she did until the last moment.”
Keith gaped at Maisey, who was sitting next to him in Chief Underwood’s small office. “She wouldn’t suddenly decide to kill herself. That kind of decision takes serious thought.” He knew from experience.
“She must’ve,” Chief Underwood insisted.
“Why?” Keith cried. “She had everything. What was there to make her so intent on ending her life?”
Keith hoped the police chief wasn’t about to point to their estrangement. The fear that his mother had committed suicide and he was the cause clawed deeper by the minute.
She formed her slender fingers into a steeple. “You two must be going through hell. There’s no need to hash this out. Not right now. Go ahead and grieve, and make whatever plans you’d like to make so you can put her to rest. Then, when that’s all over, you can come back and we’ll talk, okay?”