Dan Sharp Mysteries 3-Book Bundle. Jeffrey Round
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here for a wedding,” Bill chimed in.
“Oh? That’s nice. Whose?”
“His,” Bill said, pointing at Thom. “And his.” The finger went round to Sebastiano.
Erma nodded solemnly, as though unsure whether to take this news in jest. “That’s nice,” she said again. “Are youse from around here?”
“He’s a Killingworth,” Bill said, nodding at Thom before taking a slug of his drink.
Erma fixed her stare on Thom, as if imagining him in another setting. “From the other side of the harbour then.” She nodded to the far wall, as though looking directly through the brick and wooden beams.
“Yes,” Thom said quietly.
“I know the family,” Erma said, voice cautious. “Which one are you, love?” More than a tad interested now.
“Thom.”
“Thom. Thomas.” She mulled this over. “And was it your father who disappeared?”
Thom’s eyes betrayed annoyance. “Yes,” he said curtly.
“That was a long time ago, wasn’t it? Did he ever turn up?”
“No. No, he didn’t.”
Dan tried to recall if Bill had mentioned Thom’s missing father. It seemed odd given Dan’s occupation, though maybe people with bad hearts sat through entire meals with Bill without broaching the subject. It wasn’t the strange things that necessarily got talked about in people’s pasts. In fact, they were usually spoken of only on long nights over tall glasses of whiskey, with cigarette ash burning down to the knuckles, before anyone thought to mention them.
“I’m sorry for your loss,” Erma said, as though he’d been recently bereaved. She picked up the tray and shifted her weight. Her eyes grew shrewd again. “You had a brother too, I think.”
“Still have,” Thom said, not looking at her. “He’s around.”
“Oh?” She looked vaguely disappointed, as though a missing father required a missing son as a complement. “Well, have a lovely wedding,” she said. “It’s supposed to be a nice weekend.”
“Thank you,” Thom said, still not smiling.
Erma left, tray at her side.
Bill held up his lager and looked across at Thom and Sebastiano. “Here’s to a lovely wedding,” he said, tipping his glass.
For a moment, Dan thought Bill’s smile betrayed some sort of amusement at Thom’s discomfiture.
The young woman in the drawing room looked up from her book as they entered. She reminded Dan of Sebastiano, only a feminized version of the ardent Brazilian. They had the same strong features. Her hair was cut short, like his. Her face centred on a sleek nose and pouting rosebud mouth. Her eyes, however, were black where Sebastiano’s were blue. With a bit of work and the right clothes, she might be truly beautiful.
Sebastiano called out in Portuguese and she responded with a laugh. She put the book down and stood, her graceful hands smoothing out a black knit dress. She was tall and willowy, with a gymnast’s breasts. She came toward them and offered her hand. “Hello,” she said. “I am Daniella — Sebastiano’s sister.”
Dan took the hand and held it. “I’m Dan. It’s very nice to meet you, Daniella. Your brother’s a charming fellow.”
She smiled graciously, shook hands with Bill in turn, and then threw her arms around Sebastiano, pulling him close and breathing in his scent.
“My baby sister, you come back to me!” Sebastiano exclaimed over her shoulder to the others.
“I always come back to you.” Daniella released him and opened her arms to Thom. “And beautiful, sexy Thomas,” she said with a giggle.
“What were you reading just now, Daniella?” Thom said.
She shrugged. “It’s nothing — just a Brazilian novel. A stupid thing.” Her boyish, animated features reminded Dan of Kendra.
“Who’s for a drink?” Thom exclaimed, despite the fact they’d just returned from the Black Swan. Bill and Sebastiano accepted. Dan and Daniella declined. “Not a drinker, Danny?” Thom’s eyebrows rose mockingly. “Bill said you could knock back your share of rye with no problem.”
Bill smirked. “He’s a drinker, all right. He just prefers it after dark. Along with other things.”
Dan ignored him. “I try not to drink during the day — even on vacation.”
“Sensible,” Thom said. “Pop? Juice? Anything?”
“I’m fine, thanks.”
“Daniella?”
Her hair bobbed a response. “No, Thomas. Obrigado.”
Thom went to a sideboard and splashed drinks into glasses. He handed them around then sat with a satisfied sigh, arms raised on the back of the sofa. “So-o-o,” he said, smiling. “Here we are.” He looked over at Sebastiano. “My darling husband-to-be.” He turned to Bill and Daniella. “And our two lovely best men!”
Daniella smiled and curled into the chair like a cat. “I am your ‘best man,’ Sebastiano,” she cooed at her brother.
“You are my best everything,” he replied and then shot a look at Thom. “And you too, my beautiful Thomas.”
Thom turned to Dan. “Did Bill tell you we’ve got two best men?”
“No, he didn’t.”
“Well, we do — Bill and Daniella. I figured there was no need for a bridesmaid, since neither of us is a blushing bride.” He nodded at Sebastiano. “Him least of all, but I don’t think I’d feel right wearing a dress.” He turned to Daniella. “And Daniella’s offered to dress up in a tuxedo for us, haven’t you, sweetie?”
“Of course,” she said. “For my beautiful best men!”
Dan stood and went to the window, pushing aside his irritation at how everything seemed to be a great joke. The day was still bright, but the shadows had crept over the hills on the far shore. He turned to the room. “I think I’ll take a walk,” he said.
No one spoke. The others were so absorbed in their little charades, they seemed to have forgotten about him.
Ten
Knox and Calvin
The Killingworth grounds were extensive, reaching from the road down to the water, and stretching for more than an acre in either direction. Along with the main house, they included a six-car garage, a boathouse and launch, as well as a small barn and stables beside a disused garden showing the remnants of winter-hardy herbs and self-seeding perennials. Dan noticed more of the azure blue flower he’d seen outside the window of the main house. He thought he recognized it as something he’d once been warned against picking, but couldn’t put a name to it. The outer gardens clearly hadn’t felt a gardener’s touch in a long time. The boathouse held a sixteen-foot racing cat and two canoes strapped against the upper beams alongside a collection of lifejackets flung haphazardly overhead. Like the garden, the stables too were abandoned. There were stalls for six horses, and the barn held the remnants of hay bales. A rusted can of rat poison perched on an unpainted window ledge, its ancient emblem warning against improper usage barely visible. The drafty interior had become home for field mice and jittery swallows zooming about in the shadows and through the shafts of light penetrating the beams.
Dan crossed a deep carpet of pine needles and set off along the shore. Algae-covered rocks and logs extended under the waves, spectral ladders reaching down into another world. He stayed away long enough to dispel the irritation and gloominess that had dogged him since arriving. It was Bill’s weekend, after all; he wouldn’t