Stoneview Estate. Leona Karr
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boathouse, which had been made into a recreation room, complete with comfortable furniture and a refreshment bar. Fortunately, the devastation of the winter ice storm last January had been confined to the lower level, and the party room had been spared.
“When the Valcourts bought the house from the Sheldons, this was a workout room with exercise equipment, and they remodeled it into a party room. I liked it better the other way,” Nick told him as he walked over to a small refrigerator. “Beer or water?”
“Water, thanks.”
“Beer for me.”
He handed Brian a bottle of water and popped the cap on his beer. After taking a deep swig, he dropped down in a large leather chair opposite the couch where Brian was sitting.
“How long have you been at Stoneview, Nick?” Brian asked in a relaxed, chatty tone.
“Too long,” he answered bluntly as he lit a cigarette. “I came here with the Sheldons when they bought the estate, mainly because I’d been their caretaker at their previous home. And when they up and sold Stoneview, I decided to stay on and work for the Valcourts. I like the cottage and the lake, and most of the year there’s not much that has to be done. It’s a pretty neat place to live.”
“You must feel kind of possessive of it.”
“I guess ruts get comfortable after awhile,” he admitted. “And I like having the run of the place. Old lady Valcourt travels a lot, and the granddaughter has her own town house where she teaches. The Sheldons were easy to work for, too.”
“So you were here at Stoneview when the unfortunate tragedy happened?” Brian asked casually, hoping he wasn’t moving too fast. The fact that Nick had brought up the topic of the Sheldons was a welcome surprise. It gave him hope that if Nick was in a reminiscing mood, he might share some valuable on-the-scene insights that didn’t get into the police reports.
“Oh, you heard about that, did you? Yep, I was here.” Nick nearly emptied his bottle of beer before he added, “The police were all over the place. Asked a lot of questions, but, hell, I didn’t have anything to tell them. I’ve never made it my business to know what goes on in the big house. Not with the Sheldons. Not with the Valcourts. I keep to myself.” Nick drank more of his beer. “I couldn’t tell them anything.”
Or wouldn’t? Brian wondered silently. Something about Nick’s denial rang false. He’d bet anything that little got past those sharp eyes of his. Before Brian could come up with a comment that might encourage more confidences, Nick changed the subject. Brian had to content himself with waiting for another time when, perhaps, Nick had more beer under his belt.
“We can’t do much more until I check the lumber-yard, and order more material and hardware.” Nick finished off his beer. “Let’s call it a day.”
Brian nodded in agreement, and as they made their way out of the boathouse, he told Nick, “I have a backpack and small bag in the boat. I was thinking about spending a few days at one of those resorts on the lake, but this is a whole lot better.”
Nick seemed to accept the explanation without question. After Brian retrieved his bags, they made their way around the house to a small cottage at the back of property where a wooded area met an access road. A curved driveway led past the small house to a four-car garage, and a tree-lined walk led to the back door of the mansion. Another wide sidewalk circled the house to the front entrance.
As Nick opened the cottage door, he waved Brian inside. “Home sweet home. You’ll have to excuse the mess.”
Brian could see what Nick meant—a neat housekeeper he was not! The small living room opening off of the front hall showed signs of careless bachelor living. Clutter was everywhere. Books, cups, newspapers and a few discarded pieces of clothing were scattered about on the furniture and floor.
Nick chuckled, a bit red with embarrassment as Brian surveyed the room. “Didn’t know I was going to have company.”
“Not company,” Brian assured him.
“Well, I haven’t had much of that,” Nick admitted. “Kinda like it that way. I was never one to need a bunch of people around. Me and my Siamese cat are loners, although I think lusty Sinbad has sired more than his share of litters.” He laughed. “I swear, every house up and down the lake has a Siamese cat or two sunning on the doorstep.”
Even as he spoke, a large, beautifully colored seal point Siamese sauntered in from the kitchen and rubbed against Nick’s legs.
“I know, it’s chow time, old fellow,” Nick said affectionately. “He’s eleven years old, would you believe? Heather, the nursemaid, got him when he was a kitten and after she was killed, he disappeared for a while. About six months later, I found Sinbad on my doorstep. He’s been with me ever since. I think Heather would like it that way.”
There hadn’t been much in the police reports about the murdered nursemaid. Maybe Nick would fill out the picture a little? “Were you and Heather friends?”
“Just employees of the same family. The house staff kept pretty much to themselves.”
“Why is that?”
He shrugged. “Who knows? I suppose the owners wanted it that way. Come on, I’ll show you where to bunk.”
There were two small bedrooms on the second floor and a nice-sized bathroom. The clutter visible through the open door of the front bedroom made it obvious that it was Nick’s.
In contrast, the back bedroom was clean, neat and rather sterile, like a motel room. Brian was pleased to see he had a good view of the back of the mansion in case he needed to do some night prowling to check out the premises.
“Why don’t you hit the shower first, Brian, and I’ll get something going for supper?”
“Sounds good.”
“You may change your mind when you taste my cooking.” He turned to leave, and then stopped. “Oh, by the way, after dinner I’m supposed to bring chairs down from the attic and set them up in the basement recreation room. The old lady wants to set up a kinda cabaret down there. How about giving me a hand?”
“Sure, be glad to help,” Brian offered readily.
Perfect! He wanted to make use of every chance he got to familiarize himself with every inch of the house and grounds. All in all, the situation was better than he’d anticipated. He had the opening he needed to the premises, and he intended to take full advantage of it.
As he quickly showered and changed into a pair of brown corduroys and an open-neck sports shirt, his thoughts centered on the attractive Robyn Valcourt and the obstacle she might be in his investigation. Obviously, she wasn’t the kind to give him free run of the house. Keeping her from being suspicious of his deception might be his greatest challenge.
For supper, Nick fixed a simple meal of eggs, fried potatoes and steak. The kitchen was surprisingly orderly and clean compared to the living room and the glimpse Brian had had of Nick’s bedroom. The two men ate in companionable silence. Sinbad threaded their legs with hopeful anticipation, even though he’d already consumed his can of food. Nick fondly nudged him away and scolded him for being such a moocher.
After they’d cleared the table and stacked dishes in a small dishwasher, Nick said, “We’d better get a move on. I’d like to get to bed before midnight.”
They entered the house through the back door, and as if Nick knew where to find Robyn this time of evening, he led the way down a wide, echoing hall until they came to double doors opening into the library. Most of the room was in shadows except for one far corner, where a radius of light highlighted a large desk.
Robyn was sitting at a computer, and from a half-eaten sandwich and a drink on the desk beside her, Brian suspected she’d had her dinner on a tray.
She gave the men a questioning glance, and quickly finished the entry she’d been making before greeting them with a lift of her reddish-brown eyebrows.