the kitchen. “We don’t have any money in the budget for additional help, so all of us pitch in when we can. Two of the older children help load the two dishwashers and get a dollar a day for it. Scotty started out helping but gave Elsie such a bad time that she quickly decided to dispense with his services.”
As they came into the kitchen, Elsie was filling bowls with a hearty vegetable soup. Platters of fried chicken, corn bread, fruit salad and peanut-butter cookies were side by side on the serving carts with pitchers of milk.
“Wow, everything smells delicious!” Ryan said enthusiastically as he smiled at Elsie. “I hope there’s enough for one more.”
“I wasn’t told there was going to be a guest,” she informed him in her blunt fashion.
“And I wasn’t told there was a chef in the kitchen preparing good solid food that could send a man’s stomach growling,” he countered as he bent over and sniffed the vegetable soup. “Just a touch of oregano, I’ll bet.”
Elsie’s frown instantly changed into an expression of surprise. “You some kind of a cook?”
“Nope, but I grew up on a ranch. We had a chuck wagon cook who was a whiz at making a soup that smelled just like this.”
“I’ve spent a lot of time during roundup cooking for a bunch of cowhands,” Elsie said proudly as she gave him a full-blown smile.
“Really? I may just decide to stick around for a while. What do you think?” he asked as he turned to Marian.
“I guess you can take your time,” she replied on cue. She was surprised how easily the lie flowed from her lips when she introduced Ryan to the cook. “He’s going to be checking out the security system.”
As Elsie wiped her hands on her apron, she scrutinized Marian’s face and then Ryan’s. Marian couldn’t tell what was going through her mind but she knew the cook wasn’t going to be easily fooled. If anyone saw through the charade they were creating, it would be Elsie. Once her suspicions were aroused, she could easily say or do something that could blow Ryan’s undercover pretense sky-high.
Marian’s mouth went dry.
And then what?
Chapter Four
When the children came in from their activity period, Marian went upstairs with Nancy to help the girls get ready for supper.
“All right, give,” Nancy ordered, her round eyes sparkling with open curiosity. “Who is that hunk of masculinity in the kitchen? A parent checking us out?”
Marian shook her head. “No, his name is Ryan Darnell.”
“And?” Nancy’s full face spread in a teasing grin. “Do I detect something personal afoot?”
“Not at all. He’s here on business.” The lie came out easier than she thought it would. “He’s checking out the security system.”
“What’s wrong with it?”
“Maybe nothing. That’s what he’s here to find out.” In a way, that was the truth. If Scotty was lying, there wouldn’t be anything to find out. Ryan Darnell would go back to his regular duties and this whole thing would be forgotten. She’d probably never have the occasion to see him again. And if he turned up something to verify Scotty’s story, then…She quickly shoved the thought away. The consequences were much too dire to even think about.
When Marian came into the elegant dining room with the rest of the teachers and children, she was surprised to find Ryan helping to set places at the one long table. She was amazed at the ease with which he handled water glasses, helped scoot in chairs and unfold napkins. Obviously, somewhere, sometime, he’d had plenty of practice.
Nancy winked at Marian as they walked to the end of the table where the adults sat, and whispered, “Let’s jimmy the security system and keep him around.”
Children as noisy as any in the hearing world took their places and began attacking the food and drink that had been put before them. A few of the youngsters had been finicky eaters when they first arrived, but they’d soon learned that meals were “eat up now or go hungry until the next one.”
Henry Ziller, a tall, balding man in his fifties, also showed up for the evening meal. His habitual scowl spoiled his appearance and he was the only one who ate without any interaction with kids or adults. Apparently he preferred Elsie’s cooking to any he could do for himself in his small garage apartment.
For all intents and purposes, Henry ignored everything but the food. He’d made it quite clear to Marian that he felt Alva Wentworth had betrayed him by turning the place over to a bunch of do-gooders. He’d been in charge of the place for nearly twenty years. He was resentful, suspicious and obviously wanted them gone.
Marian watched Ryan ignore a chair at the adult end of the table and take one between Scotty and Mindy. When he signed something to the little girl, she laughed but Scotty just scowled and gave his attention to the food.
Marian’s stomach tightened as the day’s events played over in her mind. The detective was probably used to living on the edge of drama and trauma, but she prided herself on a well-ordered and uncomplicated life. How could events of just a few hours send her life into a tailspin?
When dinner was over, the children were taken into the large parlor for a movie before bed. Ryan remained behind in the empty dining room and so did Henry Ziller.
As the caretaker walked over to Ryan, his expression was like that of a guard dog ready to drive the intruder from the premises.
Apparently Ziller didn’t remember him as one of the boys who had been at Stanley Wentworth’s sleepovers in the cabin almost seventeen years ago. Ryan was not surprised and doubted if he would have recognized the caretaker if he’d met the balding, big-bellied, frowning man someplace else.
“You working here now?” Henry demanded bluntly. “Every time I turn around the old lady sends somebody else around to make my job harder.”
Ryan had enough experience with hostile people to know that interviewing was about asking questions, not answering them. “You’re the caretaker, aren’t you?”
“Damn right! I see to the whole estate,” he answered pugnaciously, as if ready for an argument.
“Oh, yes, Mr. Ziller. I remember you!” Ryan smiled as if the memory was a pleasant one. “You were the caretaker here the summer some of us high school kids were running around with Stanley Wentworth.”
Obviously taken aback by this reference to the past, the caretaker deepened his scowl as Ryan stuck out his hand and forced a handshake. “Ryan Darnell. My folks have a place west of town.”
“Don’t remember you none,” Henry replied flatly, still scowling. “Stanley’s friends didn’t mingle with the hired help. A snotty brat, he was. I’m glad the old lady cut him out of her will.”
“I heard Stanley got himself into some kind of a jam and she disowned him.” Ryan waited, hoping he might have turned on a valve that would bring him some personal information about the family.
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