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.
“Brian’s volunteered to help me collect chairs for the recreation room,” Nick told her.
“Oh?” She studied Brian in a calculating, measuring way, as if suspicious of his Good Samaritan role.
He couldn’t blame her. She must be used to hangers-on trying to manipulate her and her money. He applauded her caution. In police work he dealt with too many victims who failed to be wary when it came to strangers invading their lives.
He felt a little guilty as he lied, “Joe would want me to help out. He has fond memories of this house, and I know he’s going to love hearing about it. I bet there’s been a lot a changes in it since he lived here.”
Robyn’s forehead smoothed slightly. “I’m sorry he isn’t well enough to come. Maybe we can telephone him and let a few people say hello to him?”
Was her suggestion an innocent or a calculating one? Had she already become suspicious of his premature arrival?
Brian knew that if this smart lady really put her mind to it, tracking down Joe Keller in the hospital or nursing home wouldn’t be all that difficult.
“I’ll certainly tell him people asked about him,” Brian said, sidestepping her suggestion.
“Well, let’s get on it,” Nick urged. “I knew we should have stored the extra chairs in the basement. I told Mrs. Valcourt lugging them up and down from the attic was a waste of time.”
“I agree, Nick. Grandmother got used to having a lot of paid help when she lived abroad.”
“Well, turning the rec room into a cabaret for one evening is going to demand a lot of extra work.”
“I know. If the boathouse is usable, some of the crowd will head there for drinks and dancing, but others will probably stay downstairs in the rec room.” She turned off the computer and rose to her feet. “I’ll check the arrangement of the tables while you bring down the chairs.”
“Why don’t you leave some of that for the extra hired help?” Nick frowned. “When are they coming?”
“Two days before the affair. Grandmother thought that would be early enough.”
Nick grumbled something inaudible.
“I know.” Robyn smiled at him. “That’s what you get for working miracles every time she comes up with one of her ideas, Nick. She knows you’ll come through for her.”
“Maybe not this time,” he threatened, but there was little conviction in his tone. “Well, come on, Brian, let’s get at it.”
The stairway to the attic opened off of the back hall and rose to a third floor that spanned the width of the house. At one end was an enclosed storeroom, apparently filled with items like folding chairs that were used from time to time.
The rest of the attic looked like a garage sale gone berserk. Barrels,
