he wouldn’t stay gone. She had no doubt he’d be an obstacle in her path if she let him.
She wouldn’t. She’d already dealt with one hardheaded cop in her life, and she could deal with Whiting. Anybody who’d been raised by a difficult man like Tom Reilley had developed a tough shell. Except Jason, of course. Maybe if he had, his life wouldn’t have ended the way it had.
The important thing was to get on with her plans, and that meant starting at the place where Jason had worked. He’d spent every day there, and judging by what she’d been able to decipher of his video diary, he’d had a lot of opinions about the place.
Preoccupied, she headed for the stairs, passing an Amish woman standing in the doorway of the quilt shop. The woman smiled and nodded as if Kate were known to her. The power of the grapevine in a small town? Maybe so. At least she seemed friendly.
Movement behind the glass door to Whiting and Whiting Cabinetry made her nerves jump irrationally, and she turned her face away as she hurried past, gaining the stairs without incident.
Whatever activity there was in Blackburn House seemed concentrated on the ground floor. Once again there was no one on the steps, and the upper hallway was deserted. A murmur of conversation came from the real estate office, but Laurel Ridge Financial Group was empty, save for the same young receptionist behind the front desk, her head bent over a printer that was spewing out papers.
She looked up at the sound of the door opening, seeming to brighten at the prospect of an interruption. “Welcome to Laurel Ridge Financial.” Abandoning the printer, she flipped open a pad on the desk. “Do you have an appointment?”
“No, I’m afraid not.” Kate glanced at the nameplate on the desk. “I just dropped in. I hope I’m not interrupting you. Are you Nikki?”
“That’s me.” Nikki jerked an impatient nod toward the printer. “Just boring routine, even if the office manager does think the printer will jam when somebody’s not watching it every minute. You’re new around here, right?”
Kate couldn’t help smiling. “How does everyone I meet know I’m a stranger?”
Nikki rolled her eyes. “Easy to see you don’t know what it’s like in a burg the size of Laurel Ridge. Everybody knows everybody. Boring.” She managed to insert a wealth of meaning into the word, which seemed to be one of her favorites.
This kid couldn’t be much more than seven or eight years younger than her, but Kate felt aeons older. With that improbably red hair and the matching scarlet nails, Nikki looked like a fifteen-year-old trying for a fake ID. She had a small, sharp-featured face and an obvious disdain for the job she held.
Had she thought Jason boring, too? Or had he been interesting, an urban stranger, someone she hadn’t known all her life? Kate didn’t think Jason had mentioned Nikki, but he may have. He often didn’t bother with names when he talked about people.
Only one way to find out. “I wonder if you remember my brother. He worked here for the summer last year.”
“Jason?” Nikki’s pointed features seemed to tighten. “Jason was your brother?”
“That’s right. I’m Kate. Kate Beaumont. I suppose you got to know him, with you two being the only young people working here. Did he mention me?”
“He said he had a sister who was a reporter someplace.” Nikki pushed a curl out of her face with a scarlet fingertip. “That’s you, huh?”
Kate nodded, debating with herself about how much she wanted to say to the receptionist. Maybe it was better not to let Nikki think she wanted anything in particular, at least until Kate knew how close she’d been to Jason. “He seemed to enjoy his job.”
Nikki shrugged. “It’s an okay place to work, if you don’t mind routine. And I took him around a little bit. You know, showed him what passes for nightlife in a place like this.”
“He told me you’d been friendly.” He hadn’t, but let that pass in the interest of establishing a rapport with Nikki. “He appreciated it, especially since he didn’t know anyone here.”
“Maybe. But he sure didn’t like partying all that much.” Nikki didn’t seem to realize that a big sister might consider that a good thing. “That’s why it was so strange when he—well, you know.” She lowered her voice, as if speaking of death required softer tones.
“You didn’t have any idea he’d been into drugs?” In Kate’s experience, someone like Nikki was more likely to recognize the signs than one of the bosses would have been.
“I didn’t think—”
One of the doors behind Nikki opened, and her voice cut off immediately.
“Nikki, why didn’t you tell me there was a client waiting?” The man who surged forward, hand extended, had the kind of professional smile usually worn by anyone who had something to sell—his slightly puffy cheeks creasing, eyes crinkling in welcome as if she were a long-lost relative. “I’m Bart Gordon.” He clasped her hand warmly. “And you are?”
“Kate Beaumont.” How long would it take for the jovial welcome to wear off once he knew she wasn’t a client? Not long, she suspected, but maybe she was being too cynical.
“She’s Jason Reilley’s sister,” Nikki said before Kate could.
Gordon stiffened, his hand releasing hers. “I see.” The smile became noticeably artificial. “What brings you to see us, Ms. Beaumont?”
“I happened to be in Laurel Ridge and thought I’d like to introduce myself to my brother’s friends and colleagues here. And to thank you for the beautiful flower arrangement you sent for the services.”
The man’s tension seemed to ease. “The least we could do. Such a sad loss,” he murmured.
“I see that Mr. Sheldon is no longer active in the firm. I did want to express my thanks to him, as well.” And ask him about my brother.
“Russell Sheldon retired last year. Poor fellow—the work was getting beyond him. I’ll be sure to give him your message when I see him. Thanks for stopping by.” Gordon’s fingers brushed her elbow, as if he’d usher her out.
Not yet. She ignored the hint. “Jason’s death was a terrible shock, of course. Especially since he’d been so enthusiastic about his internship. Was there some issue at work that might have disturbed or upset him?”
Gordon’s already flushed face reddened alarmingly. “Are you trying to blame us for what your brother did? If you think you can hold the firm responsible, you’ve got another—”
The door to the other office opened behind him, a woman emerging. Kate’s wayward imagination presented her with an image of a Bavarian clock, with figures appearing and disappearing through their little doors.
“Bart, I’m sure you’re misunderstanding the situation.” She smiled at Kate, extending her hand. “I’m Lina Oberlin, Mr. Gordon’s assistant. Did I hear him say that you’re poor Jason’s sister?”
In other words, she’d been listening behind the door. Maybe, as Nikki had said, things were so boring that any interruption was welcome.
The female
