nocturnal event or another. I wandered over to see if tonight would be any different. Cautiously peeking into the dark room, I was relieved to find it empty. Just as I turned around to go upstairs, a puff of cold air brushed my face. I peered toward the back of the room. Was the door to the garden open?
Quietly, I crept across the room to the door. It was indeed open a crack. I peered out into the backyard. It was dark and still. Thinking that the door had been left open by mistake, I reached out my hand to pull it shut. As I did, the small red ember of a cigarette cut the darkness outside.
My breath caught in my throat. Who was out there? I was debating calling out when the clouds shifted, releasing a bright beam of moonlight onto the form of Henry Anderson.
He was sitting on the bench, seemingly lost in thought and staring intently at his feet. He stood up and flicked the cigarette out into the snow, the ember arcing a fiery red against the black sky. Joan had told me that Henry hated smoking and that’s why she’d been forced to sneak her cigarettes. Yet here was Henry smoking away. Clearly, someone was lying, but who? Henry stood for several minutes with his back to me. What was he doing? Could he be hiding something? Finally, he turned around and rapidly made his way toward the house.
I had just hidden myself in Aunt Winnie’s office when he quietly slunk into the foyer. Pressed against the backside of the door, I watched through the crack as he slowly climbed upstairs.
I heard his door upstairs softly open and shut, but I forced myself to count to one hundred before leaving the office. I ran through the dining room and out the back door. The snow crunched under my feet as I crossed the yard. When I reached the bench where he’d sat, I looked around, for what I don’t know. Then I saw the bird feeder. Could he have hidden something in it? I stuck my hand through the opening and felt around. My fingers touched something hard and round, and my heart began to pound with excitement. Grasping the item, I yanked it free from the bird feeder. I held my breath as I opened my hand. I was holding a cluster of acorns. With a snort of disgust, I threw the nuts to the ground. What the hell was the matter with me? I was turning into Catherine Morland in
I was just nearing the door when a glint of silver, half buried in the snow, caught my eye. I picked it up.
It was a simple silver pendant. I flipped it over. On the back were three initials. V.A.B.
Who the hell was V.A.B.?
CHAPTER 15
—ANONYMOUS
I DON’T KNOW how long I stood there, staring at the necklace. Eventually I realized that my fingers were numb with cold and I was shivering. Behind me a twig snapped. Whirling around, I searched the inky darkness. I couldn’t see anything, but I felt the vulnerability of my position. My skin prickled with the uneasy sensation that I was being watched from behind one of the windows that ran along the back of the inn. With my heart pounding in my ears, I glanced up at the dark casements and ran for the house. My stumbling footsteps on the ice-covered snow sounded like rapid gunfire.
Back inside the dining room, I fumbled with the latch. When I finally secured it, I sagged against the wall. Rubbing my hands together for warmth, I wondered if the necklace could be a clue to Gerald’s murder. The initials didn’t belong to anyone staying at the inn—that is, if the owner was under her real name.
I crept up the stairs, desperate not to make any noise. Turning the corner, I was surprised to see a line of light spilling out from under Peter’s door. Wondering why he was up at this hour, I moved toward his room and gave the door a light tap with my knuckle. Almost instantly it was flung open. Shock registered on Peter’s face when he saw me. “Elizabeth!” he said. “I didn’t hear you get back. What’s going on?”
“Can I come in?” I whispered, glancing behind me down the dark hallway.
“Of course.” He stepped aside. “Is everything okay? Did Daniel do something?”
“No, Daniel didn’t do anything,” I snapped, pushing past him into the room.
“Then what’s going on?” he asked. Surveying the room, I saw that the bed was still made; there weren’t even indentations in its brightly colored patchwork quilt. An open book lay on the seat of a rocking chair by the floor lamp. I looked at Peter. He was wearing the same jeans and sweater he had had on earlier.
“What are you still doing up?” I asked, suddenly suspicious.
“Nothing,” he mumbled. “I … couldn’t sleep, so I was reading.” He had obvious trouble meeting my eyes.
I stared at him. “In a chair? Fully dressed? Across the room from the bed?”
“Um … yeah,” Peter said feebly.
Realization dawned. “Oh, my God! Were you waiting up for me?”
He still refused to meet my eyes. Stuffing his thumb into his belt loop, he mumbled, “Something like that.”
“Are you kidding me? Why?”
Peter closed his eyes and ground his teeth before answering. “Because I was worried, all right? I know you like Daniel, but I don’t. I don’t trust him. Aunt Winnie wanted to do it herself, but I talked her out of it. She’s tired enough as it is.”
I didn’t say anything. I was torn between hugging him and throwing something at him.
“Well, you needn’t have bothered,” I said after a minute. “I’m fine.”
“Then what’s going on? Why are you here?”
I pulled the necklace out of my pocket and told him what had happened. I did, however, gloss over the part where I frisked the bird feeder.
Peter perched on the edge of the bed. “What do you think it means?”
“I don’t know.” I took a seat in the rocking chair. “Whose necklace could it be? I don’t see how this connects to Gerald’s murder, but it’s got to.”
“It might. I think you should tell Detective Stewart.”
“Oh, I will,” I said. “I can’t wait to point him to a clue that has nothing to do with Aunt Winnie.” I pushed back in the rocking chair. The resulting creak from the wood sounded like a supernatural shriek. I stopped moving.
“Do you want me to drive you to the police station tomorrow?”
“No, that’s okay. I’ll call him first. Besides, I can’t go right away. Linnet has invited Aunt Winnie and me to lunch tomorrow.”
“I know. Aunt Winnie told me. I didn’t think she was particularly close to Linnet. What’s the reason for the visit?”
“Officially, it’s just a social visit, but of course that’s only a pretense. I imagine that Linnet extended the invitation to appease Jackie’s curiosity. Jackie probably thinks that we’re a source of information about the investigation.” I smiled. “The irony, of course, is that that’s precisely why Aunt Winnie and I are going—to see what we can learn from Jackie.”
“What makes you think she knows anything?” He stretched his long frame back onto the bed. Raising himself onto his elbows, he stared straight into my eyes. If it had been anyone other than Peter, I would have thought he was trying to flirt with me.
“Well, you have to admit that she has a special knack for gossip,” I said. “I don’t know how she does it, but she’s managed to uncover an awful lot about everything that’s going on in this town since she’s arrived. And there’s something else. When we were leaving Lauren’s the other day, she seemed upset by something.” I sighed and rested my head against the back of the chair. “I know it’s a long shot, but if Jackie knows something that might help Aunt Winnie, then I’ll have lunch with her every day of the week until the murderer is caught.”
Peter nodded and tried to suppress a yawn. I stood up. “All right. I’m going to bed. Which,” I added dryly, “means you can, too.”
“Wait, you didn’t tell me what happened with Daniel.” Peter scrambled into an upright position. “Did you find out anything about his relationship with Lauren? What did he say?”
I gritted my teeth and opened the door. “He said lots. But if I repeated it, it would only make you
