Chief Cobb took a step forward. “Can I help you?”
“No.” The word was forced between breaths. Kay twisted free and used both hands to shove me.
I lost my balance, but I had the note.
She flung herself in pursuit of the folded sheet and grabbed the note. As she whirled toward the railing, she tore the paper into tiny pieces and threw the particles out into the night. Her chest heaving, she faced the chief. “Sometimes I have trouble breathing. Asthma, you know. That accounts for my unsteadiness and…and the choking sounds. If you’ll excuse me, I’ll go to my room.”
Chief Cobb’s massive face was a study in disbelief.
No doubt he was trying to reconcile what he had seen with what she had said. The note had been small. The movement of her hands could have been a flutter of distress. The pieces of paper were now well disposed of.
“If you’re certain you are all right…” Cobb spoke slowly, his gaze bewildered.
“I’m fine. Thank you.” She strode past him.
Reluctantly, I gave her an unseen thumbs-up. She was a worthy oppo—oh. I must not align myself against her. Unless forced to do so by circumstances beyond my control.
Chief Cobb and I gazed after her as she walked swiftly toward the steps leading down to the garden. Whatever he thought, he surely realized that there was more to this evening than met the eye.
As for me, I was willing to cede the first round, but I wasn’t through. Kay wanted a verdict of accident. I had no idea why she had made that decision. I was determined to engage the police. An active investigation of attempted murder would protect Kay. Keeping her safe was my priority. For me, that goal had neared the status of a search for a unicorn. However, I would not be thwarted by obdurate, stubborn, impossible Kay Clark.
My eyes narrowed in consideration. No tools had been found on the balcony. Tools were kept in a workshop. One quick thought and I again found myself in total darkness. I slipped my hand over the wall and turned on the lights. Any handyman would have been thrilled with the collection of tools in The Castle workshop. Tools were arranged in niches or holders on one wall. I spotted a collection of chisels and hammers and three crowbars of varying size. The tools appeared clean and shiny, but I would expect no less in a well-kept tool room. There was nothing to suggest any of these tools had been used to loosen the vase, but nothing to show they had not. I chose a claw hammer that had a nice heft and a moderate-size chisel. In my nonvisible state, I didn’t have to be concerned with fingerprints.
However, burdened with tools, I had to transport them through actual space. I could no longer envision a destination and immediately arrive. Turning off the light, I opened the workshop door and stepped outside. I was near the garages. The Castle blazed with lights. Flashlight beams danced in the garden.
The tools should appear to be well hidden, yet I wanted to place them where they’d be easily found. Moreover, I hoped to put the tools inside the house. I hadn’t forgotten the sound of that closing door. I wanted the police to look very hard at the occupants of The Castle.
I moved from shadow to shadow, edging ever nearer the garden.
The stark glare of a flashlight swept over me. I wasn’t there, but the crowbar glittered silver.
I dropped to the ground.
“Hey, Joe. Something moved over there near the mimosa.”
Heavy footsteps moved cautiously nearer. “Police. Hands up. Police.”
Three flashlights cut bright swaths near me. The searchers held the flashlights to one side to avoid providing a silhouette.
Keeping the tools barely above the ground, I retreated, escaping those seeking beams by inches. My heart was thudding by the time I reached a huge oak with a massive trunk. I rose. The tools hidden by foliage, I watched the police officers below. As the search of the lower terrace continued, I zipped, still hidden by trees, to the front of the house.
In my absence, the fire truck and ambulance had departed. The chief’s car and several cruisers remained in the drive. The brightly lit porch was empty. Happily, the front porch wasn’t visible from the terrace. I found the front door closed and locked. I placed the tools on the welcome mat and moved through the wooden panel. Once inside, I turned the lock, opened the door, retrieved the tools, closed and locked the door.
A low-wattage yellow bulb burned in a wall sconce. Otherwise, the hallway was dim. The stairs stretched up into darkness. I wondered how well the occupants were resting after the late-night interruption.
In a mirror on a sidewall, the crowbar, chisel, and hammer appeared to dangle in space.
The door at the end of the long, marbled hallway began to open.
Hurriedly, I looked around. A massive oak cabinet sat beneath the mirror. I opened the second drawer, the one at eye level. If the drawer had been locked, the situation would have been perilous. Fortunately—good work by Wiggins?—the drawer easily slid out. I stashed the tools inside.
Kay stepped into the hallway, carrying a tray with a carafe and a plate covered by a napkin. A late-night snack? Perhaps she would share.
At the foot of the stairs, she flipped several switches and started up.
I opened the drawer a few inches and pulled out the shiny tip of the crowbar. Anyone going out the front door in the morning would be sure to notice.
Now for a chat with my recalcitrant charge.
CHAPTER FOUR
Kay’s bedroom was enchanting. I wondered if all the guest rooms at The Castle were this grand. The terra-cotta walls matched the tiled floor. A collection of Roseville pottery filled a bamboo cabinet.
