Apparently, floating cutlery and glasses unnerved her. “I’m sorry.” I appeared. This morning I chose a floral- swirl print shirt, blossoms in rose red and hydrangea blue, and white cotton trousers. I spared a quick glance in the mirror, smoothed a vagrant red curl. “Eat your breakfast. You need food for strength. We have lots to do today.”
She grabbed the Danish, took a bite, poured a cup of coffee. “How did breakfast get here?”
“I put a note in the kitchen, requesting a tray for you.”
“A note. Like the note I found in the bathroom. Now I’m writing notes I don’t remember writing.” She darted a wild look toward the door, clearly dismayed that a note had been left in the kitchen. She shook her head and began to eat, ignoring me.
I finished and poured a cup of coffee into a mug from the wet bar. Mmm, excellent coffee. “I don’t believe I’ve told you about the tools. You see, I thought you made a mistake in preventing an investigation.” I described my clever arrangement of the tools in the cabinet by the front door last night and their subsequent disappearance. “Anyone in the house could have found and removed them.”
She was thoughtful. “My mind is all screwed up. I didn’t want the police. No way I would have put tools out to be found.” She brightened. “Of course I wouldn’t. That’s why they disappeared. My mind is making up for that nutty idea.” Suddenly she looked forlorn. “Why do I keep having these thoughts?”
I gazed at her without warmth. She had to be one of the most stubborn women I’d ever encountered. “Have you ever thought about Zen?”
She flung down her napkin. “This has to stop. Okay, mind, listen. I will not be diverted. Hush. Now.”
I sighed. “I am not diverting you. I want to find out who pushed Jack ASAP, so I can leave you in my cosmic dust. If you’ll hush, I’ll let you in on what I discovered while you were relaxing in a hot shower.” I ticked off the occupants of the house, one by one. “This morning Evelyn was on the upper terrace, checking out the vase. Ronald Phillips surreptitiously watched her from the balcony. When Ronald returned to their room, he and Laverne had a curious exchange. Diane cut fresh flowers this morning and talked to her dead husband’s picture. She’s desperately worried about something. In the kitchen, Margo and Shannon talked about Jack. Jimmy practiced hitting irons on the third terrace.”
Kay spread marmalade on her toast. She gave me a defiant glare. “Big deal. People are up and around. So?”
My eyes slitted. “Has anybody ever told you that you have a smart mouth?”
Her grin was immediate and delighted. “This is more like it. Let’s level with each other. You don’t like me. I don’t like you. Why don’t you take a hike?”
I opened my mouth, grabbed my temper, pressed my lips firmly together. I managed to sound pleasant when I spoke. “Actually, it should be the other way around.”
She crunched bacon and quirked an eyebrow.
“You are lucky to be alive this morning, thanks to my timely intervention. I understand—and I’m sure Heaven does as well—that your motive in coming to Adelaide was admirable. You believed Jack’s death was murder. The note on your pillow and the toppled vase prove you were correct. However, now that I am here, the wise course is for you to leave. You can be assured I will continue to investigate.”
She swallowed the bacon, took a deep breath, and spoke through gritted teeth. “If I have two personalities, I guess I have to communicate with the asinine part of my brain that’s imagined you. Get this straight. I’m not going anywhere until I know what happened to Jack.”
I was tempted to give her a high five. I’d hoped she would refuse to leave. I needed her presence in order to approach the possible suspects.
Wait a minute. I felt overwhelmed by remorse. What I needed or, to be more accurate, what I wanted was unimportant. Kay’s life was all that mattered. I hadn’t been dispatched by the department to find a murderer. I’d been sent to protect Kay, yet my excursions this morning were all about discovering what had happened to Jack Hume.
“Kay, this is foolish.” Just because I heard the siren call of the chase was no excuse to put her in further jeopardy. “Heaven is concerned about your safety or I wouldn’t be here. I truly will do my best to find out what happened to Jack, but you must leave.”
“Get a life.” She took another bite of sweet roll.
Kay Clark was a fighter. I suppose she felt that I (or a negative aspect of herself) was challenging her courage. “Kay…” I heard the difference in my tone. For the first time, I moved away from my irritation with her. Instead, I wanted to help the weary, grieving woman who faced me with an indomitable light in her eyes.
She looked as immovable as the tank battery for the Millie No. 1.
Her decision meant that if she were to be kept safe, I must discover the identity of the murderer.
Have I ever shared the truth that I am moved by impulse, not logic? I felt dimly that perhaps this was the course of events Wiggins desired. Was his mind serpentine enough to have known that my actions would strengthen Kay’s resolve and she and I together would be bound to investigate? It was as if I heard a distant bugle call to charge.
Impulse was all very well, but I must harness my proclivity for quick action and think logically. Kay had come to Adelaide because of Jack’s e-mails. That’s where she started and that’s where I must start. “In Jack’s last e-mail, he said a photograph had been slipped under his door. Where do you suppose he put it?”
She looked perplexed. “I don’t know.” She nodded toward the desk. “All of his papers seemed to be in the ebony box. There was only one photograph and it can’t be the one he mentioned.”
I was surprised. “There’s no photograph in the box.”
Her gaze was sharp. “How would you know?”
“I studied the contents last night.”
