I was sorry to disappoint her, but I had to. Jessica and Elizabeth were too young to have been one of the women at the library on Friday night, and I told her that. “Sorry,” I said.
Rachel gave me a tight smile. She gathered up her hat and gardening gloves. “If you don’t mind, Lucy …”
I jumped to my feet. “I’ll let you get back to work. Thanks for this.”
Her smile was tinged with sadness. “It would be nice to get my grandmother’s necklace back, if only out of respect for her and my grandfather. But I’ve pretty much given up hope.”
Chapter Eighteen
Where to go next?
I sat in my car in front of Rachel’s house thinking it all over. That had been a dead end. This entire line of questioning was probably a dead end. I had to consider that Helena might not have been reacting to Jeff’s name at all. Maybe she’d suddenly remembered something that upset her, and I had no chance of ever finding out what that had been.
Today was my day off. Another fabulous day on the Outer Banks. I could go to the beach. I could visit the Elizabethan gardens in Manteo, or take a hike on the dunes at Jockey’s Ridge State Park. I could treat myself to a nice lunch out or go shopping for some badly needed new work clothes. I could just go home and relax in my apartment and read.
Instead, I found myself driving to the Ocean Side Hotel.
Sam Watson couldn’t keep Bertie’s friends in town forever. He’d have to let them go home soon if he didn’t come up with something new.
I didn’t have phone numbers for Ruth or Sheila, but I was in luck and found them by the hotel pool, wearing their bathing suits, stretched out on lounge chairs in the sun, icy glasses next to them.
“Hi,” I said.
Ruth lowered her book and peered at me from behind a pair of enormous sunglasses. Sheila opened her eyes and squinted up at me. The sun was directly overhead, a ball of fire in a cloudless sky. I wondered if I should point out to Sheila that her chest was turning a bright pink. Instead, I said, “Nice day.”
“It is,” Ruth said. “I have to say I’m not entirely unhappy at being confined to this place.” She glanced around the pool deck: sparkling water, splashing children, laughing parents, comfortable chairs. Even a waiter fetching fresh drinks and clearing away the used glasses. “When I told my boss I can’t come in as I’m under police orders to remain in Nags Head, she insisted I give her the name of the officer in charge. She had to make sure I wasn’t lying about something like that. The miserable old bat. My husband wasn’t happy at having to cook his own dinners either.” She lifted her arms and stretched. “Let him suffer for a change. I could get used to living like this.”
“I’m not pleased.” Sheila said. “My granddaughter’s birthday party’s on Sunday, and if I have to miss it, I’ll be seriously angry.”
“What can we do for you, Lucy?” Ruth asked.
I felt awkward looming above them, staring down, fully dressed while they looked up at me, shading their eyes with their hands. I dragged a lounge chair over and dropped into it.
“How’d it go last night?” I asked Sheila. “After Connor and I left?”
“What happened last night?” Ruth asked.
“You ruined the scene,” Sheila said. “Totally and completely. Louise Jane tried to call them back, but everyone had fled.”
“Call who back?” Ruth said. “I wondered where you’d gotten to last night.”
“I was assisting Louise Jane,” Sheila said, “while she attempted to contact the spirts of the marsh.”
“Oh. Yeah. That.” Ruth’s eyes were concealed by dark glasses, but I was pretty sure she was rolling them.
“I keep trying to get a handle on Helena and I can’t,” I said. “Tell me about her.”
“Not much to tell,” Ruth said. “We worked together in Manteo for a few years in the early nineties. She was a competent librarian, pleasant enough. We were friendly at work but didn’t socialize outside. I was married with young children and she wasn’t, so we had nothing in common other than the job.”
“If you don’t mind my saying so, when you met her on Friday, she said you’d put on weight.”
“So she did. And so I have. What of it? I have to admit, Lucy, the comment surprised me. I don’t remember her being nasty.”
“People change,” Sheila said.
“Did you know Helena?” I asked.
“Never met her before in my life.”
“Did you ever meet Helena’s sister?” I asked Ruth. “Her name’s Tina.”
“No. I didn’t know she had a sister. No reason I should know.”
“Anything else you remember about her?”
“I don’t remember Helena particularly well at all, Lucy. We meet so many people over our lives and our careers.” She chuckled. “She had a terrible weakness for historical romances, I remember that. You know the sort, what they call bodice-rippers. Handsome pirates and beautiful aristocrats and derring-do on the high seas.”
Sheila laughed. “Don’t knock it. I had my romantic period too. Then I got married. That killed that fast enough.”
An image of Connor McNeil flashed into my mind. Was I having my romantic period in real life? Would it end some day? I pulled myself back to the subject at hand. “Helena was a romantic?”
“Oh yeah,” Ruth said. “Waiting for her Mr. Right. Poor thing. Looks like he never showed up.”
Mr. Right. Prince Charming.
I stood up. “Thank you for your time.”
Ruth settled back in her chair and reached for her book. “Anytime.
