Willow Street. In the attached photograph she was smiling; it was the face of a confident young woman with her whole life ahead of her. It almost hurt to see how happy she looked. Her university record was outstanding. If anything, she was overqualified for her job as copy editor. Under the question “Why do you want this job?” she had written, “I grew up near Penobscot Bay. I want, more than anything, to live and work in the place I’ve always called home.” He flipped through the pages and scanned the semiannual employee evaluation, filled out by Jill Vickery. It was excellent. He turned to the last page.
There was a letter of resignation, dated two weeks ago.
To: Richard Tremain, Publisher,
That was all. No explanations, no regrets. Not even a hint of recrimination.
“Mr. Tremain?” It was Jill Vickery, back again. “Are you looking for anything in particular? Maybe I can help you.”
“Maybe you can.”
She came in and gracefully settled into the chair across from him. Her gaze at once took in the file on the desk. “I see you have Miranda’s employee record.”
“Yes. I’m trying to understand what happened. Why she did it.”
“I think you should know she was here just a short while ago.”
“In the building?”
“She came to collect her things. I’m glad you two avoided a, uh…unexpected encounter.”
He nodded. “So am I.”
“Let me say this, Mr. Tremain. I’m very sorry about your brother. He was a wonderful man, an exceptional writer. He truly believed in the power of the printed word. We’re going to miss him.”
It was a canned speech, but she delivered it with such sincerity he was almost convinced she meant it. Jill Vickery certainly had the PR down flat.
“I understand Richard had a story in the pipeline,” he said. “Something about a company called Stone Coast Trust. You familiar with it?”
Jill sighed. “Why does this particular article keep coming up?”
“Someone else interested?”
“Miranda Wood. She just asked about it. I told her that as far as I know, the story was never written. At least, I never saw it.”
“But it was scheduled to run?”
“Until Richard canceled it.”
“Why?”
She sat back and smoothly flicked her hair off her face. “I wouldn’t know. I suspect he didn’t have enough evidence to go to print.”
“What, exactly, is the story on Stone Coast Trust?”
“Small-town stuff, really. Not very interesting to outsiders.”
“Try me.”
“It had to do with developers’ rights. Stone Coast has been buying up property on the north shore. Near Rose Hill Cottage, as a matter of fact, so you know how lovely it is up there. Pristine coastline, trees. Tony Graffam — he’s president of Stone Coast — claimed he was out to preserve the area. Then we heard rumors of a high- class development in the works. And then, a month ago, the zoning on those lots was abruptly changed from conservation to resort. It’s now wide open to development.”
“That’s all there is to the article?”
“In a nutshell. May I ask the reason for your interest?”
“It was something Miranda Wood told me. About other people having motives to kill my brother.”
“In this case, she’s stretching the point.” Jill rose to her feet. “But one can hardly blame her for trying. She hasn’t much else to grab onto.”
“You think she’ll be convicted?”
“I wouldn’t want to hazard a guess. But from what my news staff tells me, it sounds likely.”
“You mean that reporter? Annie something?”
“Annie Berenger. Yes, she’s assigned to the story.”
“Can I talk to her?”
Jill frowned. “Why?”
He shook his head. “I don’t know. I guess I’m just trying to understand who this Miranda Wood really is. Why she would kill.” He sat back, ran his hand through his hair. “I still can’t quite fit the pieces together. I thought, maybe someone who’s been watching the case — someone who knew her personally…”
“Of course. I understand.” The words were sympathetic but her eyes were indifferent. “I’ll send Annie in to talk to you.”
She left. A moment later Annie Berenger appeared.
“Come in,” said Chase. “Have a seat.”
Annie shut the door and sat in the chair across from him. She looked like a reporter: frizzy red hair streaked with gray, sharp eyes, wrinkled slacks. She also reeked of cigarettes. It brought back memories of his father. All she needed was a splash of whiskey on her breath. A good old newsman’s smell.
She was watching him with clear suspicion. “Boss lady says you want to talk about Miranda.”
“You knew her pretty well?”
“The word is
“What do you think of her?”
Her mouth twitched into a smile. “This is your own private investigation?”
“Call it my quest for the truth. Miranda Wood denies killing my brother. What do you think?”
Annie lit a cigarette. “You know, I used to cover the police beat in Boston.”
“So you’re familiar with murder.”
“In a manner of speaking.” Leaning back, she thoughtfully exhaled a cloud of smoke. “Miranda had the motive. Oh, we all knew about the affair. It’s hard to hide something like that in this newsroom. I tried to, well, advise her against it. But she follows her heart, you know? And it got her into trouble. That’s not to say she did it. Killed him.” Annie flicked off an ash. “I don’t think she did.”
“Then who did?”
Annie shrugged.
“You think it’s tied to the Tony Graffam story?”
Annie’s eyebrow shot up. “You dig stuff up fast. Must run in the family, that newsman’s nose.”
“Miranda Wood says Richard had a story about to break. True?”
“He said he did. I know he was writing it. He had a few more details to check before it went to print.”
“What details?”
“Financial data, about Stone Coast Trust. Richard had just got his hands on some account information.”
“Why didn’t the article get to print?”
“Honest opinion?” Annie snorted. “Because Jill Vickery didn’t want to risk a libel suit.”
Chase frowned. “But Jill says the article doesn’t exist. That Richard never wrote it.”
Annie blew out a last breath of smoke and stubbed out her cigarette in the ashtray. “Here’s a piece of wisdom for you, Mr. T,” she said. She looked him in the eye. “Never trust your editor.”
Did the article exist or didn’t it?
Chase spent the next hour searching the files in Richard’s office. He found nothing under
It was late afternoon when he finally returned to the house. To his relief, Evelyn and the twins were out. He had the place to himself. He went straight into Richard’s home office and continued his search for the Graffam
