Crossing The Lion Part 21

But my thoughts were heading in a different direction. "Or maybe this is a decoy," I said. "Maybe whoever did this stashed the real thing deeper inside."

"Good point!" Nick said brightly. "Should we keep digging?"

We took turns at reaching inside the suit of armor and pulling out papers. The next few batches proved to be more of the same--junk mail, unpaid bills, and, finally, unopened Christmas cards, all from two years before. But then, when we reached the middle of Sir Galahad's chest, we encountered a big gap.

"Is that it?" Nick asked, sounding disappointed.

"I bet it's not," I replied. Maybe my arms weren't quite as long as Nick's, but they were considerably narrower. So I stood on tiptoe and was barely able to reach way inside to the torso. I wasn't surprised when my fingers touched what I instantly identified as a stack of papers.

"Eureka!" I cried.

By rolling up the papers I now held in my fingertips, I was able to extract the whole thing at once. As soon as I held the sheaf in my hand, I studied it eagerly, certain that whatever I'd found would explain this absurdity.

"Legal doc.u.ments!" I said breathlessly. "That's what the person who did this really meant to hide!"

However, as soon as I glanced over at Nick, I saw that he didn't share my enthusiasm.

"But why would someone hide legal doc.u.ments?" he asked. "And look at the date. This was filed only a few months ago, back in March. It's not as if stashing away the paperwork can make a legal action go away."

He had a point. "Well ... maybe Linus hid this because didn't want Charlotte to know about some lawsuit that was going on," I said, trying to come up with an explanation.

Reaching for the papers, Nick said, "Why don't we see what this is all about? Maybe that will help us understand why someone hid it."

I held the doc.u.ments so both Nick and I could read them at the same time. I was glad to have a lawyer-in-training on hand to help me decipher their meaning. But it didn't take a year and a half of law school to see that they involved one of Linus and Charlotte's neighbors in the high-rise building in New York City that housed their co-op. Just from perusing the first few lines, I surmised that the Merrywoods had put something large and bulky on their balcony that blocked their next-door neighbors' view of Central Park.

I handed the doc.u.ments to Nick, then waited in silence while he read through them.

"That pretty much sums it up," he concluded as he gave them back to me. "The Merrywoods' neighbors certainly had a right to an un.o.bstructed view. I can't imagine that Linus wasn't fully aware of that. He shouldn't have been the least bit surprised that they sued him over it, either."

"This whole thing is so strange," I commented. "Not only that someone hid these legal doc.u.ments, but also that Linus and Charlotte were doing something so annoying."

Nick nodded. "And given that everyone thinks Linus was a pretty reasonable guy and the fact that I can see for myself that Charlotte's a real sweetie, it seems unlikely that they wouldn't have been more neighborly."

"That's true," I agreed. "You'd think they'd willingly take down a ... a big plant or an umbrella or whatever else they put on their balcony as soon as their neighbors pointed out that it was a problem."

The sound of voices in a not-too-distant room made us both start. Even Lou rose to his feet, preparing to greet whoever happened our way, while Max stood at attention and wagged his stub of a tail.

Nick and I looked at each other guiltily and, without another word, began putting everything back inside the suit of armor, exactly the way we'd found it.

"That was close," Nick whispered as we tiptoed away. I'd scooped Max up into my arms again, while he had taken hold of Lou's collar to keep him from wandering off in the wrong direction and revealing our presence. The last thing we wanted was for anyone to wonder what we'd found in the front hallway that was fascinating enough to hold our interest for such a long time. "What do you say we hightail it upstairs and get away from all this?"

While I'd been planning exactly that a few minutes earlier, I'd just noticed Townie heading toward the back parlor--by himself. Since Missy's husband was barely allowed out of her sight--clearly a rule that was good for the goose but not for the gander--I decided to jump on the chance to talk to him alone.

"Why don't you take the dogs back upstairs without me?" I told Nick distractedly. "I'll catch up with you in a few minutes."

Nick's eyes traveled to the doorway through which Townie had disappeared.

"Go for it, Jess," he said. Then he took Max into his own arms, leaned over to give me a peck on the cheek, and dashed off with Lou in tow.

I found Townie standing at the dry bar in one corner of the room, pouring a pale golden liquid from a crystal decanter.

"Oh, h.e.l.lo, Townie," I greeted him, doing my best to sound surprised instead of letting on that I'd been stalking him. "I was looking for Nick."

"No Nick here," he replied with a smile. Holding up his gla.s.s, he asked, "Can I offer you some brandy?"

"No, thanks, I'm fine," I said. Letting my eyes drift to the window, I commented, "This storm is brutal."

"And endless," he added.

We were both silent as lightning flashed, Townie sipping his brandy and me staring out at the storm. A few seconds later a powerful roll of thunder sent the crystal gla.s.ses lined up in the cabinet clinking against one another.

"We may lose the electricity again," I commented.

Townie frowned, locking his jaw even more than usual as he commented, "As if this place wasn't already gloomy enough."

"It is pretty gloomy," I agreed. "But at least the whole family is together."

"Yes," he agreed. "That's important at a time like this." He held out his brandy snifter as if to toast the concept of families being together.

"I've been amazed at how closely knit the Merrywoods are," I went on. "Oh, sure, I can see that there are the usual family tensions."

Anxious to follow up on Gwennie and Jonathan's mysterious comment about Brock and Townie being "in bed together," a situation Missy was supposedly aware of, I added, "The tensions between Missy and Brock, for example."

Sounding offended, he insisted, "Missy may tease her brother a bit, but she certainly loves him, even though she might not always show it. In fact, it was her idea that Brock and I--"

He stopped himself midsentence, and a pained look crossed his face. I wondered if saying more than he'd intended was a side effect of drinking brandy.

"I suppose there's no reason to keep it a secret any longer," he said with an air of resignation. "It's not as if we're going to go ahead with it, anyway."

By that point, I'd definitely put on my listening ears.

"For the last few months," Townie continued, "Brock and I have been talking about going into business together."

Aha, I thought. So Gwennie and Jonathan really are paying attention.

"That sounds like a great idea," I commented. "I don't know Brock very well, of course, but I get the sense that he's really talented. He certainly seems dedicated to getting his jewelry-making business off the ground."

"My feelings exactly," Townie agreed. "So it seemed to make good business sense to help him get started. It also would have been a good way of showing support for my brother-in-law. I would have been happy to subsidize the whole venture myself. It was Missy who insisted that he put up half the money."

I tried not to let my surprise show. "Why is that?"

Townie sighed. "She felt he'd be more committed if he made a financial investment in the business. That, in effect, it would help him grow up. And I suppose she was right. The problem was, I didn't know where she expected Brock to come up with that kind of money."

"What kind of money are we talking about?" I asked.

"Half a million."

I gulped. "Half a million dollars?"

He cast me an odd look. "It takes substantial capital to get a new business going. If you want to do it right, of course. You need to rent s.p.a.ce, hire the right people, create a strong presence on the Internet ... And besides the usual start-up costs, Brock was going to need to invest in some high-quality materials for his jewelry. He doesn't work in gold or precious stones, but the price of silver and semiprecious stones these days is nothing to sneeze at.

"For a while, things looked very promising," Townie continued. "Brock did a surprisingly thorough job of putting together a business plan. After he did, I ran some numbers and came up with the million-dollar amount. I thought it was a pretty reasonable investment, and I was prepared to jump in by myself. But then Missy insisted that her brother meet me halfway." With a shrug, he added, "I had no choice but to go along with it."

My mind was racing. So Brock needed a substantial amount of money in order to live out his dream of pursuing his current pa.s.sion. And given his father's att.i.tude toward sharing his wealth with his offspring, Linus certainly wasn't about to give it to him.

Which led to a question that was almost too painful to ask: How on earth would Brock ever come up with that kind of money?

I went ahead and asked it anyway.

Townie's response was a deep sigh. "I don't know about all the options he had. But I do know that a couple of weeks ago, Brock swallowed his pride and came here to Solitude Island to ask his father for the money. Not as a gift but as a loan."

"What was Linus's response?" I asked, even though I was pretty sure I already knew the answer.

"A resounding no," Townie replied. "Linus gave Brock his usual speech about how he was thirty-one years old and it was high time he started acting like a man instead of a child."

"Brock must have been devastated," I observed.

"He came away heartbroken," Townie agreed. "After that, he tried a few other options, like getting a bank loan. But he finally told me on Wednesday afternoon when we all arrived here at the house for Linus's birthday celebration that he wasn't going to be able to come up with the cash."

He shook his head slowly. "I felt really bad for the guy. Brock has his faults, of course. But this seemed like a wonderful opportunity for him to finally realize his potential. I tried talking to Missy again about letting me finance the whole deal, but she refused."

Maybe because she had some plans of her own, I thought. Like divorcing Townie to run off with Harry.

And the richer the husband, the bigger her divorce settlement.

But while I felt bad that Brock's dream had fizzled out, I couldn't ignore the fact that there was one last way he could have gotten his hands on the money he needed: through a generous inheritance.

True, it was difficult to imagine the dreamy, Birkenstock-sandaled baby of the family murdering his own father. But I'd meant it when I commented to Townie that I didn't really know Brock. In fact, I didn't really know any of the Merrywoods, so I was in no position to judge who was capable of what.

Especially where money was concerned.

By the time we all gathered together for the evening meal, I wasn't sure who it was safe to sit next to. Practically everyone in the room had a motive for murder, which didn't exactly lend itself to relaxing dinner conversation. I wished I'd been able to join Max, Lou, Admiral, Corky, and Frederick instead: Cook had just summoned them into the kitchen for a private dinner of their own.

Fortunately, I ended up between Nick and Betty. But I'd barely had a chance to snap open my carefully folded linen napkin before the chandelier began to flicker.

Automatically everyone's eyes traveled upward.

"Uh-oh," Tag groaned. "There go the lights."

As if on cue, the dim lights went out, leaving all of us sitting in complete darkness.

"Do you believe the electricity has gone out again?" Scarlett cried.

"We should all buy stock in a candle company," Townie grumbled.

"We'll have to make the best of it," Missy said cheerfully. "Besides, it's kind of romantic, dining by candlelight. Don't you agree, Townie?"

"Frankly, it's just darned annoying," he replied. As usual, he was talking through clenched teeth, but this time at least there seemed to be a reason.

"I've got matches," Charlotte said helpfully. "Let me light the candles on this candelabra--"

In the darkness, we could all hear the sound of a match scratching against the side of the matchbox. It was actually a pleasant sound, as if the hostile darkness around us was about to be banished.

But Charlotte had barely had a chance to hold the flame up to the wick before we all heard another sound--one that, instead of warming us, chilled us to the bone.

A shrill scream, coming from some distant part of the house.

Chapter 14.

"If the lion and dragon fight, they will both die."

--Tadashi Adachi Alvira? Acting up again?

At least, that was my first thought. But the concerned expressions on everyone else's faces told me it wasn't anything that innocent.

"What is that?" Tag demanded.

"Who is that?" Townie seconded.

Glancing around the table, taking a head count, Missy added, "I don't know, since everyone is here...."

"It's Gwennie!" Charlotte declared, her expression stricken. "I recognize her voice."

Within seconds all of us were on our feet, getting ready to rush out of the room. Tag grabbed the candelabra, then led the group, with Brock close on his heels. I was happy to lag behind a bit, along with the other outsiders: Betty, Winston, and Nick. The four of us followed the family as they headed in the direction from which the scream seemed to have originated.

Tag took the stairs to the second floor two at a time, with Brock still right behind him. Townie was next, with the rest of us scampering after the three of them as quickly as we could.

Even the dogs came along, dashing out of the kitchen as soon as they heard all the commotion. But, unlike the humans, none of them seemed the least bit concerned. Max and Corky darted ahead of the rest of the pack, acting like schoolkids who'd just been let out onto the playground, while Lou loped after them like the little brother who didn't know if he was welcome. Admiral lumbered along next, followed by Frederick, who had the shortest legs of any of them.

As soon as I reached the top of the staircase and rounded the corner to the left, I came to a sudden halt. The entire group was gathered just a few feet away, huddled together in the hallway. Gwennie was at the front, her head raised slightly as she stared at the wall.

"Whoa," Tag muttered, holding up the candelabra in the direction in which she was looking. "Check this out!"

I did exactly that, shuffling closer so that I now stood shoulder to shoulder with everyone else. Even though the light from the half dozen candles was dim, it was bright enough to see that, scrawled on the wall in huge letters, each one at least a foot high, were the words, GO HOME J! And the words were written in what looked like blood.

My stomach instantly curdled, and a wave of dizziness pa.s.sed over me.

That message is for me! I thought, taking deep breaths. Automatically, I reached down and picked up Max, hoping to find comfort by holding his warm, furry body in my arms.