Deadly Inheritance: A Romantic Suspense Read online

“We won’t know until we find it.”

  His mild reply only made her more irritable. “I need to sit down.”

  “You drank too much.” His voice was mild, but it stung anyway.

  “Fine. Come on, then. Let’s go chase after ghosts. At least it will waste the time until lunch.”

  What could he possibly find at this point? She was hungry, her skin felt dry and itchy, and although she didn’t want to think about it, she was still frightened. Someone had tried to kill her, someone who was probably related to her. Part of her wanted her to close her eyes and go curl up in a corner, hoping she’d be overlooked the next time he, or she, wanted a victim.

  But she wasn’t a coward, and her sense of justice wouldn’t allow her to just “let it go.” She swallowed.

  “If you need to sit down—”

  “No.” She held up a hand. “We’ll go look for ghosts. Far be it from me to prevent you from collecting whatever clues you can find.”

  “Are you sure?” He studied her, a faint crease between his dark brows. “You don’t look too good.”

  “I’m fine. Go on. I’m right behind you.”

  He shrugged and strode back to the staircase. She trailed after him as he went up the stairs with an abstracted look on his face, completely oblivious to her presence. She might as well have stayed in the dining room.

  On the second floor landing, he paused to glance around with a confidence that she envied. “The room we’re looking for will be directly above the drawbridge.” He pointed to a doorway on their right. “In there.”

  “Right.” How could he possibly know that? Nora resisted the impulse to roll her eyes and followed him.

  To her surprise, the door was unlocked—she would have thought the murderer would at least lock it to hide any evidence left behind—and it yielded to Gabe’s touch. He looked at the walls on either side of the door and flicked on an overhead light.

  Two long fixtures sporting fluorescent lights crackled to life.

  Gabe rubbed his hands together and grinned at her. “Easy enough, and no cobwebs or dripping ectoplasm.”

  In fact, the room was clean and utilitarian in the extreme. Plain white tiles covered the floor and even extended halfway up the walls, obviously intended to make it easy to clean off any grease or dirt flung around by the mammoth contraption standing against the outer wall. For some reason, she expected a medieval contraption of wooden gears and cranks, but the mechanism was all sleek modern steel run by an efficient little electric motor.

  One of the chains was still affixed to a series of gears and shafts that would let it out, or reel it up, at the touch of a button.

  “Nice little windlass,” Gabe commented as he examined the remaining chain.

  As he moved on to the side with the missing chain, he mumbled to himself, hummed tunelessly, and paused occasionally to frown.

  Nora wasn’t mechanically-minded so there wasn’t much for her to do except stare at him and try not to embarrass herself by being sick.

  Finally, he straightened. “The moorings on this side aren’t damaged. There’s no reason for the chain to have come loose, except that someone unhooked it. Deliberately.”

  “But there’s no proof of anything.”

  “Except intention.”

  “Fingerprints?”

  “Possibly. If we can get the police to investigate.”

  “Right. Why would they? It was an accident, and they already have their hands full with my uncle’s death.”

  “That might be enough reason to convince them,” he commented.

  She placed her hands on her hips. “Maybe. Unfortunately, this place is probably riddled with fingerprints—all of them belonging to people with perfectly good and innocent reasons to be in this room. So it probably won’t matter if they do come here.”

  “Of course.” He shrugged. “No one said this would be easy.” He grinned at her, and the tension making her breathing difficult, faded. “Now, are you ready for lunch?”

  “More than ready.”

  By the time they returned to the dining room, they were late. Four other people were already seated at the table, two men and two women. They glanced up in unison and stared at Nora as she and Gabe walked in. Sarah came in from the opposite doorway, carrying a tray supporting a clear glass dish filled with a colorful assortment of vegetables.

  Three places were left at the end of the table nearest to the doorway Sarah had used. Trying not to blush at the unwanted attention, Nora started toward the empty seats. Her cheeks grew even hotter when she noticed that the two women had transferred their appraising gazes to Gabe.

  One of them, a brown-eyed woman with obviously dyed blond hair, unfolded her napkin, fluffed it out, and placed it in her lap, all the while eyeing Gabe. A smile curved her plump lips.

  Ridiculous though it was, Nora felt the spark of dislike ignite. Gabe could take care of himself, and Nora didn’t even know the woman. For all she knew, the blonde was blind, and the nicest cousin in the bunch.

  Nora needed to relax, eat, and stop these ridiculous reactions.

  “Sarah said you had a little accident,” the blonde said with a smile.

  Nora nodded sharply.

  “We didn’t realize it,” she continued, glancing around at the other cousins. “We were playing a video game.” Her smile widened. “There’s so little to do around here. Anyway, I’m sorry none of us came to rescue you.”

  “It’s fine,” Nora said through tight lips. “I wasn’t hurt.”

  “That’s such a relief, isn’t it?” She looked around and all the others obediently nodded in agreement.

  Nora kept walking. When she got halfway around the table, she caught Sarah’s frowning glance just as the housekeeper eased into the seat at the end of the oval table, leaving two empty place settings on her left.

  “Your cousin, Mr. Michael, insisted I join you. Normally, I would eat in the kitchen,” she explained, gazing sheepishly at Nora.

  “S-sure. N-no point eating alone,” the man sitting at the other end of the table, opposite Sarah, stuttered.

  “I agree.” Nora pulled out the chair closest to Sarah, leaving Gabe to take the chair next to another young woman.

  “I’m M-Michael J-James—your c-cousin.” Michael nodded at her and offered a tentative smile.

  He appeared to be in his early thirties, a few years older than Nora, and had a friendly expression that immediately set her at ease. When he caught her gaze, his smile grew firmer, and he nodded to Gabe. His beautiful, soft hazel eyes and long lashes were his best feature. His wispy brown hair had given up the battle with his high forehead, and his large nose formed a prominent protrusion above a weak—almost non-existent—chin. But despite his shyness and stutter, he had a plain gold band on his left hand, indicating that someone had fallen for the kindness in his soft, hazel eyes.

  “So you’re little Nora, and who’s your friend?” the woman with the bleached hair asked, her gaze still fixed on Gabe.

  “Gabe,” he replied as he sat down next to Nora. He smiled at the blonde, even though she had to be at least twice his age and wore a huge diamond and equally gaudy diamond-studded wedding ring on her left hand.

  “Well, Gabe, I’m Candace Westover. Everyone calls me Candy.” The blonde laughed. “As in eye-candy.”

  Eye-Candy straightened in her chair and touched the base of her plump neck, at the beginning of the curve of her impressively buoyant cleavage, with the well-manicured fingertips of her left hand. Her diamond ring twinkled in the bright light streaming through the windows.

  Between the glittering jewelry and the speculative gleam in her brown eyes, Nora wondered if Candy thought Gabe was the kind of man who viewed married women as fair game.

  Nora glanced at Gabe. He wore a bland, unreadable expression that failed to reassure her. For all she knew, Candy might be right.

  Michael blinked several times, took a deep breath, and stuttered, “As S-Sarah said, I thought she should join us. Hope you don’t mind.�
�� Once the words started to flow, his stutter lessoned and then disappeared.

  “That’s fine. I think it’s a good idea, in fact. So are you Michael—or is it Mike?” Nora asked.

  He nodded. “Mike.”

  “Mike it is.”

  He smiled and nodded again in relief before sipping his ice tea, clearly relieved to have that introduction completed.

  The woman next to Gabe leaned forward, propping her forearms against the edge of the table, her purple-tipped, crow’s-wing black hair brushing her plate. “Kirsty Stevens.” She gestured toward the man sitting across from her. “And that’s Andrew James—he goes by Drew. So that’s all the cousins. Over to you, Sarah.”

  Drew had brown hair and brown eyes that resembled Nora’s father enough to make him seem familiar. The twinkle in his eyes and his charming smile completed the resemblance. He smiled at Nora, winked, and shook his head, as if amused by Kirsty’s attempt to end the introductions and move on to lunch.

  “One minute of silence, please, before we begin our meal,” Sarah said, glancing around the table.

  Candy sighed and rolled her eyes, but the others immediately clasped their hands in their laps and bowed their heads. No one said a prayer out loud, but when Nora peeked sideways at Sarah, the woman’s thin lips were moving silently. At the end of the minute, Sarah picked up the dish of vegetables and passed it to Candy on her right.

  “Steamed veggies? Again?” Candy wrinkled her nose and took a small spoonful before passing the bowl to Drew. She wiped her hands on her napkin as if she’d been contaminated by touching the serving bowl.

  Sarah ignored her, picked up a small white dish, and handed it to her. “Here are some herbs if you want. They’re healthful, and a lot of us are watching our weight these days.” Her gaze flicked to Candy’s expansive bosom. Her mouth tightened into a thin line.

  “Maybe so, but it’s still boring.” Candy passed the dish of herb seasoning to Drew who spooned out a liberal helping to sprinkle over his vegetables. “Steamed vegetables, poached chicken breast, and brown rice. Just like being at a health spa, isn’t it, Cousin Nora?”

  “It looks great.” The rubbery chicken tried to slip off Nora’s plate when she attempted to cut it. After one taste, she picked up the bowl of herbs and sprinkled them over everything on her plate. Seasoning of any kind could only help when the predominant flavor seemed to be water.

  It wasn’t that the food wasn’t healthful. The mixture of broccoli, cauliflower, carrots, and peas was crisp and certainly not overcooked, but nothing seemed to have any flavor.

  Except the herb seasoning. That was surprisingly good with its blend of rosemary, oregano, thyme, basil, marjoram, and a few other herbs she wasn’t sure she could identify. No salt or pepper flakes, though, and she missed them. Obviously, Sarah was used to cooking for an older man who preferred healthy, but bland, food.

  Not that it had done him any good to pamper his heath. He’d been barely sixty when he’d died.

  “You’ll be thrilled to know this is pretty much what we have for supper, too.” Candy held a small forkful of chicken in front of her mouth and stared at it with a frown, as if hoping it would transform into something else.

  “Actually, Miz Candace, we’re having fish. Haddock.” Sarah’s neutral expression made Nora take a second look at her.

  She could have sworn there was a brief flicker of amusement in Sarah’s gray eyes. Maybe the bland food was a new thing, aimed at annoying the cousins. Nora felt a sudden sympathy, almost kinship, with the older woman. It couldn’t be easy to cook and clean for this group.

  Drew and Mike ate doggedly, remaining silent, but anyone could see from their pinched, desperate expressions that they weren’t thrilled with lunch, or the prospect of fish for dinner.

  “So, you’re a vet?” Kirsty leaned forward again to try to catch Nora’s gaze. After weaving back and forth to see Nora around Gabe, she gave up with a shrug and took another mouthful of veggies. She, alone, appeared perfectly content with their lunch. “Mr. Leonard said you were.”

  “Yes. What about you?”

  “Tats. I work in a tattoo parlor,” Kirsty said with a touch of defiance that made her seem younger than her age, which Nora judged to be mid-twenties.

  She definitely had a Goth-vibe going with her dead black hair and fingernails painted black with purple tips in a creative twist on a French manicure. Tiers of alternating purple and black lace formed her skirt, and she wore a black denim shirt over a purple tee shirt, with black stretch lace wristbands as bracelets. Despite working in a tattoo shop, she did not appear to have any visible tattoos, so perhaps she wasn’t as easily swayed by what others did as she appeared.

  Candy laughed and shook her head. “Yeah, I’m sure she can get you a tat at a discount, if you suddenly lose your mind and decide to risk hepatitis to become some local yahoo’s canvas.”

  Her use of the term “canvas” suggested a bit more knowledge of tattooing than Nora expected. Maybe Candy’s clothes hid more than they seemed to.

  “What about you, Drew?” Nora ignored Candy, who seemed determined to prove that first impressions were usually right, and that she was as unpleasant as Nora had thought.

  Nora foresaw a very long two weeks if she had to spend much time in Cousin Eye-Candy’s company.

  Drew put his fork and knife down with what looked like a sigh of relief. “Investments.” He smiled at her and took a sip of sweet tea.

  Candy snorted. “Investments. Cousin Drew has a talent for attracting money—other people’s money—and investing it in his own pockets.”

  “Well, I find money is much more fun and much less complicated than other people’s spouses. But to each his—or her—own,” Drew commented in a drawling voice.

  Candy pretended not to hear his remark, although the hard line of her mouth revealed her anger.

  “I w-work at the l-library,” Mike said in an obvious bid to lighten the tension. He took a deep breath and smiled. “Research.”

  “That must be interesting,” Nora replied. “What do you research?”

  “W-whatever I’m asked. Last week, I helped an archeologist researching Vikings in the Americas.”

  His pleasure faded and transformed into a worried, self-conscious frown when Candy interrupted, “What does your friend do?”

  “He’s a ghost buster,” Nora replied with a laugh, unable to resist the temptation.

  Candy’s brows rose in disbelief. “You don’t honestly believe those old stories, do you? I hate to say it, but our uncle was just plain nuts.” Her hand flapped in a gesture encompassing the room. “You saw this place. Who has a moat? A nut.”

  “Nora doesn’t believe in the paranormal. I asked her for the opportunity to conduct some research when I heard she would be here for two weeks,” Gabe said smoothly.

  “My goodness! He talks, too!” Candy’s left hand flew to her ample chest. “Just how did you hear about our ghosts?”

  “A friend of mine, Frank Leonard,” Gabe replied easily.

  “Well, well. Isn’t that cozy, you being friends with my uncle’s lawyer and all?” Candy eyed him speculatively, one long fingernail tapping the table next to her plate. “And, of course, you must be dear friends with Nora. Why, you’re friends with just about everyone, aren’t you?”

  He smiled blandly. “I’m a friendly guy.”

  “I bet you are. I just bet you are.” Candy licked her plump lower lip before delicately applying the napkin to the corners of her mouth.

  “I’ll get the fruit,” Sarah interrupted. She pushed back her chair, picked up her plate, and rose.

  The fact that Mike had made the decision to have the housekeeper eat with them reminded Nora that despite his stutter and mild nature, he was strong enough to override the opinions of others. It leant an interesting insight into the relationships of the people sitting around the table.

  “None for me, thanks.” Candy’s nose wrinkled as she handed her plate to Sarah. “I’ve had too much already.�
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  “Th-there might be ghosts. Th-there’s evidence,” Mike stammered as the rest of them handed their dinnerware to the housekeeper. “I’ve d-d-d,” he stopped, swallowed, and took a deep breath, “I’ve researched it. Uncle Archie was always interested in the p-paranormal. He believed this house was haunted. It was built in 1843, well before the Civil War. A Southern lady died here—in fact, in Uncle Archie’s bedroom—trying to save the life of a wounded officer of the Army of Northern Aggression.” His hazel eyes sparkled green with enthusiasm, and as he spoke, his stammer once more faded. “Her brother ran her through with his sword when he found her bending over the man, feeding him soup, while he lay in their dear father’s bed. They say on warm, misty nights, you can see the pale figure of a woman carrying a bowl of soup up there to that very room.”

  “How romantic,” Candy said, her fingernails clicking even faster on the table.

  “Have you ever seen her?” Nora asked, surprised at Mike’s earnestness. Surely, he didn’t believe the fairy tale?

  He stared down at the tablecloth and shook his head.

  “Maybe you’ll see it now that you’re staying the night, Mikey.” Drew laughed heartily. “Cousin Mike was always a little nervous about staying, before.”

  Mike flushed and flashed an angry glance at Drew, who only laughed harder.

  “He was probably too busy to stay before,” Nora said.

  “Busy. Right.” Drew shook his head in disbelief.

  Kirsty’s chair squeaked when she shifted uneasily. She stared down at the table, mirroring Mike’s uneasy posture, and pushed her knife around with her fingertips. Something in her set expression made Nora think that Kirsty might have seen the Southern lady, or at least something she thought might be a ghost. The unpleasant atmosphere felt like they had had this discussion before, and Kirsty and Mike had come off the losers.

  “And if you see her, you’ll die, too. Just like she did,” Candy drawled before snorting with derisive laughter. “And of course, dear Uncle Archie said he saw her. Just three days before he died. Does make you wonder, though, doesn’t it? If you believe in those kinds of things.”

  A tingle arced down Nora’s spine.