“How about eleven thirty? We’ll have the place to ourselves today, so we can talk. Park around the back and use the door there.”
The time works perfectly. Guy will be at work then, giving me the chance to swing by the house right before for my checkbook, and I’ll be back at the inn in time to speak to the lawyer at one.
After I’ve thanked her and disconnected, I spot a text from Derek, asking if I’d like him to stop by in a while with sandwiches for lunch.
I don’t want to mislead Derek again. I type that I have to run out this morning and I’m not sure when I’ll be back.
“Thought you were going to lie low,” he writes in response.
“Mostly, but this is important.”
“Where you headed?
“Washington Baths to meet friend. Won’t be long. CUL.”
I bide my time for the next couple of hours, sometimes trying to read, sometimes pacing the floor. I keep returning to the idea that, first and foremost, I need to solve the mystery of the matches and money. Without giving myself much time to think it through, I track down the phone number for the café I was at yesterday, call it, and ask to speak to Conrad.
“Hold on,” a woman says, the air behind her filled with clattering dishes and blurred conversation. A moment later Conrad barks hello.
“Hi, it’s Bryn Harper. When we spoke on the street, you mentioned Scooter. Can I please get a number for him?”
“You must be kidding me. Why would I do that?”
“Please, I need to talk to him. I have to figure out what Eve and Nick Emerling were discussing.”
“Emerling? You mean the real estate dude?”
“Yes, exactly.
“He wasn’t the guy talking to Eve. It was the other one, the guy with the epic nose. Seated by you at the table.
“What?” He obviously means Derek.
“You heard me . . . I’ve got to go. And leave Scooter out of this.”
He disconnects the call, and I’m left standing there in complete bewilderment. Derek and I talked about Eve that night—and after the murder, too—and he’s never once mentioned seeking her out and speaking to her at the party. And when I told him that the waiter had seen Eve with a male guest, he didn’t admit it was him . . .
How weirdly sneaky, I think. What reason would he have to keep that from me? I’ve trusted Derek to help me these past few days, but I’ve been stupid to do that if I can’t believe everything he says. Maybe the only one I can trust is myself.
I’m in my car by eleven, providing enough time to retrieve my checkbook before I stop by to meet with Sandra. I keep reassuring myself that there’s next to zero chance of running into Guy. There was that day I came back from my walk and unexpectedly discovered him in the bedroom, but that was out of the ordinary for him.
I approach the house the back way and park my car in front of the next-door neighbor’s, under a large, full maple where it will be less obvious to anyone around. I survey the area, nudge open the door.
Keys in hand, I cross the lawn, planning to scurry up the driveway on the far side of the house and enter by the kitchen door. This will take three minutes tops, I tell myself. All I need to do is unlock the door, scoot to my office, grab the checkbook, and go. I reach the edge of the lawn and turn right into the driveway.
I freeze as my breath catches in my throat. Guy’s BMW is parked in the driveway. I turn, sprint back across the lawn, and fling myself into the car. The engine doesn’t start the first time I turn the key, and as I try again, I look back at the house, worried that Guy has seen me. There’s no sign of him. I try again and again, and finally the car starts up.
I gun the engine and take off, checking the rearview mirror every few seconds to make sure Guy isn’t tailing me. What is he doing home at this hour? With Miranda dead, it would seem as if he should be at work, comforting staffers and dealing with the fallout. Unless the situation is unraveling for him, and the cops have told him to stay put until they can speak to him again.
Approaching Broadway, I consider bagging the conversation with Sandra and then tell myself that’s stupid. I need the meeting to ensure that she’ll set the cops straight about my lunch with her at the lake, that it was all her idea. So I take a right at the light and head toward the Washington Baths. I’m going to be early but can wait for her in the parking lot.