Bones of a Feather - Carolyn Haines [14]
Tinkie and I approached it together. Lillith was the boat’s name.
“Wasn’t that Barthelme’s ship’s name?” Tinkie whispered, though there was no one in the cottage to hear her.
“Yes.” My skin rippled with goose bumps. The replica of the Lillith could have any number of interpretations. Maybe it was as simple as the fact that Jerome liked boats, but I didn’t think so.
“There’s no obvious sign of Monica,” Tinkie said.
“We might as well search the whole place.” We were there. We’d already entered. It only seemed logical to make the most of our current situation. Besides, Jerome Lolly had begun to interest me. He didn’t fit the picture in my head of “the average gardener.”
To prove the point we found a half-empty bottle of expensive red wine and the remnants of a meal on the oak counter in the kitchen. Two plates and two glasses implied Jerome hadn’t dined alone.
Tinkie held a glass up to the light. “There’s a lipstick stain. Could be Monica’s shade.” If anyone could match a color, it was Tinkie, or our journalist friend, Cece Dee Falcon, formerly known as Cecil. They took matters of appearance seriously.
“A kidnapping victim doesn’t generally swill wine and eat cheese and expensive crackers.” Tinkie put the glass down.
“Jerome had company, but it doesn’t mean it was Monica.”
A voice boomed from the doorway. “You’re right about that. Such clever lasses.”
We whirled to find a fifty-something-year-old giant of a man planted at the threshold. He filled the frame with his large shoulders, long legs, and big hands.
“Care to tell me what you’re doing here in my wee cottage?” A beard hid his expression.
“Looking for Monica Levert.” Jerome looked and sounded like he’d been carved from highland rock. He was a manly man, and the idea of an affair between him and Monica no longer seemed unlikely. “She’s gone missing, and her sister asked us to find her. Eleanor said there was a gardener’s cottage back here. We thought maybe she’d gotten ill and—”
“Cut the bullshit. You thought I’d abducted the woman.” He took a step. “Holding the lovely employer hostage, for…” He shrugged. “Her favors? Money? What?”
Tinkie lifted her chin a fraction of an inch, a warning to anyone who knew her well. “You’re right, Mr. Lolly. We thought you might be involved. Eleanor has tried to call you all evening, but you haven’t answered.”
“I had a date. And then I heard something in the gardens, so I went to look.” He closed the door. I heard a funny click, and I wondered if he’d locked it. The possibility was unsettling, to say the least.
“Have you seen Monica?” Tinkie asked.
“About five o’clock. She came by to talk about the rose garden. She has plans for the space.” Jerome didn’t look particularly pleased.
“Where did you meet her?” I asked
“It wasn’t an arranged meeting. We happened upon each other and came here to look at some options. Chance meetings occur outside the storybooks you ladies love to read, you know.” His mockery was tainted with humor. “We talked, she told me what she wanted, and she left. Then I went to buy the necessary supplies to fulfill her demands.”
The Scottish burr of his speech was pleasing, even when his words were sharp. “How long have you worked here?” Abrupt subject changes sometimes rattle a suspect.
“I started when I was a young man. Hired by Mr. and Mrs. Levert when I came over from Skye.”
“The twins’ parents hired you?”
“Indeed. The two Miss Leverts were finishing high school. I’ve known them that long, you see.”
I pointed to the dishes in the kitchen. “Who was here?” I asked.
“Monica.” He focused on me when he spoke. The only hint of discomfort was a mild flush to his cheeks.
“You and Monica shared a bottle of wine.”
His smile was slow. “We each had a glass. While we talked about plans for the rose garden. As I mentioned, she’s a lass with a strong will. She has her ideas, and sometimes she won’t listen to reason.”
“So you talked, shared some wine, and then she left?” Tinkie asked.
“Exactly. At five thirty she walked back to the main house.