Bones of a Feather - Carolyn Haines [47]
“Both,” I said.
“This is one creepy place.” She walked along the driveway parallel to the house. “There must be fifty rooms.”
At least, but I didn’t say anything.
“Have you searched the house to make sure Monica isn’t here?”
The thought had never occurred to me. “Like she wasn’t abducted? Like she’s hiding in there?”
Cece laughed. “No, like she was taken hostage but never removed from the property. Think about it. How hard would it be to snatch her, knock her out with a little chloroform, and hide her in one of the rooms?”
She had a point. “I’ll make sure Eleanor checked the house thoroughly.”
“A lot of these old plantation houses had cisterns, too. You might be sure someone explored the grounds.”
“Jerome Lolly, whom you’ll meet in a moment, is in charge of the grounds, and I think he’s very capable.”
“Except when it comes to spies hiding in bushes.” Cece was teasing, but on a certain level she was hammering a point.
Jerome rounded the corner of the house looking as sleepless as I felt. We followed him to the front lawn, where a disturbance in the shrubs was clearly evident. In a fine old noir movie, there would be a cigarette butt, coffee cup, or sandwich wrapper—some evidence of a watcher passing time. At Briarcliff, nothing was that simple. Only a few snapped twigs indicated someone had worked their way into the dense branches of the shrubbery.
“Tell me what you saw last night,” I said.
“The man was crouched down. It was the moonlight glinting off the goggles he wore that caught my eye.”
“Night-vision gear,” Cece said. “He was serious about watching the house.”
“Damn pervert,” Jerome said, “spying on helpless women.”
The Levert sisters were far from helpless. In the town’s perception, they were dangerous. “Have you spoken to Eleanor this morning?”
“No. She can’t take much more of this. Aren’t you being paid to take care of these things?”
“In a word, no!” Cece stepped in front of me. “Sarah Booth was hired to handle an insurance investigation, not a—”
I signaled her to hush. Jerome knew Monica was missing, but he wasn’t aware it was a kidnapping and that a ransom had been demanded.
“Hey!” She coughed and caught her breath, and her reasoning. “Anyway, Sarah Booth is doing everything she can.”
Jerome rubbed his face. “Sorry, ladies. I was out of line.” His gaze shifted to the house. “The sisters act like they’re invincible, but they aren’t. They’ve behaved badly in Natchez, but the town brought it on itself. Folks were cruel to both sisters, because they were beautiful and had money. Jealousy and envy. That’s what’s at the root of all this.”
“We’ve heard some harsh things about the sisters. Monica in particular,” I said.
Color rushed into his face. “Monica hurts people. At first, she did it to strike back at those who’d hurt her. Now she does it because she can. She never wanted those men. She wanted to show everyone in town she could have them—that she can have whatever she sets her cap for. And she can. She’s powerful when she makes up her mind. But there’s another side to it. Monica is getting older. Beauty, like roses, fades. She’s more than aware her power is diminishing. It’s a sad thing to witness, like the ruin of a monarch.”
Thunder rumbled overhead, as ominous as the house itself. “Are you in love with Monica?” I asked.
“Monica … I understand her.” The color in his face deepened. “The sisters are two halves of a whole. Monica is the strength. Eleanor is the softer side. They’re a pair.” His hand slashed the air. “There’s no separating them. Neither man nor God can accomplish that.”
Yet someone had.
Jerome grasped my shoulder with firm, strong fingers. “Please don’t upset Eleanor anymore.”
“A four-million-dollar necklace has been stolen. Eleanor—the sisters—have to deal with this.” I felt dishonest not telling Jerome about Monica’s kidnapping. He clearly cared for both women, and he would be a great asset.
“I’m on the alert now. If that man shows up again, I’ll catch him. No need to worry Eleanor about this anymore. Just