Bones of a Feather - Carolyn Haines [51]
She pointed to the house. “Ask her if you don’t believe me.” She put her words to action and started toward the door.
“Monica isn’t home.” Yet again, I was convinced Kissie was telling the truth.
“Where is she?” Kissie slowed down long enough to evaluate each of us. She must have read our worry and distress. “What’s going on? Everyone acts like … Where is Monica?”
We couldn’t keep it from her any longer. “She’s been kidnapped.”
“By who?”
“We thought Marty might be involved.” I said it clearly.
Instead of anger, her reaction was disbelief. “Marty? Take Monica? Why would he do such a thing?”
“For four million dollars in ransom,” I said.
Kissie put the whole business together. “The insurance money from the necklace. You think I told Marty about the money and he took Monica? But everyone in town knows about the four million. It’s all people are gossiping about.”
“Four million would go a long way toward buying a singing career.”
“But Marty was furious with me when I helped…” The sentence faded to a halt.
“When you did what?” Tinkie asked gently.
Kissie pushed her long hair back from her face. “I might as well tell you. I let Barclay spend a few nights in the north wing. Please don’t tell the sisters. I was trying to help. Really.” She spoke faster and faster. “He’s Monica’s son. I know it. And the sisters are all alone. They don’t act lonely, but they are. The only person left in the family is that terrible Millicent. I thought if Monica and Eleanor could just meet Barclay, they’d see he’s one of them. A Levert.” Tears glimmered in her eyes, but she blinked them back. “I didn’t mean to do anything harmful. I was really trying to do something good.”
I didn’t know what to say. Barclay had stayed on the grounds of Briarcliff. Had the fox been in the henhouse all along? He could have obtained everything he needed to abduct Monica without any problem.
“Are you going to call the police?” Kissie asked. She was afraid.
“No.” Tinkie took the underwear from me and gave them to Kissie. “No, we’re not. Eleanor doesn’t want to involve the police.”
“Is Monica okay?” Kissie couldn’t hold the tears back any longer. “Barclay wouldn’t hurt her. She’s his mother. He’s angry she abandoned him, but deep down he wants to win her love.”
“You must tell Eleanor what you’ve done,” Tinkie said.
“If Monica is hurt because of something I did, Eleanor will never forgive me.” Kissie wiped her face with the back of her hand. “And I don’t blame her.”
“Let’s not get the cart before the horse,” Cece said. “Why don’t you track Eleanor down and talk with her, Kissie?”
Still wiping her face, Kissie nodded. “I have to make her understand.”
I didn’t envy her that job, but Cece was right. The sooner the better.
Once Kissie had driven away, I signaled Tinkie and Cece to a huddle. “Let’s poke around the old stables. There’s a horse on these grounds, and someone is riding it. This is no ghostly apparition but flesh and blood. And I suspect it’s Barclay. He’s been here, on the property.”
“Jerome and I went over this place thoroughly,” Cece said, slightly wounded at my implication her search hadn’t been thorough.
“Jerome may not have shown you the stables,” I pointed out. Everyone had secrets and a motive to want to harm or help Monica.
“Just a minute.” Tinkie fetched paper from her car. “Let’s draw out the grounds and figure the most logical place for the stables. Remember, back when they were built, water would have been important.”
For someone who would rather have a bikini wax than ride a horse, Tinkie occasionally had lightning bolts of livestock brilliance.
We gathered around the hood of her car as she drew out the estate, finally settling on the far northern corner, which dipped toward what might be a branch or creek. The foliage was almost impenetrable, but we’d fight our way through.
We slipped around the far side of the house, hoping to avoid Jerome. I didn’t want the gardener involved