It bothered her, all that cruel talk flying about town these days. Miranda Wood, a killer? It went against Miss St. Johns instincts, and her instincts were always, always good.
Ozzie bounded through the last stand of trees and shot off toward Rose Hill Cottage. Miss St. John resignedly followed suit. Thats when she saw the light flickering through the trees. It came from the Tremain cottage. Just as quickly, it vanished.
At once she froze as an eerie thought flashed to mind. Ghosts? Richard was the only one who ever used that cottage. But hes dead.
The rational side of her brain, the side that normally guided Miss St. Johns day-to-day existence, took control. It must be one of the family, of course. Evelyn, perhaps, come to wrap up her husbands affairs.
Still, Miss St. John couldnt shake off her uneasiness.
She crossed the driveway and went up the front porch steps. Hello? she called. Evelyn? Cassie? There was no answer to her knock.
She tried to peer in the window, but it was dark inside. Hello? she called again, louder. She thought she heard, from somewhere in the cottage, a soft thud. Then silence.
Ozzie began to bark. He danced around on the porch, his claws tip-tapping on the wood.
Oh, hush! snapped Miss St. John. Sit!
The dog whined, sat, and gave her a distinctly wounded look.
Miss St. John stood there a moment, listening for more sounds, but she heard nothing except the whap-whap of Ozzies tail against the porch.
Perhaps she should call the police. She debated that move all the way back to her cottage. Once there, in her cheery little kitchen, the very idea seemed so silly, so alarmist. It was a good half-hour drive out here to the north shore. The local police would be reluctant to send a man all the way out here, and for what? A will-o-the-wisp tale? Besides, what could there possibly be in Rose Hill Cottage that would interest any burglars?
Its just my imagination. Or my failing eyesight. After all, when ones seventy-four, one has to expect the faculties to get a little screwy.
Ozzie walked in a tight circle, lay down and promptly went to sleep.
Good Lord, said Miss St. John. Im talking to my dog now. What part of my brain will rot next?
Ozzie, as usual, offered no opinion.
The courtroom was packed. Already, a dozen people had been turned away at the door, and this wasnt even a trial, just a bail review hearing, a formality required by law to be held forty-eight hours after arrest.
Chase, who sat in the second row with Evelyn and her father, suspected the proceedings would be brief. The facts were stark, the suspects guilt indisputable. A few words by the judge, a bang of the gavel and theyd all be out of there.
And the murderess would slink back to her cell, where she belonged.
Damned circus, thats what it is, growled Evelyns father, Noah DeBolt. Silver haired and gravel throated, at sixty-six he was still as formidable as ever. Chase felt the automatic urge to sit up straight and mind his manners. One did not slouch in the presence of Noah DeBolt. One was always courteous and deferential, even if one was an adult.
Even if one was the chief of police, Chase noted, as Lorne Tibbetts stopped and politely tipped his hat at Noah.
The principals were settling in their places. The deputy D.A. from Bass Harbor was seated at his table, flipping through a sheaf of papers. Lorne and Ellis, representing half the local police force, sat off to the left, their uniformed spines ramrod straight, their hair neatly slicked down. They had even parted it on the same side. The defense attorney, a youngster wearing a suit that looked as if it cost twice his annual salary, was fussing with the catch on his leather briefcase.
They should clear this place out, grunted Noah.
Who the hell let all these spectators in? Invasion of privacy, I call it.
Its open to the public, Daddy, said Evelyn wearily.
Theres public, and then theres public. These people dont belong here. Its none of their damn business. Noah rose and waved for Lornes attention, but the chief of polices brilliantined head was facing forward. Noah glanced around for the bailiff, but the man had disappeared through a side door. In frustration, Noah sat back down.
Dont know what this towns coming to, he muttered.
All these new people. No sense of whats proper anymore.
Quiet, Daddy, murmured Evelyn. Then, fuming, she muttered, Where are the twins? Why arent they here? I want the judge to see them. Poor kids without a father.
All these new people. No sense of whats proper anymore.
Quiet, Daddy, murmured Evelyn. Then, fuming, she muttered, Where are the twins? Why arent they here? I want the judge to see them. Poor kids without a father.
Noah snorted. Theyre full-grown adults. They wont impress anyone.
There. I see them, said Chase, spotting Cassie and Phillip a few rows back. They must have slipped in later, with the other spectators.
So the audience is in place, he thought. All we need now are the two main players. The judge. And the accused.
As if on cue, a side door opened. The ape-size bailiff reappeared, his hand gripping the arm of the much smaller prisoner.