A Death on the Island Page 6

  Holly sidled up next to me and hooked her arm through my elbow. “Thank you so much for bringing me. We are now trapped in his house because of a storm. Could things get any better?”

  I untangled my arm from hers, and took a step back. “First, I didn’t bring you, in case you’ve forgotten the circumstances that lead to us attending this party. Second, you have very strange ideas about what constitutes a good time. We are essentially trapped here.”

  “Nothing brings tensions to the surface like close proximity and an inability to leave. This story is going to write itself, I swear,” she said, almost giddy.

  “I’m glad you’re having a good time,” I said.

  Suddenly I remembered Mrs. Harris in the room next door. She’d been anxious about the storm prior to it even starting, so I didn’t want to imagine how worked up she must be now that there was no power. I retreated from the sitting room, everyone’s attention still focused out the window, and ducked my head into the office next door.

  It was empty.

  “Mrs. Harris?” I called, despite knowing she wouldn’t answer even if she had been in the room.

  Another flash of lightning illuminated the room long enough for me to see the dent in the leather cushion where she’d recently been sitting, followed by a boom of thunder so loud I jumped even though I’d been expecting it.

  I took a deep, stabilizing breath. Everything would be fine. I just needed to find Mrs. Harris before she could find some bizarre way to draw attention to herself, and consequently, to me, as well.

  “Is everything okay?”

  I turned around to find myself face to face with Mason Adams. He ran a nervous hand through his hair, his mouth turned up in a half smile.

  I nodded, and then, deciding it was best to be honest, shook my head. “No, actually. I lost Mrs. Harris.”

  “I meant to ask you about that. Why exactly did you bring her in the first place?”

  “That isn’t the point right now, Mason,” I said, rolling my eyes.

  “Explain it to me while we look,” he said, placing a hand on the center of my back and leading me further into the house, away from the other guests.

  “We can’t just roam around his house,” I whispered, glancing behind us to see if anyone was watching us.

  “We can’t let Mrs. Harris roam around by herself, either,” he said.

  I couldn’t argue with that.

  “So, spill. Why’d you bring the crazy lady?”

  “She isn’t crazy,” I said, my words unconvincing even to my own ears.

  “In case you’ve forgotten, I’ve lived on the island my entire life, and I’ve spent a fair amount of time next door to the bed and breakfast. I am well acquainted with Mrs. Harris.”

  That was true. I’d nearly forgotten that Mason Adams had once dated my next-door neighbor’s daughter. Until she was murdered, of course.

  “I wasn’t going to come to the party at all, but Holly Belden…convinced me. But I couldn’t leave Mrs. Harris home alone. She has been on edge the past few days, and earlier today she tried to flood the entire house. So, I figured I’d just bring her with me, we’d stay at the party for a few hours, and then go back home. But now, we’re stuck here until the lights come back on, and she is lost somewhere in this ridiculously large mansion, and who knows what kind of chaos she is causing.”

  “Breathe,” Mason said, his voice resonating calm, low and smooth. “Mrs. Harris is always worked up about something. I’m sure this is no different. We’ll find her. This monstrosity of a house is big, but it’s not big enough for anyone to actually get lost in.”

  I hesitated, not sure if I wanted to give voice to the questions that had been stewing in the back of my brain. Ultimately, I decided there would never be a more convenient time to bring it up. At least with Mason, the topic had come up naturally. Any other time, it would be forced and people would likely think I was insane, putting too much stock into childish ghost stories.

  “You don’t think Mrs. Harris is dangerous at all, right?” I asked, trying to keep my tone casual, conversational.

  “Dangerous? Like how?”

  I bit my lip. “Like, a murderer?”

  He let out a single, bark-like laugh. “You think that feeble old woman is a murderer?” he shook his head. “No, absolutely not.”

  “She wasn’t always feeble and old,” I reminded him. “Blaire was telling me the other day that there are a lot of rumors about Mrs. Harris. People think she may have killed her parents.”

  Mason stopped in the hallway and turned to me. “You’re serious about this? You really think Mrs. Harris might be a murderer?”

  I shook my head. “No. Well, I don’t know. I just wanted to see what you thought.”

  “I think people have too much time on their hands. Rumors can ruin people’s lives.”

  Suddenly I felt like the biggest idiot on the planet. Of course this would be a touchy subject with Mason. Up until it was recently discovered that Martin Little had killed Maggie Summerfield—Mason’s girlfriend at the time—many people on the island believed Mason may have been the murderer. All of the rumors had turned him into a bit of a hermit.

  “I’m sorry, Mason. I didn’t mean to—”

  He lifted a hand to silence me. “It’s fine.”

  Then, he threw his arm in front of me, blocking the hallway. I was about to ask him what was going on when I heard voices coming from the room just ahead of us. The door was open enough that I could see a candle flickering on a table and two figures huddled around it.

  “It was only one write-up from the health department, and it was a warning. I cleared everything up, and no one was ever supposed to know. This could ruin me.”

  “Is that Jimmy?” I mouthed to Mason, recognizing the seafood restaurant owner’s voice.

  Mason nodded, and held a finger to his lips.

  “How did he even find this out?” a woman’s voice asked.

  “I have no idea. How does he find out anything? He probably paid someone to dig up as much dirt on the islanders as he could,” Jimmy said. “And then he brings us all here, and wants to act like we’re friends? He’s a psychopath.”

  So, Robert Baines had blackmailed at least two of his party guests—Daniel and Jimmy. Who else had he tricked into coming here? As far as I knew, he didn’t have anything on me except that I’d once dated my boss, but that was ancient history now, and not something he could hold over my head. What about Mason? He had made it no secret that he wasn’t fond of Robert Baines, so why else would he come to his party? What secret was Mason hiding?

  “He’s definitely unbalanced, but we better get back before anyone notices we’re missing.”

  It took me a second to understand the impact the woman’s words would have on me. Mason and I were standing right outside the door, eavesdropping on what had clearly been a private conversation, and Jimmy and the woman were about to walk into the hallway and see us lurking there. Immediately, I grabbed Mason’s hand and pulled him down the hallway in the direction we’d just come from. I threw open the first door I saw and dove through it with no regard for who or what was on the other side. As soon as Mason’s body cleared the doorframe I kicked the door shut, and we waited, huddled together in the dark. A few seconds passed, and then the clear sound of footsteps grew louder and then faded. Jimmy and the woman were gone.

  I sighed and turned around. We were in a half bath, a toilet and a sink pressed against the back wall, though the room was easily big enough to have accommodated a bathtub and a standing shower.

  “What kind of guy blackmails people and then invites them over to his house for a party?” I whispered, starting to side with Jimmy’s assertion that Robert Baines could be some sort of psychopath.

  Mason seemed uncomfortable, though I couldn’t tell whether it was because of the mention of blackmail or because I had never let go of his hand after we’d entered the bathroom. Quickly, I dropped his hand and stepped back, grateful to the darkness for hiding my embarr
assment.

  “The same kind of guy who builds a French chateau on a seaside island. The kind of guy who likes to show off and stand out, regardless of what for,” he said.

  “You don’t like the house?” I asked.

  “I have eyes, don’t I?” he snapped, and then took a deep breath. “Sorry. I just can’t believe the Home Owner’s Association didn’t bar him from building this eyesore. I petitioned the project, but Baines had a friend on the board. Though, after hearing what Jimmy just said, perhaps the board member wasn’t a friend of his, after all.”

  “You tried to stop him from building here?” I asked.

  “I tried to stop him from building something so clearly outside the island’s aesthetic, and I requested that his back fence be moved fifteen feet closer to the house so it wouldn’t obstruct my view of the ocean, but obviously that didn’t work,” he said, shaking his head.

  I’d been in Mason’s studio before, and his ocean view was unparalleled, definitely one of the best on the island. The fence debacle would definitely explain his coolness to Baines.

  “He originally only had a lot half this size, but somehow he got someone to sell their land, which just so happened to be right next door to my property. I swear, this guy manages to get whatever he wants. Just once, I’d like to see him get what he deserves.”

  I wondered how much Mason knew about Robert Baines. Did he know about his dirty business dealings and the rumors that had circulated around him for years, or was this anger strictly due to property lines and clashing aesthetics? If so, it seemed a little excessive, though I wasn’t going to be the one to tell him I thought so.

  “We should get going,” I said after a long pause. “Who knows what Mrs. Harris has gotten herself up to by now.”

  Mason nodded, and reached for the door knob. However, before he could grab it, the door flew open, a shadowy figure filling the frame and blocking our exit.

  Chapter 9

  I screamed and jumped back, nearly falling into the toilet. Mason stood his ground, but raised his hands as if he were going to karate chop the mysterious figure.

  “My apologies,” a voice said. The figure flipped on a flashlight and shined it into their own face, revealing a butler.

  Mason and I released identical sighs of relief.

  “Mr. Baines wants everyone to know dinner will be served in fifteen minutes.” His voice was monotone and direct, not giving away a single hint of emotion. He reminded me of the guards at Buckingham Palace. I resisted the urge to reach out and tickle him.

  “Thank you,” Mason said, his voice clearly annoyed.

  The butler simply nodded and then disappeared from the doorway.

  Mason turned to me, mouth open, eyebrows raised. “He burst into a bathroom to tell us when dinner would be?” he whispered.

  “I hadn’t thought of that. What if I’d been using the toilet?” I whispered back, laughing at the absurdity of it all. I shook my head. “This is one weird party.”

  When we got into the hallway, the butler was standing against the wall, staring straight ahead, almost as if he were one of the decorations.

  I glanced at Mason, eyes wide, and then turned back to the butler, hoping to make our encounter slightly less uncomfortable. “Excuse me, have you seen my friend, Mrs. Harris?” I asked.

  The butler turned to me with his entire body, his neck remaining stiff and straight on his shoulders. He gestured down the hallway towards a staircase. “She was heading to the second floor. I told her dinner would be ready in twenty minutes. Of course, that was five minutes ago.”

  “Great, thank you,” I said, smiling broadly at him.

  He simply examined my face for another second, and then returned to his post in the hallway, emotionless.

  “That guy does realize this isn’t a haunted mansion movie, right? He doesn’t have to be the stereotypical creepy butler,” Mason said.

  I laughed. “How do you know? Maybe this is a haunted mansion.”

  “It’s newly built,” Mason said. “What kind of ghosts haunt a two-week old house?”

  “Millennial ghosts?” I offered.

  The staircase was wide and extravagant, the stairs covered in a plush maroon runner with dark-stained wooden banisters on either side. It felt like a staircase Cinderella would descend to meet her prince. The upstairs was another long hallway, almost identical to the one downstairs.

  “Mrs. Harris?” I shout-whispered, hoping she would pop out of one of the doors and we could rejoin the party. I was beginning to feel uncomfortable walking around Robert Baines’ house. It felt like snooping.

  “The storm is really blowing in,” Mason said, pointing to a large picture window at the end of the hallway.

  Even from a distance, I could see rain splashing against the windowpane, and now that we were on the second floor, I could hear it pounding against the roof.

  “Mrs. Harris kept telling me there was a storm coming, but I didn’t see anything about it in the news,” I said.

  “Tropical storms can sometimes just spring up. It’s one of the many joys of living on an island,” he said. “You aren’t starting to believe the old woman is psychic or something, are you?”

  I laughed, and assured him that wasn’t what I was thinking. Though, I didn’t know if that were entirely true. The woman, no matter how crazy she seemed, definitely had a sixth sense of some kind.

  We moved slowly down the hallway, listening outside doors, cracking them open and peeking inside, but there was no sign of Mrs. Harris anywhere.

  “Where could she have gone? We’d have seen her if she’d come back downstairs. And that is the only staircase, right?”

  Mason shrugged, and pushed open the last door in the hallway. It opened to reveal another entire hallway.

  I groaned. “You’ve got to be joking.”

  “Something tells me that isn’t the only staircase,” Mason said, half-laughing. “This place is ridiculously large. Maybe we should split up?”

  “That’s what they say in scary movies, and it’s always a bad idea,” I said.

  Mason laughed and patted my shoulder. “Lucky for us, this isn’t a movie. I’ll just go check out the rest of the floor and get a feel for the layout. I’ll come back and find you when I’m done.”

  Before I could argue, Mason turned around and headed back down the hallway.

  Tired of tiptoeing around the house and anxious to be on time for dinner, I began pushing open the doors with abandon, calling out Mrs. Harris’ name louder and louder the further I made it down the hallway.

  The rooms were mostly guest rooms, each one fitted with a full-size bed, a wooden vanity, and an armoire. As much as I despised Robert Baines’ gaudy decorating sense, I found myself taking notes for the guest rooms in the bed and breakfast. We had beds, but Page and I were still searching for the right dressers, night stands, and curtains to really pull the rooms together.

  When I finally came upon a set of double doors at the end of the hallway, I pushed them both open at the same time, and gasped.

  I was staring at the largest personal library I’d ever seen. Every wall was covered in floor to ceiling shelves, each one stuffed with books. I walked the perimeter of the room, running my finger along the spines, inhaling the scent of dust and paper. I turned to the center of the room and found Mason standing in front of a massive desk covered in stacks of manila folders and maps.

  I jumped. “Geez, you scared me. Were you a ninja in a past life?”

  Mason laughed. “Who said anything about a past life? I’m a ninja now.”

  He reached casually for the stack of folders and flipped one of them open.

  “Mason,” I hissed, whispering even though we were clearly alone.

  “I just want to take a look,” he said.

  “We probably aren’t even supposed to be up here. We need to focus on finding Mrs. Harris,” I said.

  “You aren’t her keeper, Piper. At some point, the old woman has to be responsible for herself. At some
point, you have to stop trying to take care of everyone.” He flipped through a few of the folders on the desk, thumbing through them casually, as though he didn’t have a care in the world.

  His words felt suddenly very personal, as though he were speaking on feelings he’d been harboring for awhile. Did he think I was some sort of hopeless busybody? Did he think I was a meddler, constantly nosing into other people’s lives and business? He would have every right to think that, considering I’d trespassed on his property not once, but twice. It was how we met, actually. He found me snooping through his boat house. That didn’t make the thought sting any less, though.

  “I’m not trying to take care of anyone,” I snapped back. “I’m trying to avoid an embarrassing situation for Mrs. Harris and myself. I just want to make it through this party with as little drama as possible.”

  His searching stopped, and he focused in on one folder in particular, pulling it from the pile.

  “Would you just leave that stuff alone? Put it back and let’s get out of here,” I begged, moving towards the double doors, prepared to leave Mason behind if I had to.

  “You’re going to want to see this, I think,” he said.

  “You think wrong,” I said, shaking my head. “I don’t want to see any of that. It’s clearly private. If Robert Baines wanted everyone to see all of his documents, he would have left them downstairs in the sitting room. As it is—”

  “It has your name on it,” Mason said, interrupting me and holding the folder up so I could see my name written on the folder tab.

  Lane, Piper.

  I moved forward without thinking, reaching for it. I ignored Mason’s smug smile as I pulled the folder from his hands and flipped it open.

  “What’s in it?” Mason asked.