“ Harvey?”
“Down the road, Bayview Motel. He called to let me know you were on the way.” The woman paused, giving Maura the once-over. “Well, I guess you don’t need to show me any ID. No doubt, looking at you, whose sister you are. You wanna drive up to the house together?”
“I’ll follow you in my car.”
Miss Clausen sorted through the key ring on her belt and gave a satisfied grunt. “Here it is, Skyline Drive. Police are all finished going through it, so I guess I can walk you through.”
Maura followed Miss Clausen’s pickup truck up a road that suddenly curved away from the coast and wound up a bluff. As they climbed, she caught glimpses of the coastline, the water now obscured beneath a thick blanket of fog. The village of Fox Harbor vanished into the mists below. Just ahead of her, Miss Clausen’s brake lights suddenly flared, and Maura barely had time to hit her own brakes. Her Lexus skidded across wet leaves, coming to a stop with its bumper kissing a Land and Sea Realty FOR SALE sign staked in the ground.
Miss Clausen stuck her head out the window. “Hey, you okay back there?”
“I’m fine. I’m sorry, I wasn’t paying attention.”
“Yeah, that last curve takes you by surprise. It’s this driveway, off to the right.”
“I’m right behind you.”
Miss Clausen gave a laugh. “Not too close behind, okay?”
The dirt road was hugged so closely by trees, Maura felt as though she was driving through a tunnel in the woods. It opened up abruptly to reveal a small cedar-shingled cottage. Maura parked beside Miss Clausen’s pickup truck and stepped out of the Lexus. For a moment she stood in the silence of the clearing and stared at the house. Wooden steps led to a covered porch where a swing hung motionless in the still air. In a small shade garden, foxgloves and daylilies struggled to grow. On all sides the forest seemed to press in, and Maura found herself breathing more quickly, as though trapped in a small room. As though the air itself was too close.
“It’s so quiet here,” said Maura.
“Yeah, it’s a ways from town. That’s what makes this hill such a good value. Real estate boom’s gonna move up this way, you know. Few years from now, you’re gonna see houses all up and down this road. This is the time to buy.”
Because it’s perfect, Maura expected her to add.
“I’m having a house lot cleared right next door,” said Miss Clausen. “After your sister moved in, I figured it was time to get these other lots ready. You see one person living up here, it gets the ball rolling. Pretty soon everyone’s looking to buy in the neighborhood.” She gave Maura a thoughtful look. “So what kind of doctor are you?”
“A pathologist.”
“That’s like, what? You work in a lab?”
This woman was starting to irritate her. She answered, bluntly: “I work with dead people.”
That answer didn’t seem to disturb the woman in the least. “Well, you must have regular hours, then. Lot of weekends off. A summer place might interest you. You know, the lot next door’s gonna be ready to build on soon. If you ever thought of owning a little vacation place, you’ll never find a cheaper time to invest.”
So this was what it felt like to be trapped with a time-share salesman. She said, “I’m really not interested, Miss Clausen.”
“Oh.” The woman huffed out a breath, then turned and stomped up onto the porch. “Well, just come on in, then. Now that you’re here, you can tell me what to do with your sister’s things.”
“I’m not really sure I have that authority.”
“I don’t know what else to do with it all. I sure don’t want to pay for storing them. I’ve got to empty out the house if I ever want to sell it or rent it out again.” She rattled through her keys, looking for the right one. “I manage most of the rental units in town, and this place hasn’t been the easiest one to fill. Your sister, she signed a six-month lease, you know.”
Is that all Anna’s death means to her? Maura wondered. No more rent checks, a property in need of a new tenant? She did not like this woman with her clanking keys and her acquisitive stare. The real estate queen of Fox Harbor, whose only concern seemed to be bringing in her quota of monthly checks.
At last Miss Clausen pushed open the door. “Go on in.”
Maura stepped inside. Though there were large windows in the living room, the closeness of the trees, and the late afternoon hour, filled the house with shadow. She saw dark pine floors, a worn area rug, a sagging couch. The faded wallpaper had green vines lacing across the room, adding to Maura’s sense of leafy suffocation.
“Came completely furnished,” said Miss Clausen. “I gave her a good price, considering that.”
“How much?” asked Maura, staring out the window at a wall of trees.
“Six hundred a month. I could get four times that, if this place was closer to the water. But the man who built it, he liked his privacy.” Miss Clausen gave the living room a slow, surveying look, as though she hadn’t really seen it in a while. “Kind of surprised me when she called to ask about the place, especially since I had other units available, down by the shore.”
Maura turned to look at her. Daylight was fading, and Miss Clausen had receded into the shadows. “My sister asked specifically about this house?”
Miss Clausen shrugged. “I guess the price was right.”
They left the gloomy living room and started down a hallway. If a house reflected the personality of its occupant, then something of Anna Leoni must linger within these walls. But other tenants had also claimed this space, and Maura wondered which knickknacks, which pictures on the wall had belonged to Anna, and which had been left by others before her. That pastel painting of a sunset-surely not Anna’s. No sister of mine would hang something so hideous, she thought. And that odor of stale cigarettes permeating the house-surely it had not been Anna who smoked. Identical twins are often eerily alike; wouldn’t Anna have shared Maura’s aversion to cigarettes? Wouldn’t she, too, sniffle and cough at the first whiff of smoke?
They came to a bedroom with a stripped mattress.
“She didn’t use this room, I guess,” said Miss Clausen. “Closet and dressers were empty.”
Next came a bathroom. Maura went in and opened the medicine cabinet. On the shelves were Advil and Sudafed and Ricola cough drops, brand names that startled her by their familiarity. These were the same products she kept in her own bathroom cabinet. Right down to our choice of flu medicines, she thought, we were identical.
She closed the cabinet door. Continued down the hall to the last doorway.
“This was the bedroom she used,” said Miss Clausen.
The room was neatly kept, the bedcovers tucked in, the dresser top free of clutter. Like my bedroom, thought Maura. She went to the closet and opened the door. Hanging inside were slacks and pressed blouses and dresses. Size six. Maura’s size.
“State police came in last week, gave the whole house a going-over.”
“Did they find anything of interest?”
“Not that they told me. She didn’t keep much in here. Lived here only a few months.”
Maura turned and looked out the window. It was not yet dark, but the gloom of the surrounding woods made nightfall seem imminent.
Miss Clausen was standing just inside the bedroom door, as though waiting to charge a toll before she’d let Maura exit. “It’s not such a bad house,” she said.
Yes it is, thought Maura. It’s a horrid little house.
“This time of year, there’s nothing much left to rent. Everything’s pretty much taken. Hotels, motels. No rooms at the inn.”
Maura kept her gaze on the woods. Anything to avoid engaging this distasteful woman in any further conversation.
“Well, it was just a thought. I guess you found a place to stay tonight, then.”
So that’s what she’s trying to get at. Maura turned to look at her. “Actually, I don’t have a place to stay. The Bayview Motel was full.”