"Secrets," Quentin said. "At the very least, your father knew of The Lodge. Had he ever stayed here?"
"We can check the records," Stephanie said.
But Diana was shaking her head. "Dad hates resort-type hotels, always has. He stays in one of two types of places when he travels: downtown penthouse hotel suites in the city, or houses or apartments he rents for the duration. Staying at a place like The Lodge, miles from anywhere, surrounded by mountains and scenery, would be his idea of hell."
Quentin accepted that with a nod. "The Lodge is very well known, though, so he could easily have heard of it. But, as you say, he reacted very strongly to the knowledge that you were here, and there has to be a reason for that." He frowned. "Cullen said he'd overheard enough to know that Laura's own child had died and she'd abducted Missy. My question is, who was she talking to when he overheard the conversation?"
Nate grimaced. "Yeah, I sort of interrupted you, didn't I? Sorry about that."
"It's okay. The way he shut down after telling us about his statement, I have a hunch he'd told us everything he meant to, and no amount of questioning would have gotten anything else out of him. Not tonight, anyway."
Diana said, "I wonder if he overheard that conversation before or after Missy was killed. He didn't say."
"Does it matter?" Stephanie asked.
"It might," Quentin said. "If Laura was unbalanced enough to have abducted someone else's child to raise as her own, Missy's murder may well have pushed her even farther over the edge. In that state, she could have told anybody the truth about Missy's parentage."
Nate asked, "You don't remember how Laura acted after the murder?"
"Not really. In those days, there was a doctor on staff here, and I have the vague recollection that he kept her under sedation at least through the funeral. We left just a few weeks later. I remember seeing Laura at the funeral, but not after that."
Somewhat tentatively, Diana said, "She'd kept the secret of Missy's abduction for a long time, years. It makes more sense to me that she might have talked about it only after Missy was murdered."
Nate was making a note in the small black notebook he carried. "I'll ask Cullen. I definitely want to talk to that guy again."
Stephanie sat on the arm of a chair and said, "What creeps me out is the bit about him putting flowers on Missy's grave. Isn't that the sort of thing a killer might do?"
"It's possible," Quentin said. "But not in this case, I think. Besides, what he said about his alibi was right. He couldn't possibly have killed Missy."
Nate looked at Quentin. "Been meaning to ask you, by the way, about that hunch of yours. It seemed to come out of nowhere. Far as I can remember, you've never asked anything about Missy's grave before now."
"I know. A little voice told me now was the time. I've learned to listen to that little voice." He shook his head. "It was when you told us the other maid had identified Cullen as the man she'd seen talking to Ellie Weeks. Up until then, I was interested in Cullen only because he'd been here that summer twenty-five years ago. And because we found that trap door in his tack room."
"And you still believe all this is connected?"
Quentin nodded without hesitation.
Grimly, Nate said, "Well, whether it is or isn't, this is one murder that is damned well not going to go unsolved." He checked his watch. "Shit. After midnight. Once Sally and Ryan finished processing the scene, I okayed the removal of the body; it'll be in the hospital morgue by now. Doc said he'd do a preliminary check, but I want the post done by the state crime lab."
"And I bet they're backed up," Quentin said.
"It won't be fast," Nate conceded. "But it'll be thorough. And that's what I want. In the meantime, we have whatever forensic evidence my CSI team found, and God knows we've got plenty of questions."
"Yeah," Quentin said. "We've got plenty of those."
"Captain, you do realize I have to be up in a few hours?" The housekeeper's voice was frosty.
Nate wasn't intimidated. "One of your maids was brutally murdered not twelve hours ago, Mrs. Kincaid; I would think you'd want to help in any way possible to find out who killed her."
As unaffected by his tone as he was by hers, she snapped, "In the morning would be soon enough for your questions; no one here is going to be running away."
"Still, I'm sure you won't mind answering a few questions tonight." Nate deliberately placed his notebook on the spotless butcher-block work island in the huge kitchen, turning the pages until he found the notes he'd made earlier.
Mrs. Kincaid crossed her arms over her ample bosom and waited, standing on the other side of the island. She hadn't suggested they adjourn to another room nor try to make themselves more comfortable in this one.
"Well?"
Nate didn't allow himself to be rushed, and refused to admit even to himself that he found the big, empty kitchen very cold and more than a little spooky somehow, especially so late at night. He checked his notes, then said to her, "You informed Ms. Boyd that you believed Ellie Weeks was up to something, did you not?"
"I did."
"What was it you suspected?"
"I'm not a mind reader, Captain. But I've worked with young girls long enough to know when one of them is up to no good, and Ellie was."
"So you were watching her?"
"I was keeping a close eye on her, of course."
"Was there anything in particular she did to alert you that something was going on with her?"
"I saw her hanging around Ms. Boyd's office. Her duties took her nowhere near that area."
"She could have just been passing through on her way to another part of the hotel."
"That's what she said."
"You didn't believe her?"
"I know when I'm being lied to."
Nate wondered, but didn't question her on that point. "What else?"
"She kept slipping out to the smoking porch every chance she got, for one thing."
"That was suspicious?"
"She didn't smoke."
"So what do you think she was doing out there?"
"Probably using her cell phone. The maids aren't allowed to carry the things while on duty, but some of them sneak and do it anyway. To call their boyfriends."
"That seems innocent enough," Nate observed, making a note to look for that cell phone.
"Ellie didn't have a boyfriend." Mrs. Kincaid smiled thinly. "Here, anyway."
"Meaning?"
"Meaning she might have been stupid enough to get involved with one of our guests. That was, of course, forbidden. She would have been dismissed the instant I had proof."
"That's what you were watching for? Proof?"
"She would have betrayed herself sooner or later. They all do."
Nate frowned. "You've had that problem before? Maids getting involved with guests?"
"Well, men will be men, won't they, Captain?"
Thinking about the old double standard, Nate said, "Then why blame the maids?"
"Because they aren't being paid to provide... entertainment... for guests. The Lodge is not that sort of place." Mrs. Kincaid drew herself up even more stiffly. "I've told you when I last saw Ellie and what I said to her when I did. If you have further questions, Captain, I'm sure you can ask them in the morning. I'm going to bed."
Nate didn't try to stop her. He gazed after her for a moment, then looked around the spotless, curiously sterile kitchen, and felt a shiver for no reason he could explain.
Though he couldn't help wondering if the ghost of a murdered maid was trying to get his attention.
"Bullshit," he murmured, but without much force. Without much force at all.