“Do you play?” Susan asked.
Donald looked at her for a moment as though he didn’t understand the question.
“The piano.” She pointed. “Do you play the piano?”
“Good Lord, no. I’ve never had time for that sort of thing. I believe Mother planned to hire pianists when she entertained.”
Susan decided not to ask if he had similar plans. Donald was walking out of the room. She scurried after him and found herself in a large sunroom shaped like a crescent, floor-to-ceiling windows on all outside walls. The room was furnished with white-painted antique wicker. Cushions were covered with pink-and-white striped cotton. Old, rambling geraniums dotted the room placed on mismatched plant stands and tables. The effect was feminine and charming. Susan would have been happy to bring a favorite book, stretch out on one of the wicker chaise lounges, and spend the afternoon.
But apparently Donald felt that more than two minutes spent in any room was about a minute too much. He spun on his heel and headed back in the direction they had come, turning when they arrived in the foyer and starting off in another direction.
The dining room and kitchen were on this side of the house and Susan did everything but grab her host and wrestle him to the floor in her attempt to spend some time examining these rooms. The formal dining room was large enough to seat sixteen around the chestnut table placed there. The kitchen was equally large and twice as fascinating.
It appeared to have been furnished the year the house was built and, except for updating a few appliances and adding two microwave ovens, it had changed little since that time. Brick-colored sheet linoleum covered the floor and a well-worn butcher block took the place of more modern countertops. Gleaming white-and-black tiles covered the walls. Milk glass lamps hanging from the ceiling provided illumination and curtains fashioned from black-and-white check kettle cloth covered the windows. Susan loved it, but a quick glance was all she was allowed before she was whisked away again for the rest of Donald’s tour.
They hurried back to the foyer and up the circular stairway to the bedrooms. It wasn’t until they had dashed through the fourth bedroom and connecting bath at record speed that Susan realized Donald was looking for something-or someone. The first hint that it might be the latter came when she realized he was spending as much time looking out the windows as glancing through the rooms. And he seemed unusually interested in showing her the size of the various closets.
“Beautiful pool,” Susan commented, walking up to Donald and looking out the window down onto a large patio. “Guitar shaped?”
“Violin shaped,” he corrected her. “Now the bedrooms on the other side of the hallway look out over the Sound.”
Susan followed him as he dashed across the wide hallway and straight to the window.
The view was magnificent. The Sound was calm and almost navy blue in the morning light. Spring was coming and patches of pale chartreuse green dotted the land to the east. “ Long Island?” Susan nodded to the thin strip of green.
“Perry,” Donald replied, glancing up at the scene before them before returning his attention to the driveway in front of the house.
“ Perry Island? That’s Perry Island?”
“That’s what I said, isn’t it?”
Susan decided there was no reason to point out that his one-word answer might be open to misinterpretation. “I’m surprised to see it. I’m not really familiar with this part of the coast.”
Donald was still staring down at the driveway, a puzzled expression on his face.
“How many other bedrooms are there?” Susan asked when he seemed to forget that the tour still had many more rooms to go.
“Two more bedrooms on this floor. And there are lots of rooms for servants and such upstairs.”
Susan was curious to discover what “and such” might indicate, but she didn’t know how to ask.
“The third floor is closed up. If you’re interested, why don’t you look at the rest of the bedrooms here? I need to go downstairs and make a call on my cell phone.”
“Great.” It made no sense that he would get better reception on his phone on a lower level, but, thrilled to finally be allowed to snoop in peace, she decided not to mention this fact. “I’ll be down as soon as I look around, okay?”
“Sure. There doesn’t seem to be any reason to rush,” he said and started down the hallway toward the stairs.
Susan frowned. Donald was acting very strangely. He hadn’t even mentioned why he had asked her to meet him at Woodwinds. If he didn’t come to the point soon, she decided, opening the door to the next bedroom, she would claim a prior engagement and leave. Just as soon as she looked around here.
She had come to the master bedroom and, she realized looking around, it seemed to be pretty much the only bedroom occupied at present. It was sensational. Susan walked around slowly, examining the inglenook around the fireplace, the huge walk-in closet, the updated bathroom with a Jacuzzi as well as a small sauna. But the most remarkable feature of the corner room was the view. Susan sat down on the large window seat and looked out. She could see the complete western coast of Perry Island now, north to south. In fact, the Perry Island Care Center was directly across from the spot where she was sitting.
And, of course, all the pieces fell in place. For a moment, she remained still, thinking, then she heard footsteps in the hallway and realized that staying where she was could be the stupidest-and last-thing she ever did. The footsteps were coming closer and Susan knew she had to keep Donald from suspecting that she was interested in anything other than Woodwinds.
“This must have been your mother’s bedroom,” she said, getting up from the seat and moving toward the middle of the room. She had no idea how she was going to get past him as long as he stood between her and the door.
“Yes, Mother loved this room,” he said.
“And will you move in here now that your mother is dead? Into this room, I mean?”
“I don’t plan to live here, if that’s what you’re asking me.”
“Oh, you’re going to put Woodwinds back on the market?” Susan edged an inch or two toward the doorway, but Donald stood his ground.
“No, I’m going to develop it. And I’m going to develop the land you were staring at across the Sound, and I’m going to be owner of the most profitable multiuse development in Connecticut.”
“That’s nice… uh, this has all been interesting, but I have to go,” Susan said.
“It’s been less than interesting for me, but I can assure you that you are not going to go, so you may as well stop inching toward the door. I may have only begun my new exercise regime, but I’m stronger than most women I’ve met. You included.”
“You… You’re a murderer,” Susan said, trying to hide the panic she felt.
“No, I’m not. That is,” he added with a nasty smile, “not yet.”
“Not ever.” The voice came from the hallway and Donald swung around as Brett Fortesque entered the room, gun drawn.
Susan’s first thought was that after all the murders they had investigated together-or perhaps simultaneously was the more accurate word-she had never seen Brett with a gun in his hand. The sight, under these circumstances, brought her considerable relief.
Until she realized Brett wasn’t the only armed person nearby. Sophie Kincaid was standing right behind him and she, too, was armed.
“Sophie, where the hell have you been?” Donald said, obviously furious. “I’ve been waiting for you for damn near half an hour!”
It was no way to talk to a lady, but even Susan was shocked when Sophie pulled the trigger and shot Donald Baines in the chest.
THIRTY
“ONLY THE GOOD DIE YOUNG.”