When she returned to the carriage house, Tess knew she'd have to work herself up to going back down in the cellar. It was just a matter of timing. She'd planned on walking to the village, perhaps having lunch on the pier. Should she check and see if she'd seen a skull in the cellar last night before or after her jaunt to the village?
After. If she did it before, and discovered she'd seen exactly what she thought she'd seen, there'd be no wandering in shops, no chowder in a cute restaurant with red-and-white-checked tablecloths. She'd have to call the police, probably Lauren Montague. The neighbors.
"Hi, Tess, can I come over?"
Tess almost let out another yell, but gulped it back when she spotted Dolly Thorne's little face peering through the lilacs.
"Is it okay with your father and Harl?"
"They won't mind."
After last night, Tess would doubt that. "You'd better go ask."
The girl rolled her eyes. "Really, they won't mind."
Tess went over to the lilacs. Technically, Dolly was still in her own yard. She had on a crown of glittery red hearts today, which matched the hearts on her shirt.
"Did Tippy Tail come home last night?" Tess asked.
Dolly shook her head, sighing dramatically. "She's lost. I don't know why she keeps running away."
"I don't, either. I guess some cats are like that. Did your dad tell you I saw her last night? I'm afraid we startled each other, and she ran off. I'm sure she didn't go far."
"That happens," the girl said sagely.
"Maybe she's hiding here somewhere. Do you want to call her?"
Dolly crouched amidst the lilacs, calling in a patient whisper, "Kitty, kitty."
A cat meowed from inside the carriage house, and not from the cellar. The plaintive cry was coming, distinctly, from the kitchen.
Tess couldn't believe it.
Dolly jumped up and squealed. "Oh my God!"
"Come on, we'll go ask your dad and Harl if you can go inside with me and check if that's Tippy Tail."
"It is! I know it is! She'll run away-"
Tess stood firm. "She won't run away. But let's hurry, okay?"
She didn't want the girl throwing a tantrum in her driveway, but there was no way Tess was taking her inside without permission from the adults in the girl's life, especially after last night. With slumped shoulders, Dolly slipped back through to her side of the lilacs. Tess followed, squeezing through branches, twigs, drooping blossoms, fat leaves and protruding roots, all of which slapped, poked or tripped her.
When she was finally clear of the lilacs, she landed in an oasis, at least compared to her own yard. The Thorne lawn was lush and green, with a half-dozen rhododendrons just coming into blossom and huge, graceful shade trees strategically placed. Tess couldn't imagine what had motivated Jedidiah Thorne to throw away this life in a duel.
Dolly ran over to a white-haired man near a cot-tage-like outbuilding. He had a small chest of drawers set up on a drop cloth, paint supplies neatly laid out. Dolly, Tess realized, couldn't have been out of his sight, even in the lilacs.
"Harl," the girl called, breathless, "Harl, I found Tippy Tail! I found her!"
"No kidding, baby. Where is she?"
"At Tess's house."
Tess smiled, hoping she didn't look too rattled after last night's surprise. In her work, she was often called upon to fake good cheer and a calm disposition under pressure.
Harl moved to meet her halfway. When he got closer, Tess noticed the scars on his face and a tattoo on his arm. He wore a POW-MIA shirt and was missing the tips of at least two fingers. "I'm Harl Beckett, Andrew's cousin."
"Tess Haviland. It's nice to meet you. I think Tippy Tail's in my house. We heard her meow."
He adjusted Dolly's crown, and Tess could see he had a curious calming effect on the girl. Probably this wasn't the effect Harl Beckett had on most people in his life. He said, "Sorry you got mixed up with this cat of hers."
"It's okay," Tess said. "I don't mind."
"I understand last night was a little rough."
His tone was even, his expression unreadable, but she knew he didn't believe her story any more than his cousin. She resisted the urge to turn away, and even managed a smile. "Yes, I had quite the adventure. That'll teach me. I suspect Tippy Tail would have done just fine without me."
"How'd she get in?"
"Broken window. I should repair it this weekend while I'm up here. Did you hear me yell? I tripped over some old furniture and landed on the dirt floor. I kept thinking about snakes."
Harl Beckett studied her a moment, his expression unchanged. "Sticking to your story, are you?"
"I beg your pardon?"
He turned to Dolly, who was obviously losing patience with the chitchat. "Run tell your dad where we're going." Obviously he didn't trust Tess enough to let Dolly go over with her alone. "Hurry up." Dolly didn't argue, just charged across the yard calling for her father. Tess hesitated. "Mr. Beckett-" "Harl." "I don't know what you meant just now." "Didn't mean anything." "You don't believe me," she said. "Nope. That going to keep you up nights?" She smiled suddenly, although she had no idea why. "I did think about snakes." He cocked an eyebrow at her. "And what else?" She shrugged. "Ghosts." "Now we're talking." Dolly raced back across the lawn, breathing hard, cheeks red. "Daddy says to go on, he'll be along in a minute. Come on, let's go, let's go!" "You go on with Tess," Harl said, "I'm right behind you."
But Dolly was already climbing through the lilacs, and by the time Tess made it back through, the little girl was bounding up the kitchen steps.
Tess ran to catch up with her. "Take it easy, Princess Dolly. If Tippy Tail's having her kittens, we don't want to scare her."
Dolly was barely able to contain her excitement, but she nodded gravely and pressed a finger to her lips. "Shh."
Tess pushed open the screen door and glanced back at the driveway. Harl was there, motioning for her to go on in. Dolly slipped past her inside, running quietly into the kitchen. She gasped in delight, covering her mouth with both hands as if to hold back a squeal. Tess stood next to her, following the girl's wide-eyed look.
There, in the middle of Tess's camp bed, was the missing cat, with a litter of tiny, squirming newborn kittens. Four of them. Little bits of matted gray, white and black fur.
How? Tess wondered. How had this happened? Either Tippy Tail had snuck past her in the dark last night and lurked in the house all night, or she'd seized her opening when Tess had gone out to enjoy her tea and scone, then for a walk on the beach.
If nothing else, the cat was an opportunist. This was the only relatively soft, warm spot in the entire house. It certainly beat a dark, junky corner of the dirt cellar.
It wasn't Harl who came into the kitchen, but Andrew, his eyes connecting with Tess. Before either of them could say anything, Dolly waved them into silence. Tess pointed to the cat.
He had the gall to grin, amused.
"It's not funny," she whispered.
"No, Tess, it's very funny."
She wanted to be magnanimous, but a mother cat and four kittens had taken up residence on her only furniture, on her bed.
Andrew stood close to her. He smelled of fresh soap, and she could see a small scar on his jaw, almost into his dark hair, and wondered how he'd gotten it. He smiled. "I can see I owe you for all the trouble this cat's caused you."
"Big time."
But he wasn't doing a good job of pretending to be chagrined at the situation. Dolly tiptoed to the foot of the sleeping bag and knelt down, instinctively quiet. Her cat was half-asleep, dazed almost, curled up with her kittens amidst Tess's pillows and the T-shirt she'd slept in. The tiny kittens were suckling, barely moving.
Andrew bent over his daughter. "Just look," he whispered. "Don't touch."
She angled her face up at him, her eyes bright. "When can I pick them up?"