Indeed, all four kittens had their eyes open. They were still tiny, but their fur was softer, less matted-looking, and even Tippy Tail seemed more pleased with the situation.
Dolly whispered, "Daddy says I can hold one if I'm careful."
She scooped up the gray one-Cement Mixer- with two hands and held it against her cheek, her eyes shining at Tess. "She's so soft!"
Harl came in through the back door. Dolly had to show him the kittens, too. He grunted, which seemed enough for the six-year-old, and she ran out to get ready for school. There was some discussion over taking the magic wand Lauren Montague had given her. Harl and Andrew didn't think that would go over well with Dolly's teacher.
Tess stayed out of it. Dolly handled herself well with the two men, and they seemed to know just how far they could go with her without overpowering her.
Harl said, "I'm still in training as a teacher's helper. Will you give me a hand today?"
That thrilled her. "But I don't want you coming to my school every day, Harl, okay?"
"Yeah, I know. Kids need a chance to give away their celery sticks without some big old adult hanging over their head."
Andrew, Tess noticed, kept his opinion on the subject to himself, allowing his daughter and cousin to have their own relationship.
"I'm off to Boston for the morning," Tess announced abruptly. "I need to check in at the office, but I don't imagine I'll stay long."
She decided not to mention checking more e-mails, since the first batch of archives had produced little. She was probably just spinning her wheels, digging into the history of the carriage house, reading e-mails between Ike and herself-making herself feel as if she was doing something when she wasn't. But what else was she supposed to do? Stay at the carriage house and mop more floors? Sit on the police until they got busy?
"Keep in touch," Andrew said.
"I named all the kittens," Dolly told her in the sort of non sequitur Tess had come to expect. "Cement Mixer, Snowflake, Midnight and Pooh."
Tess made a face. "Pooh?"
Dolly giggled. "I know Winnie-the-Pooh's a bear, but Daddy says it's okay."
He repeated his mantra. "Dolly, we're not keeping the kittens. You know that, right?"
She rolled her eyes, not answering. Squelching a smile, Tess headed out.
Traffic on Route One was miserable, and she got caught in a backup for an accident, then another one for construction. She parked on Beacon Hill, raced to her office and took the stairs to the fourth floor two at a time. She didn't know why she was rushing, but she couldn't stop herself.
Susanna Galway calmly looked up from her computer. "I've been sitting here making money for hours. You look as if you've been digging up more skeletons. Some reporter keeps calling, and I keep putting him off."
Susanna looked gorgeous, as always, and probably had been making money for hours. Tess glowered at her and dropped into her chair. "What do you think the odds were of my ending up with a carriage house next door to a motherless six-year-old girl, a burned-out cop and an architect-contractor?"
"Seeing how Ike Grantham gave it to you, very good."
"They were a factor, then."
"This is just now occurring to you?"
"No," Tess said, slightly annoyed. "It occurred to me sitting in traffic."
Susanna shrugged, ignoring Tess's irritable remark. "I think Ike was worried about more ghosts than Jedidiah Thorne."
Tess had worked this out, too, and knew what Susanna meant. "My mother."
Nothing more needed to be said, and Susanna returned to her work. Tess checked messages. Most could be put off for another day, but one could not. Fortunately, it only required five minutes to take herself off the hook. Then, without mentioning to Susanna what she was up to, she checked her e-mail archives for messages from her to Ike.
There were forty-nine.
One was on the day of the meeting when he'd stood her up. She opened it.
Three o'clock is perfect for our meeting. Don't worry if you're a little late-enjoy your last walk-through at the carriage house. I'm not sure I'll let you in after I renovate! Of course, you might not want to come near the place- have I told you I love gingham and chintz? Okay, have fun, and don't get into a duel with your future brother-in-law. One ghost haunting the carriage house is plenty.
She'd forgotten that he'd been meeting his future brother-in-law-Richard Montague-that day. It was one of a thousand insignificant exchanges she'd had with Ike, and there'd been no reason to attach any importance to where he'd gone that morning. After all, he hadn't been missing.
But he was now, Tess thought. She just hadn't realized it until the past few days.
Maybe he'd never made it to the carriage house.
Maybe he'd left town before his meeting there with Richard Montague.
Tess checked ten more e-mails, refusing to let her thoughts rush ahead, and as she read, she remembered the easy banter between Ike and herself. It wasn't just on his end-it was on hers, too, but without the slashing wit, the thrill of poking at other peo-ple's weaknesses.
Ike had loved Joanna Thorne, and he'd believed Richard Montague, who was about to marry his sister, Lauren, was partly responsible for Joanna's malaise. The woman had worked for him, and anyone who worked for Richard Montague had to be as consumed with getting him to Washington as he was. She hadn't made all the connections until now, perhaps because she hadn't known the players, perhaps because she'd been so occupied with sorting out her own life and hadn't paid proper attention to what was going on with Ike.
The reference to Joanna working for Richard was in a note from Ike copied at the bottom of one of Tess's e-mails to him. She hadn't kept the original.
Whether he was a client or perhaps even a friend, her relationship with Ike, she now saw, had been a guilty pleasure. She hadn't really known the people he'd trashed with his cutting, often very funny wit. Now she felt like a coconspirator, although she couldn't bring herself to regret their relationship. He'd never meant people to take him seriously. He was an overgrown adolescent who believed everyone should forgive his excesses because he was a good guy at heart. Tess had never expected anything from him-Ike Grantham was what he was.
But, she thought, he really hadn't liked Richard Montague at all.
She sat back, her head pounding. "Susanna, yesterday Richard Montague told me he hadn't been to the carriage house in years." Her voice was steady but hollow, the strain evident. "That was a flat-out lie. He and Ike were supposed to meet there a few hours before Ike stood me up."
"There could be an innocent reason."
But Susanna's voice was flat and serious, and Tess knew they shared the same fear. "What if Richard Montague was the last person to see Ike alive? Wouldn't he want to tell the police, especially now, given the circumstances?"
"Maybe Ike never showed up."
Tess swallowed, her throat dry and tight. "Maybe he did."
Susanna swore under her breath.
"They meet, they argue over Lauren and Joanna-"
"And Ike ends up buried in the cellar."
Tess looked over at her friend. "Am I getting ahead of the facts?"
"Way ahead." Her green eyes leveled on Tess. "But who cares? You're not a cop. Go sit on the Beacon police, Tess. Make them talk to this Montague character. Look, another month or two of Ike Grantham and I might have been driven to dump him in a dirt cellar myself, but-" She inhaled. "Damn it, you don't get to murder people."
And there it was, Tess thought. You don't get to murder people.
She printed out a copy of the pertinent e-mails and charged out, promising Susanna she'd check in later. "Don't tell your grandmother or anyone who's ever stepped foot in my father's bar about this development, okay? I could be off track, and it was hard enough explaining falling on top of a skeleton in the first place."