Read Online From Cradle to Grave by Patricia MacDonald - Free Book Online

and hurried down the steps. ‘Sorry. I was just worried about the cat,’ she said. ‘The door was open.’
    ‘Is that your car parked out front?’ he asked.
    ‘Yes,’ said Morgan. ‘I wasn’t sneaking in. I just didn’t realize I wasn’t supposed to come inside.’
    The cop looked at her with narrowed eyes. ‘You’re a friend of the people who live here?’ he asked.
    Morgan evaded the question. ‘Yes. I’m just taking care of their cat,’ she said.
    ‘Don’t you know what happened here today?’ he asked. It sounded almost like an accusation.
    Morgan hesitated. Then she nodded. ‘Something terrible,’ she said.
    The cop snorted. ‘You can say that again.’
    ‘Am I in trouble?’ Morgan asked.
    The young cop thought it over, and then shook his head. ‘No,’ he said. ‘Just go.’ He turned his flashlight on to the driveway and Morgan hurried into the path of the beam, not waiting for him to change his mind.
    It was more difficult to find Sandy Raymond’s house than Morgan had anticipated. Part of it was that her nerves were jangled from the trip to Claire’s cottage. But it was also because the driveways along that winding stretch bordering the sea were tucked between large trees, and there were no signs or lettered mailboxes to identify the occupants of these huge homes. After turning into several driveways, only to find an unfamiliar house when she emerged from the tree canopy into the clearing, she finally took the correct one. She recognized the house the moment she saw it. It was an imposing, gray stone house which would have fit perfectly into the English countryside.
    Morgan pulled up into the graveled parking area beside which four expensive luxury vehicles, from a Mercedes convertible to the silver SUV, were already parked. She looked up at the symmetrical façade of the house with its tall multi-paned windows and surrounding patios. The carriage lights bracketing the front door were not illuminated, and Morgan immediately felt ill at ease. Sandy hadn’t even bothered to leave the lights on. This oversight seemed to say, louder than words, you are not really welcome here. Morgan hesitated. She remembered that Claire often said that Sandy didn’t like company. Or maybe, she thought, Sandy was playing some kind of mind game with her, to pay her back for Claire’s betrayal. Whatever the reason, it wasn’t too late to get a motel room somewhere. She didn’t need something nice like the Captain’s House. Anything would do. Morgan replaced the key in the ignition and turned it.
    Suddenly, the front door of the mansion opened, and Sandy, dressed in a hoody and baggy sweatpants, came out and peered down at the circular drive. Then he ducked back into the house and the carriage lights were suddenly blazing.
    Morgan frowned, and sat in the idling car. Sandy reappeared on the front patio.
    ‘Morgan,’ he called out. ‘Come on in.’
    Morgan hesitated. Then, she removed the key from the ignition, and got out of the car. She went around and opened the trunk of her car. She still had the same rolling bag she had been planning to carry on the plane. When she arrived back in Brooklyn after leaving the airport, she did not want to waste time repacking. She had tossed the bag into the trunk of her car and took off. Now, she swung the bag out of the trunk, pulled up the handle and rolled it to the foot of the stone steps where he stood. ‘The lights were off,’ she said, ‘so I wasn’t sure . . .’
    Sandy shook his head. ‘Sorry about that.’ He did not descend the steps to help her with her bag. Morgan jerked the densely packed, wheeled carry-on bag up the stone staircase. As she started to walk inside, Sandy turned and reached for the handle of her rolling bag.
    ‘I’ve got it,’ said Morgan firmly.
    ‘Suit yourself,’ said Sandy. He led the way into the house. The front hallway, with its curving staircase, was flanked by two huge living rooms, each boasting large ultrasuede sofas