A Willing Murder Read online

  Even though they weren’t going on a direct route, she tried to memorize the street names—work was always on her mind. On the floor of the passenger side of her car was a box of business cards she’d had printed. It would be presumptuous to hand them out before she’d met Tayla, but she’d been tempted in the tea shop.

  They drove down Coral Gate, Palm Bay, then around Lime Key Circle before finally turning onto Stewart Lane. Kate saw why her GPS hadn’t listed it. It was so private that the US Postal Service probably classified it as a driveway.

  There was what looked to be a tiny guesthouse at the end of the road. Past it, the main house was nestled behind old, tall palm trees. To someone who’d survived many Chicago winters, it was an exotic landscape.

  As Alastair drove slowly around the paved, circular drive, she saw him watching her in his rearview mirror. No matter what he said, he must have felt bad at losing his ancestral home.

  It was a truly beautiful house—long, low and as Spanish as if it was in Barcelona. There was a bay with round-topped windows at one side, a magnificent front door with huge iron handles and more tall windows at the far end.

  Alastair stopped his car but stayed inside. Kate turned off the ignition, got out and went to him.

  He rolled down the window. “I’ll leave you here. Everyone in town knows that Ms. Medlar likes her privacy. You don’t enter unless you’re invited.”

  She thought how all the stories of rich old women being bamboozled by their employees involved isolation. “Thanks for telling me. And wish me luck.”

  “That I do. Looks like they’re expecting you. The front door is open.”

  She looked toward the entrance and saw a three-inch gap left by the open door.

  “So it is.” She stepped back from his car.

  “Mind if I call you tonight to see how things went?” he asked.

  “Please do.”

  He smiled at her in encouragement, then slowly drove back down the drive. Kate got the flowers and fruit out of her car, went to the front door, straightened her shoulders and rang the bell.

  No response. She waited, did it again, waited. Still no one.

  Tentatively, she pushed the door wide-open. “Hello?”

  She stepped into a beautiful foyer with a triple tray ceiling. A crystal chandelier hung above a marble floor that was a swirl of cream and pale coffee. She put the flowers and fruit basket on a stone-topped table that was against the wall.

  In front of her was a pretty living room with a big blue Oriental rug, double couches of light blue and two chairs in navy toile.

  As she stepped forward, what struck her the strongest was the light. In every direction she looked, there were floor-to-ceiling windows. Outside were palm trees and a wide body of water. Beautiful! To her left was a hall with a skylight. To her right were closed double doors that she thought probably led to the master suite.

  Was her aunt Sara in there? Possibly with a caretaker? Or maybe a nurse?

  The house was silent but it didn’t feel empty. But then, with that much light, it couldn’t feel anything but part of the world.

  She went toward the hallway, walking quietly. She knew she was snooping but her love of houses was an irresistible force. There was a dining room with an antique table, and chairs upholstered in a pretty print of flowers and vines.

  The kitchen was big and cheerful. From the appliances and the trays full of oils and the giant spice rack, it looked like someone liked to cook.

  Across from the kitchen was a glass wall that enclosed a breakfast table. The view was of a big swimming pool and a paved courtyard, plus a screened-in area.

  Open to the kitchen was a large family room with a TV the size of a highway billboard. There was a huge couch with colorful pillows.

  To the left was a pair of open double doors. “Is anyone here?” she asked.

  When there was no answer, she went into what appeared to be a suite, possibly the one her aunt said would be Kate’s. One end of the living room was all glass and looked out to see a bit of lawn and the pretty canal. A gray-green iguana that had to be six feet long was lying under a clump of palms. Near him were four smaller bright green lizards. Two long-legged white birds—the kind she’d seen only in zoos—were pecking at the grass. They all turned to look at Kate, seeming to ask why she was in their territory. Unafraid, unmoving.

  “Well, Kate,” she said aloud, “you’re not in Kansas anymore.”

  Down the hall, she passed two walk-in closets that flanked a bathroom tiled in shades of cream. At the end was a bedroom with a white bed with a light blue spread. The French doors at the far end had blinds on them. When she lifted one, she saw a walled courtyard. Very private. It had a brick-paved floor, and there were big flower beds full of plants that in Chicago could only be grown indoors. In the center was a fountain with a dark green sculpture of a girl dancing in the rain. It was so pretty that it took her minutes to take it all in. This courtyard was off what could possibly be her bedroom.

  In the far corner was a raised flower bed filled with thick palms that had long, slender tendrils. Below it, in the shade, was a man in a T-shirt stretched out on a chaise longue. He had in earbuds and a light blanket covering his legs. His eyes were closed.

  She was sure he was Jack Wyatt—and it was easy to see what people seemed to like about him. Black hair that was on the long side, black whiskers, sharp cheekbones. He did indeed look like a very handsome criminal.

  Not her type at all.

  When she opened the door, it made no sound, but that didn’t matter. If he hadn’t heard the doorbell over whatever he was listening to, he wouldn’t hear a door.

  As soon as she stepped outside, she heard an odd sound, like something pounding. She couldn’t identify it.

  As she walked toward the man, she wondered what to say to him. Are you exploiting my aunt? Taking the poor woman for all she’s worth? Not a good introduction. She needed to find out the truth before she started making accusations.

  When she was two feet away, he turned to look at her. He had very dark eyes. “You must be Kate. Sorry I didn’t make it to the door.” He removed the earbuds. “But I left it unlocked for you.”

  The pounding continued. There was a chair nearby and Kate sat down. “Is this the apartment I’m supposed to take?” She motioned to the doors.

  “Yeah. You like it?”

  “Very much.”

  “Sara will be glad. She drove everyone mad planning it. You have any trouble finding the place?”

  “I met Alastair Stewart in town and followed him in my car.”

  Jack gave a little smile. “I heard he was back. Did he ask you on a date yet?”

  “He did, actually. We go out on Saturday.” Kate settled back in the chair.

  Something about the warm, balmy air was peaceful. And oddly, this man made her feel calm—the exact opposite of Alastair.

  “I knew he wouldn’t waste any time. He’s a good guy, though. A little too old and a little too perfect, but he’s okay. Who else did you meet?”

  “Melissa at Tayla’s office.”

  He gave a snort of laughter. “If you sell houses and get along with Tayla, she’ll be jealous.”

  “She already is—because of you. If you’re Jack, that is.”

  “I am and you’re right. She follows me around town. Who else?”

  The pounding kept on. It wasn’t a regular rhythm. It went fast, stopped, then slowed. “Bessie at the tea shop.”

  “She loves all things Stewart. Thinks they’re royalty.”

  “I can see that.” Kate closed her eyes and held her face up to the warmth.

  Contrary to what she’d dreaded, she felt like she was talking to someone she’d known for a long time. “How is my aunt?” She prepared herself to hear the worst.

  “Sounds like she’s doing well.”