The Carriage House by Carla Neggers Page B

those incisive, very blue eyes.
    She took a long, very hot shower in her gold-fix-tured bathroom. The heat helped her bruises and eased her tension, but provided no clear-cut answers about what she should do. She changed into her favorite jeans, a denim work shirt and cross-trainers, then made Earl Grey tea and warmed up her apricot scone.
    She had breakfast on the kitchen steps, feeling a twinge where she’d banged her hip last night. It was a warm, breezy morning, something in the air suggesting the ocean was just across the main road.
    After breakfast, she walked out to the water, over rocks and down to the sand, where the tide was rolling out. The ocean smells were strong here, pungent and salty, yet pleasant. A strand of wet, slimy seaweed curled around the bottom of her sneaker, water easing under her feet. The sun sparkled on the horizon. Boats were out.
    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.
    â€œHi, 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.
    â€œIs it okay with your father and Harl?”
    â€œThey 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.
    â€œDid 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.”
    â€œI 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.”
    â€œThat happens,” the girl said sagely.
    â€œMaybe 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!”
    â€œCome on, we’ll go ask your dad and Harl if you can go inside with me and check if that’s Tippy Tail.”
    â€œIt 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