TWENTY-SIX

Payton escorted Mamie to the door. The street, especially out front of Aden’s house, was empty of cars. Payton called him again, and again came the automated voice announcing the number was out of service.

“Aden, where are you?”

Payton slipped on her shoes and went out through the sliders, ducking between the trees into the Mortensons’ back yard. A low-watt bulb burned on the wicker table in their new breakfast room. Two figures in deep shadow sat at the table. The larger shadow, Carter, held a glass in his left hand. Helen was talking, waving her hands as she always did. The low murmur of voices, but no words, penetrated the tempered glass.

Helen spotted Payton and welcomed her in with a hug. She said she’d get her something to drink and disappeared into the house before Payton could tell her not to bother. Carter waved her to a chair. She leaned back in the comfortable thickness of the padding and put her feet on the crossbar under the table.

“To what do we owe the honor of this visit?” Carter asked in his usual right to the point manner.

Payton laughed. “Do I visit so infrequently?”

“No, just never at night,” Helen said, returning with a tall glass with ice tinkling against the sides. She also held a plate of something that she set on the table closest to Payton. “Have a walnut bar, dear.”

Carter reached across and received a slap on the hand. He didn’t pull back, just continued reaching. “You didn’t specify which ‘dear’ you meant.”

Helen made a hissing sound and leaned back in her chair. Payton took a sip of the fresh lemonade, just the right amount of sugar. She leaned back thinking how very much Carter resembled Rhett Butler. “I’ve been thinking,” she said.

“Uh-oh,” Carter said.

“I imagine you saw the police at Aden’s.”

Carter roared with laughter. “You just made her night. She’s called everyone in town, but nobody knew a thing—”

“Carter!”

“You didn’t call me,” Payton said.

“Yes she did, but Mamie said you were working in your office and she wouldn’t disturb you.”

“Go watch TV, Carter,” Helen said.

“I think that would be prudent.” He got up and went up the steps into the main house muttering something about “gossiping women.”

“He’s a hoot,” Payton laughed.

“I guess other people would see him that way. I assume the cops think Aden killed Sean.”

“I had the idea they were gathering evidence about me.”

“You!” Helen’s glance flickered toward the door. She lowered her voice. “Why would they be gathering evidence against you?”

“The way that sergeant talked, I thought they were focusing the investigation on me.”

“For heaven’s sakes, why—because of that silly thing between you and Sean?”

“That’s what I was thinking.”

Helen shook her head, the tight cap of curls not moving a bit. “No way. They removed way too much stuff for it to be you they’re looking at. No doubt, they suspect Aden.”

“And you think he ran?”

“It’s the only thing that makes sense.”

Payton leaned her elbows on the table and dropped her head in her cupped hands. Helen remained quiet. After a while Payton looked up. “It can’t be. Aden would no more kill Sean than I would.” Then something dawned on her. “Helen, you know more than you’ve said. There’s a relationship between Sean and Aden, isn’t there?”

Carter appeared in the doorway. “What other relationship?”

“We think the police think he killed Sean,” Helen said.

Carter returned to his chair. “I figured as much, what with the cops there all day.”

“That sergeant thinks Aden wanted Sean out of the way so he could have me. I told him it couldn’t possibly be true because Aden and I don’t have a relationship.”

“You lied to the police?” Carter put a palm to his chest and rolled his eyes.

“No!” She accented the next words, “We don’t have a relationship.”

“She doth protest too much.” Carter threw his head back and roared. When he noticed them gaping, he put on a serious expression and folded his hands on the table. “Sorry. What was the other reason?”

“Espinoza didn’t say. And I didn’t want to appear too worried, so I didn’t ask.”

“Sean grew up here in town,” Helen said. “He and MaryAnn married about five years ago. She paid his way through cooking school. I can’t remember where. They both worked extra jobs while saving money to open his restaurant, which he did about a year and a half ago. As for Aden…” Helen ran her hands up both cheeks and rubbed her knuckles in her eyes. “He came to town I’d say, fifteen years ago. Built that beautiful little Cape.”

“Was he always an ambassador?”

“Far as I know.”

“Why did he move here?”

“He said he wanted to live somewhere quiet. He’d lived in the City his whole life and wanted a change.”

“But why Sackets Harbor? It’s not like it’s convenient to New York City.”

“His aunt Charlotte lived here. Charlotte Green. Aden came here summers from the time he was a small child.”

“Were he and Sean friends?”

“He was too old to have been a playmate of Sean’s,” Carter added. “There’s maybe fifteen years between them.”

“Did Sean work for him? Did Aden sell him a boat? Did Sean steal something from him? There has to be a common denominator…besides me.”

“Sean wasn’t the soul of honesty. Don’t you remember when he was arrested for taking that Boynton kid’s bike?” Carter asked.

“He said he traded for it,” Helen said.

“The Boynton kid said that wasn’t true.”

“But Sean had the Atari game to prove it,” Helen said. “And Edna vouched for him.”

“Helen, you know you’ve always had a soft spot where Sean was concerned.”

Helen sighed. “I know. I just always felt sorry for him, Edna and Rodney being murdered the way they were.”

“So you can’t think of any time Sean and Aden had dealings?” Payton asked. “Is it possible he mowed Aden’s lawn or watched his house while he was out of town?”

“Harry Brice, the one who owned your house, always watched it.”

“Didn’t mow his own lawn but took good care of Aden’s when he was out of town. They were quite good friends. It was a terrible blow to Aden when he found the man dead. Brice had been dead more than a week.” Helen made a face.

“How did he die?” Payton asked.

“It was about eight years ago. He tripped and fell down his cellar stairs.”

“Right,” added Carter. “It was November.”

“The day our niece Ann was born. We were getting the news of the birth on the phone while they were moving Harry’s body out the back door.”

Seemed like Payton was always surrounded by death. Now she’d be awash in the vision of Harry Brice lying at the bottom of her cellar stairs. Death probably occurred in lots of houses, but the owner didn’t usually hear about it. She rose, suddenly aching to be out of doors.

Outside, Payton did just as she’d promised herself. She breathed. In and out. God, it felt so good. She didn’t go home. She walked toward town, past Aden’s dark house.

Aden. Had he run away? Would the man she’d had wild and wonderful sex with just hours ago run like a frightened child? No, he wouldn’t leave her dangling like that.

At the intersection she continued on Broad Street, past Claire’s house, a large, well-kept Victorian with the small Ford in the driveway. The place had a homey look to it. As two nights ago, behind a trio of tall, narrow windows, the bluish computer light glowed. A dark figure sat with his back to the windows. The person turned suddenly, as though sensing someone watching. Payton ducked into the shadow of a huge oak then continued walking. She went as far as the bend in the road near the big cornfield, turned and headed back.

A figure appeared on her left; she jumped in fright.

“I didn’t mean to scare you,” Claire said and fell into step beside Payton. “I saw you walking and thought you might want company.”

“How are you?”

“Good as can be expected. This whole thing has been a drain on the town. I heard the police were at Aden’s today.”

“Yes.”

“So it’s true. Did they arrest him?”

“Not that I know of. I think he’s out of town.”

“I heard they were taking evidence from the house.”

“They were, but I have no idea what it was.”

Claire’s grip on Payton’s upper arm tightened. “Well, at least they didn’t arrest him.”