“I was told. I have spies all over town keeping an eye on Matt to make sure he’s behaving himself.”

  “He was trying to convince her to work for him as the head of security. That could be the reason your spies saw them together so much,” he retorted.

  Portia chuckled. “Like I believe that.”

  She glanced from me to Tate and back again. “If you are wondering if I killed her, I will tell you again, once and for all, I did not. I didn’t even know she had been murdered.”

  I wasn’t sure I believed her, but there something else I wanted to know from Portia Billows. “Why is your husband so dead set on building this complex at Lake Waters?”

  She sat up on the couch, as if she was no longer set on impressing us with her elegant posture. “Why else? Because Lake Waters needs the money.—I can tell by the looks on both of your faces that I have surprised you.”

  Remembering the empty lobby and the conversation I’d had with Cliff two days ago, I was more surprised that she’d come out and said it.

  “Matt would be pleased. He wants everyone in Herrington to believe that Lake Waters Retreat is still the premier destination in the Finger Lakes for the rich to renew themselves.”

  “But it’s not?” Tate asked.

  “Not at all. You have to remember, the resort was built in the 1960s. Over the years, it was the place for the wealthy to come. Matt’s father and grandfather put all they could into the business, and it had all the latest amenities for the time.”

  He nodded. “When my aunt did speak about it, she said it was very glamorous.”

  Portia nodded. “But today, celebrities want more and they want exotic locales. Who wants to come to Seneca Lake when they could go to Dubai or an exotic island to renew body and soul? If Matt wants to convince famous clients to come here, he must do more.”

  “Like what?” I asked.

  “All the buildings need to be updated, and so does the spa.” Her tone was much more businesslike than it had been before.

  I realized that Portia knew more about the business than she had let on.

  “The spa and rejuvenation center are completely out of date,” Portia said. “It would be more expensive to bring them up to today’s standards than build an all-new facility, which is what Matt would like to do. The rich do love their treatments, and they are always looking for the next best thing. Lakes Waters hasn’t offered the next best thing in over a decade.” She patted her flawless skin. “I don’t even use the spa for myself. Instead, I fly to New York City, where I can get all the services I need.”

  “If his resort doesn’t appeal to those clients any longer, why doesn’t he just open it to other people? Families? He might not be able to charge as much—”

  She held up her hand. “You can stop right there. He would never do that. Matt is too much of a snob. He would rather run the business into the ground on the premise that it’s for the ultra-elite. Matt is determined to take the resort back to its former glory.” She shook her head. “The resort has been refinanced four times, which has given him enough money for the construction. He wants to offer something new and shiny to bring all the wealthy customers he lost. He can’t open the resort again with the same services, only updated.”

  “And Mrs. Berger?” I asked.

  She shook her head. “Matt is beside himself over that woman. He can’t even afford to pay her what he’s offered, and still she refuses to sell that little eyesore of a house. I’m not worried about it, though. I know he will prevail. Matt has his way of getting what he wants from people.”

  “He corrupts them,” Tate said.

  She laughed. “No, no.”

  I took that as a “Yes, but let’s not call it that.”

  “Did you know Mr. Billows wanted to hire Samantha as the head of security?”

  “He said that was his reason for being with her so often. We have in the past had a terrible time with paparazzi taking photos of guests. We can’t have that if we want those kinds of clients. Who wants a photograph of themselves in a glossy magazine while recovering from a facelift? Matt didn’t think Cliff was the man for the job. He thought Samantha was a much better fit. He told me she came to him, which is why I thought she had plans for him other than work.”

  Even though Billows had said the same to me, that it had been Samantha’s idea to work at Lake Waters, it still surprised me. “Samantha always said it was Billows’ idea.”

  She shrugged. “Then one of them is lying. Even so, I don’t think my ex-husband is involved in her death. What could he have gained from it if he wanted to hire her to work for him?”

  It was a fair question, and one I had asked myself several times.

  She turned to me. “If you would be so kind, Darby, I would ask you to give Tate and me a minute alone.”

  I stood and set my still-full teacup on the tea cart Chatham had left in the room. I glanced at Tate.

  “Wait for me outside, Piper,” he said.

  As if out of nowhere, the butler appeared at my side.

  “Chatham will show you out,” Portia said. “My advice, Miss Porter, is to leave Matt out of this and concentrate on who killed Samantha.”

  “Go ahead,” Tate said. “I’ll be a minute.”

  I frowned at him, and then I followed Chatham through the rambling house and out the front door. I stepped outside, and the door closed behind me even before I could thank him.

  Chapter Thirty

  I stared at the closed door for a moment. Tate had said he would only be a minute, which meant I didn’t have much time.

  This was my chance to take a look around the estate. I walked around the large house, and there was a huge English-style garden in the back that this time of year was awash with oranges, reds, and other autumnal colors.

  A small puffball of a dog was in the back garden. It lifted its nose in the air and turned around. When it saw me, the little dog bared its teeth and charged. I yelped and ran into the woods that surrounded the property. The dog stopped on the edge of the yard. Perhaps an electric fence held it back. In any case, I didn’t think I wanted to return that way and risk being bitten. Maybe I would walk around the house in the woods.

  As I walked through the trees, I was careful to keep my eye on the back of Portia’s home, I didn’t want to lose my way. I came upon a path I could only assume led to the main resort building, where I had met Quinn.

  The land Lake Waters lay on was vast. What I thought would be a brief walk turned into a longer one as the path meandered to the clearing where the large white Greek revival building stood.

  I took more time to inspect the area around the grand resort. The building and grounds were beautiful, but now that I knew the real state of it, I could see the wear and tear of time. Some of the paint on the shutters was chipped. There were cracks in the blacktop that led to the front door. The weathervane sat crookedly at the top of the building. These were all small cosmetic details, but they spoke of larger problems.

  A black luxury car pulled into the circular driveway, and Billows got out. I slipped into the woods and went back the way I came. I would need to speak to him soon. However, I didn’t think sneaking up on him was the best way to go about it.

  If I’d oriented myself right, Mrs. Berger’s property, where Billows wanted to expand, was to my right. I waited until Billows was inside the building and then I scurried to the back of the resort. From there, I had a lovely and unobstructed view of Seneca Lake. A set of wooden stairs led to the pebbled beach below. The most striking thing about the view was that there was no one there. Not that I expected sunbathers on the beach in September, but I thought at least a guest or two would be walking about and enjoying the scenery.

  I glanced back at the house. Tate would be wondering what happened to me if he left Portia’s house and found me gone. I shot him a text about where I was and walked down the steps to the beach. If I looked down the sand to my right, I could see the edge of Mrs. Berger’s dock. Her property really did butt up against Lake Waters. I knew Billows was infuriated that she wouldn’t sell. However, seeing the view she would have to give up, I couldn’t blame her. I walked down the beach about a quarter of a mile, and when I paused at that point, I could see Mrs. Berger’s house clearly. If I peeked through the trees, I could also see Romy’s grand oak. I hoped he wasn’t up there at the moment.

  I headed back to the resort.

  “Piper!” Tate called.

  I stepped out of the woods.

  He grinned at me. “Doing a little snooping?”

  “It’s my job.” I shrugged.

  When we were in the car, I turned to Tate, who said, “I’m beginning to wonder if the resort was involved at all. What would they get out of killing Samantha? I can’t think of a single benefit to the resort.”

  “But who else do we have for viable suspects?”

  “The horse trainer?”

  I decided it was best to ignore his tone. I shook my head. “Doesn’t seem likely. Did you learn anything else from Portia? Or did the two of you discuss old times?”

  “Am I sensing a bit of jealousy, Piper?”

  “Jealousy? Of her? Don’t be ridiculous.”

  He stared back at Portia’s house and then shook his head. “For the record, not that I feel the need to clear it up with you, but Portia and I went on a few dates after I graduated from high school. She doesn’t look it, but she’s four or five years older than I am. It was nothing serious; I was going into the service. Then, years later we bumped into each other in Europe while I was traveling after leaving the Army. There was nothing to it. I think she made it seem more serious because she was irritated at me for bringing you to her home.”

  “Oh.”

  “After you left, she told me more about the history of the resort. Her father-in-law was the one who ran Lake Waters into the ground and refused to put any money into updates or let Matt do it. He ruled the family with an iron fist. He died two years ago, but by that time, the resort was in such a mess, it would take a major overhaul to bring it back to life, which is why Matt hatched his plan to expand the retreat and build a new state-of-the-art facility.”

  “And Mrs. Berger stands in the way of that.”

  “Right.”

  “What about that stuff she said about Samantha dating Billows?”

  “That’s hard for me to believe,” Tate said.

  “Me too. She sounded like a jealous ex-wife.”

  “She didn’t just sound like it. She is a jealous ex-wife. She may be afraid that if Billows remarries, she will be asked to move.”

  “That would be a shame, because she really loves that butler.”

  Tate laughed. “I think Chatham is stuck with her. Poor guy.”

  Chapter Thirty-One

  After Tate and I left the resort, I went back to the office to finish some paperwork, and he promised to meet me at my parents’ house for dinner. I had conveniently forgotten again about dinner with my parents. Okay, maybe I hadn’t and wished I could.

  When I stepped into the office, Nat was packing a box of her things.

  I stood in the doorway of the reception area. “You’re packing already?” My voice wavered.

  She looked up. “I thought I would get this done while it was quiet.”

  I nodded, but I couldn’t hide my disappointment. “Do you want to meet to go over your job duties now?”

  “Now is a good time as any.”

  I pulled a rolling chair up in front of her desk.

  “Do you care if I pack as we go over this list?”

  I shook my head.

  She picked up one of her jars of pennies and carefully wrapped it in bubble wrap, then set it into the waiting box. “My number-one most important job was to keep the master calendar of where you and Samantha were at all times so I would know where to send someone if either of you needed help.” She peered over her glasses. “It wasn’t an easy task, because neither you nor Samantha were good at telling me what you were up to. Every morning I had to quiz you.”

  I was guilty of this. “Which is why I told you when Tate and I planned to go to Lake Waters this morning.”

  “How did it go?”

  “All right. But I am becoming more and more convinced that Billows might not have anything to do with Samantha’s murder.”

  She looked up from her box. “Why’s that? I thought he was the best suspect you had. You seemed more sure before.”

  “He was and still is, but I can’t figure out what he had to gain by killing Samantha. He wanted her to come in as head of security. Why would he kill the person he wanted to recruit?”

  “Who does that leave you with?” Nat asked.

  “Logan Montgomery.”

  “You don’t sound happy about that.”

  “I’m not. I like Logan.”

  “He’s a good guy, and he put up with Samantha for a long time.”

  “What do you mean that he put up with her?” I asked.

  “He told me on more than one occasion that he wanted to marry her, but Samantha was having none of it.”

  Her words stung. “Did he say why Samantha didn’t want to marry him?”

  “Only one time. He said something like she was too focused on something else.”

  “What was that?” I asked. “Work?”

  “He didn’t say. I’m not sure he even knew.”

  She shook her head. “You look like you could use some coffee. I made a fresh pot.” She pointed to the coffee maker in the corner of the room.

  “Thanks.” I walked over to it and filled my mug, and then sat across from her.

  “So where does the investigation go from here?” Nat asked.

  “That’s a good question. I’ll need to talk to Logan again, that’s for sure.” I paused. “But I’m starting to wonder if this is about her dad. In my research, I stumbled upon Joshua Porter, Sr.’s murder. I knew of it, of course. Samantha would sometimes mention that she wanted to solve her father’s murder. She never believed it was an unknown intruder. Her father worked at Lake Waters Retreat. Matt Billows and his ex-wife Portia told us that Samantha approached him about the head of security job. I think her father’s death was connected to Lake Waters in some way, and she wanted to work there to get to the bottom of it.”

  “That’s crazy. How could she solve a case that’s over twenty years old?”

  “She was a great investigator. Maybe she did solve it. Or maybe the killer felt like she was getting too close.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Sounds like a conspiracy theory to me.”

  “Me too,” I admitted. “But that doesn’t mean it’s not true.”

  “If it is true, I think you should stop looking into it. If you are right and Samantha was killed over this, you will be putting yourself in danger too. I don’t want anything to happen to you.”

  I stood up. “I can’t do that. Samantha was my friend and my mentor. I owe it to her to find out what happened.”

  “You should think less about the murder and more about what you will do with the agency. Do you have a plan?”

  “I guess that depends on whether or not Tate stays.”

  “You’re a good investigator, Darby. You don’t need anyone else. If Tate leaves, strike out on your own. You might lose this office, but you can find somewhere else to live and work.”

  I hadn’t thought of that, but I realized she was right. Whether Tate stayed or left, my career wasn’t over, just as it wouldn’t have been over if Samantha were still alive and had gone to work for Billows. I felt a lot better now.

  “Thanks, Nat,” I said, and sipped the coffee.

  After our meeting, I went back into my office, but I couldn’t concentrate.

  I called Logan and asked him to meet me at the boardwalk. To my surprise, he agreed.

  By the time I met him, it was late afternoon. The sun was low over the hill, and there was an ocher hue to the surface of the lake. Two older women, clearly sightseers, were on the boardwalk taking photos of the lake and the autumn foliage.

  I beat Logan there and was relieved when I saw him walk down the boardwalk toward me. When he was within five feet of me, I saw that his eyes were bloodshot.

  “Thanks for meeting with me,” I said.

  “I’m glad you called. I know you must think I had something to do with Samantha’s murder, but I did not. I loved her. As her death becomes more and more of a reality, I realize just how much.”

  “It would be easier to believe you if you had an alibi.”

  He studied me. “I’m a smart man. Don’t you think if I did kill her, I would have been smart enough to secure an alibi?”

  He had a point, but I didn’t know what to believe when it came to Samantha’s murder.

  “I want to show you something to prove I’m telling the truth.” He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a velvet ring box. He opened the box and held it out to me.

  Before I could say a word, the two elderly sightseers strolled by.

  “You should say yes, miss. He looks like a keeper,” one of them said, and the other chuckled.

  I closed my mouth, unable to speak. I didn’t explain to the passerby that this ring had been for Samantha, not for me.

  “I could tell you didn’t believe that I asked her to marry me. Here’s my proof.”

  I wished I could say that seeing the diamond ring convinced me of his innocence, but it didn’t.

  He closed the box with a snap and tucked it back into his pocket.

  “Logan, why did she say no?”

  He studied me. “She said she had to take care of something first.”

  “What was that?”

  He paused as if considering his answer. “She wanted to know who killed her father. She was obsessed with the case, and it had grown worse in the last few weeks.”