Did Hobson have a suite of his own up here? Given his dual role as Joseph’s valet, maybe his bedroom was directly connected to Joseph’s walk-in closet. But then, the guy ran the entire household; I had to imagine he had his own separate quarters and I pictured something large and impressive.

  I didn’t want to venture into Hobson’s space for fear that I would inadvertently leave some evidence of my “snooping” for Inspector Lee to discover. That wouldn’t be a problem, I reasoned, since I had no idea which room was his.

  I wondered if Ella had her own suite or if she shared a suite with Joseph? While that may have been the situation, I was absolutely certain she wasn’t sharing the suite with Tom Cantwell. Maybe she and her mother were bunking together for the week. I almost laughed at the picture of those two women sharing the same living space even for one day. It was even money on which one of them would survive.

  The stairway opened up into a wide hall that ran the length of the house. I followed it until it turned a corner, then I saw that it continued down the entire width of the house. I quickly realized that the hallway formed one huge square. I retraced my steps, recalling that halfway down the first length of hall, I had passed an open door and I wanted to take a peek inside.

  I ventured into the room, curious to see everything. There were no personal items anywhere, so I assumed this suite was currently unoccupied. The main room was a good-sized sitting area with a door on each side. Each door led to a large bedroom, bathroom, and walk-in closet. Nice.

  “Hello?”

  I nearly jumped out of my skin at the sound of the voice. Pressing a hand to my chest, I turned and saw Tom Cantwell standing in the doorway. At least, I thought it was Tom. He looked too much like Joseph for me to be sure.

  “Tom?” I said.

  “Hi, Brooklyn. Didn’t mean to startle you.”

  “That’s okay.” I blew out a calming breath. “How are you?”

  “Good.” He stepped into the room and glanced around. “Pretty nice digs, huh?”

  “Yes. I was just giving myself a little self-guided tour.”

  “I did some of that last night,” he admitted, gazing out a window to check the view. “It’s always interesting to see how the other half lives.”

  “It sure is,” I said a little lamely.

  “It makes me a little antsy,” he said, heading back to the door. “I need to get out for another walk.”

  “The police are here and they’re interviewing everyone. They might want you to hang around.”

  He frowned. “That’s a bummer. Maybe I’ll just go out to the patio for some fresh air.”

  “I imagine that’s okay. Just let them know.”

  “Got it.” He walked to the end of the hall and disappeared down the stairs.

  Darn. I should’ve kept him talking, but I was still feeling the aftereffects of the shock of hearing his voice. I hadn’t noticed last night, but the tone of his voice was very similar to Joseph’s. I knew the two men weren’t related. How could they be? But to look so much like each other and then to sound so much alike? It was . . . disturbing.

  I was still a little shaky from being found by Tom and I took that as a sure sign of my own guilty conscience. I wondered how well Tom had slept in one of these ridiculously grand rooms. Was it an odd feeling to be sleeping in someone else’s space? Or was he loving it? I had a few hundred other questions, but they would have to wait.

  Despite the beautiful furnishings, the amazing views, and the sheer grandeur of the family quarters, it felt lonely up here. I realized that with Joseph spending his time somewhere else, there was no spark in the air. No anticipation. Joseph was a bigger-than-life character, a true leader, and as far as I was concerned, a fascinating man. Without his presence, it felt like everything in the house was on hold.

  Maybe I was the only one who felt that way, but I hated the thought that he might be the true target of a killer.

  And with that thought, I decided I’d seen enough. It was time to head back downstairs. But as I walked down the hallway toward the stairs, I heard Ingrid’s voice. And then Ella’s. One of them mentioned Hobson. I kept walking until I was certain they were both inside the room closest to the stairway, discussing Hobson’s death, among other topics.

  I pressed myself against the wall as close to the open door as I could get without being seen. From there, I could hear everything they said.

  “Things have changed, sötnos,” Ingrid said in a mildly lecturing tone and using a term I wasn’t familiar with. I assumed it was Swedish.

  Ella didn’t seem all that familiar with the word either—or maybe she just wanted to give her mother grief because she said, “Oh mother, speak English.”

  “Fine,” she said. “Just pay attention to what I’m saying and start showing more support for my decisions.”

  Ella sighed heavily. “But Mummy.”

  “Don’t argue, älskling,” Ingrid said. “Now that Hobson is gone, we are on our own. And that is a very dangerous place to be.”

  “I’m not on my own,” Ella insisted. “I have Joseph. He is my husband, in case you’ve forgotten.”

  Ingrid laughed, but it wasn’t a particularly pleasant sound. “You’d be smart to make sure your husband doesn’t start sticking his nose in our business.”

  “But Mother, our business is his business. So how would we stop him? Joseph owns the house. He has the money. He is my husband. He makes the rules.”

  She sneered. “Löjlig. Don’t be an idiot. Perhaps he does make the rules, but you have power, too. Need I remind you?”

  “No, Mummy.”

  “What if he decides to get rid of you?”

  Ella gasped. “He would never do that! Look at me. I am beautiful. I am the perfect wife. He loves me.”

  Ingrid grunted contemptuously. “You are a silly, naïve woman.”

  “And you are an old woman who takes pleasure in belittling me. I’m tired of it.”

  “Don’t be rude, dear. I don’t belittle you. I teach you. You’re still young and you have a lot to learn.”

  Ella made a tsk-ing sound that only emphasized how young she really was. “You’re right about one thing,” she said. “I do have power, and I’ve earned it on my own. And you would be wise to remember that.”

  Ingrid laughed again, and the sound gave me a chill. She lowered her voice. “Do you not see the way Joseph looks at that young woman, Ashley? The way they spend all their time huddled together in earnest conversations?”

  “That means nothing,” Ella insisted. “They work together.”

  “That is how it starts,” Ingrid said. “Soon they’ll find ways to spend weekends together, then travel together. All under the guise of ‘work.’ And soon, you are brushed aside.”

  Ella laughed. “You’re being silly, Mama. Look at me. Now look at her. She is a little waif with no shape to her.”

  Ingrid huffed out a breath of annoyance. “I didn’t raise you to be such a fool.”

  Neither woman said anything for a moment, then it sounded like Ella was munching on something. “These chocolates are so good. Are you sure you don’t want one?”

  “Yes, I’m sure,” Ingrid said firmly. “I don’t wish to turn into a Sockergris.”

  “A sugar pig! Mother!” But her protests were weakened by the fact that I could hear her continuing to chew. “I’m just hungry. It seems I’m always hungry.”

  Ingrid gasped, then said, “Lilla gumman. Are you pregnant?”

  Lilla gumman? I repeated the phrase to myself. Was that another endearment of some kind? I would have to remember to look it up, along with all the other words I couldn’t translate. Not that I would remember them. Ingrid seemed to toss them into the conversation at random moments.

  Ella hadn’t responded right away, but finally she answered—and I detected a sort of twisted amusement in her tone. “Should I be?”

  Ingrid laughed. “Oh, dotter. You have charmingly evil instincts even if you’re not very bright.”

  “Humph,” Ella grumbled. “I’m sure there’s a compliment in there somewhere.”

  No there wasn’t, I thought. But then, these two had a strange, almost adversarial relationship.

  “Mama.” Now Ella’s voice was simpering. “What are you going to do without Hobson?”

  Ingrid sighed. “I am not the only one who will suffer without Hobson. Don’t discount the fact that Hobson was a key player in convincing Joseph to marry you.”

  “I would’ve convinced him on my own.”

  Her mother snorted a laugh. “You go ahead and believe that.”

  “Mother!”

  “Never mind, sweetie. From now on, you will have to be very careful. The first thing we’ll need is to get Leland on our side.”

  “I already have him on my side,” Ella said coyly.

  “Because you flirt with him.”

  “Whatever works, Mother.” Her tone had turned hard.

  Ingrid didn’t seem to notice as she began to pace. “Joseph is a decent man and that’s part of the problem. Hobson and I made plans.” She stopped to stare out the window. “And there’s no reason why we can’t continue with those plans. But I don’t want Joseph interfering. He’s very smart and he keeps tight control on everything.”

  “I can keep Joseph in line,” Ella claimed. “But Hobson ran everything around here. Do you really think Joseph wants to deal with the daily running of the house with all its problems?”

  “He won’t have a choice. Leland isn’t capable. Yet.”

  “I can plant some ideas in Joseph’s head,” Ella said. “We can suggest that he give me control of things, at least around the house. And I can train Leland.”

  “Not while I’m still breathing,” Ingrid muttered.

  I could hear Ella’s heels tapping against the hardwood floor. Was she pacing now? “Hobson was mean and sometimes so are you. Joseph is never mean.”

  “Hobson got things done,” Ingrid said roughly. “Sometimes one has to be pushy to get things done.”

  “He wasn’t just pushy,” Ella murmured. “He was a ruthless bastard.”

  The sound of a slap reverberated and I jolted.

  “Ow!” Ella cried. “Mother, stop that!”

  That vicious slap was a shock. I had to admit it rattled me a little and I hoped they hadn’t heard me gasp.

  “You know nothing,” Ingrid said angrily. “Hobson was our protector.”

  “But didn’t you tell me that he betrayed you?”

  Ingrid huffed. “He didn’t actually betray me. We simply had a small disagreement. We would’ve ironed things out if he hadn’t . . . oh God.” She took a moment and seemed to shake off the pain. “But he was always protective of me and that wouldn’t have changed.”

  “Maybe, maybe not,” Ella countered. “Joseph is my protector.”

  “Don’t be a goose,” Ingrid snapped. “The man isn’t right in the head. He is insisting we go watch frogs hop tomorrow.”

  “Oh, Mother, relax,” Ella cried. “It’s a silly Jumping Frog Contest. From one of the books he loves so much. And you promised you’d go with me.”

  “Oh, I’ll be there,” Ingrid said, adding under her breath, “but I don’t have to like it.” She paced back and forth and I wondered if she would say anything else. Finally she moaned, “Why did Hobson have to die?”

  “I don’t know,” Ella said, but she didn’t sound very sympathetic.

  Ingrid lowered her voice and I had to strain to hear her words. “I believe that the poison that killed him was intended for someone else.”

  Ella gasped. “What do you mean? Do you mean Joseph?” There was another gasp as understanding dawned. “Do you mean me?”

  “I can’t be sure. But I suggest you keep your eyes and ears open for the next few days. Especially while that vagabond, that luffare, is living in our house.”

  “Tom? He’s not a tramp,” Ella insisted. “Well, not exactly. I mean, he’s poor, so that’s a problem. But he’s very handsome and he was nice to me. He looks a lot like Joseph. A bit thinner, but I’ll bet his thigh muscles are strong from all that walking.”

  Ingrid made a guttural sound, obviously disgusted by her daughter’s words.

  I was a little disgusted myself. I was ready to sneak away, but Ingrid spoke again. And her voice was bitter enough to curdle a grown man’s blood. “Listen carefully to my words, dotter.”

  “All right, all right.”

  “Pay attention,” Ingrid said. “Be careful. Anyone can see that this man Tom is related to your husband in some way or other. And it would be just like Joseph to sentimentally sign away half of his worldly goods to that man. The half that should lawfully come to you. We can’t let that happen.”

  “We won’t,” Ella said, and for the first time I heard the steel in her voice.

  I rubbed my arms to quell the chills. These women were awful!

  I tiptoed away from the door before the two of them could catch me eavesdropping. As I headed for the stairs, I heard a scuffling sound at the end of the hall and turned to see Leland Bingham disappear around the corner.

  Oh God! Had he been listening in on the women’s conversation, also?

  More importantly, had he been watching me the whole time I’d been eavesdropping?

  Another sound came from the end of the hall and I watched Edith, the young housemaid, come around the same corner where Leland had disappeared a moment ago. She carried a stack of linens and was giggling as she pushed open another bedroom door and walked inside. Had Leland said something to cause her to giggle? It didn’t matter, I thought. What mattered was that she hadn’t seemed to even notice me, which I considered a good thing.

  At the top of the stairs I finally began to breathe easier. Then I hurried down the steps and dashed out of the house.

  Chapter 12

  Pity is for the living, envy is for the dead.

  —Mark Twain, Following the Equator

  After ten minutes of staring at the tiny tufts of white waves skimming the dark surface of the Bay, I felt cleansed enough to move on. Those two women were toxic!

  Replaying the creepy conversation between Ella and Ingrid, I seriously wanted to hurl. They were so corrosive and I was very worried about their intentions toward Joseph. And Tom, too. And I had to wonder about Leland.

  I took another minute to breathe in the sea air and channel my own kooky mother, who would’ve instructed me to align my chakras, be in the moment, and absorb the sights and sounds and scents around me.

  The marine layer had burned off and the sun was beginning to warm the air. The sky was crystal clear and the Golden Gate gleamed gloriously in the sunshine. The briny mist was refreshing. Life was good.

  I stepped back inside the living room and saw Derek sitting at the far end, talking on the phone.

  Inspector Lee stood near the open door to the kitchen, talking quietly to George and Roley. She lifted her chin to acknowledge me, but continued her conversation with the two agents.

  From here I could see one edge of the crime scene tape that stretched across the archway.

  I walked over to Derek, who still sat in the occasional chair facing the couch and the wall of windows. He spoke quietly to someone on the phone, but as soon as he saw me, he ended the call.

  He stood and wrapped his arms around me. “You look as if you’ve seen a ghost,” he murmured in my ear.

  “Something like that,” I muttered, and held on to him for a few more moments.

  “We’ll talk about it later.”

  “Oh, you bet we will,” I said, nodding. “But first, I need to tell you that I think Leland saw me listening in on the conversation between Ella and Ingrid.”

  “Did he say anything to you?”

  “No, but he might say something to those two women. Oh, and Edith the housemaid may have seen me up there, but I think she’s harmless.”

  “Careful, darling.” He gazed at me, not smiling. “Those could be famous last words.”

  I cringed. “I hope not.”

  At that very moment, the front door opened and Joseph stepped inside.

  Derek stood and pointed to the body still lying on the floor. “Be careful.”

  “Oh Jesus,” Joseph whispered. “Oh my God.”

  Kneeling next to the body were two crime scene guys dressed from head to toe in hazmat uniforms, complete with hoods and booties.

  Inspector Lee stepped to the door of the kitchen. “Mr. Cabot?”

  “Yes.” He froze. “You’re the police.”

  “Yes sir. Be careful here.” She pointed to the narrow walkway next to the wall. “Stay behind the yellow tape.”

  One of the CSI guys stood and held the crime scene tape out a few inches. He pointed to the living room. “It’s okay, sir. There’s enough room for you to walk through here.”

  “Yeah, okay. Thanks.”

  Derek moved quickly to the edge of the foyer and reached out to guide Joseph into the living room. “Come this way.”

  I saw Inspector Lee give Derek a quick nod of approval and then move back into the kitchen to complete the interview she was conducting there.

  “Sit down, Joseph,” Derek said.

  “Okay,” he whispered. His face was almost gray with shock. “Good Lord.” With his elbows resting on his knees, he bent forward and buried his head in his hands.

  “I’ll get some water.” I jogged to the other end of the living room and walked into the kitchen. I filled three glasses with cold water and returned to set one glass on the coffee table in front of Joseph. Then I handed Derek a glass and kept one for myself.

  Joseph remained with his head buried for nearly five minutes.