visitor was a complication, but the guest rooms were at the other end of the house from her patient’s suite and if Mr. Wise was going to be gone all night, she’d be able to have a good snoop around. Assuming she could stifle her conscience.
Why did Dad always put her on the spot? Okay, like any good newspaper man, he was on the lookout for a good story, but really he and his new partner, Axel Radcliffe, were getting obsessed about Piet Connor and his company. First she had to get a job working in the house, then report about Mr. Connor. She soon told them the old man barely knew what day of the week it was half the time. And they’d taken some convincing.
Now it was poke through the desk and pry in the computer for business records. She’d refused outright when her father first broached the idea but found herself agreeing after spooky Axel insisted. She still didn’t know why the hell she’d said yes. Whatever Dad thought about the man, Axel gave her the creeps. Yes, he’d bought into the failing local paper and put it back on its feet, but really, the way he persisted about wanting a big scoop about Connor Inc., you’d think he’d bought into the Washington Post, not the Dark Falls Weekly News.
Still, dammit, she’d agreed. She’d wait until all was quiet and then she’d have a quick sneak and go back home, tell them she’d found nothing at all and hope to heaven they’d shelve the whole ridiculous obsession.
The front door opening an hour or so later yanked Laura from the prickings of her conscience. Damn! If Mr. Wise was back, that put an end to her sneaking tonight, which was an immense relief.
It wasn’t her employer.
“Hello?” a very female voice called.
The visitor. And with her own key. Interesting. Not that it really surprised Laura; a man as attractive as Mr. Wise no doubt had a string of women at his beck and call. Funny, he hadn’t come back with this one, though.
“Good evening.” Laura stepped into the wide entrance hall, where the woman stood, a bulging overnight bag in her hand. “You must be Adela Whyte. Mr. Wise mentioned you were coming.”
“I am. Is Piet asleep? I won’t wake him but haven’t seen him for a couple of weeks.”
Who was she? Old friend of the family? She looked to be forty, maybe even fifty, and seemed stressed. “There’s not much change, never is.” Would have been easier to insist he was out for the night, but she was planning enough sneakiness for one night. She wasn’t adding telling lies to someone’s face.
A shadow of anxiety crossed the woman’s face. She set her bag on the slate-tiled floor. “Let me go in now; I’d hate to disturb him later. He’s still in the little sitting room?”
Laura nodded. “Yes. He likes being moved out to the terrace during the day.”
“He always loved the ocean.” She held out her hand. “I’m Adela Whyte, Piet’s ex-wife—or rather, one of them.”
Interesting. “Laura Fox, one of the nursing team, as no doubt you guessed.”
“And may the goddess bless you for that. Can’t be an easy job for a young woman, coping with a near-helpless old man, and he’s not the easiest of patients, I imagine.”
Seemed rude to agree, and Laura wasn’t too comfortable being painted as Florence Nightingale when she was planning domestic espionage. “He’s old and weak—must be frustrating for him.”
The woman laughed. “My dear, he’s only three years older than I! But he’s taken less care of himself.” She crossed the hall and opened Piet’s door.
He was lying as Laura had left him: on his back, heavy hands resting on the tightly folded sheet, his head on several pillows and his eyes shut. Only his breathing showed he was not yet asleep. Adela Whyte moved over to the high hospital bed and perched on the edge, wrinkling the blankets. Laura told herself to chill. The woman couldn’t stay up all night.
Adela sat in silence for a few seconds. “Piet?” she said at last.
From her vantage point across the bed, Laura saw his eyes open. It took a moment or two for him to focus. “Adela?” he said. “You again?”
“Yes, me again,” she replied. “Thought I’d drop by and see how you were.”
He didn’t reply right off, just stared with only half-comprehending eyes. He didn’t seem distressed, just frowned as if searching for recognition or memory in his damaged brain. Then his hand reached out for Adela’s. “He hurt Lizzie, didn’t he?”
That caught Laura’s attention. Perhaps she’d hear something that would keep Dad happy awhile and save her from rummaging though private papers.
Adela sighed. “Lizzie’s fine, Piet. Don’t worry yourself. She’s well and happy and has found herself a good man.”
“Toby says she’s coming to see me. I want to see her. Tell her I’m sorry.” He paused and frowned as if pulling thoughts from the shadows in his mind. “You were right, you know. I should have listened.”
Adela patted his hand. “It’s okay, Piet. Don’t worry yourself. Go to sleep. You want to be as well as you can when she gets here.”
He nodded as his lids dropped over his tired eyes. Adela waited a few minutes, then gently withdrew her hand from his grasp. She turned to Laura as she stood up and, with a brief smile and a gesture of her head, indicated she wanted to speak to her outside.
As Laura closed the door behind them, Adela asked, “He’s not getting any better, is he?”
Torn between her seemingly genuine concern and uncertainty about the woman’s position in the family, Laura hesitated. “Hard to tell, but on the whole, no.”
Adela shrugged. In the half light of the dim hall, she looked worn and tired. “It’s to be expected, I suppose, but one hopes all the same.”
“Can I get you anything?”
“I’ll make myself a cup of tea and get to bed. I doubt Toby will be back much before morning.”
Good news! Now all she had to do was get Adela off to bed. “I’ll make it and bring it up to you if you’d like.”
“Thank you, my dear, but I think I need to sit awhile. I’ll make my own.” Laura followed her into the kitchen. By the way Adela plugged in the electric kettle and found the tea bags and cups, she obviously knew her way around. “Want a cup?” Adela asked Laura.
Why not? “Thanks. I oughtn’t stay, but I’ll take it back with me.”
“Is he showing any improvement at all?” Adela took a second cup from the cabinet and dropped in a tea bag.
Torn between professional discretion and the feeling this woman might know something of previous events, Laura replied, “Not a lot. He talks a great deal about Lizzie. She’s your daughter, right?”
“Stepdaughter, but she’s a lovely young woman. You’ve met her?”
“No, she visited a few days before I was hired. I’ve only worked here a few weeks. Mr. Connor talks about her all the time.” She paused. Just how far should she dig for hints? “He seems to be worried about something, often says he’s sorry. Could just be confusion but it really seems to bother him….” Heavens, she was being far too obvious.
Adela shrugged. “He and Lizzie had a couple of differences. Fathers and daughters do, you know.” Didn’t she!
“I suppose so, it just seems to prey on his mind.” Sheesh, the woman should tell her to MYOB.
Instead she got up and poured water into both cups and handed one to Laura. “Here you are. I’m going to take mine upstairs. I know where the room is; don’t bother yourself. I hope Piet has an easy night.”
So did Laura. She still had major misgivings about poking around, but Dad had been so insistent, almost desperate. Seems his new partner was convinced there were underhanded goings-on at Connor