Chapter 4
Harper sat up so fast that Archie raised his head in concern. “What do you mean I’m all over the news? What news? Where?”
“The internet news. Twitter mostly, or X. Whatever it’s called these days. And some Instagram. I can’t tell you about TikTok because I’m not on there.”
“So not on television?”
“No.”
That was something, but Harper remained rigid with apprehension. “What kind of stuff are they saying? Are they using my name?”
“No, they’re not using your name. Yet. They’re trying to figure out who you are. The woman who broke Ford Keating’s heart. Did you really date him?”
“Yes.” The media trying to figure out who she was bothered her deeply. That was exactly what Harper was worried about. And exactly why she’d ignored her phone on the drive out here.
But the fact that they didn’t have her name was a small bright spot in this whole mess. She relaxed against the back of the couch again and reached over to play with Archie’s fur. “I hope they get bored of trying to figure it out and move on to the next thing.”
“There needs to be a next thing for that to happen.”
“It’s Hollywood. It won’t take long.” She hoped.
“Listen, your fifteen minutes of fame isn’t all that I called about. I wish you were closer so we could talk in person—”
“I’m actually not in L.A. right now.”
A brief pause of silence filled the space between them until Frankie spoke again. “You’re not? Where are you?”
“I’m at the cottage Arlington left me.”
Another moment of silence, then, “Arlington left you a cottage?”
Harper nodded. “He did. And I needed to get out of town and away from the paparazzi, so it seemed like the logical place to go.”
“Where is this cottage?”
Harper smiled. “A few hours south of you. Hideaway Bay. Florida. I was going to call you tomorrow and let you know. I just got here this afternoon.”
Frankie shrieked. “You’re in Florida? You’re practically next door.”
Laughing, Harper pulled the phone away from her ear until the shrieking stopped. “Yes. Do you know the area?”
“No. Is it one of those little trailer park communities? Sounds like it.”
Harper looked at the house around her. “Not exactly.” Frankie lived in Charleston, South Carolina, where she was an assistant principal at Dorchester Academy, a school for the arts. That meant she had six weeks off for the summer. The timing was perfect for a visit.
It would be great to see her sister. They’d never been that close due to circumstances beyond their control, namely being adopted separately. But since Frankie’s divorce several years ago, they were working on their relationship even more. They talked a lot, but had never spent much time together, since they lived on opposite coasts. “You want to come down and hang out?”
“Is there room?”
Harper winked at Archie. “I think we can manage. Are you really going to come?”
“For sure. There’s nothing keeping me here. I’ll be there tomorrow. What should I bring? Is there a pool nearby? Are you close to the beach? Should I bring a suit?”
“Definitely bring a suit.”
“Okay, I will. This is great. We have a lot to talk about.”
Harper wasn’t sure if her sister meant more than just the usual stuff they talked about, but Harper was excited to see her and hang out. This would be good for them. And whatever Frankie wanted to discuss was fine with her. “I’m texting you the address right now.” Harper pulled the phone away to do that. “Okay, it’s sent. Text me when you leave so I know when you’ll get here.”
“I will.” Frankie laughed. “I’ll see you tomorrow!”
“Tomorrow. Can’t wait!”
They hung up and Harper looked at Archie. “Your aunt is coming tomorrow. Won’t she be surprised when she sees the place?”
Archie’s tail wagged then he went back to semi-snoozing.
Harper picked up her salad bowl, more than ready to eat her dinner.
Soft chimes played throughout the house, three of them in a row. A doorbell?
Archie sat up and looked toward the front of the house, confirming that’s what it was.
She set the bowl down. “Could there really be someone at the door? No one knows I’m here. And how would they get through the gate?” Curious and a little apprehensive, she headed down the steps. Archie followed her.
She peeked through the sidelight and saw an older woman in navy capris and a flowered blouse. Maybe a neighbor who’d come to introduce herself. Harper opened the door. “Hello.”
“Hello, love,” the woman said in a thick British accent. She held a small glass container with both hands. “I’m Joyce Crenshaw from next door.” She gestured with her elbow toward the house that belonged to the man who’d been staring at Harper through the trees. Could that be the woman’s husband? Joyce looked older than he was.
Harper’s brows went up. “I see.”
Joyce grinned. “I don’t think you do. I’m the live-in.”
“I…don’t know what that means.”
“I do his cooking and his tidying up. Heaven knows who would do it if I didn’t.”
“Oh. Right.” The housekeeper. That made more sense.
“Anyway, I know you had words with him. Don’t mind him. He’s a terrible grump but he’s not so bad. I brought you some oatmeal bars to make up for him.”
“That was kind of you, but that wasn’t—” Archie whimpered for attention before Harper could say more.
Joyce gasped like she was just noticing him. “Well, hello there. Aren’t you the sweetest thing?”
“That’s Archie,” Harper said.
“What a handsome boy you are, Archie. One of the finest dogs I’ve ever seen, if I do say so myself.”
Archie smiled at her. Like most men, he appreciated being adored.
“And I’m Harper. It’s nice to meet you, Joyce. Would you like to come in?”
“Oh, I don’t want to bother you. Himself has seen to that already.”
Harper smiled. The woman’s accent was charming and so was she. “It’s no bother.”
“Well, just for a minute then.” She stepped inside. “I’ve never been in this house, but Mr. Marsh was a fine man. Fine family, too.”
“Did you know them?”
“Not too much. Mr. Marsh was a friend of Mitch’s, though. Mitch is the man I work for. Mr. Marsh would come over once in a while. Have a drink, smoke a cigar. He loved Mitch’s books.”
Harper nodded as they went up the steps together, Archie trailing them. “Arlington did like to read. So he borrowed books from your boss?”
Joyce shook her head. “He didn’t borrow them so much as he just bought them outright. Whenever Mitch had a new one out, Mr. Marsh would buy it and bring it over for him to sign.”
As they reached the second floor, Harper turned to Joyce. “Are you saying your boss is an author?”
“That’s right,” Joyce said. Archie sat next to her, clearly hoping for some attention. “Mitchell Ripley.”
Harper blinked. “The author of the Blackstone Detective Agency books?”
“Those are the ones. Do you know them?” Joyce gave Archie a few pets on the head.
Was there anyone who didn’t? The books had been made into a series and the supernatural detective show was all anyone talked about these days. It had become a cultural touchstone. She’d talked Arlington into taking a role on the show and he’d been a tremendous hit. “I do. I’ve not only read the books, but I’ve watched the BDA series on Netflix. I’m a big fan. Seeing the books come to life has been pretty cool.”
Joyce rolled her eyes. “Don’t tell Himself that. Says they ruined the story, they did. Although he loved Mr. Marsh’s portrayal of the Doomsday Oracle, whatever that means.” She shook her head. “I don’t go in for all that vampire business.”
Archie was still at Joyce’s side.
“Archie, go lay down.” Harper pointed toward the couch. He trotted away. She returned her attention to Joyce. “I promise I won’t say a word. I don’t think he likes me anyway, so there’s not much chance we’ll be having another conversation.”
“Well, he does tend to keep himself to himself, but he could use a friend. Not saying it needs to be you. But the man hasn’t been the same since his wife died. Then Mr. Marsh passed on, may they both rest in peace.” She shook her head as she held out the container of oatmeal bars. “Sad, innit?”
“Very sad,” Harper agreed. She took the oatmeal bars and set them on the kitchen counter. “Please have a seat. Can I get you something to drink?”
“A cup of tea would be lovely.” Joyce glanced at the couch and the salad bowl on the coffee table. “I’m interrupting your dinner.”
“Don’t worry about it. One cup of tea coming right up.” Fortunately, Harper had picked up a box of teabags on her shopping trip. She found a mug, filled it with water, then stuck it in the microwave. “This isn’t how I’d usually make tea, but I’ve just arrived, and I don’t know where anything is. I don’t even know if there’s a kettle.”
Joyce had taken a seat on the couch. Archie had moved over beside her, disregarding his blanket altogether. “Doesn’t bother me. You bought the house from Mr. Marsh then?”
Harper realized Joyce might be here on a fact-finding mission, but it was nice to have someone to talk to all the same. “He left it to me in his will.”
Joyce’s brows went up, but she didn’t stop petting Archie, whose eyes were shut as he entered a new state of nirvana. “You must have been close friends. Not that I’m implying anything.”
Harper smiled. “We were close. But it was strictly a business relationship.”
“You’re pretty enough to be more than that. Not saying I think there was anything going on, mind you. But he wasn’t shy about his appreciation of beautiful women.”
“I promise, it was strictly business.” The microwave went off. Harper got the cup out and stuck a teabag in it. Time to change the subject. Talking about her relationship with Arlington was hard to do without revealing what she did and that violated her personal code of ethics. “So, how did you come to work for Mr. Ripley?”