Chapter 56. Holly
Holly
A strange feeling washed over Holly the moment she set foot in the grand foyer.
How was it possible nothing had changed in all these years?
She remembered the many portraits encased in gold frames gracing the high walls, and the plush, velvet-covered furniture that harkened back to a gilded age, but she barely gave any of it a moment’s notice.
She and Ethan entered Miramar through the front door wearing slippers.
Maeve had set out a bin of disposable spa-style foot coverings near the entrance, which all guests were instructed to wear upon entering.
However, the slippers weren’t preventing beach sand from getting inside, as small grains were scattered across the flagstone floor.
Guests came and went to use the two bathrooms off the main hall.
Freestanding signs indicated their locations.
Elegant gold and silver helium balloons hovered near the front door, while gorgeous bouquets of cut flowers added splashes of color that sucked some of the dreariness from the air.
“Armed security only on the beach, but none inside? Guess it’s more important to show off to the guests than protect their home,” Ethan observed.
“Hopefully, that’ll work out in our favor.
I’ll check upstairs.” He pointed Holly toward the wide staircase that wound its way to the second level.
“Why don’t you cover the first floor, and we’ll meet back here in five? ”
Holly nodded, and he was off in a flash.
She wasn’t sure where to start. Besides the bathrooms, the rooms on this floor were blocked off with velvet ropes hanging between gold-plated stanchions.
Holly remembered the layout. In front of her was the pantry entrance that led to the large gourmet kitchen.
To her left was an office and a study, while the doors to the library, drawing room, and dining room were to her right.
Before she could begin her exploration in earnest, a low, measured, and deliberate voice—a ragged baritone full of dust and years—asked, “You seem lost. Should I have put the bathroom signs in neon?”
Holly turned around, surprised to see Sidney, the longtime butler, approaching with shuffling steps, pointing to the well-marked signs.
It was remarkable that he was still alive, let alone working at the estate.
“Actually, I’m looking for someone who works here,” Holly said.
She hoped she wasn’t being careless. She didn’t want Conrad to know she was snooping around, and it was possible Sid would tell him.
But it would be foolish to pass up an opportunity to question the man who managed the entire household.
Holding her phone, she showed him Jade’s picture. Recognition lit up his eyes. “Ah, I assume you’re the young woman who showed up here last night. You still haven’t found Miss Jensen?” he asked in a neutral tone.
“No, I haven’t,” said Holly, her worry impossible to hide.
Sid’s expression remained inscrutable. “As I believe you were informed, she came here yesterday for work and left in the afternoon. I haven’t seen her since.”
Holly studied Sid’s eyes for any hidden meaning, a subtle warning, or a hint that he was withholding crucial information, but no, they were as vacant as Holly’s bank account.
“And perhaps you’d also be well-advised to ask my son,” he added in a quiet, almost conspiratorial tone.
“He’s on the grounds, bartending tonight. ”
Holly blinked in surprise. “Wait—the busker is your son?”
Sid stood tall with pride. “He knows more about the people in Beauport than I do. He’s always around town, playing his guitar—watching. If anybody has seen Ms. Jade, it would likely be him.”
Holly thanked him before slipping into the bathroom to make it seem like that was the reason she came inside the house. It was still the nicest place she’d ever peed. The toilet was like a throne with a crystal-beaded pull chain. Unbelievable.
She returned to the foyer and quietly maneuvered behind the velvet ropes blocking off the dining room.
It was unlikely that Jade was here, but she had to check.
Inside, a large dining table sat beneath a stunning crystal chandelier.
The tall wingback chairs were all pushed in.
A long, shiny buffet reflected Holly’s image, as did the elegant mirror above it.
The storage closet was full of supplies, but there was no missing girl. She wasn’t surprised. There were probably much better hiding spots elsewhere in this creepy house. Still, Holly felt compelled to check the closets in the drawing room and library before sneaking into Conrad’s office.
She had never been inside Conrad’s sanctuary, but found it to be well-furnished, if a little stuffy—heavy on the wood, with a dark area rug covering much of the floor, along with a leather couch and chairs, a freestanding bar, and an antique globe.
If there was ever a place that practically shouted, Drink bourbon! this was it.
She scanned the tall built-in bookshelves and noticed they were roughly the size of the curtained windows. Maybe one of those books, if pulled out, could reveal a secret passage where she might find Jade hidden—but Holly didn’t have time to test that unlikely theory.
Inside a closet, she discovered a folded wheelchair, which she assumed belonged to Maeve. But that was odd, considering Maeve appeared poised and steady on her feet at the beach.
Holly switched her focus to Conrad’s large mahogany desk. Perhaps she’d find useful secrets among his paperwork. He had a computer. She moved the mouse, not surprised when the password field appeared.
Before she could investigate further, a startling noise echoed in the hall.
It sounded as if it was right outside the office door.
Quickly ducking under the desk, she waited in hiding, filled with fear.
She heard the noise again, but realized it was just scuffling footsteps (oh, those silly slippers), which, fortunately, kept going.
She peeked up, knowing she didn’t have much time.
The desk drawers didn’t contain anything of real importance—just some bills, loose papers, a flash drive, a small stapler, that sort of thing.
She moved over to a nearby wooden filing cabinet.
The key was still in the lock, and the drawer opened.
Conrad’s oversight had become her opportunity.
In the top drawer, she found something that might be significant—a file labeled MEDICAL.
Holly reprimanded herself for not insisting that Jade find a different job. The first page in the folder was a revealing note from Dr. Vernon Hill about Conrad Carmichael.
It was a referral for psychiatric treatment.
The medical code on the form read: F43.12, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD), Chronic.
Below that was another code indicating the potential for violent behavior.
From her quick read, clearly annotated by Dr. Hill, it was evident that Conrad not only suffered from PTSD, but he was a walking time bomb.
Inside the cabinet drawer, something else caught her eye: an opaque brown prescription bottle with a glass vial inside. Holly assumed it contained medication to help Conrad manage his chronic condition. But to her surprise, the prescription was old, long expired, and in Maeve Carmichael’s name.
Holly read the label: Lypotrel. She wondered how large a dose would be needed for it to be lethal.