18
In preparation for the Ocean House Independence Day Beach Ball, the wide and beautiful strand directly in front of the hotel had been set with round tables and chairs for six hundred people.
Vases of blue and white hydrangeas adorned the center of each table, and long, white tablecloths were secured with discreet clips, to keep them from blowing off the tables in the sea wind.
The seating area was flanked by raw bars, barbecue grills, enormous pots full of steamed lobsters, and stations of salads and local delicacies.
Garlands of twinkling lights crisscrossed overhead.
A band had set up beside the beach restaurant—Théa at Dune Cottage—and the deck was ready to transform into a dance floor.
Fireworks would commence after dark. Some of Kate and Conor’s guests had planned to stay for the festivities; given the fact that the wedding had been canceled, many had decided to skip the beach party.
Kate found a corner table on the Club Room terrace to sit and think.
Brian kept her glass of sparkling water full.
She had seen Mike and his fellow crime-solvers sitting in the Bistro’s bar, huddled over a table with pens and pads of paper.
She kept her eye on the door. She hoped that when Conor came back from Bellevigne Island, he would look for her here.
Her phone buzzed, and she stared at the screen. It wasn’t Conor; it was her niece.
I’m in the car out front with Maeve. We have an idea. Can you come with us? Sam texted.
Where are you going? Kate asked.
But she received no response, so she headed through the lobby, down the stairs into the circular drive. Maeve was at the wheel of her navy-blue BMW. Sam was in the passenger seat, but when she saw Kate, she got out to let her sit in front.
“No, you stay there,” Kate said.
When she climbed into the back seat, she saw the painting propped up beside her—Foggy Night, with a corner of its broken gold frame poking out of the brown wrapping paper. Kate felt a pang and touched it, tore a little of the paper away so she could see the canvas.
Maeve looked in the rearview mirror, saw Kate gazing at it.
“I’ll take the painting to the conservator, Kate,” Maeve said. “As soon as he opens after the holiday.”
“Thanks, Maeve,” Kate said. She didn’t ask which conservator. She had two that she favored, but right now, she barely cared.
They started to drive away from the hotel, but Dermot the valet waved for them to stop.
“Miss Woodward,” he said, jogging over to the car. “Miss Forrest gave me this gift a few minutes ago and asked me to see you got it.”
“‘Forrest’?” Kate asked.
“Miranda Forrest,” Sam said. “You know, Bernard’s girlfriend.”
Kate took the box from Dermot and thanked him. It was about four inches square, wrapped in pale-yellow paper and tied with a turquoise bow. An envelope was tucked under the ribbon. Kate opened it and read the note inside:
Kate, I don’t even really know you, but I can only imagine how you’re feeling . . . My heart hurts for you. There’s something I’d like to tell you, if you have time to talk before we check out. In the meantime, this memento is for you.
All my best, Miranda
Kate stared at the note. She knew that Miranda must have meant well. But getting a sympathy note from a near stranger made everything feel even more raw.
“What is it?” Sam asked.
“I’ll open it later,” Kate said. She set it on the seat beside her, wondering whether it had initially been intended as a wedding gift. “Where are we going?”
“A place called Maynard-King,” Sam said.
“What’s that?” Kate asked.
“A psychiatric hospital in Narragansett,” Sam said.
“It’s a very private place,” Maeve said.
“I’m pretty sure they pay a publicist to keep anything about them out of the media.
But, you know, stories leak . . . and if you’re a pop culture junkie, it’s kind of common knowledge that celebrities get treated there.
” She named a few—an actor, a famous athlete, the wife of a politician.
“What does it have to do with us?” Kate asked.
“How much do you know about Belinda’s first marriage?” Sam asked.
“Nothing, except that her husband died,” Kate said.
“He didn’t just die,” Sam said. “He was murdered.”
Kate didn’t think she could feel any more shock after the last few days, but she did. She heard herself asking, “When? How?”
Sam explained as they drove north on Route 1. Kate listened to how Sam had researched Belinda online, learned that in 2010 she had married Dr. Jonathan Tyler—a psychiatrist who was the medical director of Maynard-King—and that he had been murdered in 2014.
“The killer slit his throat,” Sam said.
“Same as what was done to Belinda,” Maeve said.
Kate took that in. “What does that mean? It can’t be a coincidence.”
“I agree,” Sam said.
“But what’s the point of going to the hospital right now?” Kate asked.
“Just to see it, maybe ask questions,” Sam said. “That’s where her husband was killed.”
“If it’s a psychiatric hospital,” Kate said, “we won’t be able to get onto the grounds.”
“There’s a way,” Sam said.
“It’s the Fourth of July, Sam,” Kate said. “People are on vacation, no one will be there to answer any questions.”
“Just wait and see, okay?” Sam asked.
“Okay,” Kate said.
They headed east. Traffic was heavy, with people on their way to the beaches and the Block Island Ferry. There was a slowdown approaching Point Judith, but soon they were driving through town with Narragansett Bay sparkling blue in front of them.
GPS had sent them up Boston Neck Road, then a right onto Lovecraft Lane.
They stopped at a gated drive. Kate looked at the closed wrought iron gate and the stone pillars for any sign that they were at the entrance to Maynard-King, but the property was completely unmarked.
The bay was visible through the trees. Sun glittered on the surface.
A small stone building stood inside the fence.
Kate saw a camera pointed at them, mounted on a pole.
A uniformed guard came out and stared at the car.
“May I help you?” the guard asked.
“We’re here to visit the cemetery,” Sam said.
“This is a private facility,” he said.
“I thought the cemetery was open to the public,” Sam said.
There was a long pause. “Pull in and wait. Someone will be down shortly to take you there.”
Maeve drove in as the gate slid open, then immediately closed behind them.
They parked as directed. From here, there was no sign of the hospital building itself.
To the right, a paved road lined with beech trees curved up a hill.
To the left, a dirt path led behind what looked like a maintenance shed.
A few minutes later, an ATV came speeding down the hill.
The driver was a young woman with brown hair flowing out from under her helmet.
She wore a khaki uniform with an insignia and name tag, and she gestured for them to follow her.
She drove fast, leading them the way she had come, up the gentle hill.
The road curved up through the beechwood forest. Dappled light penetrated the leaves and branches.
Kate noticed a small gazebo set in a sunny glade.
Two people walked along a path, watching them as they passed by.
A little farther, there was another clearing with a tennis court, and, across the drive, a large swimming pool.
At the top of the hill was a large white building, with Ionic columns at the front door.
Large stone planters overflowed with white geraniums.
The ATV turned onto a narrow lane that passed some smaller buildings and stopped at the entrance to the cemetery.
From here, Kate looked over the gravestones and across an expansive lawn, sloping to the edge of Narragansett Bay.
A long dock, with two powerboats tied alongside, stretched into the bay.
Twenty yards off the end of the dock, a sleek sailboat sat on a mooring.
Two kids were fishing in a rowboat; it bounced in the wakes of larger boats passing by.
Kate, Sam, and Maeve climbed out of the car. The ATV driver pulled a clipboard from a storage box on the vehicle and walked toward them.
“Thanks for getting us here,” Sam said to the woman.
“You have to sign in,” the escort said, handing Sam the clipboard. Kate read her name tag and saw that her name was Jennifer. The insignia looked like a monogram, the letters MK entwined together—Maynard-King.
“No problem,” Sam said, signing her name.
“I need all three of you to sign,” Jennifer said. “And I need your drivers’ licenses. Plus, put down your car’s make, model, and license number.”
“Wow, you have a lot of security,” Sam said. Kate pulled out her license and watched Jennifer take a photo of it, as well as Sam’s and Maeve’s.
“Here are the rules,” Jennifer said. “Other than the cemetery, the grounds are completely closed to visitors. You can be right here, but that’s it. I will stay until you’re ready to leave.”
“Okay,” Sam said. “Thank you.”
Jennifer nodded.
“Just out of curiosity,” Kate said. “Why is the cemetery open to the public, since the hospital is so private?”
“Well, because people want to pay respects and visit their loved ones who have passed,” Jennifer said, gesturing at the graves. “No one’s going to stand in the way of that. Maynard-King is a place of compassion, above all else.”
“That’s kind of you,” Kate said, thinking that Jennifer’s words sounded very formal, as if memorized from a pamphlet.
“How do we find someone’s grave?” Sam asked.
“You don’t know where it is?” Jennifer asked with a frown of suspicion. “You’ve never been here before?”
“No,” Sam said. “This is our first time.”
“I have a map,” Jennifer said, removing a laminated card from a compartment in her dashboard. “What is your loved one’s name?”
“Dr. Jonathan Tyler Iii,” Sam said, and Kate watched for Jennifer’s reaction. Her expression was impassive. Jennifer stared at all three of them and took a long time to answer.
“He’s D3. Last row on the right. He has a large headstone—you can’t miss it,” Jennifer said.
“Thank you,” Sam said.
Jennifer nodded. She stowed the clipboard. She looked at her phone and half turned away, a signal that she was dismissing them. Kate, Sam, and Maeve walked through an opening in a low stone wall, toward the graves. When Kate turned to look over her shoulder, she saw Jennifer watching them intently.
Even before they reached Dr. Tyler’s gravestone—enormous, topped with an angel—they could see that someone had left a bouquet of white roses there.
The roses were tied together with a trailing vine.
Kate spotted a small white envelope tucked into the flowers, camouflaged by the white petals.
She knelt, reached in to remove it, and pricked her finger on a tangle of thorns.
A dot of blood dripped onto the envelope.
Her finger hurt, and she brought it to her lips.
She read the message on a card inside:
1740
With love
Always
She felt a chill run through her whole body.
It was one of her wedding place cards. The words were calligraphed, the ink was that signature glossy blue black she had ordered from London, and the style of penmanship was precisely what she had seen on the discarded cards in Belinda’s room at the Ocean House.
Sam reached down, took the card from Kate’s hand, and read it.
“1740,” Sam said, looking at Kate.
Maeve stared at the card but didn’t say anything.
Kate nodded, examining the handwriting. Her scratched finger had left a bright-red print on the side. “I think Suzanne wrote this,” she said.
“She did,” Maeve said, sounding bitter. “Definitely. That’s her writing.”
“Why would she leave a note like this on Belinda’s husband’s grave?”
Kate held the card, her thoughts racing, an answer coming into focus.
“Belinda and Jonathan’s wedding announcement said the flower girl was Belinda’s daughter, obviously from a previous relationship,” Sam said.
“Suzanne,” Kate said.
“Maybe,” Sam said, her eyes meeting Kate’s.
“And the ‘previous relationship’?” Maeve asked.
No one answered, and Kate was glad. She didn’t want to hear anyone say “Conor.”
They heard the squawk of Jennifer’s radio, and all three turned in unison to look at her. Without them noticing, she had climbed off her ATV and had moved closer to them. Kate wondered if she had heard what they’d been saying.
She caught sight of Jennifer texting, but Jennifer saw her watching and quickly put her iPhone in her pocket.
“Are you finished here?” Jennifer asked.
“Yes, we are,” Sam said.
“Okay, I’ll lead you back to the gate,” Jennifer said.
“I have a question,” Kate said, gesturing at the grave. “Do you know who left these white roses?”
Jennifer shrugged. “No idea. People bring flowers all the time.”
“Specifically for this grave?”
“Dr. Tyler was very important here,” Jennifer said. “He was beloved. Patients and staff pay their respects to him often.”
Kate noticed Jennifer gazing at her, Sam, and Maeve, the gaze lingering on the two younger women.
“I guess he meant a lot to you too?” Jennifer asked. The question was open ended, as if she was hoping for an answer or explanation.
“Very much so,” Sam said. Kate caught the lie—but it wasn’t really. He meant a lot to them in terms of solving Belinda’s murder and the mystery of Suzanne.
“You’re one of us?” Jennifer asked.
“‘Us’?” Sam asked.
Jennifer reddened and looked away.
“What do you mean by ‘one of us’?” Kate asked.
“Nothing,” Jennifer said. Then hurriedly, as if regretting her question and covering her mistake, “Just that people admire what he did here. He cared so much for his patients.”
“You were a patient?” Sam asked.
“If you’re ready to go, I’ll take you to the gate,” Jennifer said brusquely.
“Jennifer,” Kate said. “Did you know Dr. Tyler personally?”
But Jennifer just revved the engine and gestured for them to drive ahead. Kate, Sam, and Maeve climbed into their car and headed down the hill. This time, instead of leading them, Jennifer brought up the rear.
When Sam reached the main road, she waved at the guard. He acknowledged her with a nod, and the gate slid open. Kate glanced out the rear window. She saw Jennifer staring after them. Then she began typing on her phone screen.
Kate wondered who she was reporting to.