Unquiet Spirits Read online

  "But surely that meant Laila's father...not her yet unborn daughter," Bart said.

  "My word is my word," Rikka's lips tightened. "Even though Karl's been dead for some years. I did promise him not to tell."

  "I don't know if you heard, but Laila is dead too," Kit told her, hoping that information might have some influence.

  "I'm sorry to hear that." She sighed and gazed at Kit for a moment. "You do look so much like her."

  "After she had the baby, Laila continued to live with our family for another three years. My husband paid her tuition for her chef's course at a local community college. Her first job was at one of Robert Dawlish's restaurants. He was quite a few years older but he swept her off her feet and they were married within weeks. I think she was happy with him but they only had a little over a year together before a stroke took him. There she was, twenty-one years old and heiress to a restaurant chain fortune."

  "Did Laila keep in touch?" Kit really hoped her mother had realized how lucky she'd been to have had this kind woman in her corner.

  Rikka laughed. "No more than I expected she would. She wasn't one to look back. But she didn't like to owe anybody either. A year or so after Bob Dawlish died she paid off my mortgage. Said I'd done more for her than her own family. But I never saw her again after that. Your mother was a woman who paid more attention to where she was going than where she'd been."

  Rikka stood up and took Kit's hand. Apparently their interview was over.

  "I wish I could have been more help to you," she said and started to move toward the entry hall.

  Then she stopped and squinted up with a half-smile at Bart. "You know I'm remembering impressions about that couple," she said slowly. "Thinking they didn't look like farming people even though they did come from the Niagara Peninsula."

  "Did they?" Bart returned her smile.

  "Yes, indeed. And something about them reminded me of that old newspaper cartoon. You know the one. The husband had a couple of long hairs sticking straight up at his crown and was always in trouble with his boss."

  Kit wondered what she was driving at.

  "You know...He had a pretty blonde wife." Rikka smiled more broadly. "He had a funny name."

  "Dagwood," Bart guessed. "I haven't thought of that cartoon in years."

  "Yes," she said. "Seem to think of them in connection with that comic strip."

  She winked mischievously and gave Kit a quick hug. "Sorry I couldn't give you a name, dear, but I did make a promise. Let me know if you find your half-sister."

  As they dashed for the car in the pouring rain, Kit's brain was in a whirl.

  "Did Rikka mean the family name was Dagwood?"

  "Apparently," Bart replied as they buckled themselves into the SUV. "With a name like that the odds of finding her have just shortened a lot."

  "My secretary's name is Helen Dagwood. What are the chances of that?" Kit said.

  Bart stopped with his hand on the ignition key. "Is that her husband's name?"

  "Hers. She never married. But Helen is at least fifty. She's not my mysterious half sister."

  "But she's a real lead," he said turning the key. "Can you get in touch with her?"

  "She usually visits with her brother's family on Sundays. I'll give her a call at home this evening to see if she can help us. But I don't think she'll know anything. If they are not out on his boat, I should be able to reach her. They were planning to do a two-week cruise down to Tortola and through the Virgins sometime this month. I'm not just sure when."

  Bart frowned. She could see the way his mind was working. Her secretary would have known when she would be leaving the company offices the day of the hit and run. But he didn't know Helen. Helen was not just an employee. She'd been devoted to Kit's father and had always been a good and loyal friend to her. She simply wouldn't have any part of a plan to harm her. She couldn't possibly be the Florida connection they'd been looking for.

  She looked at her watch. "It's only ten o'clock. I said I'd meet Johanna and Betsy about one o'clock. We should make it in plenty of time."

  On the drive back to the lake, Kit dominated the conversation. To the background counterpoint of windshield wipers, she filled the air with talk. She made conversation about Rikka's revelations about Laila's years with her and rambled on about the possibilities of Betsy's plans for the lodge. She asked Bart's opinion of Joel's suggestion they construct a golf course on the Elmhurst property he was selling. In fact, she succeeded in avoiding any discussion with Bart about Helen's possible relationship to the Dagwood family who had adopted Laila's child.

  It was considerably before noon when Bart pulled up in front of the lodge.

  He laughed when Kit accused him of speeding.

  "You shirked your duty, Kittle. You're supposed to keep me on the straight and narrow but you were too busy not letting me get a word in edgewise. The rain stopped and I took that as a sign I could turn on the speed."

  "Judging by the color of those clouds, we're in for more of it."

  "Mike and I were supposed to walk the grounds later but I think I'll see if he's free to do it now."

  The lodge was buzzing with activity. Apparently the tradesmen were working a seven-day week to meet their deadlines before the reopening.

  "Kat," Johanna welcomed her, "this is marvelous. Betsy arrived earlier than she planned, too, so we can probably get everything settled today."

  That turned out to be an optimistic prediction.

  Shortly after Kit arrived Betsy had plunked three piles of neat folders on the table and the three of them had sat down to work.

  They had hardly opened the first folder when Johanna was called away from the booth. The emergency this time had to do with venting for the new air conditioning system.

  Half an hour later, Kit was still waiting in the booth with Betsy, getting hungrier by the minute and beginning to wonder if they were ever going to look at the bids Betsy had gathered for the demolition and earthmoving on the sawmill land.

  "Kit." Betsy cleared her throat. "I'd really like to talk to you privately when you have the time. Could you free up some time for me later today?"

  "I'll try," Kit said. Was she going to try to sell her on Joel's golf course idea now? "I don't know about this afternoon. Bart and I have a few calls to make. What do you say we try to do it tomorrow?"

  "That would be good." Her hands fluttered over the papers in front of her. Whatever Betsy had in mind, she was uneasy about it.

  "I understand you're staying with Elsa now," Kit opened a new topic after she'd skimmed the first bid for taking down the old sawmill building.

  "Actually, Joel decided to move in too." Betsy didn't look as thrilled about it as a newlywed should. "He thought that would be easier over the next little while than trying to operate two households."

  "That makes sense." Joel struck her as the kind of man who would prefer not to make his own meals. "Johanna said he was in a golf tournament today. Not great weather for it."

  "He left for the course early enough. When they teed off, it was only sprinkling. But he called about an hour ago to say he was coming home to change into some dry clothes. Heaven knows how long this round will take because of the rain delays."

  "I know the umpires call ball games. Do they cancel golf tournaments often?"

  "Not very. I'm sure the club officials will want to get this round in. It's hard to reschedule with so many amateur tournaments planned. And Joel played so well yesterday he could win it if he plays his game today."

  Johanna returned announcing that Art, the ventilation man, had the problem almost solved and should be finished soon. She picked up her stack of folders and the three of them attempted to examine the first bid.

  No sooner were they all concentrating on the figures when Paavo breezed in to inform them that he was heading to the kitchen to begin the inventory of staples in the hotel pantry. He didn't stay long.

  Then, as they were actually getting down to the specifics of demolishing the old m
ill, Elsa stormed in with fire in her eye.

  Joel followed close behind, fruitlessly attempting to slow her down.

  "Am I or am I not part owner of this resort?" she blazed. Either anger had given her false energy or this was one of her good days. "Did you think that your presence here, Kit, meant I was no longer a factor in deciding what was to be done about my old home?"

  "Now, Elsa, I'm the one who decided not to involve you in the preliminary meetings. I hoped to save you the effort," Johanna broke in.

  "Well, I'm here," she said, plunking herself down on the chair which Joel dragged over to the open side of the booth. She leaned on the table and glared at Kit. "And I refuse to let you tear down the sawmill. Incorporate it in your design. I don't care what else you do. I don't want you to touch that building. Do you understand?"

  "Fine!" Kit said. "It remains standing." She shuffled through some papers. "Let's look at how that will affect the areas we had planned to bulldoze."

  "Just like that?" Betsy looked annoyed but didn't try to talk her out of it as Kit was sure she would. It was amazing how her confidence seemed to dim when Joel and Elsa were around.

  "Aunt Elsa is perfectly within her rights to demand that the building be left standing. As she said, she is one of the owners."

  Kit had been expecting this. After all, this was the elderly woman who had moved the family home to a new site to preserve it.

  Elsa searched Kit's face. "You're serious," she said. "I keep forgetting. You may look like her but you are not Laila."

  Kit didn't know how to respond to that so she turned to show a folder to Betsy. "You have estimates from three landscaping companies here," she said. "Their bids aren't too different. You and Johanna have a better handle on their reputations. I'll leave that decision to you."

  She was turning her attention to another folder when Paavo strode in, waving a sheet of paper. "I have the invoice, Johanna. Where are my spices?"

  "You weren't here when that box arrived, Paavo. I put it in the linen storage room," Betsy told him.

  "Spices in the linen room!" Paavo was just getting wound up for a major explosion when Bart and Mike entered from the lobby with big grins on their faces.

  "Hope you're ready for a short break," Mike said.

  Short break? They were just getting started. Had someone put a "Welcome" sign on the door?

  "When Bart and I were over at the sawmill, we spotted something you might like to see, Kit."

  "Now what?" Johanna asked.

  "Nothing unpleasant. A robin's nest in the old lilac bush," Mike said.

  "It has two little blue eggs in it." Bart sent her the kind of smile that used to get her in trouble in the Three B's days. "Come on, Kit. The robin will probably be back on the nest by the time you get there."

  "Really?" The thought was appealing. After all, she was changing her ways. And if she was in the country, she should see some of it. "How high is it off the ground?" That was always a consideration.

  "About five feet," Mike answered. "Maybe less."

  "We'll only be gone about half an hour," Bart pressed. "There looks to be a break in the rain clouds but it's still spitting a bit so I brought your jazzy raincoat." He held up the bright blue rubberized raincoat she'd picked up in Toronto.

  "Just give us a few minutes here, Bart, and I'll be right with you." Kit turned back to the papers on the table.

  "If it's clearing, I'd better get back to the course," Joel said. "You'll be all right, Elsa?"

  "I can take her home when she's ready," Betsy suggested.

  Kit called out to Joel as he left, "Hope you get your golf game in."

  Paavo gave Betsy a pointed glare. "I'll just get my kitchen supplies from the housekeeping storage," he said and stomped out of the room.

  Johanna got right to business. "We need to decide exactly what we want done in the way of rough landscaping so that we can get the bulldozers in next week. Otherwise we're going to have all that noise and dust when we have guests staying in the lodge."

  "This is a rough sketch of the way I saw it," Betsy said. "We'll have to think of some way to utilize the storage building. Can we, at least, remove the old foundations of the sawmill itself, Elsa?"

  Elsa set her jaw. "Don't touch any of it," she said.

  About ten minutes later, Kit realized that she really couldn't leave any time soon. "I'm afraid I'll have to wait until this afternoon to see the robin, Bart," she said.

  Elsa, who had been sitting quietly staring off into space, spoke up. "I haven't seen a robin's nest for years. They used to nest in that lilac every year when I was a child." She sighed. "Too bad it's raining. I'd like to go over there."

  "Wear my slicker," Kit suggested.

  "Do you good to get some air," Johanna said.

  "It's not unpleasant out there in the woods," Bart urged. "It's warm and the rain is only a light drizzle."

  "I'll go," Elsa decided. "Who knows how long I'll feel up to it."

  "While you're gone, I have some calls to make," Mike said and headed up to his temporary office in Johanna's suite.

  When Elsa left with Bart to do her birdwatching, Kit thought she looked more cheerful than she'd been since she arrived.

  "That's the first interest she's shown in anything in quite a while," Johanna said.

  "Except stalling the Kiddieland development." Betsy sounded a bit disgruntled.

  * * *

  Bart wondered what on earth he was doing out here in the damp woods with Elsa for company. Earning a star for his crown, Anna would have said. That's what the housekeeper who had raised him and Bret always said when either of them did something they really didn't want to do for someone. To give her credit, Elsa was better company today than he'd expected. She wasn't chatty but what she said was civil.

  Johanna had obviously set the groundskeepers to work on the path to the sawmill since he and Kit had walked it. But even though it was in better shape today, Elsa seemed to be finding it hard going. It didn't stop her though. She plodded along quite cheerfully.

  "Thank you, Bart," she said unexpectedly when they came in sight of the weathered old building. "I didn't think I'd get to see this place again. Now I can say good-bye."

  "This needn't be the last time," he said.

  "Oh, but it is," she said. Then she stopped walking and turned to face him. Her blue eyes looked at him intently from deep inside the blue hood.

  "You do love Kit, don't you?"

  What could he say? That he wasn't sure he was capable of loving anyone? He nodded.

  "Then be careful. Loving Laila's daughter could be dangerous." She paused. "She killed him, you know."

  "Raoul?" he asked.

  "He loved her. She killed him." Her voice was as unemotional as if she'd been reporting the weather.

  "But he attended her funeral."

  She smiled and nodded her head. "He did, didn't he?"

  Was this an oblique admission that she had killed Raoul because he loved Laila?

  She started walking again and headed toward the lilac clump in the middle of the clearing. He led her around to the side where he and Mike had seen the nest and pointed it out to her.

  "The robin hasn't returned," she said, standing on tiptoe. "And I can't see the eggs."

  "That's easily solved," Bart said, hoisting her up so that her head was well above the nest.

  She pushed the hood back off her face to get a better view. "I'd forgotten how blue their eggs are," she exclaimed.

  Without any warning, one sharp crack of gunfire split the silence.

  At almost the same instant, Elsa collapsed in his arms.

  Instinctively, Bart dropped to the damp ground with her and scanned the edges of the clearing for any sign of motion. Not a leaf or a branch moved in the quietly falling rain. The sniper must have been set up at the first bend in the long driveway to the road. He would have a clear shot from there.

  Bart tried to dig for his weapon from his belt but Elsa's limp form pinning his raincoat down
made it difficult. It would be pointless to try to pursue the shooter anyway. He'd be long gone. Again. And this time, he had hit his target.

  The wrong target!

  Gently, he lifted Elsa and placed her on the ground. One quick look at the bullet hole in her forehead and the amount of blood in the hood of the raincoat told him she was dead. Although he knew it was futile, he felt for a pulse. There wasn't a flutter--not at the artery in her throat, not at her wrist.

  Not far down the road, he heard a car start up.

  Bart wiped the rain out of his eyes with unsteady fingers and retrieved the cell phone from his pocket. He dialed 911 and without wasting words, he reported the bare facts and the location to the operator. Then, because he didn't want to chance having Johanna answer the phone, he dialed Mike's cell phone number so that he'd break the news to Johanna and Kit and Betsy. He didn't want them to hear about Elsa's death from the police.

  Bart had no doubt that Kit was the intended target. Or that the person who had wielded the rifle was a sharpshooter. Not many people could have made that shot. The only person he knew for sure had that kind of training was Mike. But Mike had spoken to him from the lodge. Of course, with the cell phone he could be anywhere. Damn!

  The area was full of hunters. He knew some partridge hunters prided themselves on using a rifle instead of shooting the bird full of lead shot from a shotgun.

  He broke a couple of dead branches off a nearby maple and rammed them into the ground on either side of Elsa's head, then took off his blood-smeared yellow coat to form a kind of tent to keep the rain off her face. Common sense told him a little rain would make no difference to her now but he couldn't just leave her with the rain pelting on her face.

  He sat on his haunches and stared dismally at Elsa's body. Poor unhappy woman. But Kit wasn't the one lying there! The killer thought he'd killed Kit. Suddenly it struck him how close he'd come to losing her. Sheer blind chance had kept her safe at the lodge. Thank God she'd changed her mind about accompanying him to see the nest!

  He made himself concentrate on what he knew about the killer. That precision shot hadn't been made by an amateur. Not for the first time, he wondered if someone had put out a contract on Kit's life. But who? Laila said the source of the threats was in Spirit Lake.