“Morning, Miss Howland. I phoned your house a few minutes ago, and Miriam Reinhart said you’d flown out the door like a bat out of hell. Everything go okay last night?”
I almost confided in her. I should have told her everything. But I’d been called a liar for so long that I didn’t trust anyone aside from myself. “Yep,” I said. “Woke up safe and sound.”
“What you got there?” she asked, pointing at the bag in my hand.
“Carbon monoxide detectors,” I said.
The sheriff arched an eyebrow. “You woke up safe and sound this morning and decided to come down to purchase carbon monoxide detectors?”
“My father died from carbon monoxide poisoning.”
“Yes, I know,” she reminded me. “As did your aunt, I believe.”
I nodded.
“Are you worried there might be a leak at the manor?” the sheriff asked carefully. She knew something was up.
“It’s better to be safe than sorry, don’t you think?” I wasn’t ready to talk.
“I do,” the sheriff agreed. “I’m glad you’re starting to take your safety seriously. And I hope going forward, you’ll be pickier about who you spend time with.”
I assumed she was talking about Nolan. Though she hadn’t come out and said so, the sheriff clearly thought that Lark going to Nolan’s on the night of the fire meant something. The fact that Nolan had never mentioned Lark’s visit made me suspect the sheriff was right. I just couldn’t figure out what it might mean. Nolan had stayed at home when Lark had left. Had he said something that had inspired her to trek up to the manor in the middle of the night?
“You take care, Miss Howland,” the sheriff said. “If you ever want to talk, you have my number.”
As soon as the sheriff’s cruiser disappeared around the corner, I made a beeline for Nolan’s house. Despite the sheriff’s vague warnings, I had to ask him about the night of the fire. Ten minutes later, I reached his drive and stopped to gape. The previous night, I hadn’t gotten a true sense of the destruction. Every window had been shattered. Without them, Nolan’s house was little more than a shell. Curtains fluttered in the wind while blinds banged against panes lined with jagged glass teeth. The house had seemed safe, but it had been an illusion. All it took was a few rocks to shatter it.
Two trucks were parked side by side in the drive, and a team of construction workers was unloading gear. As I watched from the road, I saw one of the men punch a colleague in the arm and point toward the house next door.
Maisie was standing on her front porch in a silk nightgown and an emerald-green kimono, looking as out of place in Louth as a tropical bird perched atop an iceberg. When she waved me over, I heard whistles of approval from one of the construction workers.
“You’re on camera, assholes,” Maisie shouted at them. “How ’bout I send copies of the security tapes to your wives?”
When I glanced over my shoulder at the men, they’d all turned away to mind their own business.
“Nice work,” I told Maisie once I’d made my way up the steps to her porch.
“Fuck them,” she said. “If you’re looking for Nolan, he hasn’t been back to his house since last night. Come inside and have some coffee. You look like you’re about to freeze to death.”
I gratefully followed her into the house. I don’t know what I’d been expecting, but the interior was Instagram-perfect. The walls were painted pale blue and trimmed with dark gray. An antique sofa upholstered in gold velvet sat in front of the living room windows, which framed a view of the icy Hudson. I felt like I’d stepped into a showroom. The furniture looked like it had never been touched.
“Your home is gorgeous,” I said.
“Thanks,” Maisie replied. “I’ll be sure to pass along your praise to our decorator. My mom and I had nothing to do with it. The lady even chose which family pictures to frame.”
She gestured to a photo on the living room wall. It was a typical studio portrait with a mottled gray background. A stunning girl with black braids sat on a fur rug, cradling an infant. The baby stared straight at the camera with such ferocity that I had no trouble identifying her. The mother seemed stunned to find a baby in her arms.
“Wow. Your mom was—” I glanced back at Maisie. The resemblance was remarkable.
“Young?” she offered.
“I was going to say ‘gorgeous,’ ” I told her. “But, yeah. She looks really young, too.”
“She wasn’t even eighteen when that picture was taken. She was two months older than I am when she had me.”
I didn’t say anything.
“Were you with Nolan when he passed my mother in town last night?” she asked.
I nodded.
“So you saw her. Or what’s left of her, anyway. They called her a whore when she was our age. Now she’s the town drunk.” Maisie looked back to the portrait and lifted her chin and clenched her jaw as if preparing to take a hit.
“I’m in no position to judge anyone,” I said softly. “I can only imagine how hard it must be for you.”
“Not as hard as it is for her,” Maisie said. She took in a deep breath and forced a smile. “So—want a quick tour?”
I didn’t, but I sensed there was something she wanted to show me. “Sure,” I said.
I followed Maisie upstairs. There were four bedrooms on the second floor. Two looked as though they’d never been entered. I was certain the accent pillows in both were lying right where the decorator had tossed them. A layer of dust made the furnishings appear faintly fuzzy. Spiderwebs clung to the room’s corners, and dead bugs littered the windowsills.
“We can’t get a housekeeper,” Maisie explained when she saw I’d noticed. “No one in Louth wants to work for us. I do all the housework myself, but there’s no way I’m busting my ass in a bunch of rooms we don’t use. Come on,” she said, ushering me down the hall. “I’ll show you where the magic happens.”
Her room faced the river. The view was spectacular, but it was difficult to comment on the décor, since no trace of it could be seen. An enormous closet was literally overflowing. At least six rolling clothes racks crammed with formal wear were positioned around the room. Every piece of furniture had been loaded down with so many dresses, jumpsuits, jeans, and blouses that there was no way to tell what might once have been a desk or a chair. I spotted Chanel, Marni, and Prada labels.
“I don’t know what I’d do without online shopping,” Maisie said, sounding bored.