Secrets Can Be Murder

Chapter One

Taylor Kirkwood opened her eyes, and stared silently into the darkness. What had wakened her? Why this sense of unease?

Perhaps it was the silence itself, which had roused her from sleep, the total, absolute absence of sound. Could this be the silence of the grave? No, surely she wasn’t dead. After all she’d been through, she was just beginning to live.

Strangely, though, it was as if even Mother Nature was asleep. There was no gentle rustling of the wind through the trees, no hooting of owls, no growling of someone’s pet dog, no caterwauling of cats. There weren’t even any traffic sounds coming from the main road. It seemed that the night was holding its breath, waiting for something to happen.

For one heart stopping moment, she thought that it was her evil, perverted stepfather, making his nightly, surreptitious trip down the long hall.

Fists clenched, she sat up. Her heart seemed to hesitate, then plunged like a roller coaster, after it reaches the top of the track.

Suddenly she realized where she was. She was not a vulnerable little girl any more. She was a married woman, a bride of three months. Best of all, the hated stepfather was dead. There was no one in this entire world, who could scare her the way he had. Still, something had wakened her.

Once she had satisfied herself that she wasn’t dead, or buried alive, or a child again, victim of a molester, she calmed herself, and let her rational side take over.

The next obvious thought was that there might be an intruder in this large, still unfamiliar house. Somehow that didn’t seem likely. She had set the house alarm before coming upstairs, or had she? Did she really remember setting it, or did she just remember thinking about setting it? Now she wasn’t sure.

She sat very still, giving her eyes time to adjust to the blackness of the bedroom. She had forced herself to leave the door open, just to prove that she wasn’t afraid to be sleeping in this big house all by herself. It was such a dark night, though, that there wasn’t even a bit of moonlight to help brighten the corners.

Again she realized that there was no wind, so it couldn’t have been a tree brushing against the house, which had disturbed her. She had no pets, so it couldn’t have been an animal moving around restlessly.

Had the phone wakened her? All evening she had been waiting for a call from her closest friend, Keith Spenser. He was a doctor with whom she worked on a couple of hospital committees. He was supposed to call her tonight, to give her some necessary information for their morning meeting.

She hadn’t been too surprised, though, that he hadn’t called. Keith was a wonderful man, and a good doctor, but he didn’t take life too seriously. Hospital scuttlebutt was that he threw some wild parties up in his elegant old home on Lake Erie, a home which was supposed to be haunted. Maybe he was partying tonight, and had forgotten his promise to call. Maybe one of the ghosts had carried him away!

Taylor was so used to always living on the edge, always being alert to danger, always being ready to run, that she didn’t feel frightened, just a little uneasy. She was mostly puzzled as to what had dragged her from her deep sleep. At least, knowing that it couldn’t be her evil stepfather, was very reassuring.

Gradually, however, as she sat quietly, listening to the silence, vigilant for any unusual sound, she felt a chill begin to make its way down her spine. Suddenly she was back in her childhood room, listening and watching.

How many nights had she lain awake in terror, waiting for the fiend to come? And he had come, night after night, walking quietly down the hall, climbing into bed with her, holding her quivering little body in his arms, whispering to her, teaching her odious things, hurting her, over and over again.

He had been the demon of every child’s nightmares, the destroyer of families, the purveyor of filth, the ambassador of humiliation and fear. He had been the devil incarnate.

Persuading herself that he was indeed dead, and that there was no one else in the house, she lay back down, unwillingly allowing her thoughts to go back to her childhood.

She remembered the time she had tried to place a chair under the doorknob, hoping that would keep him out. It had been a futile attempt by a seven year old, and it had made him angry. He had hurt her more than usual that night, and he had been rough, when he put his big hand over her mouth, to keep her from crying out. Why did he care anyway? There had been no one else in the house, no one to hear, no one to help.

There was sweat on her forehead now, as the old images returned. She could see the scrawny little seven year old she had been, with the dark patches under her big green eyes, and the shaking hands, trying to fit the chair under the doorknob, and trying to do it quietly, so that he wouldn’t hear her.

That had been a lifetime ago, yet the images came back to haunt her on a regular basis. These last three months, she had hoped and prayed that they might be gone for good. She was married now, and curling up beside her husband every night, had given her a sense of safety, which she had never really experienced.

This was the first time they had been separated, the first time she had gone to bed alone in the big house on the Niagara River. Her husband, Dr. Julian Kirkwood, was a pathologist, and he was away at a medical conference in Montreal. He had told her that he would be away for four nights, and this was the fourth night. Tomorrow he would be home, and things would go back to normal, or so she fervently hoped.

Taylor was not a nervous person, but she was always watchful and alert. She had spent far too many years running and hiding with her mother, to ever let down her guard completely. They had moved from city to city, from town to town, like a pair of vagabonds, two nervous rabbits, running from hole to hole.

Periodically, they had reinvented themselves, changing their names, their habits, their abodes. All those years, she had somehow expected the monster to come creeping through her bedroom door, even long after she knew that he was dead.

Somewhere along the way, Taylor had made up her mind that she would never run again. That rootless existence was a thing of the past. Since marrying Julian, she had felt relatively happy and secure. She knew it would take a while to get over that feeling of impending doom, but she was doing her best, and every day it became a little easier.

They had honeymooned one week in the Bahamas, before moving into this house. Julian was renting it from the owner, a fellow doctor, who was in Europe for a year. It was a lovely house, but it was too big for just one couple, and it was too far from the main road. Taylor had tried to object, but Julian had been so enthusiastic. It’s a great house, Taylor, he had said, and it will give us time to look for a perfect place of our own.

In Taylor’s mind, however, that elegant, tree-lined driveway was just too long, and there was too much property on either side, so that there were no close neighbours. It effectively disconnected her from the world. Maybe Julian wanted to keep her isolated. The wayward thought caught her off guard. But why would her new husband want to keep her away from people? That made no sense.

They both worked at the Greater Niagara General Hospital, and were surrounded by people all day long. So, logically, how could he cut her off from coworkers and friends, just by renting a house outside of town? More importantly, why on earth would he want to? She told herself that she was just experiencing post wedding jitters, and was imagining things, painting scary pictures in her mind.

She knew that she was being foolish, becoming delusional, as Julian sometimes said. The bottom line was that he loved her. Of that she was sure. He showed her that love every day in a thousand different ways.

Finally, the fates had decided to give her a break. Her days of running and hiding were over. She was a real person now, with a real identity, a respected member of the community. There would be no more running for Taylor. At last she could start putting down roots.

In the blackness of the night, Taylor lay there, stiff and quiet. She could picture the silent, green Niagara River, flowing past the back of the house. It was a mysterious and devious river, with deadly currents, and ugly secrets, a river making a steadfast, unstoppable journey to Lake Ontario.

Oh yes, it was beautiful in the daytime, with the sun making it sparkle, and the sailboats and skiers skimming its surface. At night, however, it seemed to be a menacing force, waiting for her to make just one mistake.

At this point, Taylor shook her head in disgust at her silly flights of fancy. She should have been a mystery writer. She was allowing herself to get all worked up over nothing. This was no time to be a wussy. The river was no threat, and there was no one but herself in this big silent house.

The sensible thing to do now would be to go back to sleep, and everything would be fine. She and her secret would be safe. She would just shut out the world and all its threatening things, and she would sleep the sleep of the innocent, or at least the sleep of the hopeful. Tomorrow Julian would be home, and things would be back to normal.

Forcing her eyes shut, she sighed, as she snuggled her head into the pillow. She loved the feel of that silky Egyptian cotton, and she thought again how different her life had become these past few months.

Suddenly those beautiful green eyes popped open again. There definitely had been the tiniest whisper of a noise, but what exactly was it? Had she heard someone breathing? Was there someone in the room with her? What if it was some young punk all buzzed on drugs? What if it was some dirty old pervert, who had come to torture or rape or kill?

Chapter Two

She strained to hear any sound in the large black room. If there was anyone there, he wasn’t breathing. She almost laughed at this. If there was an intruder, had he died from holding his breath?

She tried to stop breathing, but had to gasp for air in mere seconds. Could an intruder hold his breath that much longer? No, of course not. She was a nurse, for heaven’s sake. She knew that normally, people couldn’t stop breathing on purpose for any length of time.

There’s no one here, you dimwit, she told herself, as she reached for the bedside lamp. Turning it on, she sat up and scrutinized every part of the bedroom. There was no one to be seen. Now she stared at the closet door. Could someone be hiding in there? Sure they could. Would she be able to sleep until she knew for sure? Not very likely.

Come on, pussy willow. Let’s show a little backbone, she muttered. Quickly, before losing her determination, she flung back the covers, and rushed across the room. It was time to do or die.

She flicked the switch, and threw open the closet door, in one smooth movement. At the same time, she made a loud shouting noise, hoping to catch him off guard. All she did was succeed in scaring herself.

Her clothes hung there quietly, innocently. Nothing was out of place. There were no telltale feet on the floor. Annoyed now, that she was letting her imagination disturb her sleep, she pushed the clothes around, and felt behind them. She wondered what she would have done, if anyone had grabbed her hand, or made a sound.

Sighing with relief, and grinning at her foolishness, she padded quietly to the bathroom, to get herself a glass of water. As she drank it slowly, she stood in the bathroom doorway, surveying the bedroom, and staring at the open door to the hall. There was no sound, no movement, no shadow.

Dammit, Taylor, you’re acting like an idiot. You don’t need this. You’ve got to get back to sleep.

Now convinced that there was no one in the house, except for her paranoid, lonely self, she got back into bed, and pulled up the covers. As she reached to turn out the lamp, she hesitated. Should she leave it on? No, absolutely not. She wasn’t a child needing a light for reassurance. She was a grown woman, a married woman. She had to start acting like one.

It took a few seconds to convince herself, but she finally turned off that friendly, light giving lamp. Blackness engulfed her, and it was strangely suffocating. She would just have to think about something else. She had to get her over-active mind off things that went bump in the night.

Okay, she would think about the past three months, since that wonderful day she had been married. At last her life was working out well. Finally, it was achieving some semblance of normalcy, or so she had thought, until two weeks ago.

It was then that she got the first of several hang-up calls. She realized that everyone got those on occasion, still they were unnerving, and annoying. She was sure that whoever it was on the other end of the line, was silently listening to her voice, before he or she hung up. Then, three days ago, someone had called, and in a slightly muffled voice, had said, I know who you are. Before she could say a word, the line had gone dead.

That one had left her a bit shaky. Was it just a crank call? No, she didn’t think so. Somehow, someone had discovered her identity. The sad thing was, she couldn’t tell Julian. He didn’t know anything about her past. He had told her that he loved her the first moment he saw her, and that was all he needed to know. She had appreciated that, and had loved him for his faith in her.

The phone call had been disturbing, though, and she wished she could tell someone. Yesterday was the worst. Julian was in Montreal, and when she had arrived home from work, there was an ugly wreath at her front door. It looked like a funeral wreath, and the card said, rest in peace.

She had been shocked, and angry, and had thrown the wreath and card into the trash. She couldn’t let Julian see them. He would start asking questions. He might start wondering about her past.

How she wished that he was home with her right now. He would put his strong arms around her, and tell her that there was nothing to fear, that it was all a case of mistaken identity. On the other hand, he might suggest going to the police, and she certainly couldn’t do that.

Punching the pillow, and shifting uneasily in the big bed, she stared into the darkness, and allowed more memories to creep into her mind. Last week, something had happened to really puzzle her. Julian had thought that there might be a gas leak, and had asked her to go down to the basement with him, to see if she could smell anything.

Reluctantly, she had left the computer, which was in an upstairs bedroom. As he gestured for her to go ahead of him, she had hurried down the stairs, with Julian right behind her. It hadn’t occurred to her at the time, that a man might usually go first on steep stairs, in order to protect his wife from falling. If she did trip, he would be there to stop her fall. Isn’t that the way most men would have done it? She wasn’t sure.

Anyway, she had suddenly found herself airborne, and had fallen the last nine steps of that steep staircase. That was one of the things she really disliked about this house. It had such a steep stairway from the main floor up to the bedrooms.

The puzzling part was that it almost seemed as if Julian had pushed her. She thought that she had felt his hand flat on her back. Strangely, he claimed that he had seen she was about to trip, and had tried to catch her. That didn’t quite ring true, and it got her thinking. Had she been about to trip? No, she was sure that she hadn’t, yet why in the world would her new husband push her?

She had tried to forget it, because it made no sense. Luckily, other than twisting her ankle, and bumping her head, she hadn’t been badly hurt.

It was difficult to ignore the incident, though, and she kept trying to figure out what could have happened. She knew she wasn’t delusional, and the more she thought about it, the more sure she was that she had not tripped on those steep stairs. Yet how could she possibly think that Julian would have tried to hurt her? He was always so protective.

Out of necessity, and for her own peace of mind, she finally persuaded herself that he really had tried to grab her, to prevent her from falling. It had simply felt as if his hand was pushing her. It had all happened so quickly. Her new husband would never hurt her, of that she was sure.

Taylor was a nurse at the hospital, and Julian was the chief pathologist. They had met by chance in the cafeteria, or so it had seemed at the time, and Julian had pursued her relentlessly.

After six weeks, he had worn her down. He had persuaded her that they were meant for each other, that he loved her desperately, that he would protect her, and always be there for her. It was very tempting, and she was very vulnerable. Her mother had just died, and for the first time in her life, she was completely alone.

Julian had painted such a glowing picture of wedded bliss, that she had finally let herself be convinced that she did love him. She had put all her doubts, fears, and bad memories behind her, and had made up her mind to start a brand new life, with a clean slate.

She appreciated that Julian seemed to have no interest in her past. That had been something of a miracle. There had been no need for lies or imaginative stories. They had been married in a quiet little ceremony, with a few nurses and doctors in attendance, then had flown to the Bahamas for a short honeymoon.

As she lay there in the big lonely bed, with this jumble of thoughts racing around in her brain, she reminded herself that she had to get back to sleep. She had an early meeting at the hospital, then had to do her regular shift. Julian would be home from Montreal in time for a late dinner. It would be so good to have him here with her again. She definitely did not like being alone in this big house.

Before closing her eyes, and snuggling under the fluffy comforter, she stared once more at the open bedroom door. Why leave it open? Who was she trying to fool?

The door had a good lock on it. Why not use it? Julian liked to tease her about locking the door at night. Are you afraid some degenerate old man is going to creep in and rape you? he would ask, followed by his hearty laugh. If only she had been able to tell him that was exactly what she feared.

Okay, she would get up and shut it. Maybe she should place a chair under the knob too, the way she had tried when she was little.

Once more getting out of bed, she was heading to the door, when she heard something. Someone was in the house!

She tried again to remember whether she had put the alarm system on, before coming to bed. Yes, she was sure of it. That meant that there couldn’t be anyone in the house. No one could possibly get in, while that state of the art alarm system was working.

Maybe Julian was right. Maybe she really was beginning to imagine things. She was the calmest and most professional of nurses, always cool in a difficult situation. Yet tonight she was acting like a ninny. Had she heard a noise or not?

Yes, she had heard something, but what? Now she needed to go to the bathroom in the worst way, but didn’t want to move. She might miss another sound.

She stood there like a statue, a beautiful young woman, with anxious green eyes, and tousled red hair. What should she do?

The best place to hide, would be locked in the bathroom, with some kind of weapon in her hand. She did a quick mental survey of that room, with its big Jacuzzi tub, its double sink vanity, and the many cupboards and drawers. What could she use as a weapon? How about scissors? How about a nail file? They would be better than nothing. Oh, how about a can of hair spray, right into the intruder’s eyes?

Think, Taylor, she urged herself, muttering almost silently under her breath. Her feet seemed glued to the thick carpeting.

What about calling 911? Would the intruder rush into the room, and wrest the phone from her hand, before she could complete the call? Yes, likely.

How ironic that in this spacious bedroom, there was no place for her to hide, except maybe under the bed. No, that wasn’t even a viable possibility. She wasn’t quite that desperate, and she wasn’t a silly little kid.

Screaming wouldn’t do much good either. The window was open, but her nearest neighbour was Cassandra Meredith next door, and she wasn’t even sure that Cassandra was home. She always seemed to be travelling some place.

There were expansive lawns and bushes between the two houses, and Cassandra’s house was even bigger than this one. Even if she was home, Taylor didn’t know whether her bedroom was on this side. The chances of her hearing screams from Taylor were minimal.

Calm and sensible as she usually was, she noticed that her heart was now thudding like a bongo, as all these thoughts raced through her mind in a matter of seconds.

Wait a minute, dummy. There was a phone in the bathroom! Yes! She would lock the bedroom door, then the bathroom door, and call for help.

Just then, she heard the unmistakable squeak of the fourth step from the top of the stairway. That darn step always squeaked, no matter where you placed your feet. Tonight she was thankful for it. It was giving her a warning.

Taylor realized that not only was there an intruder, but he was almost to her bedroom door. Oh, Lord, help me, she prayed quietly, wondering whether this was the night her life would end.

As she started her mad dash for the bathroom, the phone rang. The thought flashed through her mind that the Lord was answering her prayer for help pretty quickly.

I know you’re there, she yelled at the open door, as she ran to the ensuite.

Whoever’s on the phone, will notify the police for me, she called over her shoulder, in a confident tone. And whoever you are, you’re toast, so get the hell out, while you still can.

She was staring at the door, expecting to see someone come hurtling through it at any moment. At the same time, she was stumbling in the dark toward what might be her only lifeline, the phone in the bathroom.

Locking herself in, and not taking time to turn on the light, she picked up the receiver, and said loudly and clearly, Please help me. Call 911. There’s an intruder.

Taylor, what’s going on? cried a surprised Keith. Are you serious?

Before she could even reply, she heard the welcome thud, thud, thud, of someone running down the stairs, not up, but down. Whoever it had been, was apparently taking her advice, and was making a hasty retreat. He wasn’t trying to be quiet either. The phone ringing, and her yelling, must have scared him.

A wave of relief washed over her, as she heard the front door bang shut, and realized that he wasn’t sticking around to complete his mission, whatever it might have been.

Chapter Three

It was one of those can’t make up its mind what to do kind of afternoons. The sun was shining one minute, then hidden behind a sulky looking gray cloud the next.

Cassandra Meredith and her friend Victoria Craig, were lounging in Cassie’s back yard, reading and talking, mostly talking. Vickie had just arrived the previous day from Vancouver. She was here for her annual month long visit, a visit which usually extended itself into seven or eight weeks. The length of the visit seemed to coincide with the amount of trouble which came their way.

The two friends had been kindred spirits since they had first met in public school, and they had shared many adventures over the years. Vickie's husband Brian wrote history books, and his research took him far afield. Vickie occasionally traveled with him, but she always reserved the summer weeks to visit Cassie in Niagara Falls.

Cassie had just received notice that her divorce from her husband Dave, was final. She had very mixed emotions about the break-up. She and Dave had enjoyed a great marriage for many years, but on one of his trips to Europe, he had met and become involved with an Italian woman. His baby son Bucky, was the result of the short romance.

Dave loved Cassie, and didn’t want to leave her, but he couldn’t abandon Sophia and baby Bucky. It was a miserable situation for all concerned, but had ended in a relatively amicable divorce. Cassie still loved Dave in some ways, and couldn’t help feeling sorry for him, but she was also carrying a grudge about his unfaithfulness. She knew that he wasn’t really happy with his new life, and that gave her an I could have told you so, and it serves you right, you cheating bastard sort of feeling.

The best part of the unfortunate mess, which Dave had created with his little dalliance, was that Cassie was now free to marry her first love, sexy, gorgeous Detective Jack Willinger. She could still scarcely believe that fate had stepped in, and cleared the way for them.

They had not yet settled on a wedding date, but it was going to be within the next few months. For now, they were just enjoying the anticipation of the wedding, and the fun of dating again. It was almost as if they were back in their school days, and they were cherishing every moment.

Putting down her book, and swinging her long legs off the chaise, Cassie sat up, and said, "I know I’m repeating myself, but it’s so good to see you, and I have so much to tell you. I’m sorry that you missed Mark and Diana. They were both home for a visit, and just left two days ago. Wish you could have seen them. They’re so grown up and independent. The only problem is that they’re both still disgusted with their father, for getting himself into such a muddle, and it’s traumatized them to a certain extent.

On the other hand, I can’t help feeling sorry for Dave. Thanks to him, it’s all working out for Jack and for me. Poor Dave, though. I think he wishes he had never laid eyes on Sophia, but he’s really crazy about that baby.

I suspect that what he really wanted, was to have me accept little Bucky, and make him part of our family, but that was asking too much. Besides, it wouldn’t have been right for him to take Bucky away from Sophia. After all, she is his mother, like it or not."

Dave really disappointed me, acknowledged Vickie, putting a little more sun lotion on her legs. I always thought he was such a stand-up sort of guy. I actually had a bit of a crush on him for a while. We never really know people, do we? Are he and Sophia planning to marry?

"I’m not sure. Dave seems to be delaying the inevitable. You know what a nice guy he is. He just got himself into a mess, and couldn’t extricate himself without hurting a lot of people. He calls me often, and keeps saying that he wishes everything could go back the way it was before I inherited all the money. That’s apparently when he started feeling unnecessary, and got involved with Sophia, who really needed him at the time.

He’s stuck with her now, and it serves him right. I have to admit, though, it hurts me to see him so unhappy and lost. He ‘done me wrong’ as the old song says, but I hate to see him suffering. He’s a good hearted, honest man, who made one bad mistake."

Maybe so, but I can’t forgive him so easily for cheating on you. What an idiot! He didn’t realize what he was losing, said Vickie loyally. Anyway, now you’ve got Jack. I still can’t believe how nicely it has all worked out. Finally the fates seem to be on your side. I never thought I’d think it or admit it, but Jack does seem to be a super sort of person. You’re probably better off with him. He’s full of adventure, and piss and vinegar, and you two seem well suited.

Oh, I know we’re well suited. I’ve said it before, for me Jack has always been ice cream on a stick. I could just lick him all over.

Please, spare me the details, grinned Vickie. That’s way more info than a simple girl from Vancouver needs.

Cassie laughed. You know what I mean, you naughty girl. It’s just that I’ve always been crazy about Jack, and I’m so ecstatic that we’re finally getting married, but I still feel sorry for Dave. He gave up a lot, and all he’s got in return is that little boy.

Maybe that little boy will be more than enough for him, suggested her friend.

"I really hope so. From the way he talks on the phone, he isn’t so fond of Sophia now. She’s apparently gone through most of his share of the money I gave him out of my inheritance, and our two kids have no sympathy for him. How can I help but feel sorry for him?

We were a good couple for a lot of years. If he hadn’t done such a dastardly deed, and if I hadn’t had Jack in the back of my mind and heart all these years, I’m sure our marriage would have gone on forever."

Yes, but Jack was always there waiting in the wings, so to speak, even if it was just in your subconscious. Maybe Dave sensed that, and it made him feel insecure.

They were quiet then for a little while. Cass realized that her friend was likely correct about Jack and Dave, and it made her feel both sad and guilty. She knew she had been a good wife to Dave, but she wondered whether she had short changed him, once Jack had come back into her life. She had lusted after Jack, no doubt about it, even when things were fine in her marriage. No wonder she couldn’t help seeing Dave’s side of the story.

Vickie broke the silence first. Sitting up in the chaise, and sliding the sunglasses down on her nose, she looked at Cass and inquired, When are we going to start our book? Have you come up with any brilliant ideas for a plot?

Cassie lifted the brim of her big straw hat, and grinned at her friend. I’ve got three different plots all swimming around in my head, and I don’t know which one I like. I’m going to tell you all three, and see what you think.

Great, said Vickie, because I’ve got two ideas which I think are possible. Maybe we’ll have enough for five books, or maybe we can work them all into one huge opus.

Just as Cassie started to explain her first idea, Vickie interrupted. Whoa, who’s this dish coming across the lawn? Gawd, she’s gorgeous.

Cassie looked up to see her neighbour, Taylor Kirkwood, approaching. She had no hat, and her shoulder length, coppery red hair was blowing around her face, as she strode across the lawn. Her long, shapely legs were shown off to good advantage in her white short shorts.

As she got closer, Vickie could see that she had large green eyes, rimmed with thick black eyelashes, and a generous mouth, which turned up prettily at the corners. Actually, her green eyes matched the green cropped top she was wearing. She had a beautiful tan on all exposed parts of her body.

That, my dear, is my new neighbour, Taylor Kirkwood. I’ve only spoken with her a couple of times, but she seems very nice. She’s a nurse at the hospital, and her husband’s a pathologist. See what you think of her, Vic. You’re so good at judging character. I have the impression that she’s hiding something.

Sitting up straight, Vickie grinned. Do we have a mystery in the making?

Cassie just laughed and shook her head.

Hi there, Taylor sang out, as she approached. Am I interrupting anything?

Vickie’s first impression was that of a young woman, sure of herself in a quiet way, yet totally unaware of how stunning she was. There was also something very vulnerable about her. This was going to be interesting.

Hi, Taylor. It’s nice to see you again. Here, sit down, said Cassie, getting up and pulling a chair closer. I was just going in to make us a couple of Arnold Palmers. Would you like one?

I’m not sure what that is, frowned Taylor, but it sounds intriguing.

It’s half iced tea and half pink lemonade. At least that’s the way I make it. It’s a refreshing drink.

Sounds great. Thanks, I’d love one.

Taylor, this is my very special friend, bosom pal, kindred spirit, and occasional pain in the butt, Vickie Craig, who’s visiting from Vancouver. We’re beginning our annual holiday together, added Cassie with a grin.

The two women chatted amiably, until Cassie returned, carrying a tray with three tall glasses, and a dish of pita chips.

These things are delicious, and they’re slightly less caloric than regular potato chips, she promised, as she passed the dish.

I was just telling Taylor that we’re about to start work on our first mystery book, explained Vickie, taking a long sip of her drink.

Yes, agreed Cass, we both love mysteries, and have decided to try writing one.

Well, I can give you one to get you started, laughed Taylor, absent-mindedly scratching a mosquito bite on her shapely leg. I had an intruder last night, and the police can’t figure out what he wanted, or how the heck he got into the house.

No kidding? What happened? cried Vickie and Cass simultaneously, their adventure antennae starting to quiver.

It’s so strange, said Taylor, obviously eager to talk about it. "Something wakened me from a sound sleep. My husband Julian is away at a conference, so this was the first time I’ve been alone in that big house. Anyway, I must have heard a slight noise downstairs, at least I suspect that’s what wakened me.

I lay there, listening for a while, wondering whether I had really heard anything. When I heard one of the steps squeak, I knew there was definitely someone in the house. Just then, the phone rang, and I shouted to the intruder, that whoever was on the phone, would call the police for me. Luckily, whoever it was on the stairs, must have chickened out, and I heard him run down the steps, and out the front door."

Oh shoot. I wonder whether there’s a burglar in the area, frowned Cassie.

Wait, there’s more, said Taylor, obviously not wanting to be interrupted. When the police came, they found that the alarm was not on, but I’m ninety-nine percent sure that I had set it when I went to bed. Secondly, there was no sign of any break-in. The door hadn’t been jimmied, and there were no windows broken or open. The third thing is that, as far as I can tell, there’s nothing missing, although I guess I frightened him off before he had a chance to steal anything. Now isn’t that a bit weird?

It certainly is, both women agreed. What did the police have to say about it?

Huh, I suspect they think I’m nuts, replied Taylor indignantly. They’re sure that someone either got in with a key, or I had left the door unlocked. Can you believe it? I mean, who ever leaves their doors unlocked in these times, with so many home invasions? Plus, I know they don’t believe that I had set the house alarm. They said if that was the case, then whoever got in, obviously knew the code. Somehow, it looks to them that I was very careless, and, darn it, I am definitely not a careless person. Only Taylor knew just how true that statement was!

"Then their next suggestion was that maybe it was my husband playing a joke on me! What a couple of morons they were. There’s no way that it was Julian. He doesn’t have that kind of a sense of humour. Besides, he’s in Montreal, and won’t be home till later tonight.

What I’m thinking though, is, here she paused, as if unsure of what she was going to say. What I’m thinking is, that it might have been the son of the doctor who owns the house. We’re just renting it for a year, while the doctor and his wife are in Europe, but they have a son in his twenties, who lives in Toronto. We have his phone number, in case anything goes wrong with the house. I assume that he would have a key, and of course he would know the alarm code.

Maybe he wanted to steal something belonging to his parents. Or maybe he’s left some of his things in the house, and wanted to retrieve them. Those are the only possibilities I can think of, but, whoever it was, got scared off by the phone ringing, and me shouting.

The problem with that theory is, if it was the son, why would he try breaking in late at night? Why not just call me, and say that he needed some things from the house? That’s one of the things that doesn’t make sense."

Cassie and Vickie glanced quickly at each other, eyebrows raised.

Did you tell the police about him? asked Vickie.

"I mentioned it, but they didn’t seem too interested. I