Page 18 of One Last Breath

“Oh. You did?”

“Of course. You and I are far more alike than you care to admit.”

I don’t know how to respond to that, but thankfully, Clara takes my arm and leads me inside before I need to think of an answer. She takes me to the back of the house with little time to observe the interior of her home, but the brief glimpse I do catch shows a thoroughly modern living space with granite tile flooring, stainless steel appliances, and a living room dominated by a massive flatscreen TV. If it weren’t for the neighborhood, I could easily believe myself in a coastal home in Southern California.

When we step outside, I see that she, like the Greenwoods, enjoys taking her tea—iced, of course—outside as well. She gestures to the chair across from hers and pours me some.

“Are you alone here?” I ask.

Not a polite question. I guess my selective sense of manners has decided to abandon me once more.

“Today, I am. I would like to claim that I am Bohemian enough to do away with servants, but I’m afraid at my age, I can’t handle the demands of this house on my own. I keep Thursdays and Sundays to myself, though.”

“I see. Well, thank you for seeing me.”

“Of course,” she replies, giving me a smile that reminds me of the shark-toothed grin she gets the first time we speak. “I’m sure you’ve picked up on the fact that I enjoy gossip.”

“Well… we all enjoy a spot of good tea,” I reply, lifting my glass.

She throws her head back and laughs briefly before exclaiming.

So, are you here to ask me about Violet or one of the Greenwoods?”

I hesitate. I wonder if I should feign ignorance and claim that I only wanted to visit my new neighbor. But that seems like a pointless exercise, so I choose honesty instead. “Well, all of them, I suppose. To be honest, I’m not sure. It’s only… This is entirely inappropriate of me, but it seems like there are dark secrets haunting that house.”

“Dark secrets haunt most homes,” Clara observes. “But it’s true the secrets that haunt the Greenwoods are darker than most. Have you looked into Deirdre McCoy?”

“No. To be honest, when you first told me about her, I… well, I didn’t exactly believe you.”

She smiles wryly. “You thought I was spinning a yarn.”

“I didn’t think you were lying,” I assure her, “but I wasn’t sure your information was accurate.”

She laughs and sips more of her tea, sighing with evident relish. “To be fair, I don’t have any information. Only rumors. Rumors are very easy to come by here. Information? Now that’s to die for.”

I don’t particularly care for that pronouncement, nor do I care for the return of her sharklike grin when she says that. “I can assure you I have no interest in dying here. However, I would like to know if I’m sharing my house with a murderer.”

“It would be an interesting case study to find out how many people have unwittingly shared their homes with murderers. But I’ll stop teasing you. Frankly, I don’t know what happened to Deirdre. I know that she was pregnant. I know that the father wasn’t known, but that most believed—myself included—that the father was Johnathan Hendrickson.”

My eyes widen. “Well, that thickens the plot.”

“It does,” Clara agreed. She sips her tea again before continuing. “I know that she was last seen leaving the Greenwood Plantation, but no one knows where she went or what happened to her after that. I personally believe that Violet had a hand in her disappearance, but I don’t know that with any certainty. Either way, it doesn’t matter at this point. Violet is in her seventies now, and her mind is hanging on by a thread. I don’t think it would be worth trying to dig up that scandal.”

“Those are my thoughts exactly,” I agree. “Only…”

She lifts an eyebrow. “Only?”

“Only lately, I’ve begun to wonder if there are more disappearances that can’t be explained.”

Clara lifts her other eyebrow. “Do tell.”

I sip more of my iced tea. “It’s just that Elizabeth has been acting strangely, and I’ve discovered that the governess before me disappeared. According to Annabelle, it came as a surprise. She just disappeared one day.”

“Interesting. Elizabeth told me she had taken a more lucrative position in California.”

“That’s just it,” I say. “I can’t tell what the truth is. The whole family seems to be hiding something. The other day, I came across Elizabeth in a secret garden on the estate. She was talking to someone who wasn’t there.”

“The Secret Keeper.” I stare blankly and Clara laughs. “I feel bad. I think you came to me hoping I would have gossip for you, but I’m afraid I’m going to make this seem very mundane.”

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