Page 70 of The Bride Wore White

He continued into the living room and seized the receiver just as it gave another blaring ring.

“This is Wingate.”

“Clara Dover died sometime last night,” Luther said.

“Natural causes?”

“That’s what it looks like. The doctor says it’s not a big surprise, given her age and the nature of her injury. Head wounds are always unpredictable.”

“How is the family handling it?”

“Evidently Rollins Dover was making arrangements to have his mother transferred to the care of a private psychiatric hospital. He was planning to tell the press that Clara was going away for an extended voyage. Now he’ll be arranging to have his mother’s body transported back to San Francisco for a funeral.”

Jack thought about that. “Death from natural causes is a much less damaging story for the company. Instead of trying to conceal the fact that his mother was being sent away to an asylum, he’ll be telling everyone that she died in an accident and he will be taking the reins of Dover Industries.”

“He still has to deal with the fact that it looks like Clara Dover burned down your house, but he may be able to finesse that,” Luther said. “After all, with Clara dead, there’s no one to arrest. Viewed from a certain perspective, his mother’s death simplifies his life.”

“His life might be simplified, but we’ve still got a problem, because Clara Dover did not burn down my house last night.”

“You’re sure of that?”

“Positive.” Jack summoned up his memories. “She was hallucinating. It’s possible she was the person who actually threw thefirebomb through the window, but I doubt it. Even if she did, I guarantee you someone else constructed the device, drove her out to House of Shadows, and made sure it went through the window. Prudence and I heard a big car on the main road. It was moving very fast.”

“Think it was the same individual who killed Gilbert Dover and tried to pin the murder on Prudence Ryland?”

“Possibly. Regardless, that makes three members of the Dover family who are dead.”

“Three?”

“Copeland Dover, Clara’s husband, died years ago, remember? The anointed heir, Gilbert, was killed a few days ago, and now Clara Dover is dead.”

“Well, the good news is that your list of suspects is shrinking rapidly,” Luther said. “By the way, I drove past what’s left of your house this morning. I’m sorry to tell you there’s very little worth salvaging.”

“The library?”

“Destroyed.”

“Prudence saved my manuscript,” Jack said. “She grabbed it on the way out the door.”

“That was quick thinking. Glad to hear it. Call me when you’ve got more information.”

The phone went dead. Luther Pell did not linger over goodbyes and pleasantries.

Jack replaced the receiver in the cradle and turned to find Prudence watching him from the hallway that led to the bedroom. She was enveloped in her robe. Her hair fell in heavy, tangled waves around her shoulders. She was still staring at him as if she was not sure she recognized him. A pang of anguish twisted his insides at the realization that she might be regretting last night.

“Clara Dover died,” he said, hoping to distract her before theconversation went down a grim, dispiriting, depressing road. “Natural causes.”

The tactic worked. Prudence blinked a couple of times and refocused. “That changes things, doesn’t it?”

“Yes, it does. It means Rollins is now the last member of the Dover family still standing. He just inherited the company and everything that goes with it.”

“After being criticized, belittled, and mostly ignored by his mother all his life,” Prudence said with a thoughtful expression.

“Because he lacked psychic talent,” Jack concluded.

“So Clara believed. All she seemed to care about was the paranormal sort of talent. But Rollins has worked quietly in the head office of Dover Industries for years. He may not have any paranormal sensitivity, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t have the ability to run the company.”

“And maybe he got tired of his brother and his mother standing in the way,” Jack said.

---