Waiting For You (15 page)

“I suppose I can.”

Abigail gritted her teeth. She hated having
that woman
draped all over Nick.

He glanced at his Rolex and breathed a deep sigh. “Vanessa, I’ll call you to set up the time, but I have a client coming in a few minutes and I still have to prepare for this appointment.”

“This late?” she whined.

“It was the only time he could meet. I’m here for my clients,
remember
?”

Vanessa shrugged.

“Thanks for coming and letting me know about your grandmother.”

She nodded and stood. “All right, I’ll leave. Talk to you later.” She walked out of his office, swinging her hips in what Abigail thought was an exaggerated fashion.

Once the door closed, Nick turned and smiled at Abigail. She didn’t share his enthusiasm. How could she when any moment she might lose him when she passed on? But then she knew Nick. She knew this was what excited him—researching the case and finding answers.

He walked to her and wrapped his arms around her. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m scared, Nick.”

“Why?”

“Because Cassandra wants to see you.
That means she knows something. And if she knows something…” Abigail’s bottom lip trembled and she blinked back tears.

He cupped her face as his thumbs traced her mouth. “I doubt she knows who killed you. I think she just may want to tell me other things she knows about your father.”

Scowling, Abigail pulled away and folded her arms. “I still can’t believe she said that about my father. Why, the mere idea of him siring other children is just ridiculous! My father always took care of his responsibilities. He was a powerful figure back in that time, and he was a man people admired. I can’t believe Cassandra would even think such a thing. Why, I was ready to throttle her when she said that. If I hadn’t touched your hand just then and felt you—”

“
Shh
.” Nick pulled her back into his arms. “I was shocked with what she said, too. But it was just the cynical ranting of a feeble-minded old woman. And that’s why I’m not taking you with me when I go, Abby.”

Abigail gasped and pulled back. “You’re not taking me?”

“No. I don’t want you getting upset over nothing.”

“But what if it isn’t
nothing
?”

“And what if it is?” He kissed her forehead.

She studied his tie, hurt that he didn’t want her there with him. Then she realized he was simply looking out for her best interests. If Cassandra said something Abigail didn’t like, she could explode and do something terrible, giving away her ghostly state. That certainly wouldn’t look good, especially for a respected man like Nick.

“You’re right. Forgive me for doubting your decision.”

He lifted her chin with his finger. “Promise you’re not mad?”

She smiled. “I could never be upset at you.”

“Good.” He kissed her lips. “Because I am going to keep you by my side forever, I promise.”

Deep in her heart, Abigail prayed he could keep that promise.

Chapter 13

Nick didn’t tell Abby the time of his appointment with Cassandra; he just made an excuse to leave the building. Abby would probably know anyway. She was very intelligent.

During the drive to the nursing home, he wondered why Cassandra wanted to see him. The old woman definitely hid something from him. With a heavy heart, he prayed it didn’t have anything to do with Abby’s death. He couldn’t stop thinking about the conversation where she’d wondered if solving her murder would force her to pass over. Yet he knew Cassandra must have something important to say, and he felt he needed to hear it.

When Nick walked into Cassandra’s room, he thought he’d stepped back in time. If the television hadn’t been on in the corner of her room, he would have thought he was in 1912. Cassandra wore an old-fashioned dress similar to Abby’s, only made of cream-colored fabric and lace. The older woman’s hair was piled on her head, but she didn’t wear a hat.

Tiny hairs on the back of Nick’s neck rose as a sense of eeriness crept over him. Something wasn’t right.

“Hello, Mrs. Westland,” he said.

The elderly woman looked from the window to him, her expression full of sorrow.

“Thank you for coming and granting a dying woman’s last request.”

He frowned. Vanessa hadn’t told him her great-grandmother was dying. Then again, Cassandra was one hundred eighteen years old. Any day she could keel over.

“Why would you want to see
me
before you die?”

She motioned him closer. There were no other chairs in the room tonight, so he knelt beside her. She lifted a frail hand and placed it on his shoulder.

“I don’t believe in spirits,” she began with a shaky voice. “But when you were here the other day, I think my eyes played tricks on me a few times. Off and on during our conversation, I thought I saw a woman by your side. She knelt beside you.” Cassandra waved her hand from her styled hair to the bottom of her long dress. “She was dressed like me.”

Nick swallowed hard.
Perhaps Cassandra was closer to death’s door and that’s why she was allowed to see Abby.

“If you don’t mind, I’d like to tell you a bit about my life,” she said.

“Please do. I’m very interested.” His leg cramped from the crouched position, but he didn’t dare move.

“Times were hard for women back in the early 1900s. We were not taken seriously. Most men didn’t comprehend that a woman could actually think for herself. Then again, not many women wanted to because they were used to men doing it for them.” She thumped her fist against her chest. “I could think for myself. I knew what I wanted out of life, and I was tired of living like a pauper and being ignored.”

“I’m sure you were, Mrs. Westland.”

“A lot of people accused me of taking advantage of men.” She grinned at Nick almost wickedly. “I was quite the looker back in my day. Why, I was even lovelier than Vanessa, and she’s a model.”

He nodded. “From the pictures I’ve seen of you as a young woman, I agree. You were very beautiful.”

She played with the gold locket that hung from a long chain around her neck, then turned to stare at the bare wall. “You probably know by now that I was engaged to Anthony Carlisle.”

“Yes, ma’am.
In fact, it was brought to my attention just yesterday.”

“Most people thought I had used Anthony for his money. He bought me things all the time. He was the one who gave me the building, which we turned into Cassie’s Gems, my jewelry company. Of course, after the stock-market crash of 1929, the store went under. We only kept a small portion of the business. We turned the building into office space after that, which you have probably already surmised.” She glanced down at the heart-shaped locket hanging on her chest. “My finances were in better shape after that. But not once did I use Anthony for his money.”

“Why didn’t you marry him then?”

The old woman’s gaze met Nick’s once more. “He was a spendthrift. That man was obsessed with money. He came from a well-to-do family but still couldn’t get enough.” She shook her head.
“Greedy man.”

So far, Nick believed her. “That makes sense, Mrs. Westland.”

“Oh, but it’s worse. Anthony gambled constantly, trying to double his earnings. He couldn’t. Nevada took most of it. I swear that man carried bad luck with him wherever he went. I was just relieved when he bought the building and signed it over to me. If my name hadn’t been on the contract, the building too would have been squandered.”

From everything Abby had told him about her cousin, Nick didn’t doubt Cassandra’s story. Now Anthony Carlisle was at the top of Nick’s suspect list. The question was, if Anthony killed Abby, did he also kill his own parents to get the inheritance?

“Anthony took a lot of things that didn’t belong to him. I thought he would kick the habit eventually, but I don’t think he ever did. If I remember correctly, he was in and out of jail for theft later in life.” She unclasped the necklace around her neck and handed it to Nick. “Anthony gave this to me long before we were engaged, but I knew it belonged to someone else.” She shrugged. “I don’t know why I continued to wear it. Maybe because I wanted to believe there was some good in him after all. He told me he wanted me to have a piece of the Carlisle Empire.”

Nick studied the heart-shaped locket and pried it open. On one side was an old picture of a man. Nick brought it close to examine it, and his breath caught in his throat.
Edward Carlisle!

Nick shook his head. “I don’t understand, Mrs. Westland. Why would Anthony give you a locket with Edward Carlisle’s picture in it?”

“I do not believe Anthony knew there was a picture in there. To him, it was an expensive piece of jewelry that belonged to the Carlisle Empire.” The elderly woman tapped Nick on the shoulder. “If you believe in ghosts, I think this necklace belonged to Edward’s daughter—the one who killed herself after his death. I think she’s following you because you’re researching information about her father’s building for your client.”

“You really think this is Abigail Carlisle’s necklace?”

Cassandra nodded as tears filled her eyes. “I do.” She rested her head on the back of the chair and gazed out the window, a tear slipping down her cheek.

“Mrs. Westland, will you tell me why you don’t like Edward Carlisle? The last time I was here, I received the impression you were upset at him for something.”

“He cared for his daughter a great deal and didn’t have any room in his life for others,” Cassandra said cynically.

“But he owned a newspaper. Wouldn’t he care about his employees?”

“Probably, but he couldn’t bring himself to love anyone else.”

Nick frowned. “I don’t understand what you’re saying. Did you love him, and he didn’t return your love?”

The elderly woman sat in silence for a long time, and Nick stood and stretched his legs, not wanting to pressure her to answer.

Finally, Cassandra waved him away without looking at him. “I’ve said all I wanted to say. You can leave. I can die in peace now.”

He clenched his jaw, wondering why she wouldn’t tell him. “Thank you, Mrs. Westland. You’ve been extremely helpful.” Then he walked slowly out the room, hoping she’d call him back and answer his question. She didn’t. But Nick thought he knew who murdered Abby, and that’s all that really mattered.

When he left the nursing home, Nick hurried to his car, anxious to show Abby the necklace. She’d talked about a golden heart-shaped locket her grandmother had given her on her birthday, and this could be that very piece of jewelry.

When he reached the office and parked his car, his heart was beating so fast and acted as if it would jump right out of his chest. Abby didn’t want to know who’d killed her for fear she’d pass over. He didn’t want that to happen either. Perhaps he shouldn’t tell her what Cassandra had said about Anthony. There was still no real evidence, and since he was a good lawyer, he required proof before making his conclusions.

His shoes tapped against the wood floor in a loud echo as he walked to the elevator. The spacious building was quiet this afternoon. Strange, since this was usually a busy time of day for most offices.

During his short ride to the second floor on the elevator, moisture beaded on Nick’s forehead.
A wave of dizziness sent him off balance, and he leaned against the elevator wall. When the elevator chimed and the doors opened, he stepped out and took deep breaths. Heat climbed inside his body as if it was in a race to get to his head. He loosened his tie and unfastened the first two buttons on his shirt. Gads, why did he feel like he had a fever? Was he sick?

He opened the door to his office and saw Abby jump up from the window seat. Her smile seemed
forced
. Nick guessed she knew where he’d been.

“Did you miss me?” he croaked. His vision seemed fuzzy; perhaps he was sick after all.

“Always.”
She folded her arms across her waist.

He walked to the mini refrigerator to get a bottle of cold water, yet after he’d emptied half the bottle in one gulp, he still didn’t feel better. As he walked to his desk, it was like passing through a long tunnel. Every step seemed to take forever, and his desk looked so far away. Finally, he reached his chair and almost fell into his seat.

“Nick? What’s wrong?” Abby asked, cautiously stepping nearer.

Her voice sounded so far away and like she was in a glass room. What was wrong with his hearing? “I wish I knew. I don’t feel very well right now.”

She sat on the edge of the desk and clasped her hands together, folding them on her lap. “Will you tell me about your visit with Cassandra?”

“There’s not much to tell. She confessed to being engaged to your cousin, and she told me Anthony gambled away the Carlisle money.”

Abby nodded. “We had pretty much figured that out.”

“Very true.
She said that was the reason she didn’t marry him. He was a spendthrift and irresponsible. She didn’t want that kind of husband.”

“I can’t say I blame her,” Abby said. “From what I remember of my cousin, he had no common sense.”

“That’s how she described him, too.”

Abby leaned forward. “Did—did she say anything about my father?”

“Not really.” Nick rubbed his chin, noticing his skin wasn’t as hot as before. In fact, it was rather cool. “I asked her why she held a grudge against your father, but she wouldn’t answer me. All she said was something about him not loving anybody else but his daughter and his newspaper.”

Abby’s forehead creased. “What does that mean?”

“I received the impression she had loved him,” Nick said.

“Are you jesting? Why would she have been in love with my father?”

He held up his hands in surrender, but they trembled, so he placed them back in his lap. “I don’t know, honey. She never told me.”

“Well, who’s to say she wasn’t in love? I thought my father was a very nice-looking man in his day, and I’m quite certain he attracted women of all ages.”

The chirping of Nick’s cell phone made him jump. He pulled it out of his pocket, squinting to read the caller ID since his vision was still a little blurred.
Vanessa.
He groaned. She was probably calling to find out what her great-grandmother had said.

He glanced at Abby. “Hold that thought. Let me get rid of Vanessa.” He pressed the button to talk and held it to his ear. “Hello?”

At first he couldn’t make out the sound coming from the other end of the line, but he finally recognized sniffling.

“Vanessa, is that you? What’s wrong?”

“N–Nicky?
What did you do to her?”

“What do you mean?”

“She’s dead! My great-grandmother is dead!”

Nick jumped to his feet and pushed the chair against the wall. He swayed but managed to hold onto the desk.
“Dead?
Are you sure?”

Abby rose and stood beside him, her eyes wide.

“Yes, dead,” Vanessa wailed. “Not more than ten minutes ago the nursing home called to say she’d died. She’d been sitting in her favorite chair, staring out the window. They said she was dressed in her old dress.” She sniffed. “What happened, Nicky? What did you say to her?”

He scowled. “What makes you think I had anything to do with her death? She told me she was dying and she wanted to talk to me before she met her Maker.”

Vanessa cried loudly for a few seconds. Finally, her sobs diminished and she sniffed again. “I’m sorry, Nicky. I didn’t mean to blame you. It’s just…you were the last one to see her alive.”

He leaned against his desk to hold himself up. “I understand, Vanessa. I’m sorry for your loss. Please let me know when the funeral is and I’ll be there.”

“Okay.”

“Goodbye.” He turned off the phone and shook his head. Cassandra had been correct when she said she was dying. But why did she choose him to be the last person she spoke to?

Abby slid up beside Nick and placed her hand on his chest. “That’s unbelievable.”

“I know. I’m just a little shocked right now.” He slipped his hand in his suit jacket pocket and felt the locket the old woman had given him. He pulled it out and stared at it. Diamonds glittered across the top near the gold chain. Now he wondered if the locket was what kept Cassandra alive. Could the piece of jewelry have some kind of magic powers? That would certainly explain why Cassandra lived so long.