Free Trace Their Shadows by Ann Cook

for our mutual concern for Brookfield, of course. Grace was always a nervous little thing, and her nerves have been worse since his death. Lives in a fancy condominium in Leesburg. Fortunately, money is no problem. He left her very comfortable. She still even has her own small flower garden.” And to his sister, Brandy thought, Brookfield left this disintegrating house.
    At the end of the hallway a door opened and closed, followed by a quick step on the stairs. Sylvania jerked her head up, alert, like a horse who detects an alarming scent in the air.

EIGHT  
    “Came to get the rest of my things,” called a voice from the hall. A man with thick, gray hair and a wide grin peered around the doorway, as if testing the waters. Seeing John and Brandy, he gained assurance, stepped into the living room, and saluted the three by lifting a paper cup in their direction. “Face is familiar,” he said to John. “S’been a long time. You one of Cousin Jake’s boys?”
    Sylvania stood. “This is John Able,” she said, ”as you’d know if your memory weren’t impaired. And a reporter, Miss O’Bannon.” She turned to Brandy. “My husband, at least for the moment——Elton Langdon. He can’t stay.”
    “Oh, no.’Course not, Syl.” The old gentleman wavered forward. “Long time no see.” He winked at John and stuck out his hand. Then he faced Brandy. “Name’s Ace, little lady,” he added with a mock bow. “Ace Langdon.”
    Brandy had hung the camera around her neck, but she held the dirty white pumps in one hand behind her, not caring to explain them, and shook hands with the other. Langdon was of medium build, trim for his age, and light on his feet in spite of the clear liquid in the paper cup. Vodka, Brandy surmised. Probably thinks it doesn’t have an odor.
    He looked up and hoisted the cup toward the portrait of Brookfield Able. “Damn fine pilot,” he said and focused bright blue eyes on Sylvania. “But I liked him better as a buddy than a boss.”
    “Elton.” Sylvania advanced a few paces, menace in her voice. “Your room is untouched. Get your things. John and Miss O’Bannon are just leaving, and so am I. I’m on my way into town this afternoon and I won’t be back tonight. I’m completing arrangements for my new apartment. Saturday the house goes. Now is the time for you to pack anything you left.”
    Her husband shrugged. “No problem. You’ll have to excuse me then. I have a carry–all bag in the hall.” He backed out of the room, the cocky smile still on his face.
    Brandy rose suddenly. “I’m sure you’d like a few minutes alone with your aunt,” she said to John and followed Ace Langdon out of the room. She had not forgotten that he was at Brookfield’s welcome home–engagement party. In the hall Ace retrieved a blue canvas bag and went briskly into the kitchen. From the pantry he lifted down two bottles. Then, seeing Brandy behind him, his grin widened. The dimples must have been devastating combined with a flyer’s rakish cap. “First things first,” he explained. “Got to pack my gin and vermouth.”
    Brandy leaned against the linoleum covered kitchen counter. “I’m researching the history of this house for the Tavares Beacon. I’m especially interested in the drowning of Eva Stone. I thought you might be able to tell me something useful. Maybe help me reconstruct the event.”
    His smile faded. He set the bottles heavily down on the counter top, pulled two dish towels from a drawer, rolled them around the bottles, and thrust them into the bottom of his bag. “S’not a good time to talk. I mean with the Moose——excuse me——with Syl in the next room. But don’t go dredging up that stuff about Eva Stone now. The house and everything around it will be gone soon. And good riddance. No matter what happened to Eva Stone, she’s ancient history now.” Langdon looked toward the hall stairs. “I’ve got to pack before the Moose throws me out.”
    Brandy handed him