knowthe most dramatic conclusion was right. A murder had been committed. Somebody had stood at the top of those stairs and watched Dorothy die.
âSo,â I said, with what I hoped was a tone of gossipy curiosity. âYou think this house really is a solid investment?â
âOh, yes. Real estate prices all around Portsmouth have rebounded nicely over the past couple of years.â Ellis Maitland was looking at me thoughtfully, but not in a maybe-we-could-be-friends way like Frank had. This was a maybe-sheâs-useful kind of way. âIf youâre a friend of Frankâs, maybe you can talk some sense into him. Everybody knows how hard it is to make a newspaper pay, even with a good business plan and a strong Web presence. If this house stays empty, itâll turn into a real white elephant. Then heâll either have to sell too fast or heâll lose the paper, and heâs worked so damn hard.â Ellis shook his head again; then he saw the expression on my face and chuckled. âI know what youâre thinking.â
I wouldnât bet on it.
But I bit my tongue before I said that out loud. Not that Ellis was waiting for me to talk. âYouâre thinking, âThis guy, heâs in real estate. Heâs only interested in the money.â Am I right?â
âI plead the Fifth.â
âDonât bother.â He waved his tanned hand again. He had a chunky gold ring on his pinkie, I noticed, but no wedding band. âI know our reputation. But I really do care about Frank, and about Portsmouth. This town is my home. All my roots are here, and I want to see it thrive. A good source of local news is part of that.â He fished in his pocket for a set of keys and hit the button on the fob. In answer, the BMW beeped and the driverâs side door popped open. âMaybe you could at least find the cat? If Frank knew Alistair was safe in a good home, it might give him what he needs to finally let go.â
âIâll do what I can.â This statement had the virtue of being both true and completely noncommittal.
Ellis had that thoughtful look on his face again. I had the sense of being sized up, and my shoulders stiffened. âIâm sure Iâll be seeing you again, Miss . . . ?â
âBritton,â I told him. For a second I debated whether to add the rest of it. Diplomacy and self-preservation said keep quiet. Diplomacy and self-preservation lost. âAnnabelle Blessingsound Britton.â
Ellisâs direct gaze went vague and distant. I could see him scrolling through associations in his mind like he was flicking through his phoneâs contacts list. Finally, he had it. âYour familyâs from here, too? Aââhe looked at me, and this time I got to watch him estimate my ageââgrandmother, maybe?â
âThatâs right. Annabelle Mercy Blessingsound.â
âWell.â A half dozen different emotions chased each other across Ellis Maitlandâs face, momentarily overriding his professional pleasantness. âThis is some coincidence. My mother will want to know youâre here.â
âShe does. We met yesterday when she stopped by the Pale Ale.â I paused, looking for a properly vague yet leading untruth. âActually, I was hoping to have a chance to look up some of Grandma B.B.âs old friends while I was in town. Maybe . . .â
âWell, I donât know if she and my mother were
friends
exactly . . . You know how women of that generation can be, especially in a small town. Lots of little rivalries and old grudges.â
Nice try.
I gave Ellis the calmest smile I could manage. âMaybe we can see about making peace.â
âItâd be a worthwhile effort.â Ellis tapped the BMWâs roof a couple of times, like he was knocking on wood. âIâll send out some feelers. See what comes back. Glad to have met you, Miss