Free The Old Deep and Dark by Ellen Hart Page A

to the lake.
    â€œRay said he’d drive me, so go ahead and take the rental. We’re going to grab a bite to eat and talk a little more.”
    Beverly bent closer. “Did you get any answers?”
    â€œA few. I’ll tell you all about it later tonight.”
    She nodded. After saying her good-byes to Ray, she took off out the front door, though not before offering Kit a conspiratorial wink.
    As Ray helped Kit on with her coat, Cordelia burst in, with Jane close behind.
    â€œI need a stiff drink,” she cried, her cheeks flushed, her auburn curls corkscrewing around her face. She tore off her cape and tossed it over a chair. “What a day. What … a … freakin’ day!” Glancing at Kit’s coat, she said, “You going somewhere?”
    â€œWell, I—”
    â€œCome with me,” she ordered, seizing Kit’s hand and dragging her off toward the back of the house.
    Kit glanced over her shoulder, giving Ray a helpless look.
    â€œA glass of wine might be nice,” he called after them.
    *   *   *
    â€œYou know, Dad,” said Jane, trying not to get swallowed up by the feather cushion on a wing-back chair in the main hall. “Cordelia didn’t mean wine. She meant black cherry soda.”
    Ray shook his head and groaned. “Should have known. Maybe Kit can persuade her to offer the rest of us something a bit more palatable.” He struggled to get comfortable on his own feather cushion. “What’s Cordelia so upset about?”
    Halfway through the afternoon, Jane had given up any hope of returning to her restaurant. The uniformed cops who’d initially come to the theater had eventually called in a cold case team. She should have simply left, but like Cordelia, she was both repelled and fascinated by the scene.
    Jane took a few minutes to explain about Gilbert and Hilda King—about the speakeasy in the basement of the theater, the gangland shooting, and the bricked-up wall.
    â€œAt one point, I jokingly said that we’d probably find a dead body behind it.”
    Her dad grimaced.
    â€œThere was a bullet hole right in the center of the skull.” She didn’t mention Red Clemens or the fact that he’d appeared— conveniently?—out of the blue right when they’d discovered the brick wall. When the police first came in, Jane looked around for him, thinking that, since he’d worked at the theater for so many years, he might be a source of information. She never saw him the rest of the afternoon.
    â€œAny idea who the skull belonged to?” asked her father.
    â€œA guy on the forensics team thought it was a man, though he said they’d have to perform some tests to determine the sex, age—and when the person was likely shot. They found a gold signet ring. It was large, heavy. Looked to me like it had belonged to a guy. The lead cold case investigator thought the body had been back there at least twenty years. Maybe more.”
    â€œSince you’re now a licensed PI,” said her father, “let me take a wild guess and say that Cordelia wants you to figure out who was murdered and why it happened.”
    Jane sighed. “She did drop a few broad hints.”
    â€œYou’re not interested?”
    â€œDad,” she said, knowing she sounded impatient—no doubt on the way to pissed. “I’ve spent the last month clearing the decks so that I could spend the fall concentrating on my restaurant.”
    â€œAnd your girlfriend.”
    â€œYes, Avi’s part of why I want more free time.” She drummed her fingers against her thigh. “So, what about you? Did you and Kit have a chance to talk?”
    â€œWe did.”
    â€œAnd? Is everything okay?”
    â€œIt’s a legal matter I’m afraid, one I can’t talk about.”
    â€œShe sure looks great for a woman who must be close to sixty. I didn’t realize you two were