A Forgotten Murder (Medlar Mystery 3)
“You are so not funny. Are you going to rummage around in there a lot?”
“Not at all.” He had Sara’s camera bag and he withdrew four little black plastic cubes.
“What are they?”
“Lights. I’m going to use them and a stick to see what I can find.” He was standing at the head of the chain ladder they’d taken from the storage bin, and looking at the grass that had been eaten by the sheep. “Part of me wishes I hadn’t done that. I’d like to see who’s been here besides us.”
“You think someone has?” Her eyes widened. “What if someone took him away?”
“My thoughts exactly. I wonder if everyone stayed in their rooms last night or if someone went out and down the hole.”
“Jack, that’s scary.”
He grinned in a roguish way. “Guess I’ll have to take my chances. Watch the knot on the tree.” He climbed down the ladder.
Kate stretched out on her stomach. English grass was so soft and fragrant. Florida saw grass wasn’t named that for no reason. It had to be strong enough to withstand the sun and a hurricane now and then. “Anything?” she called down to him.
“Not yet.”
She saw a light come on.
“It’s here. Just as we left it.”
Kate let out her breath.
“I’m going to set up,” he said. “It’ll take a while.”
Kate rolled over, did a sit-up, then let out a gasp of shock. There was a man sitting not three feet from her.
“Sorry,” he said. “Didn’t mean to frighten you. I’m Christopher Isles, Diana’s son. So this is where it is?” He nodded toward the place where Jack had pushed the vines aside. The light from below was brighter now.
Kate was staring at him, not sure what to say. He was Jack’s height, a little over six feet, with dark blond hair and blue eyes. He had on all khaki clothes, like he’d been on a safari. His accent was nice. “You’re Australian?”
“Mom says I’m English. I was just born and raised Down Under. And please don’t ask me to say anything about shrimp on a barbie.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Kate said. She tried to stop herself, but her eyelashes fluttered. He was quite good-looking!
“Mom told me about you and a famous writer and some guy who looks like Sean—whoever he is. She said his skeleton was found in a cave. Or in a hole. I’m not sure which.”
“Sort of both. He’s down there.” She pointed.
“You’re bringing him—it—up?”
“No. Jack’s looking for—” She hesitated in telling too much.
He smiled in understanding, then stood and offered his hand to help her up. “One thing for sure is that I’m not the murderer. I wasn’t born at the time this guy disappeared.”
“Me neither,” Kate said, and smiled back. “I don’t mean to be so personal, but, well... Who is your father?”
“I am the product of IVF and a donor from a catalog. My two moms call me ‘untainted.’ I have to work at not seeming to be ‘too male.’”
“You’re not doing a very good job,” Kate said.
Chris laughed. “Don’t tell my moms that. They’ll feel they failed in their life’s work of creating a man who cares about...well, about everything.”
They smiled at each other.
“I was late getting here because I bought a horse. I’m taking him to Wales to my mother’s cousin.”