Still Lake Read Free Page B

shutters were open, and so was the front door, even though there wasn’t a vehicle or a person in sight.
    â€œDamn,” she said.
    â€œYou can’t blame me. We haven’t had any interest in the place for half a dozen years, and then suddenly the lawyers handling the estate call to tell me they’ve rented the place out from under me, and he might be wanting to buy. I couldn’t very well come back with a higher offer from you without talking to you, and there was no keeping the guy from showing up.”
    â€œI’m not in any position to buy it right now and you know it,” Sophie said. The third muffin was sitting like a rock in the pit of her stomach. “Everything I have is tied up in Stonegate Farm.”
    â€œLook, chances are this deal will fall through. No one has stayed on at the Whitten house for morethan a few weeks, and there’s no reason this man will be any different. Just be patient. He’ll hear about the murders and get spooked.”
    â€œI didn’t,” Sophie said.
    â€œAnd we both know that women are much tougher than men,” Marge replied. She squinted into the bright sunlight toward the old house. “Look at it this way—you can’t even see the Whitten house unless you’re down here by the lake. And besides, he’s not bad-looking, to put it mildly. We don’t get that many single men around here over the age of thirty.”
    Sophie followed her gaze. In the dazzling sunlight she could now see someone moving around at the side of the old house, but he was too far away to get a good look. Besides, he was the enemy. She wanted the Whitten house, almost more than she’d wanted Stonegate Farm. It was part of her plan, to turn the north end of Still Lake into a serene little enclave that would soothe the body and soul. She didn’t want strangers around, getting in the way of her plans. She most particularly didn’t want ostensibly good-looking male strangers, not when she had a vulnerable younger sister around.
    She turned back, frowning. “Who is he?”
    â€œHe says his name is John Smith, believe it or not. Someone thought he might be a computer nerd, planning on setting up business around here. Someone else thought he might be some kind of financialconsultant. That should last about six months, max. No one can make a living around here unless they’re independently wealthy.”
    â€œI’m planning to.”
    â€œThat’s different,” Marge said blithely. “You and I live off the tourist industry. We’ll make out just fine. Now, if Mr. Smith were a carpenter or a plumber it would be a different matter. Not that we haven’t got more than our share of carpenters around here. Anyway, I wanted to warn you in case you decided to go wandering around the place. He’s got a year’s lease with an option to buy, but I bet he’ll be out once the snow flies. Or once he hears about the murders.”
    He’d disappeared behind the old house, leaving Sophie to look after him thoughtfully. “Maybe,” she said. “Or maybe he already knows.”
    â€œWhat’s that supposed to mean?”
    Sophie shrugged. “I don’t know. It just seems funny he’d rent at this end of the lake, when you’ve told me there are several places open around the south end, including some places that haven’t been abandoned for years. Why would someone want to come to a decrepit old cottage, sight unseen?”
    â€œBeats me. I just take the rent check,” Marge said. She rose, brushing a stray leaf off her twill pants. “Tell you what, maybe I’ll do a little investigating. He’s too young for me, but I never let a little thing like a decade or two stand in my way,and I’m getting tired of sleeping alone. Unless you’re interested.”
    â€œNo,” Sophie said flatly.
    â€œYou haven’t even had a good look at him.”
    â€œNot