Page 66 of Murder in the Lighthouse

They turned off their phones and popped popcorn, then curled up on the couch with the dogs, talking late into the night, dissecting every nuance of their childhoods. She went over that moment when she arrived at LAX fresh off the flight, not knowing what to expect from anyone. They reminisced about that first day they met at the beach, going back over their teenage years and all the summer tours they’d been dragged along, going from city to city when what they wanted more than anything was to return to L.A., sleep in their own rooms, even if the housekeepers had to look after them.

“Sure, there were visits I remember those from my early years in Connecticut. He’d fly in and check on me, then fly out,sometimes the same day. Forget the idea that he and Rachel ever shared a romantic link with each other. I don’t think they ever did.”

“You were the link. The glue that kept him returning for the visits. You came to California to stay with him during the summers, though.”

“They had nasty, loud, shouting arguments about that. Now I see how it all played out for him. Rachel was responsible for my day-to-day upbringing while he checked in periodically to see how things were progressing. For eight years, he was on the road so much, the arrangement worked out fine for him.”

“Aren’t you curious to dive into that folder?” Lucien asked, dragging it to the edge of the coffee table with his fingertips.

“No. Why should I be? Amalie hit the high points. And to think I would never have known any of this if I hadn’t uploaded my DNA. That simple act changed my perspective about everything I thought I knew.”

“At least you don’t have a sibling walking around you’ve never met.”

She snickered. “There is that. I am curious about one thing. Maybe overly so. It’s Rachel. Did she ever have a love interest of her own? I can’t remember, Lucien. I never saw a guy hanging around for long, never caught her kissing a man who walked her to the door. She was young when she died, only thirty-eight or so. Do you suppose she ever took a lover that I don’t know anything about?”

“Please don’t bring that touchy subject up to Delia.”

She gave him a gentle shove. “Are you crazy? I haven’t completely lost my mind, at least not yet. Just because I suspect something doesn’t mean I’d ever have a conversation like that with my grandmother. I know how much she loves living in an alternate universe. Bless her heart. She probably still believesRachel was a virgin. Here I am thinking about myself when she’s the one who’s been knocked for a loop about the lie.”

Lucien threw his arm around her. “My mother once mentioned to me that she thought Rachel might have been having a longtime affair when she died.”

Shocked to hear that, she glared at him. “Okay. And you never said a word about this until now? What made her think that? Who with?”

“Look, it’s just my mother trying to stir up trouble.”

“Now you have to tell me.”

“Remember, your mother and my mother ran in the same circles once. They’d sail around the Greek islands every summer before we were born. Kate loved recounting how wonderful her life was before I came along and ruined it. That’s how they met so many rich and famous people. Probably how they met Rory and Graeme.”

Brogan was silent for several long minutes, considering that, trying to picture the two women lounging on the deck of a yacht, having a life before children entered the picture.

“What?” Lucien prompted.

“You know Rachel held onto her apartment on the Upper East Side, not too far from Kate after I was born. She told Delia she needed the apartment because of Brinell Steel. She’d work in town five days a week and then return to Connecticut on weekends. Oftentimes, she didn’t come home at all on the weekend. She’d leave me with the nanny and stay in New York or wherever she had decided to party. That must’ve been when I was around five. Was she hiding an affair then?”

Lucien blew out a sigh. “Don’t get mad, but according to Kate Ashcroft, Rachel was seen clubbing with Nigel multiple times in and around New York during that time.”

“Nigel? Nigel Brighton?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh, my God. And he never said a word. When I talked to him that day, he acted like he barely knew Rachel. Why didn’t he just come clean with me? I don’t care if they were together. His wife, on the other hand, certainly might feel differently.”

“It was a long time ago. Why is this so important to you?”

“Honestly, I’m not sure. But it’s like I can’t remember the basics about Rachel. Once I left Connecticut, it was almost as if I never really knew the woman who raised me. Or maybe I forgot about her completely because she always seemed so distant. I don’t know. It’s almost like I can’t close the door to my childhood without knowing what she was like. We are, after all, websleuths.”

“At least you didn’t say private investigators.”

“I’m still not sure why PIs get a bad rap. There has to be a way to find out whether Rachel had another life in New York that Delia never knew about or questioned.” She snapped her fingers. “Wait a sec. Her apartment had a doorman. I remember him the few times I went there before she died. He always cracked jokes and tapped my nose with his finger. The tapping annoyed me, but otherwise, he was hilarious.”

“A hilarious doorman in the eyes of an eight-year-old? Where are you going with this?”

“If I tracked him down, he’d have a few stories to tell about those days.”

“Why would you want to do that? It sounds like you aren’t happy with discovering the details about Britta. That’s not enough for some reason. Now, you need to go digging around in Rachel’s life. Why? I don’t get it. Explain it so I understand. Because trust me, my relationship with Kate is far from perfect. You know that. The only difference between Rachel and Kate is that Rachel died. My mother’s hobby is marrying wealthy men and divorcing them. Whatever life your mother had was her business—”

“You’re right. What good would it do? I won’t even bring up the affair to Nigel when he comes for Thanksgiving. How’s that?”

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