Page 20 of Trick of Light
Her eyes, set deep in a nest of wrinkles, widened. “Why do you ask that? Was her passing similar to the other people Luke mentioned?”
“Exactly similar. You’re probably going to have to talk to the police.”
“I did talk to your brother. He’s very lovely. We’re lucky to have someone so kind representing the law on this island. And his friend, that beautiful girl, what was her name?”
“Gabby,” he said after a moment of internal resistance. He didn’t want to get distracted from his main point, and Gabby was always a distraction.
“I hope she comes again. She has a way about her that delights me.”
“Well, I’m sure she will if she has more questions. She’s in the journalism field, that’s how they are.”
“I’m not afraid of questions, not from her or from your brother.”
“Okay, fair enough, but it might be someone who’s not my brother. If they determine that Amelia’s death wasn’t accidental—or even if it was an accidental overdose of some kind—you’re going to be at the top of their list. Your name is on her calendar. Did you give her something recently?”
“Yes, but nothing that could have caused her any harm. I hope it eased her suffering at the end.”
Tamara was always so vague about her herbal concoctions. “Do you have records of what you gave her? Is there any chance you could have made a mistake?”
She blinked at him in a way that made him feel like he was being a jerk by pushing this. “Why would you say a thing like that?”
“Because I’m worried about this situation and I want to get ahead of any potential trouble. If I know everything, I can protect you better.”
“I need protection?” For the first time, her voice faltered. It made his heart twist to hear it.
“Maybe. I’m just trying to be prepared.” The heat inside this greenhouse felt humid and oppressive, and he tugged his t-shirt away from his body.
Looking agitated, she murmured something under her breath, something that sounded like “not again.” He wondered if it was a mistake coming here.
After long moments of thought, her fingers on autopilot as they tied lush leafy stalks of lemon balm into bundles, she finally spoke. “You will be my champion. If anyone wants to talk to me, you will stand next to me and represent me. Like a medieval knight.”
If that was how she wanted to think of it, so be it. “Agreed. You still have that cell phone I gave you, right?”
“Of course. How do you think I make my appointments?” she said tartly. “You need to stop thinking I’m helpless. I managed for many years before you crawled up my rocks asking for help with a scraped knee.”
“You’re right.” He gave a rueful laugh. She’d had to remind him of that first meeting many times over the past few years, since he’d started worrying more about her. “Sorry.”
“Of course I forgive you, darling child.” She peered more closely at him. “Have you been taking your turmeric?”
“I don’t know. Occasionally I pop one of those capsules you gave me. I don’t know what’s in them.” He hadn’t collapsed in a heap of bloody vomit, so that was something.
“Well, take them more often. Your stress is too high. And bring that girl back with you next time.”
Already gathering himself to depart, he paused. “What did you two talk about? What kind of questions did she ask?”
“Questions you should be asking.”
“Me? Why?”
“You’ve never asked much about my side of your family at all. She did. She was curious about my family lineage. There’s a journal that she wants me to read, and some references she thinks I might be able to explain.”
“References to what?” he asked suspiciously.
“I suppose I’ll find out soon enough, but you should stop pretending you don’t like her.”
“I’m not pretending anything.”
“How is your father?” She shifted the conversation so abruptly that he answered without thinking twice. She never spoke about John Carmichael III, not once that he’d ever heard, except for the time she’d told him about his mother.
