Page 4 of She Doesn't Have a Clue
“Hiya, Jeeves,” Loretta quipped, doffing her imaginary cap.
“Good day, madame,” said the butler, the pinnacle of propriety.
Loretta snorted. “I’ve been called a lot of things, but ‘madame’ might be the worst of them. I’m here for Miss Faraday’s weekly delivery. The old gal might be pushing ninety-five, but she drinks harder than most of the twenty-five-year-olds I’ve seen.”
“I am afraid Miss Faraday is…” The butler’s gaze skittered to the side only a fraction of a second, just long enough for Loretta to know that the next words out of his mouth would be a lie. “Indisposed at the moment. I shall take the delivery for her.”
“I don’t think so, Jeeves,” Loretta said, narrowing her gaze. “I’m going to need to see Miss Faraday myself. In person.”
Except now that she thought about it, hadn’t Miss Faraday suffered a heart attack and died of natural causes in Loretta book two,A Darkand Stormy Murder? Kate would have to consult the series bible, which was currently stored away on her computer safely tucked in her luggage, which Jake had just tied to the trunk. So maybe not Miss Faraday’s butler, then.
“All set,” Jake said as he slid onto the bench seat beside her, oblivious of Miss Faraday’s potential fate. Kate quickly deleted the silly note as the butler climbed into the driver’s seat, closing them inside the cabin. It had looked wide and roomy from the outside, but Jake Hawkins had a tendency to take up all the space he occupied. His elbow brushed hers, sending frissons of energy all down her spine. Boy, she really was deprived if all it took was a little elbow friction to get her engine going. Of course, that was when it was Jake’s elbow doing the rubbing.
“Brakes released, proceeding ahead,” said the driver as the little car sputtered to life and lurched forward on the tracks. It must have been installed around the time Russell Hempstead was bootlegging it up and down the Seattle coastline, because the seats felt hollow and the doors looked too thick, like maybe they had a secret compartment of hooch still in there.
“On your left you will note the hunting lodge, built in 1934 by Franklin Houser, based on an original design by Frank Lloyd Wright,” said Jeeves as fat drops of rain adorned the hood and windshield.
“What does an island need a hunting lodge for?” Jake asked.
As if in answer to his question, the train car lurched to a halt, throwing Kate face-first into the hard seat back in front of her. Her forehead connected painfully and she tasted blood as she bit down on her lip, swearing under her breath. That was all she needed going into this weekend, a massive goose egg on her face and a bloodied lip.
“Kate, are you all right?” Jake asked, reaching for her.
“Fine, just… surprised,” Kate groused as she sat up, more embarrassed than hurt. Well, okay, alittlehurt. What was that seat back made of, concrete? “We stopped so fast.”
“My apologies, ma’am,” said the butler, his genteel tone a little distracted and sharp. “There is an… impediment on the tracks.”
“What kind of impediment?” Jake asked.
“It’s best if you and the lady do not look, sir,” said the butler, just as Kate crawled forward for a better view.
Though she probably should have heeded his words, considering the gruesome remains of a body strewn across the tracks before them.
Chapter Three
“Oh my god,” Kate said, swooning against the back of the seat. She was suddenly glad her grandfather never insisted on taking her on any of his fishing trips. She liked bone and sinew where it belonged, safely on the inside, out of her eyeline.
“’Tis only a deer, ma’am,” said the driver, having recovered his sensibilities. “And a stuffed one at that. No harm done.”
“No harm done?” Kate said incredulously, cracking one eye open to survey the dead animal on the tracks. The driver was right; that wasn’t bone and sinew, as she’d thought, but dense stuffing. Still, it was somehow worse in her mind. How the hell did a stuffed deer end up on the train tracks? Who would do such an insane thing?
Jake was of the same mind. “How did a stuffed deer wander onto the tracks?”
“It must have been from the hunting lodge,” the driver said dismissively as they exited the car. “They were probably moving it and it fell off one of the recreational vehicles. Unfortunately, I will need to recover it. Miss Rebecca is very partial to her trophies. You will need to proceed to the Manor on foot at the top of the hill there.”
Tall trees surrounded the tracks, the underbrush so thick she couldbarely see the ground. Kate looked up at the steep climb, wondering how she was going to manage it in ballet flats, when the driver called out sharply. “Sir! Ma’am! I am afraid you will need to take the long way around, on the tracks. You cannot go into the wilds alone.”
“Why not?” Kate asked, eyeing the bushes warily.
“It’s not safe,” intoned the driver, reaching into the car and pulling out a knife the size of Kate’s forearm. He held it out to Jake. “You will want to carry this, sir. Just in case.”
“In casewhat?” Kate asked, her voice climbing in direct relation to her blood pressure.
“You’ll be fine, ma’am,” said the driver smoothly, waving her along. “So long as you stick to the tracks and stay in the open.”
The sky gave an ominous rumble of thunder, cutting off further protestations from Kate and hurrying the two of them along. She stuck close to Jake on instinct. “You think somebody would have noticed a deer missing from the back of an ATV.”
“Kate,” Jake said, giving her a funny look. “That deer didn’t fall off any ATV.”