In the Dark of the Night Read Online Free PDF Page A

essentially brand new, as did the appliances. She ran the water and the garbage disposal, flipped every light switch she could find, and found herself pleasantly surprised: no drips, no leaks, no problems. Not even a burned-out lightbulb.
    She continued on through the house, making a note to have the chimneys swept and inspected.
    Ditto for the smoke detectors, which didn’t fit the decor at all, but without which the house would be unrentable.
    Then she went up the big staircase to the four bedrooms and as many baths above, searching for any signs of a leaking roof, or invading raccoons and squirrels.
    Nothing—another pleasant surprise.
    The bathrooms were in good condition—the toilets flushed, the water pressure was good. No rust came from any of the faucets. She slipped the sheets off the furniture in the bedrooms, pulling aside the heavy draperies and opening the windows in each of them. The house didn’t smell bad, just musty, the way unoccupied houses get. A family of four would change that within a day or two.
    The master bedroom looked much the same as the rest of the house; there was a slightly masculine aura about everything, with heavy, dark wood furniture, and hunting prints everywhere. Rita tried all the lights and this time found a bedside lamp missing a bulb.
    She made a note.
    As she slipped the sheet from the dresser, she found herself looking at a picture of Hector Darby. His eyes, even in the picture, had the same piercing quality they’d had in person, and as she gazed at the photograph, Rita found herself wondering what had really happened to the man. There’d been so many rumors over the years—rumors made up, for the most part, out of whole cloth—and now she wondered if any of them could be true. Indeed, as she looked at the picture, she felt a shiver run through her, as if even from the old photograph, Hector Darby was looking deep inside her, searching for her darkest secrets.
    Ridiculous, she told herself. It’s just a picture, and all that happened was that he fell out of his boat and drowned. Yet still she found herself putting the picture away on the top shelf of the closet where none of the Brewsters would have any reason to look for anything.
    Finished with the house, Rita went on to have a quick look in the large garage, easily big enough to accommodate three cars in the space where once a collection of carriages, buckboards, and wagons had stood. She decided it needed little more than a good sweeping out, and perhaps some oil on the door hinges, then made a quick tour of the rest of the carriage house. The stalls and the tack room had long ago been converted into workshops and storage spaces. She made as careful an inspection of the grooms’ quarters upstairs as she had of the house, then moved on to the boathouse and potting shed.
    Less than an hour after she’d arrived, Rita Henderson was finished with her inspection.
    Finished, and pleased.
    Of course, the inventory would take two full days for both her and her secretary, but at least Darby’s personal effects had already been packed up and moved out of the house, even if only into one of the storerooms in the carriage house, which is what she suspected had happened.
    But in a week the place would be ready for the Brewsters, and within two weeks the last feeling of mustiness, emptiness, and disuse would be long gone.
    And that, Rita knew, would make all the difference later in the summer when it would be time to show the house to prospective buyers.
    Empty houses—especially abandoned ones—were hard to sell.
    But Pinecrest, once it was filled with fresh air, bright sunlight, and a young family, would sell quickly.
    Quickly, and for the high price and commission she intended to get for the old place.
    Getting back in her Mercedes, she started the engine, then hesitated, remembering the picture of Hector Darby she’d left on the top shelf of the closet in the master bedroom. Maybe she should take it with her, and give it to