Murder at the Breakers Read Online Free PDF Page B

about to incriminate my brother until I learned more. All I knew was that I needed to find Brady; talk to Brady.
    My cousin set the lantern down on the grass and came to his feet. From beneath him the light angled over his face to cast ghoulish shadows that emphasized his frown lines, the hollows of his eyes, the grim set of his mouth. “Tell me what happened. What were you doing out here?”
    “I’d . . . just wandered outside for some air,” I lied, not meeting his eyes.
    A damn slid past his lips. “The police have to be called.”
    My stomach turned over, but I knew he was right.
    In the next minutes Neily covered poor Mr. Goddard with a sheet, ordered a footman to keep watch, and discreetly used the telephone in the servants’ hallway to make the necessary call. With him occupied, I stole the opportunity to race upstairs to Uncle Cornelius’s bedroom.
    “Brady,” I whispered into the darkness. “Brady, are you in here?”
    Silence and the light creaking of the still-open balcony door greeted me, gave me chills. I waited another moment, my eyes straining to see into the shadows of the expansive bedroom. All lay silent, and I could make out no one hiding in any of the corners. But why would Brady still be here, if indeed he had been here at all? I’d been foolish not to hurry upstairs sooner instead of going outside with Neily to examine the body. Obviously, I hadn’t been thinking clearly.
    I returned to the library, where I sat hugging an arm around my middle and, yes, sipping more brandy while I waited for Neily. Surrounded by the soothing influence of walnut paneling and Spanish leather, I found myself staring at the inscription carved above the marble fireplace:
    I CARE NOT FOR RICHES, AND DO NOT MISS THEM
SINCE ONLY CLEVERNESS PREVAILS IN THE END.
    Slowly, shock receded, leaving bleakness to settle over me. It’s true I hadn’t liked Alvin Goddard much, but now I could hardly remember the reasons. Uncle Cornelius had certainly trusted him, and even Brady had esteemed him as a sharp-witted wolf of a businessman who never missed a detail to his employer’s benefit. Yet, despite the claim inscribed in stone in front of me, Mr. Goddard certainly hadn’t prevailed tonight. A few hours ago he had kissed my hand and now this —it was simply too horrible to comprehend.
    “I just told Father what happened,” Neily said as he strode into the room. “He and Uncle William are outside. They . . . they saw the body and now they’re waiting for the police. Mother and the guests don’t know anything yet.” He stood a moment on the balls of his feet, then seemed to reach a decision. “I’m going upstairs to have a look. Do you want to come with me?”
    Avoiding his eye again, I stood.
    “I suppose we shouldn’t disturb anything,” I whispered moments later as Neily pushed open the door to his father’s bedroom suite.
    “No, the police will want to see the room exactly as it was at time of . . .” He left the sentence unfinished.
    Would they find a clue linking Brady to the accident? A breeze blew in from the balcony, and a slight tinge of liquor wafted on the air—something I hadn’t noticed upon entering the room before. Still clutching my middle, I walked in a few strides and stared into the darkness while Neily turned up the gas and lit a sconce.
    I blinked as the room burst into light, and gasped. On the floor, sticking out from the far corner of the bed, lay a pair of feet, toes pointing upward. A moment’s dread held me immobile. Then I hurried across the room. This time, I made no mistake in the individual’s identity. I’d have known him anywhere, in any position, in any state of consciousness.
    “Brady!”
    I was about to go to his side, but Neily grabbed my arm from behind. “Wait, Emmaline.”
    “What do you mean, ‘wait’?” I struggled to break free, but he held me fast. “He could be—”
    “He’s breathing. But look at him. Look at everything around him. The papers, the