Lake Silence (The Others #6)(83)
Ilya smiled, showing a hint of fang. “A good point, Mr. Farrow, and one I believe was, in fact, taken into account. Among the papers Franklin Cartwright had been carrying on the day he was killed were notes indicating that he had been in Sproing prior to the date when Yorick Dane filed for divorce and had made a careful assessment of The Jumble’s condition at that time and what it would cost to turn the place into a ‘stage-one income stream.’ The cash settlement to Victoria was sufficient for her to make all the major repairs to the main house and at least some of the cabins. Perhaps all of the cabins, but she was practical about holding back the money she needed to live on during the months of renovation and the time it would take to attract paying guests.”
“I don’t remember the CIU team finding any paperwork near Cartwright’s body,” Grimshaw said. He certainly hadn’t seen any when he’d secured the scene and waited for the CIU boys to show up.
“They didn’t,” Ilya replied so pleasantly there was no question that the subject was closed.
Meaning, whatever information the Sanguinati had would be shared when they wanted to share, and there was nothing the human police could do about it.
Grimshaw frowned. “So Dane knew how much Vicki DeVine would have to sink into the buildings to turn The Jumble into a rustic resort because he had hired Franklin Cartwright to assess the property. And then he had Cartwright come back here to find out if she’d done enough work to make it worth his while to reclaim it?”
“To reclaim it as a stage-one income stream,” Julian said. “Which means there is a stage two.” He stared at Ilya. “Did you find anything else in those papers Franklin Cartwright was carrying when he died?”
A weighted silence. Then Ilya opened a drawer and removed a stack of papers. He unfolded one and turned it so that Grimshaw and Julian could see it.
A map of The Jumble. But not The Jumble as it was today. Not a rustic resort. This was a luxury resort. And that made no sense.
“Mr. Paperhead,” Julian whispered. His hand clamped on Grimshaw’s wrist. “Ineke, Vicki, Paige, Dominique. All in danger. That was Vicki’s dream.”
By itself, Vicki’s dream had been nothing more than a weird dream— a concoction of images her subconscious had burped into her sleep. He’d taken down the details to appease the Others and, all right, to be a hard-ass about being called to The Jumble because of a dream. But, for him, it had been Julian’s response to the dream that had given weight to the whole thing then—and now.
“Eight people arrive in Sproing at the same time, using false names,” Ilya said. “Six of them know each other. It stands to reason they also know Yorick Dane since one of them referred to a deal involving The Jumble.”
Grimshaw nodded. “Odds are building a luxury resort would require investors, and those people would want to take a look at their property. Dane couldn’t have stayed with them at The Jumble even under an assumed name. Vicki recognized him as soon as she saw him.”
But was that the only reason Dane had stayed at the boardinghouse? Or was he scouting? As Julian had pointed out when they’d sat in Ineke’s parlor the other day discussing the dream, Ineke and Vicki owned the two properties around Sproing that accommodated travelers. Still, when he considered all the potential people involved in Dane’s attempt to reclaim The Jumble, it just didn’t add up.
“Is The Jumble as it is now really a lucrative enough business for a group of people to conspire to take it from Vicki DeVine?” Grimshaw asked.
“I’ve heard that fishermen lust for a chance to fish in Mill Creek, but the best runs aren’t on easily accessible—or safe—land,” Julian replied. “It may be seasonal, but I can see Vicki’s creekside cabins providing a nice income, even in their primitive state, as long as permission to fish in the creek was part of the rental agreement. And the cabins near the lake would make some money too.” Julian shrugged. “I think an individual could make a living from renting the cabins, but the only way I can see for a group of investors to make enough would be to develop the land.”
“Which still belongs to the terra indigene,” Ilya said. “The Dane family owned the buildings, and only as long as they abided by the terms of the original agreement. They never controlled any part of the land.”
“Does Yorick Dane know that?” Julian asked.
Ilya looked surprised. “How could he not know? He supplied a copy of the original agreement with the rest of the papers Victoria received with regard to the divorce settlement.” He waved a hand at the map. “This luxury resort will never be built.”
Because the moment someone digs up a spade of earth for something other than a flower bed or garden, people are going to die, Grimshaw thought.
“If the people staying at The Jumble are investors in this scheme of Dane’s, I wonder if he’s told any of them about the original agreement and the building restrictions,” Julian said. “After all, he finagled the divorce settlement so that it looked like he was being fair. Why be truthful with potential investors?”
“And if they all belong to the tie clip club?” Grimshaw asked.
“Then someone believes, in the face of all reason, that they can build this thing without the terra indigene noticing. It’s a kind of willful blindness that occurs most often in humans who live in human-controlled cities. Some people still believe they can make the Others disappear simply by insisting that everything that lives in the wild country doesn’t exist.”