Death of the Party Read Online Free Page A

interest was prompted as much by his selection of the name as the island itself. Private islands, many of them tiny and uninhabited, were not unusual. In fact, there was no firm accounting of the number of small islands along the coast of South Carolina, and a study was under way to list them all. Addison had named his island after the Golden Silk, an orb-weaving spider with a gold body and legs, which creates such a sturdy web in the woods that small birds can be trapped. Addison’s remote island with its restored plantation house and newly built cabins, each in its own cluster of pines, had been featured in a glossy architectural magazine. A diesel-powered generator provided electricity. The article’s title had been “Welcome to My Web, Said…”
    â€œGolden Silk now belongs to me. I’ve turned it into a resort. The house is a B&B. There are eight cabins, each one quite separate and private. I’m getting established. Lots of people want to come somewhere and be cut off from the world. We’re only forty-five minutes from the mainland, but once you arrive on the island, it’s a world unto itself. Cell phones don’t work. No fax.No contact with the outside. There’s a boat that brings everyone over on a Friday and it doesn’t come back until the following Friday. People love it.” There was a flash of pride and enthusiasm.
    â€œYou inherited Golden Silk from Jeremiah Addison?” Max was bland, keeping disappointment out of his voice. She didn’t look like the kind of woman to be a rich man’s mistress, but there were plenty of stories like that about Addison. And she’d given her name as Ms. Barlow. Not Mrs. Addison.
    Her laughter was ragged. And unamused. “Not likely. He’d rather have seen me in hell, actually. Jeremiah and I—well, let’s say we didn’t care for each other. No, my sister Cissy was his wife. His second wife. Cissy…” There was an instant when her head bent and her lips were tight together. She took a breath, then looked at Max. “Cissy died last January. Six months after Jeremiah. The island and everything on it and a third of his entire estate came to her. And now, to me. That’s not why I’m here. I’m here because Jeremiah fell down the main stairs that Saturday morning. I was up early. I heard a thump. I went out in the hall and listened. It was absolutely quiet. But I knew something was wrong. I went down the hall and that’s when I saw him at the foot of the stairs. I could see from the way he was lying that his neck was broken. It was ugly. His head was battered from the fall…. I stood there and stared. I thought about going down to be certain he was dead. But I was sure. Then I saw why he’d fallen. There was a wire across the second step. Ankle high. It ran from a baluster to a nail in the wall.” Her head lifted. Her gaze was determined. “Jeremiahhad been murdered.” She folded her arms across her chest, spoke dispassionately as if describing the actions of a stranger. “I got a cloth from the nearest bath, used it to loosen the wire. I put the wire and the nail in my pocket.”
    Max wrote quickly, all the while thinking that every word had a ring of truth. This was what she’d seen. This was what she’d done. His skepticism melted like snow in a hot sun. There was no disbelieving this grim recital of actions, culpable actions.
    He looked at her hard face. “Why?” She was still an attractive woman, but he saw the coldness in her eyes, the set of her jaw.
    â€œCissy was sick. Terribly sick. Cancer. Treatments. She could barely cope. And now Jeremiah was dead. She adored him. His death was going to be a horrible shock. She couldn’t handle anything more. Murder?” She shook her head with finality. “You know what?” Her tone was fierce. “I’m glad I did it. Cissy grieved but she didn’t have to look at the