Chapter One
Sunday Early Morning
Dawn was still a long way off when Harry Foyle quietly loaded three Samoyed dogs, their food, their toys, and one, very sleepy and beautiful bride into his car. He wanted an early start on their honeymoon. The extra-long minivan held the three Samoyed dogs in crates, their luggage and everything needed for the next two weeks. He’d gotten this car to replace his sedan as he was determined to travel with Kate when she showed her dogs. It came with more bells and whistles than he could imagine. This morning he was also determined to get on the road before dawn to avoid both heavy traffic and any stunt to embarrass them that Kate’s brothers could dream up.
Glancing over at Kate, he was glad that he’d remembered the pillows and blankets. The last twenty-four hours had been exhausting, both for their horrors and delights. She had barely gotten any sleep the night before the wedding when a killer shot at her through her window. This was followed by an attempt on their lives during the wedding. Last night, following the wedding, neither of them had gotten much sleep, but that had been much more enjoyable.
Before they had reached Route 8, she was sound asleep. He leaned over and tucked the blanket over her shoulder, and noticed that she curled even tighter into her cocoon. Today’s drive was about three hours long, but since it was mostly interstate, and it was Sunday morning, it should go smoothly. They would head northwest through Connecticut until they hit the Massachusetts Turnpike at Lee then transition onto the New York Thruway toward Albany and from there, make a straight run up the Northway into the Adirondacks and their destination.
Kate had no idea where they were going. The choice of destination was decided after her grandmother, Ann, told him about Kate’s childhood dream. When he saw the place, it was obvious that would be the perfect honeymoon spot and bridal gift.
Months ago, while Kate was off in New York City with her cousin Agnes, arranging for her second annual fashion show which ran in conjunction with the dog show in February, Ann invited him to dinner. They talked about the upcoming wedding and she asked where they were going to honeymoon. Harry confessed he hadn’t a clue. He wanted their honeymoon to be perfect but knew that traditional trips to resorts wouldn’t work for his bride. Ann smiled and said that she might have an idea. That’s when she told him about Kate’s castle.
“When Kate and Agnes were young and showing dogs, her father and grandfather would take them on the Adirondack dog show circuit. And every year, that trip would include a side trip to stay overnight at what Ann’s family called Camp but what Kate referred to as her castle. She explained that her grandfather, James Durgin, who was a financier, had built a grand home in the Adirondacks on Lake George in 1878. Many of the wealthy families were doing so. They would bring in famous architects to design palatial homes out of native materials.
“Our architect was not famous. He was a cousin who did a really wonderful job. Remember: this was a time before income tax, so the wealthy had a lot of money to spend. There was also a tradition among the better-off classes that this beautiful part of the country should be preserved for future generations.”
“How big are we talking about?” he’d asked.
Ann laughed and explained, “There are a dozen bedrooms, nine bathrooms, a game room, a sitting room, a library, a ballroom, an indoor swimming pool, numerous patios, two private cabins, a dock, and a boathouse, plus many other smaller rooms which were used by staff when I was young. What enchanted the girls were the bedrooms located in the towers, one at each end of the front facade. The idea of a circular bedroom with a bed in the middle of the room where a princess could lie in bed and look out windows in all directions enchanted Kate.
“A covered porch extends from the south side of the house, around these towers and then runs back along the north side. When I was growing up, the porch was a playground on rainy summer days when we could race each other, play shuffleboard, or just collapse into one of the Adirondack chairs or on the hanging porch swings and read. It was heaven for both kids and grownups.”
“And this house is still in the family?”
“Yes and no. Yes, because it is still there and is owned by my cousin whose father, being the oldest of my grandfather’s sons, inherited it. However, since the rest of the family didn’t marry into such healthy Irish stock as I did, the number of descendants from all my uncles is just my one cousin. She is now in her eighties and not in the best of health. Vivian’s been living at Camp for the last thirty years. She sold her house in Manhattan, which she said had become too noisy with all the traffic and moved up to the mountains. She has a very lovely couple who cares for her and does their best keeping up the large house, but Vivian is reaching the age where she needs round-the-clock care.
“ When I last spoke to her, she became almost hysterical when I suggested that she just sell it. She kept repeating ‘I promised, I promised.’ She refuses to leave because she promised her father that Camp would always remain in the family.”
Harry sat and thought. He and Kate were building their home and construction would begin the Monday following the wedding. He’d budgeted for that. However, depending on what kind of money they wanted for Camp, he might be able to afford that as well. Only Sadie knew how much he was worth since he’d been keeping his wealth a secret even from Kate.
He’d been chosen as a ten-year-old child to travel across the country and study with college students at Caltech in a program for math geniuses Though his education was fantastic, he spent most of his childhood feeling lonely. The game of playing the stock market had kept him from feeling abandoned. He had begun investing when he’d taken his first course in math on how the stock market works. Harry had eventually made friends who were, for the most part, much older than he, but life had worked out and his little hobby led him to earn his first million by age twelve. He’d continued playing, investing only money he could afford to lose. But he rarely lost. This meant that he and Kate wouldn’t need to worry, nor would their children. He and Ann spoke some more. Then she called her cousin Vivian and arranged for a visit the following day.
The house was a wonder: from rampant lions on the stone gate posts to the long drive through a forest of evergreens to the stunning vista of a house that seemed to grow from its natural surroundings. The drive swung around and ran to a covered entrance. He could easily see why Kate thought it a castle. The drive then continued to on a carriage house which at one time must have held numerous carriages as well as stalls for horses. The place made a statement—that of old money tastefully spent.
Otto Marks and his wife Helen had been caring for Vivian for at least thirty years since she moved into Camp permanently. Otto was able to connect Harry with someone to inspect the house and go over exactly what repairs it needed. Helen had a nephew who owned a construction business two towns over who could do the work.
Once the inspection was complete, Harry met with Vivian’s lawyers to take care of the transfer of title and then with Helen’s nephew to begin the updates and repairs. Vivian Durgin moved into a lovely care facility nearby, content that Camp would remain in the family.
Harry smiled remembering how he got Kate’s signature on the deed without spoiling the surprise. He took her to Boston telling her she had to meet with his lawyer to sign all the wills and other papers before the wedding, especially with people shooting at them all the time. This would guarantee the safety of his business and her dogs and business, but most of all their future children. She was so distracted by her cousin’s fussing over the wedding and the amount of work she had to get out-of-the-way first, that she just signed what was put before her. He’d buried the deed in the middle of the stack of papers.
The day had been wonderful. Since they were in Boston, they pretended to be tourists, exploring the Freedom Trail, and visiting the Old North Church. So much history still lived in that small area of Boston. Even though he had lived in Boston for years, it was Harry’s first time to explore these sights.
He clicked a button and a dashboard screen showed the view of the inside of the car from an overhead camera. Three dogs lay sleeping peacefully in their crates. He decided he was going to love this new vehicle.
Dawn was breaking as they transitioned from Massachusetts and onto the New York Thruway. It wasn’t long until they circled around Albany to Latham and then did a straight run up I-87 N better known as the Northway to Bolton on Lake George. He had just traversed onto the Northway when the sun rose fully. Traces of snow peeked out from under the trees on either side of the highway leftover from the surprise blizzard last week. Harry turned his mind away from that thought. If Kate hadn’t come to rescue him from a hired killer, he would have frozen to death in that blizzard, buried in the snow.
Once onto the Northway, he watched as the trees on each side of the highway changed from the deciduous, which mere weeks ago had people flocking from the city to view their colorful leaves, to the evergreens majestic on either side of the highway. It was a smooth stretch of road with little traffic so he relaxed. When he was about twenty minutes from Bolton, the car phone rang. He’d forgotten it was linked to his cell. Without thinking, he started to fish his cell out of his pocket, only to remember he didn’t need to. A screen on the dashboard lit up telling him he had a call coming in from Otto. Harry pushed the button on the steering wheel and tentatively said, “Hello?”
“Harry, it’s Otto. Are you on your way?”
“Yes, we’re almost in Bolton and Camp is only about fifteen minutes beyond that.”
“Good. We have a problem here that I can guarantee is the very last thing you need on your honeymoon, and I am sorry.”
“What kind of problem?”
“The dead body kind of problem.”
“Was it a man?”
“A man.”
“How did he die?”
“They won’t know until the autopsy.”
“When did it happen?”
“Well, the coroner estimates about sixty years ago since I think that’s the last time the basement floor was dug up to work on the drainage pipes. I wouldn’t even know that if the inspector you had in for the house hadn’t left such a thorough report.”
“So I don’t have to worry about our getting shot at by bad guys. What do the police say? How did they find it?”
“Yeah. The guy from the coroner’s office said it was an early middle age Caucasian man. That was the best he could do without a complete examination. Oh, and they found a bullet under him which he said could have contributed to his cause of death, but he still needed the exam. On the positive side, my nephew managed to fix the drains before the body was found.”
“Glad to hear your ‘cup-half-full’ take on this. Is Helen okay?”
“She’s fine. She fed the police coffee and cinnamon buns which put everyone in a more relaxed frame of mind.”
“Thank her for me. Tell her to save me a cinnamon bun. I’ll be there soon.” He pushed another button on the steering wheel ending the call when a voice came from the bundle of blankets next to him.
“I remember that voice. I heard it when we’d visit The Castle. I haven’t heard it in several years because Gramps was too sick to do the week-long show circuits. Why were you talking with Otto?”
“Because we’re going to have our honeymoon at the same place where your parents had theirs.”
“Oh, Harry, that’s wonderful.”
“Well, it may be wonderful. Otto was calling because there is a slight unplanned event.”
“What kind of unplanned event?
“The dead body kind.”
“Anyone, I know?”
“I doubt it since they think he’s been dead since before your father was born.”
“Where did they find him?”
“Buried in the basement. They came across him when they were fixing the drains.”
“Did they get the drains fixed?”
“Yes. You’re pretty cool about the whole thing.”
“Well, I’m a country girl. Working drains are important. Plus, I figure whoever shot him is old or dead, so I don’t think I’ll be dodging bullets. The bar for what upsets me has been radically adjusted in the last few months. I look at it this way. I get to spend my honeymoon with the man I love and three of my dogs in my childhood dream house and I might get home without needing my bulletproof vest—life is good.”