As Elle followed, she looked around at things she hadn’t previously noticed: Angelica’s carved walnut desk occupied one section of the Great Room, while on the other wall, trendy furniture surrounded a massive fireplace. A collection of antique bronzes shone with the patina only daily hand-stroking could produce. Elle turned to point them out to Adam and realized he stood behind Angelica’s desk, holding a gilded picture frame and studying the photo.

“Mr. Ramsdell, if you would care to join us.” Her tone was sharp. Angelica Lindholm, local landowner and self-proclaimed czarina.

Not at all abashed, Adam replaced the frame and strode across the room. Going to a closed door at the north end of the hall, he put his hand on the lever. “Is this the way into the actual tower?”

“Yes, but the door is locked. When Maeve Lindholm built her home, she planned for the Tower to be a crumbling ruin, silhouetted against the sky, what the English call a folly. Unfortunately, the deliberate decay introduced real decay. The Tower is the part of the house I haven’t yet renovated, and sadly, no one’s been in the structure for years—” Angelica’s voice shook in emotion that was puzzling “—although the view there surpasses even this.”

Curious. “Why haven’t you concentrated on that remodel?” Elle asked.

“Construction will involve a complete inner restructure and will be noisy and expensive. It is on the agenda for next year and the year after.” Angelica opened the door that led to the sun porch and stepped back to allow them to enter.

“It’s a conservatory!” Elle exclaimed in delight. Plants and flowers filled every corner, and a garden of herbs grew in pots around the perimeter.

“Brava! Yes, I designed a traditional English conservatory with all its lush glory, and a place where my cook can come and harvest whatever herb she wishes for meals.” Angelica indicated they should take seats on either side of her. She poured tea and passed a platter of lemon-nutmeg scones, cheese Danish and miniature cinnamon rolls. “Elle, I imagine your parents must be worried.”

“I’m afraid that’s probably true.” Elle bit into a scone and sighed with pleasure. “I imagine you heard Adam found me on the beach?”

“I heard something like that,” Angelica confirmed.

“I’d been in the water for hours, and I had some gaps in my recollections.” A tactful way to put it. Elle blotted her mouth with a cocktail napkin. “But some memories of my mother have returned.”

“Ah.” Angelica looked down into her teacup. “Not your father?”

“I believe I have a stepfather.”

Angelica flashed a glance at her. “No relationship with your birth father?”

No doubt about it. Angelica was being weird. “No.”

Adam felt it was time to insert himself into the conversation. “She doesn’t remember her name nor anything that would lead us to her family or the man who strangled her.”