At ten o'clock Patrick slipped out the kitchen door for a "smoke", a knife jammed in his pocket. He dutifully lit a cigarette and took a couple of puffs in case anyone followed. When he was sure he was alone, he ground the smoke out under his heel and hurried toward the carriage house.
He retrieved his duffel bag from Elsa's car, then cut through the yard toward the gazebo. He skirted around it and made his way to the back wall. He walked next to it, one hand absently trailing along the stonework, until he found the spot he'd marked, directly behind the autumn gardens. With more effort than he thought it should take, he heaved the bag over the wall and listened as it dropped to the grass on the other side.
He headed back to the house. Less renovated than the east wing, the west side had
