Текст книги "A Fright to the Death"

Автор книги: Dawn Eastman

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Текущая страница: 14 (всего у книги 19 страниц)

28

I shrugged into my jacket and followed Mac out into the wind and snow. It was an unpleasant sixty seconds as we ran toward the hotel. I dreaded the conversation to come, but didn’t want to dawdle in the storm.

“We’d better go tell the knitters that you’ve been found,” Mac said. “Vi made a big deal about going in search of you two.”

Lucille rushed to the door when we entered the library and gave me a brief hug. “We’ve been so worried. Did one of the dogs run away? Did you get lost in the snow?”

“No, Mom, I’ll tell you about it later,” Mac said quietly. “Seth and the dogs are fine as well.” Mac raised his voice so the rest of the group could hear him. “Everyone is fine, and back inside safe and warm.”

The knitters thanked Mac for coming to tell them, and told me they were happy no one was hurt.

We said we’d see them at dinner and turned toward the lounge. Mac and I sat in our spot by the fire.

He put his arm around me and rested his head on top of mine.

We were quiet for a while. Even though we’d argued earlier, I snuggled as close to him as I could get and allowed myself a moment to enjoy feeling safe and happy.

“I think I aged five years in the hour or so we were looking for you,” he said. “I’ve never known anyone to get into so many dangerous predicaments.”

“‘Predicaments’? You’ve been talking to the old ladies too much,” I joked. “Next thing, you’ll be calling Seth a whippersnapper.”

With my head against his chest, I heard the low chuckle and knew he wasn’t really mad.

“He is a whippersnapper,” Mac said. “I liked it better when he called me Detective and acted afraid of me all the time.”

“You did not,” I said. “Plus, he’s spending too much time with your mother to be afraid of you. You should hear the stories she’s been telling him about your younger days.”

Mac groaned. “How am I supposed to keep my air of authority with that going on?”

“You’ll just have to terrorize your junior officers and leave it at that.”

“Speaking of officers, I’d better let Pete Harris know about the phones you found.”

I sat up and turned to face him.

“How do you think it relates to Clarissa’s murder?” I asked. “It has to be a staff member using that room. Does that put all the guests in the clear for her death?”

“I think we need to seriously consider one of the Garretts as the murderer,” Mac said.

“I was thinking the same thing. Linda seems devastated by her death, Jessica not so much, but one of them must be involved with the cell phones,” I said.

“I agree,” Mac said. “I suppose it’s possible that a staff member knew about the secret room and decided to use it to hide the phones, but the Garretts are right up there on my list.”

“It’s less likely it was a knitter since none of them are from here. They are at least innocent of stealing the phones,” I said. “Unless the two things aren’t connected at all. . . .”

We fell into an uncomfortable silence. I was happy to be sitting with him, discussing the case, but I was still annoyed that he’d been snooping on me behind my back.

Mac turned toward me. “Clyde, I’m sorry about the file. I didn’t think I was betraying any trust by looking at it.”

“How did you see it then?”

“I wanted to see if there was any truth to your impression that you had done something wrong”—he held up his hand when I started to interrupt—“and there wasn’t. You acted just as you should have.”

I shook my head. “You don’t understand.”

“Then tell me.” Mac took my hand, but more gently this time.

“I shot that boy because I sensed a gun. I felt that he was a threat, but didn’t have any proof. After all the years of telling my family I want nothing to do with psychic input, during an emergency situation, that’s exactly what I relied on and it was wrong. As usual.”

I stood and stepped to the fireplace, my back to Mac, and stared into the flames.

“What do you think any seasoned cop relies on in a situation like that?” he said. “They turn to experience and gut feelings and impressions that are informed by years of dealing with suspects and criminals. No matter what sense it was that told you he was dangerous, it was no worse than any other gut feeling that an officer has to tap into when he or she makes a split-second decision. You rely on your training and your senses—however many you have.”

I turned and must have looked surprised because he quickly rushed on.

“And, in this case, your sense wasn’t wrong. Jadyn was dangerous, and had planned to kill someone that night.”

“What?” I sank onto the couch facing Mac. The feeling had been so strong that night. I hadn’t admitted it to myself, but I had been devastated to find out how wrong it had been. I swallowed and blinked back tears of relief.

“He’s recently confessed that he was out on an initiation that night. He was supposed to pick someone, anyone, and shoot them to prove that he had what it takes to be in a gang. The thing is, you interrupted him. He had an older gang member with him to verify his kill. That kid took off in the other direction with the gun. There’s no mention of another suspect in any report—I assume no one saw him. Jadyn said he would have returned to finish the job if he hadn’t been injured.”

“Still . . .” I said. It didn’t erase the guilt I felt, but knowing my instincts had been right at least gave me a small sense of peace.

“He confessed because his injury saved his life. He turned himself around while he was in the hospital. He had a chance to think about the direction his life was headed and understood that you just as easily could have killed him. He came forward recently because his younger brother is caught up in the same trap and he wants help getting him out. So, you actually saved him that night, and by extension the brother as well.”

My head was reeling with this new information. It was already spinning from the whole cell phone cache discovery, but now I had to rethink all my assumptions over the past nine months since the shooting. I stood up again and stepped closer to the fireplace. Even near the fire, I felt cold and hugged Vi’s sweater tighter around me.

“I’m going to need a little time to think about this, Mac.”

He nodded. “I just wanted you to have all the information before you decided to leave police work permanently.”

I turned toward him. I might as well tell him. “I already decided to leave police work.”

“But—”

“No, listen. It’s not because of the shooting. It never really was. I don’t like police work—I’m not cut out for it.”

“I thought it was the shooting that sent you back to Crystal Haven.”

“It was, at first. I felt terribly guilty and I was angry that my psychic information had let me down—again.”

“But now, you want to . . . be psychic?”

“I don’t really have a choice about that. It just is. I can’t block it out, I can only learn to interpret or ignore or maybe even understand it. What I can do is choose whether to let it control my life.”

“So, what will you do?”

“I want to stay in Crystal Haven. I have a few ideas for a slightly different career—don’t worry, it won’t involve me reading tarot cards or telling fortunes.”

“And you’ll be happy here? Even with your family around?”

I nodded.

“Clyde, I was afraid that when your year is up in the house, you would sell it and move back to Ann Arbor.”

“No. Why would you think that?”

Mac shrugged and wouldn’t look at me.

“I’m sorry, Mac. You’re stuck with me.”

He stood and pulled me toward him. As he kissed me, I felt all the uncertainty melt away. The heat from the fire finally penetrated. I felt warm, happy, and safe for the first time in a long time.

We heard a crash in the doorway. “Oh, sorry. I didn’t mean to . . . I only wanted . . .” Kirk and Wally stood in the doorway. Wally had dropped his end of the ladder and stammered his way through an apology.

“It’s fine, come in,” Mac said. “More yarn bombing?”

Kirk nodded once and sighed as he began to set up the ladder.

29

Dinner that evening was even more stressful than usual. Every time Vi opened her mouth, I tensed up, certain that she would start discussing the cell phones. She didn’t. She did discuss Kirk and his position at the top of her suspect list.

“So the way I see it,” Vi said and lowered her voice while glancing at the other tables. “Dory is our best suspect.”

“Who?” Mac asked.

Vi narrowed her eyes at him. “I don’t want to say the name—people might be listening.”

“How can we evaluate your argument if we don’t know who you’re talking about?” I asked.

Vi sighed. “Fine. It’s a code name for . . .” She lowered her voice even more and glanced over her shoulder. If the rest of the dining room wasn’t trying to listen in before, they certainly would now. “Kirk. He’s a hunk. And I call him Dory as in hunky-dory. Clever, right? No one will be able to crack my code if my notebook falls into the wrong hands.”

Dad snorted and took a swig of wine.

“Clever,” I said. Her mind worked in such strange ways. I had given up trying to trace the logic long ago.

Vi sat up straight and stopped whispering now that we were in on the code. “One: newest staff member. Two: strong, so he could hit Clarissa hard enough to knock her out. Three: clearly not equipped to”—here she lowered her voice again—“fix anything. Four: I think he has a thing for that pretty housekeeper. I’ve seen them talking in the hallway. And Clarissa was not at all nice to her; maybe he was protecting her from Clarissa’s bullying.” She held up four fingers and went back to her meal.

“That’s one of the weakest cases I’ve ever heard,” Seth said.

“Why are you defending him?” Vi said.

“I’m not defending him, I’m saying your reasons to suspect him are ridiculous.” Seth glanced at Mac and me for backup and we shifted our interest to the conversation at the other end of the table.

Until we realized that Mom and Lucille were talking about tarot cards and the dire messages Mom had been receiving leading up to the weekend.

Dad gave a helpless shrug and tilted his wineglass in my direction. He was caught between Mom and Vi and had no choice but to try to stay out of either conversation.

Mom heard Vi talking about Kirk and leaned across Dad to whisper, “You know my cards say it’s a knitter. I doubt ‘Dory’ is a knitter.”

Vi put her fork down and turned toward Mom. “I’d forgotten about that,” Vi said. “You’re right. This just strengthens my argument that we need more information.”

“Hopefully the séance will help,” said Lucille. “I haven’t been to one in a long time.”

Everyone at the table turned to look at Vi, with the exception of Mom, who was examining her napkin on her lap.

“What?” Vi said.

“Séance?” I said.

“Well, we have to do something! You two are just going around talking to everyone.” She pointed to Mac and me. “I need some answers.”

“Ms. Greer, I really don’t think you should do a séance,” Mac said. The muscles in his jaw jumped.

“You aren’t afraid of a séance, are you?” Lucille said.

“Of course not,” Mac said. “I just don’t think it will be helpful.”

“You never know what you might learn with an open mind,” Lucille said, and sipped her water while holding Mac’s gaze.

“If some of the suspects are there,” Seth said, “you might be able to watch them to see how they react.”

“I’ll keep the dogs company while you all have your séance,” Dad said. He waved his hand at the table.

“Now, Frank, we need some experienced people to keep the energy positive,” Mom said. “Please stay.” She put her hand over his.

Dad was incapable of saying no to Mom. He nodded and pushed his plate away.

“This is going to be great!” Vi said. “We have several of the knitters lined up, plus you guys.”

Mac and I escaped to the hallway as soon as we were able.

“I don’t think we should let them have a séance,” Mac said.

“It’s not going to hurt anything.” I hoped this was true.

“It’s the idea that she’s going to be able to solve a murder by asking ghosts!” Mac said. “It could lead to dangerous and uninformed conjectures. People might begin to suspect just about anyone.”

“And that would be different . . . how?”

Mac leveled one of his stony stares at me, but they had lost their effectiveness over the last several months. It was particularly hard to feel intimidated when I was also being stared at by a couple of smiling snowmen. Mac had worn that sweater so much I was starting to think of it as his.

“I hate séances,” Mac muttered.

“Think of it as an opportunity to observe all the suspects at one time, like Seth said.”

“I could do that if we got them to play charades, and it would be much less creepy. And how am I going to explain to Pete Harris that some of our evidence is based on observations during a séance?”

Mac and I had only made it a few steps away from the entrance to the dining room, so Mavis spotted us immediately when she exited.

She hurried over to us. “Oh, Detective McKenzie,” she said, “do you think we will be able to leave tomorrow as scheduled?”

Mac shook his head. “I don’t think so. The road hasn’t been cleared yet—I think they had trouble with a power line and they’ve been digging everyone out.”

Mavis’s smile faded.

“I’m sorry to have to tell you, but Wally said we’re expecting more snow this evening,” I said. “I think we’re stuck here for a little while longer. Do you need to get home tomorrow?”

Mavis turned to look at me as if she just noticed I was standing there.

“No, not really,” she said. “I just feel antsy all cooped up like this. I don’t mind telling you that seeing a ghost isn’t helping me to feel comfortable. And your aunt just keeps asking more questions and speculating about what the ghost wants.”

“Don’t let Vi scare you,” I said. “She’s making half of it up anyway.”

“Even without a ghost, we’re trapped here with a murderer!” Mavis said. “I don’t like it one bit. Plus, Vi is talking about trying a séance.”

I glanced at Mac. He just sighed and stole a glance at his watch.

“If it bothers you, you don’t have to go to the séance,” I said.

“Are you kidding? I wouldn’t miss it,” Mavis said. “It doesn’t mean I like the idea. . . .”

Thankfully, Isabel poked her head out of the dining room and asked Mavis to help her organize the workshop room.

Mavis nodded to Isabel and patted Mac’s arm before hurrying toward the library.

30

The rest of the dining room cleared out quickly as the knitters went to their rooms to prepare for the séance.

Vi and Mom dragged Wally and Kirk into the lounge to rearrange furniture. They thwarted Dad’s attempt at escape out the back door and roped him into the preparations as well. Mac said he needed to spend some time in Jessica’s office so he could consult with the police by phone. But I suspected he just wanted to distance himself from the séance and its arrangements.

Seth and I trekked out to the cottage to feed and walk the dogs. He had packed enough dog food for a couple of days in the duffel bags, but we would run out soon if we couldn’t dig ourselves out. It was fully dark and windy with large flakes falling again. The beauty was beginning to wear thin as we watched the snow piling up. Baxter had no trouble bounding over the snowdrifts, but Tuffy, as usual, stayed close to Seth and shivered. Seth had to coax him to do his business after shoveling a small area so that Tuffy wouldn’t sink into a snowbank.

“Good boy, Tuffy!” Seth said. The little dog looked up at him with adoring eyes and wagged his tail.

Baxter leaped through the drifts to get back to us as we turned toward the cottage. Inside, we grabbed the pile of towels we’d left by the door and began brushing the snow off the dogs. Tuffy shivered and allowed Seth to tend to him. Baxter shook vigorously and sprayed the entire entryway with snow and drool. I grabbed a fresh towel for myself.

“Holly is not going to be happy about this,” I said to Seth as we dumped four sopping towels into the tub.

Seth shrugged and ducked his head, unconcerned about the laundry. He placed their food bowls on the floor and both dogs attacked them as if they hadn’t been fed in weeks.

“Okay, guys,” Seth said, “you be good. I’ll be back later.”

Baxter had just run into the room with his tug toy. His ears drooped at this news.

Tuffy cast a guilt-inducing pathetic stare at us as we put on our coats again to head back out into the snow. A huge gust hit us as we closed the door and I shut my eyes against the pelting ice crystals. I thought of the scene in Little House on the Prairie where Pa has to tie a rope to himself in order to walk to the barn. I was grateful for the lights blazing from the hotel to guide us back and resolved to give Dad a hug the minute I saw him.

An excited buzz of voices greeted us when we opened the door. It sounded like Vi had managed to get several staff members and most of the guests to attend her séance. I had been to a lot of séances in my life and knew that a huge, noisy crowd was not the best arrangement. If I were a spirit, I’d want things to be a little quieter.

They had pushed all the couches to the edges of the room and had managed to put together several tables from the dining room. Chairs were arranged around the new, large table. Candles cast a warm but jumpy glow around the room. Someone had placed a basket of bread and a glass of wine on the table. The food and dim lighting are thought to attract spirits.

Vi clapped her hands three times to get everyone’s attention. No one even flinched. I saw her tug on Mac’s sleeve and gesture to the crowd. His shoulders slumped but he put his fingers to his lips and let out a shrill whistle. There was immediate silence. Vi nodded at him and Mac took a step back, separating himself from the proceedings.

I was glad to see him. Even though he complained about the psychic intervention, I knew he wouldn’t be able to resist observing everyone.

“Everyone, take a seat around the table,” Vi said.

Murmurs and mumblings filled the room as everyone jockeyed for position. Mac and Seth attached themselves to me and we found three seats together. Mac’s face was still but his eyes took in everything, Seth grinned and gave off the kind of energy he usually reserves for Christmas morning, or dinner.

Wally sat next to my mother, almost shoving Dad aside to get to her. Fortunately, Dad found a seat on the other side of her and they didn’t have to resort to a duel.

Violet clicked the light switch and plunged the room into a candlelit gloom. I had expected to be used to it after our power outage, but it still sent a chill through me to see the shadows dancing on the walls, elongated by the angle of the candles. Holly and Kirk had declined to participate. Linda was still holed up in her room, and Selma said she was worried enough about murderers, she didn’t want to mess with ghosts now as well. But the rest of us turned to look at Vi.

The last time we had performed a séance, I had left wondering if Vi had faked it. I braced myself for a repeat performance. If Mac caught her pretending to make contact with the other side, I would never hear the end of it. Lucille sat across from us and I could feel her watching us. She had taken me aside earlier to thank me for convincing Mac to sit in on this one. She’d been trying for years to get him to attend a séance with no luck. I was pretty sure it had been Seth’s suggestion that it would be a good way to observe all the suspects at once that convinced him to join in. But I let Lucille think that I had some sort of influence over Mac—she was so happy to imagine him coming around to her way of viewing the universe that I didn’t have the heart to argue.

“Let’s all join hands,” Vi said. Rustling and shifting noises spread around the table. A gust of wind pelted snow against the window and we all jumped. I heard nervous giggling from the end where Tina, Heather, and Amy sat.

“We ask to be joined by the spirits of Carlisle Castle,” Vi intoned in her fortune-teller voice. “Be guided by the light and join us.”

The room was silent except for the howling of the wind and people shifting in their seats.

“Did you hear that?” Seth whispered next to me.

I shook my head.

“It sounds like someone walking around upstairs.”

“Maybe it’s Linda or one of the staff,” I said out of the side of my mouth.

Another gust hit the window and then I heard a whistling noise start up—it sounded like a police siren but quiet and continuous. I could tell other people heard it as well—eyes were large and scanned the ceiling and the walls for the source of the noise.

“That’s just the window whistling,” Jessica said. “It does that when the wind hits it just right.”

Mac let out a breath of air.

“Everyone please focus on our intention to commune with the spirits of Carlisle Castle,” Vi said.

The quiet was broken only by the occasional gust of wind or snow hitting the windows.

I heard sounds overhead. I glanced at Seth, who stared at the ceiling. The rest of the group must have heard it, too. We all looked upward, the group wearing expressions ranging from excitement to fear. It sounded like someone pacing on creaky floorboards. Creak! Creak! Creak! Silence, then the same sounds going back the other way.

“Is there someone here with us?” Vi asked the ceiling.

A loud thunk and the sound of shattering glass came from the hallway. The candles snuffed out. Several people screamed, chairs fell over, and Lucille said, “Don’t break the circle!”

But it was too late. Mac stood and scanned the room. Seth gripped my hand while I tried to make out where everyone was in the dim light from the hallway.

The overhead lights clicked on and I looked to the wall switch where Wally stood. He nodded at Jessica and went out into the hall. I heard voices and then he returned.

He held his hands up to get the group’s attention. “It’s nothing. It was just an accident. It looks like the cat knocked a vase off a table in the hall.”

“Did you see the cat?” Vi asked.

Wally shook his head.

“So, you don’t know for sure it was the cat,” Vi said.

Wally shook his head. “What else could it be?”

“Exactly,” said Vi. “Everyone likes to blame the cat, but they aren’t always as mischievous as they seem.”

I noticed Amy staring at Vi with her mouth open. I’ve seen this before; it’s a pretty common response before you get to know her.

Mavis cleared her throat and held her hands tightly clasped together. “Do you think we should try again?” She motioned for everyone to sit back down.

Mom shook her head. “It’s not likely we’ll have any success now.”

I sighed in relief. I’d sat through many unsuccessful séances in my time and I still wasn’t sure which was worse—one where nothing happened or one where something did.

Seth pulled his hand away finally and acted like I had been the one clutching him. By the way he rubbed his hand, you’d think I had crushed his fingers.

Isabel took control. “We have an early workshop tomorrow. I hope to get through the instructions for the decreases and bind off of our projects. I had planned to end around two, but if we’re stuck here due to the weather, I can give some of you individual instruction on any trouble spots.” She made a show of looking at her watch and Mavis backed her up by yawning. It only took about two minutes for the lounge to clear out.

Amy, Tina, and Heather left first, heading for the stairs as quickly as possible. Mavis conferred with Isabel and followed the first group out the door. Jessica and René stood off to the side, in deep conversation. Emmett, grinning and congratulating Vi on a “great show,” helped Wally move the tables back to the dining room.

Mac walked me upstairs to my room. I felt a bit like a teenager being dropped off in time for curfew.

“Thanks for coming to the séance,” I said.

He pulled me into his arms. “It wasn’t that bad. I’m glad you were with me though—that kind of thing gives me the willies.”

I chuckled. “The willies?”

He leaned back to look at me. “It’s a well-known phrase indicating a sense of the heebie-jeebies.”

I laughed. “I know what it means. It’s just funny to hear you say it.”

He kissed me then and I forgot all about séances, murders, and black-market intrigue.

“I’ll see you in the morning,” he said.

I shut the door quietly, and got into bed with a grin on my face. I was asleep before Vi returned to the room.