Seeing Darkness

by Heather Graham

  That almost felt like a normal thing now, after chatting with Auntie Mina and Obadiah Jones.

  Marla, Anthony, and Frank returned to the room. Marla hugged Kylie as if they’d been best friends forever and Kylie naturally returned the hug. There was a bit of chaos in the room—and far too many people in it for a sick man—so Jackson excused himself, stepping out.

  Moments later, he poked his head back in to say that the agents from Boston had arrived—the rest of them needed to clear out before the hospital threw them out. And the group said their goodbyes to Marla, Frank, Anthony, and Jimmy.

  Jimmy caught Jon’s hand. “Thank you,” he said quietly. “For my life and...for believing us. Many people might have thought I was just paranoid. Or making up dangerous gossip. They’d have never investigated what was going on. Most people would have accepted that an old dude had a heart attack. You’ve believed in me. And you’ve protected Marla and my boys. Thank you.”

  “We’ll make it safe for you,” Jon promised him. He looked at Kylie. “We’ll find a way to bring an end to this.”

  Marla hugged Kylie again, and once again, Kylie hugged her back.

  She briefly met the two agents in the hallway, solid, serious men who were also polite and quick to smile. They had made friends with the police officer on duty; it appeared that all would go well at the hospital.

  Out on the street, Jackson, Rocky, Devin, and Jon decided that they’d go first to Jon’s office on Essex Street; his work and notes were there.

  Jackson got in the car with Jon and Kylie and got straight to business on the drive, asking Kylie questions about the past few days. He was curious about the regression, listening intently as Kylie told her story again, from the time she had arrived in Salem for Corrine’s bachelor party up to the present with a little help here and there from Jon.

  “I want to meet this Dr. Sayers,” Jackson said.

  “We could go tomorrow morning,” Jon suggested.

  “Maybe tonight?” Jackson said.

  “Maybe. He and others you might want to meet usually hang out at the Cauldron.”

  “And none of us have had dinner. Perfect combo—food and people to assess,” Jackson said approvingly. He glanced at his watch. “And I imagine that Michael Westerly is back in the area by now.”

  “He’s back here already? His speech was just this afternoon—” Kylie said.

  “We have sources,” Jackson said. “He didn’t stay in Boston. He headed straight back.”

  “Wonderful,” Kylie muttered.

  “In truth,” Jackson told her, “we need him here. We need him to give himself away.”

  “How is he going to do that?” Kylie asked. “I sincerely doubt he’s the kind of man who is suddenly going to be overcome with guilt.”

  “No. He’ll slip up, though,” Jackson said confidently.

  Jon drove into the municipal garage near his office, and in a matter of minutes, they met up with Rocky and Devin at his front door. When they were inside, Jackson went through the crime scene photos on Jon’s desk, glancing over notes he had taken, and Jon informed them about the second matchbox that was discovered.

  Jackson shook his head. “Damn, the crime scenes make it look like one killer. Westerly was one damned good copycat.” He looked up at them all. “Or he has a partner. Or we’re still looking for another killer who has nothing to do with Westerly.”

  “You don’t question that Westerly killed Annie Hampton?” Kylie asked.

  Jackson studied her, smiled slightly, and shook his head. “No. Jon believed in what you saw from the start. So do we all. Not to mention that Jimmy Marino was heading into the police to tell them what he’d seen when he—a man recently checked out by a cardiologist—mysteriously had a heart attack and crashed into a building.”

  Kylie nodded slowly; they appeared to be a truly tight-knit group. Jackson Crow might be the field director for the group, but he apparently trusted his agents.

  “Thank you,” she said. “I still have moments when I feel the way Jimmy does. There are far too many people who might believe, and with some reason, that I’m just losing my mind or seeking attention.”

  “You’re not crazy,” Jackson assured her. “You’re different. The good thing is, there’s a percentage of the population—small, maybe—who are different as well. I must admit, you’ve brought different to a new level, though. A fascinating and incredibly useful level.” He stood up straight and clapped his hands together. “And for now, I haven’t eaten in a very long time. Dinner sounds like a fine plan. Is this place close?”

  “Just down at the end of Essex, across from the Clue house,” Devin murmured.

  “The Clue house—I think I heard something about that,” Jackson said. “Let’s get going and you Salemites can fill me in.”

  They headed out, with Devin pointing out the grand old mansion with its redbrick facade and handsome white portico that was now part of the Peabody Essex Museum. “There was a horrible murder here,” she explained. “You’ll hear about it on any tour.”

  “The Parker Brothers had their business here,” Kylie put in. “The house might well figure into their game.”

  “Yes, in 1830, Captain White, an old seafarer who owned the place, was bludgeoned to death one night. It was a very complicated investigation,” Devin said. “There were family members who might inherit his riches, and then there was the theory that a stranger had broken in. Massachusetts had many abolitionists at the time, and White had been involved in the slave trade. Could it have been such an enemy?” Devin smiled as she spoke dramatically.

  “White had no children of his own,” Kylie went on, “but he had a niece, and also a more distant relative working for him.”

  “In the end,” Devin continued, “it was an imprisoned convict who came forward with information. It was murder for hire.”

  “Then one of the alleged killers committed suicide,” Rocky put in.

  “Daniel Webster gave an amazing oratory as the prosecutor,” Jon said, “and many people believe that several famous writers took inspiration from him—authors such as Nathaniel Hawthorne and Edgar Alan Poe, among others. Also, the name White remained in the American version of the game, along with something like a cudgel.”

  “So, tell me justice was found,” Jackson said.

  “Well, it did all tie together,” Rocky said. “Captain White’s niece Mary had a daughter named Mary as well. Against the captain’s wishes, she married one Joseph Knapp. Knapp’s brother suggested to some men in a bar that Joseph would gladly part with a thousand dollars to see the old man gone.

  “The killers were the Crowninshield brothers,” he went on. “Richard Crowninshield was indicted for the murder and his brother and two others were brought in for abetting the crime. Eventually, it came out that Joseph and his brother and the two Crowninshield brothers had met and planned the crime. Richard tried to save the others by committing suicide—unless he was found guilty of a crime, as the law read, his brother couldn’t be prosecuted for abetting.”

  “Eventually, though,” Jon added, “the Knapp brothers were both hanged. The remaining Crowninshield was released. He had witnesses swear he was with them on the night of the murder, a few ‘ladies of the evening,’ and the authorities couldn’t connect him to the murder weapon or to anything other than having participated in a few conversations.

  “Interesting, though. Daniel Webster usually fought hard for defendants, but he was also a drinker, in debt, and when he died due to an accident, they discovered he might not have had long anyway. The very brilliant orator was suffering from cirrhosis of the liver.”

  Jon paused and frowned. He looked around at the others. “Sorry, I was just thinking. White was rich, so members of his family were immediately suspect. Knapp was married to White’s great niece, and bitter that she’d been disinherited, but he was still easily familiar enough with
the house to create the murder weapon and unscrew the window screens for the killer. It relates to what we’re dealing with now.”

  They were all silent, waiting.

  “Um, Annie Hampton wasn’t rich,” Rocky reminded him.

  Jon shook his head. “I’m talking about family motives. I may be way off on this, but I watched Sandra Westerly today at her husband’s side during his speech. I can’t help but believe she hates the man but likes what he offers far too much to distance herself from him. She wants to be a Washington wife. She wants the society and the prestige.”

  “You think she killed Annie?” Rocky asked skeptically.

  “No, but I do think she might well have been Westerly’s accomplice when he killed her.”

  They were now across from the Clue house and right by the Cauldron.

  “Maybe she’s a loose link,” Jackson said quietly. He looked away from the house and across to the restaurant. “It will bear investigation.”

  Jon nodded. Kylie could tell he was already thinking about ways to trip up Sandra Westerly. Could she be involved?

  As they headed into the Cauldron, Jackson asked Jon, “There’s still a cop watching out for Matt Hudson, correct?”

  “Oh, yeah. He claims absolute terror.”

  “And what do you think?”

  “I think he’s telling the truth or he’s such a good liar that my radar is off entirely.”

  Inside the restaurant, a hostess caught them at the entry; it wasn’t busy yet and they asked for a table for five. As she was showing them to their seats, Jon excused himself and Jackson, saying he wanted to see how Matt was doing and introduce him to Jackson.

  As they sat, Devin whispered, “I don’t believe it.”

  “What?” Kylie asked her.

  “Speak of the devil,” Devin said.

  “It is Salem,” Rocky murmured dryly.

  “Sandra’s here. Westerly just gave his speech with her at his side—and she’s here!” Devin said.

  “Where? We’re in her usual spot,” Kylie said.

  “The four-top near the bar. She’s with a young couple,” Devin said. “Don’t look now.”

  But Kylie was already staring. And Sandra looked right at her. The look she gave Kylie cast daggers of hatred across the room.

  “She does not like you,” Devin whispered.

  “No,” Kylie agreed.

  She looked away from Sandra and over at the bar, where Jon and Jackson were speaking with Matt. They’d be back any minute, she was sure.

  Rocky reached across and took Kylie’s hand. “Are you afraid of her?”

  Kylie grinned. “No. I’m not great at self-defense, but I think I could take her.”

  He leaned back. “You’d be surprised,” he said. “The least dangerous-looking, smallest, skinniest person in the world can prove to be deadly. Keep your distance from her.”

  “She came at you in the ladies’ room before, right?” Devin asked her.

  Kylie hadn’t told anyone else about the encounter, but she realized that Jon must have. This team was constantly communicating.

  “Well, she said some nasty things,” Kylie told them.

  “But she didn’t touch you.” Devin confirmed.

  “No...”

  “I think we should see if she follows you in there again. You should go powder your nose, as the saying goes,” Rocky said.

  “And don’t worry,” Devin added quickly. “I’ll be right behind her if she does follow you in.”

  Kylie looked at the two of them and then stood. She wasn’t going to think about it. She was going to do it.

  She walked to the ladies’ room.

  Once inside, she combed her hair, keeping an eye on the door through the mirror above one of the cauldron-like sinks.

  Sure enough, within a minute, Sandra Westerly entered. Once again, she kept her distance but caught Kylie’s eyes through the mirror.

  Kylie turned to look at her.

  “Now you’ve really entered dangerous territory,” Sandra hissed. “Threatening my husband.”

  Kylie frowned. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “That message you sent him—telling him that you saw him. That you saw him!”

  “Saw him doing what?”

  “Oh, you bitch,” Sandra Westerly said.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Kylie Connelly. You sent him a message.”

  “I did no such thing.”

  “Liar!”

  “I’m telling you—”

  “My husband is not without friends. You’re going to jail!”

  Sandra looked as if she might come forward. For a second, Kylie’s heart thundered. She wasn’t sure, but she thought Sandra whispered, “Or worse.”

  The door opened, and Devin stepped in. She smiled benignly at Sandra, saying to Kylie, “Hey! There you are. We’ve ordered drinks and appetizers. They’re on the way.”

  “All set,” Kylie said. She looked at Sandra. “Excuse me,” she said, and hurried past her.

  Fifteen

  Matt was clearly glad to meet Jackson. He shook his hand energetically but kept his voice low—the bar was busy.

  “Great. The more people who can protect me since I look like a snitch, the better.” He leaned on the bar, smiling, as if discussing the bar’s specialties. “Of course, I’m glad it didn’t get around that I might be a heinous murderer, but with what’s happened...”

  “You mean beyond Annie’s murder?” Jon asked.

  Matt nodded gravely. “Poor Jimmy being in that automobile accident.”

  “I’m curious. Has anyone said anything to you?” Jackson inquired.

  “Not really. I told my buddy Carl about what happened, and he agreed that I need protection.” Matt sighed. “I miss Jimmy and Marla. They’re class acts. Twenty percenters. Never stiff anyone. Not like Westerly’s wife over there. Fake smiles and pathetic tips.”

  “Sandra stiffs the waitstaff?” Jon asked.

  “Sandra Westerly almost never pays her own bill. I can’t say that they stiff us. Her rich friends are more like ten percent—a standard fifteen when we’re really lucky. I guess that’s why they have so much money. They don’t part with more than they have to.”

  Being on the cheap side didn’t make a person evil. But the woman obviously had an agenda of her own. And that agenda surpassed whatever morals or conscience she might have.

  Or maybe she was simply evil. As evil as a man who would kill a woman rather than admit an affair—especially when an election was coming up.

  Matt shook his head. “Carl says he’s getting nervous. Every time he walks into the bar now, he’s looking for customers and afraid of what he might find.”

  “What could he find?” Jackson asked.

  “Someone who takes his tour, stays after for a photo op, and puts a knife in his side,” Matt said with a shrug.

  “I don’t think Carl has much to worry about,” Jackson told him. “Annie was a woman alone in a cemetery.”

  “Jimmy Marino is a big man. No knife in the side, but maybe something else. A friendly drink with something in it.” Matt let out a sigh. “Jimmy was in here right before that accident. I know I did nothing, and I swear it, and I know you know that. But it’s hard to think someone in here would do anything like that. I shouldn’t be saying anything bad about Mrs. Westerly, just because she smiles drippy smiles and still manages to act like a queen on high. I don’t like her. Doesn’t mean I should be saying bad things.”

  Matt appeared to shiver. “That’s what went on here in 1692, you know. People on the outskirts got accused first and that got the ball rolling. We should be more careful here than anywhere, one would think.”

  “Good thinking, Matt,” Jackson said.

  “And I think we
should be getting back to the table,” Jon said.

  “Yes, I guess,” Jackson said. He smiled and reached out to shake Matt’s hand again. “Good to talk to you, Mr. Hudson.”

  “I’m a bartender—you have to call me Matt.”

  “Will do,” Jackson promised.

  Jon looked across the room to the table. He saw Kylie come out of the ladies’ room. Her features were tight. Devin was right behind her.

  “She’s fine,” Jackson assured him when he noticed Jon staring. “Devin knows when to scream bloody murder. And she’s armed. I seriously doubt that the wife of a Senate hopeful would attempt anything in a public restroom in a busy restaurant.”

  “I don’t think you ever know for sure,” Jon said, watching the women take their seats.

  * * *

  Kylie looked up as Jon and Jackson rejoined them at the table. While they appeared casual as they took their seats, Jon quickly leaned in.

  “What was it this time?” he asked tensely.

  Sandra had yet to make an appearance back at her table, but that didn’t matter; she would surely expect that Kylie would tell friends what she had said.

  Kylie repeated the woman’s words. She didn’t mention Sandra’s final threat—or worse. Kylie might have imagined it.

  “She thinks I threatened her husband with a message,” she said instead. “She knows my name, which isn’t much of a shock. She seemed to know I believe her husband is a murderer. She didn’t say what kind of a message. She didn’t say if it was a letter, a text, or what. She just said I’d sent a message claiming that I saw him. I pled innocence—saw him what?”

  “I should ask her,” Jon said. He stood, walked over to the bar, and leaned against a wall, waiting for Sandra to leave the ladies’ room.

  “He’s just going to ask her?” Kylie said.

  “That’s one way to get an answer,” Jackson said.

  Sandra exited the restroom. From the look on her face, she knew exactly who Jon was, and she didn’t appear pleased to see him. But she didn’t try to walk by him—she stopped and answered his questions. She crossed her arms over her chest as she spoke. Her features were tense.