THE HOUSE THAT VANITY BUILT
Page 21
Amy grabbed my hand, and we huddled in the dark. Outside, somebody had inserted a key in the front door and was trying to come in.
“Is Lupe here?” I whispered.
“Not this time of night.”
“Anyone else?”
“No. It’s just the doctor and—”
“Amy?” Dr. Conroy’s voice cut through the dark silence of the house as he pushed open the front door.
I ducked down below the counter and backed into the pantry.
“Dr. Conroy?” Amy looked nervously at me then moved toward the living room. “What are you doing here?”
“Why I’m looking for you, my sweet girl. Is everything okay? You shouldn’t be down here all alone in the dark this time of night. You could have a fall. Something could happen.”
“I’m fine,” Amy said. “It’s just, I’ve had this craving for chocolate all day long, and I remembered I made Jared some brownies a while back. I froze what we didn’t eat. I couldn’t help myself.” Amy laughed nervously. “I’m sorry if I worried you.”
“Nonsense, child. Cravings are expected. Go get your brownies.”
I held my breath as Amy walked back into the kitchen, opened the freezer door, grabbed the brownies, and returned to the living room.
“Come now,” the doctor said, “let’s take them back to the house, perhaps we can have a little late-night snack together. Wouldn’t that be nice?”
I didn’t dare breathe until I heard the front door close tight and lock shut. I waited a good five minutes to be sure neither Amy nor the doctor would return, then slipped quietly from my hiding place in the pantry and back into the kitchen. I needed to get back to the car—more importantly, to my bag where I’d left my phone—and call Detective Romero. I paused at the kitchen counter, considered whether or not to take the bee venom collector with me, then thought better of it. Not only was it bulky, but I wasn’t about to make the same mistake Wilson had made with Jared’s cologne, and have the police tell me it wasn’t admissible. I left it where it was and quietly tiptoed out the back door.
Chapter 29
I was halfway down the path from the guest house when I heard the doctor’s voice behind me.
“What are you doing here?”
I froze.
“I don’t suppose you’d believe I got lost on our walk earlier this morning?”
I turned around, and the doctor hit me with a beam of light, the glare so bright I could barely make out the shape of a human form behind it. If I hadn’t recognized the doctor’s voice and the silver tip of his cane in the moonlight, I might not have known who it was.
“Nice try, Ms. Dawn, but I don’t imagine when the police find your body they’ll believe it, and neither do I. What matters is that I’ve caught you on my property. It’s dark, and the cops will think I mistook you for an intruder.” The doctor moved the light away from my face and tipped his head in the direction of the garage. “I’ve had it with all your snooping around, and I don’t intend to put up with your influence on Amy any longer. I tried to ask you nicely, but clearly you don’t have any intention of leaving her alone.” The doctor took a gun from inside his waistband and pointed it at me. “Put your hands up. I think it’s time you and I finished that little walk we started this morning. Don’t you think?”
Now would have been a good time for me to snap my fingers and alert Wilson to my situation. The problem was, with the gun aimed at my back and my hands above my head, my fingers were shaking too nervously to comply.
“How did you know I was here?” I couldn’t imagine Amy had told him. Not voluntarily.
The doctor laughed. “The security lights. Amy must have turned them off before she snuck down to the guest house. When I realized she wasn’t in the nursery, I went looking for her and noticed the lights weren’t working. It was a dead giveaway something was up. The lights go on automatically after ten p.m.”
I shuffled ahead.
“I thought doctors took an oath to do no harm?” I tried to keep it light. I figured as long as I kept Conroy talking, I had a chance.
“That’s a medical doctor. I’m not an MD. I have a doctorate in chemistry and pharmaceutical science. I’m a scientist. Not a healer.”
“Obviously,” I said.
“And you?” The doctor scoffed. “You call yourself a psychic? You make me laugh. If there really was such a thing, you would have seen this coming.”
I rolled my head, shoulder to shoulder, and tried to release the tension in my back as I stumbled ahead. “Unfortunately, much as I can predict for others, it’s not possible for me to read myself or those of weak mind. No offense, Doctor.”
“Is that what you think I am? Of weak mind?”
“Not my words, Doctor, your wife’s.”
“My wife’s?” Conroy chuckled. “You’re really going to try to convince me you’re spoken to my wife?”
“Oh, yes. And Christina too. I believe the term she used was addled.”
Conroy poked me in the ribs with the nose of the gun. “Keep moving, Ms. Dawn. I’ve no time for any of your tricks.”
“Oh, come now, Doctor, it’s just you and me out here beneath the stars. I know you hear their voices. They’re quite the chatterboxes. And Lupe? She’d be the first to admit she doesn’t believe in such things, but she has heard you talking with them too. Although she thinks it’s just your guilty conscience talking. All those wild parties and—those rumors.”
“I thought you didn’t listen to rumors.”
“Oh, I don’t, but when confronted by the actual spirit, it’s a bit hard to ignore them.” I rattled on as we walked down the path toward the garage. I wasn’t strong enough to overpower the doctor, but if I could keep him talking, I felt I had a chance. “Frankly, I think it’s Eli that haunts you most, and rightly so. She’s convinced you added something in with her sleeping pills. Perhaps from the foxglove you grow in your garden down behind the garage? As for Christina, she agrees with the reports that claim she was standing on a ladder, stringing Christmas lights before she died. Only she says she didn’t fall accidentally. She says you pushed her.”
“You really think anyone’s going to believe some hand-to-mouth psychic who strung a few rumors together in hopes of making a name for herself? No wonder you latched on to Amy. The police will never believe you, and you’ll never get a chance to tell your story. Move on.”
“But you’ve heard their voices, and now that I’ve told you I’ve seen them and what they’ve told me, you’re wondering if maybe it’s possible. Maybe it’s not just your imagination.”
“It’s getting late, Ms. Dawn.”
“But you are curious, aren’t you? Somewhere in the back of your mind you’re wondering if it’s really possible. And even more than that, you wish you could gaze on Eli’s face, just one more time. You fell in love with that face. She was beautiful, and you built an industry around her. Look at all this—” I glanced over my shoulder to the house. “The House that Vanity Built.”
Conroy scoffed. “I never called it that.”
I allowed myself to breathe. He was giving me time. Time I hoped would work in my favor.
“Maybe not, perhaps it was your critics who coined the term.”
“They were jealous. Half-baked talents who couldn’t stand to see my success.”
“Either way, you made a fortune selling your magic serum, keeping your fans young. The same way you gave Eli youth and beauty. Others wanted your serum as much as you wanted their respect and money that came with it. But the more successful you became, and the more Eli retained her youth and beauty, the vainer she became. Her youth and beauty were an obsession you both loved and hated. Eventually, her vanity drove you apart and into the arms of your housekeeper. I can’t imagine how you did it. Balanced both families here on the estate.”
“Stop! I don’t need to hear this.”
“You’re playing with me.”
“Not at all. You’ve heard their voices. You know they’re real. I’ve had other clients who, like yourself, could only hear the spirits around them. Like you, they were frustrated by their inability to see them. However, if you were to ask me, I could help you.”
“You really think I believe you? For all I know, you’ve read through a bunch of old tabloids and made up a story because Lupe told you she heard me talking to myself.”
“You really think that’s all it is? How else would you explain what I know? The police never reported Eli’s death a homicide, or your housekeeper’s, as anything but an accident. How could I know any different? How could I know about the foxglove? It’s never been talked about, never reported on. The only possible way I would know is because I’ve spoken with them, and they know what you did, and why.”
The doctor looked over his shoulder, back to the house. “I suppose you’re going to tell me they’re here now?”
“Absolutely. They were in the sunroom this morning when we were at tea. And they’re up there right now, looking down at us.” I waved slightly with the tips of my fingers, my hands still above my head. “If you don’t believe me, snap your fingers.”
“What are you nuts? You think if I snap my fingers, a couple of ghosts are going to appear out of thin air?”
In truth, I hoped at least Wilson would.
“Not ghosts, Doctor. Luminaries. There is a difference. Ghosts are harmless spirits who visit us from time to time. I actually find their presence quite reassuring, like revisiting a pleasant memory. Luminaries, on the other hand, are nasty, vengeful creatures. Like your wife and former housekeeper, who are only here because they’re seeking justice, which is why they’ve been so hostile toward you. They’ve made your life here miserable.”
Conroy glanced down at his ankle, the result of one too many falls in his garden.
“If what you say is true, why would I want to snap my fingers?”
“Because in the back of your mind you wonder, what if she’s right? What if I could see them one more time? Maybe you could reason with them. You’ve always been very good at that. And if you could, perhaps you might get rid of them, once and for all.”
“I could do that?”
“Of course you could do that. It’s really very simple.”
“And I suppose you would help me?”
“Under the right circumstances, I might be persuaded.”
“Meaning I let you go.”
“Meaning if you were to rid yourself of them, you’d be happy. And if you were to let me go, so would I. After all, I’ve no proof you had anything to do with Jared’s death, and I believe the cops aren’t going to believe me if I try to tell them I think you murdered your wife and paramour.”
“You amuse me, Ms. Dawn, but you’re right. I do hear their voices, and for the sake of my sanity, I’ll humor you.”
The doctor took a step back, looked up at the moon, and snapped his fingers above his head.
And waited.
“See? Nothing. No ghosts. No luminaires. You’re a fraud. Just an old hack, trying to make a name for herself. Now move ahead. Let’s get this over with.”
I took a few more steps. Where was Wilson?
“Keep going. There’s no point in dragging this out. No one’s going to come to your rescue.”
What about Amy? Surely by now she knew the doctor wasn’t planning to join her for a late-night snack. Had she called the police, or had the doctor drugged her and locked her in her room?
The closer we got to the garage, the more aware I became of the stillness of the night, the sound of my footsteps on the path, the tapping of the doctor’s cane against the cobblestones, like the popping of gunshots.
When we got to the garage, the doctor flashed the light on the wall.
“Over there,” he said.
I backed against the wall. A bee flew in front of my face. Strange. I didn’t think bees flew at night. I waved it off, blocking both the light and the bee from my face, and squinted into the light.
Behind the doctor were Billy’s hives. Over the doctor’s shoulder, up the hill, I could see the back of the big house; the house that vanity built, with its yellow lights from the solarium, shadowed the figures of Eli and Christina and Wilson. They were waiting and watching.
A cold chill trickled down my back. I started to shake. Why wasn’t Wilson coming to my aid? Had I lost him to the luminaries? Had they convinced him he could do without me? Was this how I was going to end?
With one hand on his cane, the doctor pointed the gun at me.
“Please,” I said, “if you’re going to kill me, at least give me the satisfaction of knowing if you killed your son, and why.” I stood my ground. If I could keep Conroy talking, maybe by now Romero would have heard my voicemail, and the police would be on their way.
“You’re the psychic. Why don’t you tell me what you think?”
“All right,” I said. “The night Jared died, Matthew and his mother came to the house. You had ordered a party bus, a nice gesture because you were concerned the boys might be drinking. Matthew went down to the guest house to join Jared and his friends, while you and Madeline went into your study to talk. I don’t know what you talked about, only that Madeline was there, and Lupe told me the two of you spent quite some time together in the study alone.”
“Lupe.” Conroy looked up at the sky and shook his head. “I should have gotten rid of her long ago. That’s what you get for doing favors for people. They take advantage of you.”
“Actually, Lupe’s been very loyal. She believes you had nothing to do with Jared’s death.”
“And you?”
“I don’t know. I think your sister-in-law may have had something to do with it. I think she wanted to see her own son advance, and maybe she planted the idea in your head. Maybe she managed to sabotage the EpiPen and gave it to Matthew, along with a bottle of cologne that had been deliberately mislabeled to say venom free. Matthew put the bottle on Jared’s dresser, and the pen in the drawer where he knew Jared would find it.”
“Madeline?” Conroy chuckled. “Small chance. The woman’s as allergic to bee venom as was Jared. The reason she was at the house the night of Jared’s party was that she had visited a doctor for botox injections and had a reaction. Her face was swollen. She wanted my help.”
“Then you did it,” I said.
Conroy exhaled and gave me a crooked smile. “Pretty good, Ms. Dawn, but if you had planned on telling the police that story, you’re missing one thing.”
“What’s that?” I asked.
“I’m Jared’s father. I insisted on the investigation. If I had killed my son, why would I be foolish enough to turn what looked like an accident into a homicide investigation?”
“To throw the police off,” I said. “And because you thought you could get away with it.”
“You’re making no sense. Jared was my son, an heir to my empire.”
“But he wasn’t your only son.”
“What?” Conroy jerked his head back.
“Didn’t think I knew?” Ever since Carlene had first told me about Matthew and how close he was to the doctor, I had a feeling there was something more to the relationship. “Matthew’s your son too, isn’t he? Different mother, but all the same, a son by your brother’s wife. Family features are similar enough between you and your brother that nobody ever noticed, but you knew, or at least you suspected. Particularly when Matthew and Jared started school, and Matthew became the intellectual between the
two. You figured Matthew had to be yours. It was a secret you and Madeline kept, much as you have your continued affair.”
“So what if he is my son? Jared wasn’t up for the business, never was.”
“Which worried you. The board was pressuring you to name a new vice president, someone who could succeed you and keep the company profitable. A long time ago, you thought that might be Jared, but you knew Jared didn’t want the job, and you were afraid if he were promoted, it’d only be a matter of time before he’d mess up. The closer Jared got to his birthday, and that five-million-dollar trust fund you put in place for him, the more concerned you were about it. Five million dollars was a lot to lose, and rich as you are, you didn’t want to lose it. Jared had done everything you asked him to. Stopped drinking. Settled down. Found a nice girl. All of which made you suspicious Jared was playing you. You were convinced all he wanted was access to his trust fund, and once he had it, he’d be gone. But when Amy got pregnant, and you got to know her, you actually started to think—at least for a little while—that maybe things might be different. That something good could come of this after all, and you started to plan for a future. Only Lupe ruined it when she told you she had found a flask in the guest house. You knew right then Jared was never going to be different. He was an alcoholic, and he’d never change. You could never trust him. Not after all you’d been through with his drinking. You could never put him in charge of your company, and what kind of father would he be? So you decided to make Matthew vice president. He was everything Jared wasn’t. Smart. Dependable. With Matthew as VP, you could step aside, and with a baby on the way, and Jared out of the picture, you could make up for your past and start over. You knew the police would never suspect you. Not the father. Not the man who pushed for the investigation.”
“You spin a good yarn, Ms. Dawn.” From behind the doctor, the bees began to hum. “Too bad the police aren’t around to hear you. You almost convinced me.”
Almost? Had I misinterpreted the facts? Was Matthew more or less than an accomplice? There wasn’t time to ask.