About Face

by Fern Michaels

  “That man gives me the creeps,” she said to Flora.

  “Hank? He is a strange one.”

  “What’s his story, Flora? How long has he worked at Swan House?”

  “He came right after your momma and Mr. Worthington married. Your momma hired him cause she said he’d been head gardener to a duke or something. He does a fine job. I ain’t never seen no weeds or dead flowers, I can tell you that much. He keeps to himself. He stays in that carriage house at the edge of the property.” Flora looked at her. “Why the sudden interest in Hank? You thinkin’ of takin’ up gardening?”

  Casey gave a curt laugh. “I might have at one time, but the day he drove me to the library, all thoughts of gardening blew right out the window.”

  “Why is that?”

  “He sort of warned me. Told me Mother wouldn’t be too happy if I stirred up trouble.”

  Flora laid her pen down, appearing to be in deep thought. “Strange. Can’t imagine why he’d say somethin’ like that. I wouldn’t worry about him. He keeps to himself. Who knows what goes on in that head of his?” Flora smiled and returned to her menu, but her smile seemed forced, not reaching her eyes. Casey wondered if there was more to her position in the household than that of head housekeeper. She didn’t know where the thought came from, just that it did.

  The members of Swan House, both family and staff, continued to act strangely. All seemed to be hiding something and afraid to talk about it. She knew about Ronnie’s murder now. Knew that she’d been committed to a mental institution for his death. Why there had been no trial continued to remain a mystery.

  “Hey, you,” Julie said as she slid into the chair next to her.

  “Oh Julie. I’m glad you can take a break. I’ve wanted to spend time with you, but I’ve been out of sorts the past few days.” Casey patted her friend’s shoulder.

  “I understand. I had two days off anyway. I heard your trip to Savannah didn’t go very well.”

  “Word travels fast. Who told you that?” Casey hated being the subject of gossip.

  Julie’s round face turned a deep shade of red. “No one. I was about to leave when I realized I’d left my umbrella. The staff, we all have a place for our things in the closet off the side of the kitchen. There’s a phone in there, too. That’s when I heard him.”

  “Heard who?” Casey asked.

  “Hank,” Julie whispered. She looked behind her, making sure they weren’t being overheard.

  “Are you sure?” Casey whispered back.

  Julie’s head bobbed up and down.

  Casey cleared her throat before speaking to Flora, who remained seated at the far end of the table.

  “Flora, can I borrow Julie for a while? I need some help . . . upstairs. I really trashed the closet last night. Trying on clothes.” She felt ashamed at the way the lies rolled off her tongue.

  “I don’t see why not. Julie, you’re finished setting the tables?” Flora inquired.

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Then go on up and see what a mess Casey made.”

  “Thanks, Flora. I’ll be down later if you need me. What time do the society ladies arrive?” Casey asked.

  “Four o’clock right on the dot. Now off with you two, I’m still tryin’ to figure out a darned menu and only have a few hours to do it. Out!”

  As they mounted the stairs Casey remembered Blake. Evidently he hadn’t called, or Flora would have told her.

  She led Julie to her room, thoughts of Blake put aside, at least for a while. He was never totally out of her mind. She didn’t want him to be, either.

  “I thought . . . you said?” Julie stammered as she surveyed the immaculate room.

  “I know. I lied. Good grief, Julie, I’m a grown woman. I don’t need help cleaning my room.” Casey laughed and sank down on the bed.

  “But, you said you’d made a mess.”

  “Forget it, Julie. Sit.” Casey fluffed a pillow and moved over to make room for Julie.

  “Why did you ask me up here?”

  Casey could see the sudden fear in Julie’s eyes and felt sorry that she’d lured her upstairs under false pretenses, but she didn’t have any other choice.

  “It’s about Hank. I need to know exactly what he said. I simply didn’t want our conversation overheard. For some reason, I don’t trust him.”

  “Oh.” Julie seemed nervous.

  “What did you think I wanted, Julie?” Casey questioned, then it hit her like a ton of bricks.

  Julie was afraid of her!

  How could she be so stupid? While their new friendship hadn’t been more than a quick conversation here and there, Casey thought they’d shared an easy camaraderie. Julie had even warned her about the evil in Swan House.

  Julie sat on the edge of the bed, picking threads from her skirt.

  “Look at me, Julie.” Casey demanded. Sorry for her abruptness, yet wanting to set the record straight, Casey felt cruel and mean when she saw how frightened Julie appeared.

  “Yes?”

  She centered her gaze on Julie.

  “Listen up, I’m only going to say this once. I don’t know why you’re afraid to be alone with me; I can’t help that. But what I can tell you is I thought we could be friends. I hoped you would trust me. Whoever or whatever changed your mind, I’m sorry. I asked you up here so we could speak in private, Julie. I’m not the wild raving lunatic you might think I am.”

  She sat next to Julie and waited for her to respond.

  “I’m not afraid of you, Casey. I’ve been warned, that’s all. He said I’d lose my job if I became too friendly with you.”

  “Hank?”

  Julie’s brown head bobbed up and down. Casey handed her a tissue from a box on the night table.

  “He said this to you when you caught him on the phone, didn’t he?”

  “Yes,” Julie said. “He told me I’d better not talk to you. If I did, I’d be out of a job so fast it would make my head spin. I suddenly got scared when we were sitting at the table downstairs. He was watching me from the gardens. I could feel it.”

  “Forget about him. He can’t fire you, I promise. I’m going to speak to Mother about him. What do you mean, you felt him watching you?”

  “With the back door open, you can look straight out into the garden. Though I didn’t see him, I just felt him looking at me. Like a warning. He must know I’m up here with you. I just can’t lose my job, Casey, it’s all I have right now.”

  “Oh, Julie, you won’t lose your job, I promise. We’ll do something about Hank. I haven’t cared for him since day one. He gives me chills.”

  Julie gave a slight laugh. “I know what you mean. But Casey, please promise me something.”

  “Name it.”

  “Please don’t go to your mother. I’ll handle this my own way.”

  After the way she’d just treated her only friend, Casey felt she should promise her anything. “As long as you know it’s against my better judgment.”

  “Okay.”

  “Now that’s settled, do you remember what you overheard? Hank must’ve said something he thought incriminating if he threatened you with your job.”

  “That’s just it. I really didn’t hear anything that I considered . . . gossipy or whatever you’d like to call it. He just said something to the effect, ‘She didn’t have the therapy, she appeared upset, and I’ll do it the first chance I get.”’

  While those words could’ve been interpreted as innocent by anyone else, Casey knew their hidden meaning, or at least part of it.

  “Julie, remember when I sneaked out the other day? You came up to my room to bring tea?”

  “Sure, why do you ask?” Julie’s frightened look had been replaced by one of curiosity.

  “I need you to think. Do you recall seeing Hank around that day?” Casey crossed her fingers, hoping her thoughts were leading her in the right direction.

  “Actually I remember he told Miss Flora he had to go to Brunswick for supplies. The storm and all. I reme
mber because he came to the kitchen, something he rarely does. It was like he wanted someone to know exactly where he would be. That isn’t like him, or at least I don’t think it is. Mabel mumbled something about it, I recall. So I guess it was a bit unusual for him to announce his whereabouts to the staff.”

  Casey decided to question Mabel later, when the party preparations were finished.

  “Did you see him when he returned?”

  “No, I’d gone home by then. Maybe Flora saw him. She pretty much knows all that goes on in Swan House.”

  Which brought up the same question again. Flora’s position.

  “It appears that way. Tell me Julie, what do you think about Flora’s place at Swan House? I can’t help but feel there’s more to the woman than meets the eye.”

  “You’re absolutely right. Another taboo subject, though. It’s rumored that Miss Flora is still in love with Mr. Worthington.”

  “Still?” Another puzzle, Casey thought.

  “Supposedly Flora carried a torch for Mr. Worthington long before he married your mother. I guess even when the first Mrs. Worthington was alive. I know Flora was on very good terms with her, because Mrs. Worthington asked her to take care of Adam right before she died. She told me that herself.”

  That explains a lot. Is that why Flora hadn’t married? Had she secretly hoped when the first Mrs. Worthington passed away there might’ve been a chance with her boss?

  “She told me that a few days ago, too. I’ll talk to her; maybe she can shed some light on Hank. And Julie”—Casey leveled her gaze on her friend’s round face—“please don’t be afraid to talk to me. That’s what friends are for.”

  “Thank you. You’ve been so kind. Now”—Julie stood and walked to the door—“no matter what Flora said, I know she could use an extra hand right now. I’ll get back to work and leave you with your thoughts.”

  “I’ll be down in a few minutes myself. Make sure there’s something I can do. Something easy.” Casey laughed, recalling her last experience in the kitchen.

  “Sure thing.” Julie left, quietly closing the door behind her.

  The threads of her past were beginning to unravel. Thinking her amnesia impenetrable had been a mistake.

  So many hints at something sinister! And she’d begun to piece them together. Then there was Ronnie. Though she recalled him raping her dozens of times, she couldn’t call up the fear, the anger, and the hate that should’ve been directed at him. It was almost as if it had happened to someone else, and she just knew about it. Why?

  And now this. Hank, Flora, and Julie, all with secrets of their own. The hushed conversations. Again, why?

  She needed to talk to Blake, ask him what he knew about Hank. The more she thought about it, the more she thought Hank had been her attacker on the porch of her old house. What could possibly motivate him to harm her?

  Too many questions with too few answers, Casey thought. She’d talk to Mabel and Flora. Maybe if her mother didn’t have to hurry back to Worthington Enterprises after her party, she’d give her a few minutes, too.

  Her mother continued to puzzle her. It had been years since they’d had a normal relationship, and Casey felt she should make more of an effort to spend time with her, to get to know her again. But then, she mused, maybe she’d never known her at all.

  She hurried downstairs to assist Flora and Julie with the preparations for the late-afternoon tea. She wondered briefly about Brenda. Somehow she knew the bitter woman would do just about anything to trade places with her. Would she seduce Blake? Possibly manage to get herself pregnant?

  Casey stopped when she reached the bottom step.

  Why her thoughts had taken such a drastic turn, she’d no idea. Blake cared about her. He’d told her so.

  These silly insecurities were just that. Silly.

  But then, things had a way of happening even when you thought you had control over your own destiny.

  She knew because it had happened to her when she planned her trip to Atlanta, all those years ago. While she’d made a decision that would affect the outcome of her life, circumstances had taken the decision away from her. While she’d finally achieved the end result as planned, evidently she’d had no control over the manner in which it had happened.

  Casey entered the festive atmosphere in the kitchen, hoping to dispel her sudden gloomy thoughts. With fresh bread baking, mouthwatering scents simmering in a pot on the huge industrial-sized stove, and the soft giggles of the kitchen help, she couldn’t help but pick up on the lighthearted attitude of those around her.

  “Well, well, if it isn’t the Merry-Mess-Maker herself. You get all cleaned up, Casey?” Flora questioned.

  “Yes. Thanks to Julie.” Casey looked at her friend, who was scrubbing new baby potatoes at the sink. Julie smiled, their secret safe.

  Casey scanned the huge room in search of Mabel and saw her busy at her workstation at the far end of the kitchen.

  Casey walked over to Mabel, who looked up from her kneading. Flour dotted the cook’s chin, and white flecks of dough peppered her white hair, reminding Casey of snowflakes.

  Mabel told Casey what she wanted to know before she even asked.

  “I ain’t never liked that man since he came here. I told young Julie he’s got a mean spirit about him. He came into the kitchen all high-and-mighty announcing his trip to Brunswick. In all the years I been working here, I ain’t never seen or heard him tell anyone other than your momma or the Mister his whereabouts. I thought him up to something, that I’ll tell ya.”

  Mabel’s lengthy speech surprised Casey.

  “Thank you, Mabel. You’ve answered my question.” Casey patted the woman on the arm and wondered if Julie had told her of their earlier conversation.

  So, she was right about Hank.

  Casey decided to wait before continuing with her questions since Flora and Julie were both busy.

  Julie motioned her to the sink where pots and pans were stacked in piles. “You wanted something easy,” Julie said, laughing.

  “Yes, I believe I did.” Casey immersed her hands in the hot soapy dishwater and found the domestic chore therapeutic. She gazed out the window at the meticulously cared-for grounds and wondered if Hank was watching her. She almost wished he was. That way he could see that his attempt to harm her hadn’t worked. Maybe he’d just wanted her quiet while he searched the house on Back Bay. That stumped her. As far as she knew, other than the book bag Sheriff Parker gave her and the blood-spattered mattress, there wasn’t anything worth finding.

  The shrill ringing of the telephone caused her heart to race.

  “Casey, for you,” Flora said.

  Anticipating Blake’s call, she dried her hands on a dish towel and took the portable phone from Flora.

  “Blake?” she said, hearing the sigh of relief in her own voice.

  “Hello? Blake is that you?” Casey waited for the sound of his warm voice to reach her. She pushed the phone closer to her ear, thinking they might have a bad connection. “Is anyone there?”

  About to hang the phone up, the unexpected sound she heard caused her to hold the phone away from her ear.

  A baby crying. Certain that someone had simply dialed the wrong number, Casey spoke into the phone, “Whoever this is, you’ve reached the Worthington residence.”

  The cries were louder now.

  Casey looked to Flora, who stood by, watching her.

  Suddenly the crying stopped.

  At first Casey could barely hear the voice. Then it became louder. A child?

  Casey strained to hear the youthful voice.

  The words were painfully clear when she heard them.

  “Why did you kill me, Mommy?”

  Chapter 23

  Finished with his last patient, Blake still couldn’t quite believe his conversation with the sheriff the night before. Both he and Adam were angry at Parker for his actions, or rather, Blake thought, lack of action. Even though he told Parker he’d understood where he was coming from,
it still didn’t explain what really happened the day Ronald Edwards died.

  And this morning, when he’d been going through the last of his father’s files, he’d stumbled upon another revelation that might explain Casey’s reason for committing murder.

  If his father’s dates were accurate, and Blake had no reason to doubt them, Casey made her final visit to his father’s office on the last day of Ronnie’s life.

  The puzzle still lacked the main pieces, but Blake knew the parts he held were the clue to the entire picture. Now it was just a matter of putting them together. When he did, it would only be a matter of placing each piece in its rightful place, as in a real puzzle.

  And Bentley had the missing piece, he knew it. He’d been at the house on Back Bay the day of the murder. Why? The son of a bitch still couldn’t be found. Blake had tried his number last night, after he’d returned from his talk with the sheriff, but there had been no answer. He’d tried again in the morning, and he’d tried him at Sanctuary. He’d even called Norma. She’d told him he’d gone to Atlanta on business and wasn’t sure when he’d return. Blake knew she only repeated the lies that Bentley told her.

  He’d put in another call to Macklin, hoping to find him so he could shed some light on the situation. After all, he had been Casey’s psychiatrist for ten years. He’d learned from Macklin’s housekeeper that the doctor had relocated somewhere in Europe and wouldn’t return for his things for several weeks. The housekeeper assured Blake if the doctor called to check in, as he was apt to do on occasion, she’d be sure and give him Blake’s message.

  Blake held the flimsy white sheet of paper with his father’s scrawled handwriting.

  Six weeks pregnant.

  Blake didn’t know who the father was, but he had an idea, and the mere thought of it made him want to kill.

  He’d arranged to meet Adam in Brunswick later in the day. Maybe with the two of them together, they’d come up with four. He needed to call Casey. He promised her he’d call last night. After leaving the sheriff’s office, he’d been so angry he knew he needed to calm down before talking to her. At the moment he felt anything but calm, but he wanted to talk to the woman he loved, just to reassure himself she was all right.