“Yes,” said Luisa over her shoulder. “If you want to call it a house. It’s more a laboratory than anything else. Jem Daly’s going to have to clean house and fix it up when he takes over. If he does stay on.”
“How long has he been here?” asked Serena.
“A month, this time. Too long, if you ask me. Here’s where we cross the highway.”
Serena drew alongside Luisa as they waited for a car to pass. The Pekingese sat down, exhausted, and Serena picked him up. Across the highway they plunged again into a rocky path, but a narrow one this time, going precipitously out on a point directly above the sea, for suddenly Serena could hear the clamor and clash of waves. Her nerves tightened a little; the wild rocks all around, the twisted, bent black cypress trees, the sound of the waves were poignantly familiar. So far as Serena remembered, she had never been out on that particular point of rocks, but the whole coast-line was like that, wild and rugged; beautiful, dangerous too, for the ledges went out jaggedly into the water which made mad cauldrons of foam and fury around them. It was as much as your life was worth to venture out along some of those irregular points of rocks which rose so spectacularly but treacherously from the sea.
The path was slippery, winding downward, and the little dog in her arms heavy enough so she had to watch her steps. Luisa’s thick gray figure forged ahead doggedly. They were climbing down now, as the path clung to a rocky cliff. They reached another curve and suddenly there was a straight drop, masked only by tough, thickly growing shrubbery, and below a narrow finger of the sea, gray and white around black rocks. The roar and plunge of the sea was close in her ears now. They must, in a moment or two, come out directly above the full curve of the coast-line. She could smell the sea now and almost taste it. Pooky in her arms began to struggle. When Luisa Condit went ahead around another curve and out of sight, Pooky gave a lunge that so nearly carried him out of Serena’s arms and over the edge of the narrow path Serena’s heart gave a sickening lurch. The strongest swimmer couldn’t survive in that maelstrom, let alone a small, elderly dog. He’d be safer on the path. She stopped. “All right,” said Serena, “if you want to walk. But you’ll not like it.”
She stooped to put the little dog carefully down on the path where he would be safer. Getting up again her foot slipped and she caught herself so hard that she skinned her hand. She got upright again and looked at her hand which stung and was bleeding a little. That delayed her another moment while she wrapped a handkerchief around it.
Then she went on around the wall of the cliff.
The sea was there.
The great spread of gray ocean lay infinitely far ahead; nearer there was a melee of black and glistening rocks, of gray, pounding waves, breaking upon them wildly so foam swirled and plunged and seethed.
It was breathtakingly beautiful. It was also mad and frightening.
Then she realized that Luisa’s dumpy gray figure had vanished.
But the path had stopped. It had to stop; there was no farther way for it to go; they had emerged upon a rocky point which was surrounded on three sides by the sea and dropped, sheer, to the churning water below.
They? Where was Luisa?
It was just then that she saw it. Below, in the water about thirty feet away, apparently tied to something that dragged it swirling toward a sharp projection of black rocks there was a flash of green. As she screamed the green object was dragged under and dashed in the direction of the rocks. Then it was gone.
Scream and nothing but the waves can hear you. Nothing but the cruel black rocks. The bent black cypress trees. The gray sky above.
Scream.
Stop screaming because it’s too late. That was Luisa’s scarf. But nobody’s here. Nothing can be done. It’s forever too late.
CHAPTER FIVE
SHE HAD SCREAMED, HADN’T she?
She didn’t know what she’d done. She searched desperately for another flash of bright green and there wasn’t anything but swirling angry waters, dark gray with terrible whirlpools of foam. Nobody could live down there.
She heard herself calling for help. And there was nothing to hear it; only the black rocks behind her, and the crashing sea that drowned the sound of her voice.
Well, get help then, she told herself. But there was nothing to do; no rope; no ladder. The green scarf had disappeared; there were only waves and rocks and whirlpools. She didn’t know that she’d thought of swimming out where the flash of green had been until she started back along the path and discovered she’d slipped out of her moccasin sport shoes without knowing she was doing it. Not even a strong swimmer could live down there in the frantic currents around those horrible, teethlike rocks. She couldn’t have reached Luisa. But she must do something; she must get help. A boat then? Where? The nearest house was Dave Seabrooke’s; she started running along the path. It was dangerous and narrow; the little Pekingese panted at her heels. She didn’t remember just where Dave’s house was, but the highway must lead her there. Besides, along the highway she might encounter a car.
She didn’t stop to think what anyone in a car could do. Or that men in boats, as they valued their lives, avoided such sections of the coast.
She stumbled onto the highway; there was no car in sight. The cottage, as she remembered it, was landward and toward the left. She ran that way, dimly aware of a small wail and whimper behind her. She paused, scooped up Pooky, and ran on. But actually she knew that Luisa was dead. She couldn’t have survived the first plunge. It had been too late from the instant Luisa’s sturdy foot had gone over that grim and hideous ledge. But there might be a chance, she told herself—and knew it to be a vain hope.
Where was Dave’s house? She kept looking ahead, looking for a car along the road and there was none, looking for a lane or a gate leading into a house—any house. Eventually there was a mailbox and a grass-grown, narrow road, leading through a hedge, and to a small stone house.
It was Dave’s. As she flung herself at the door Jem Daly opened it. He caught her as she almost fell into his arms.
“For God’s sake, Sissy! What’s happened?” Pooky gave a lunge out of her arms and down to the floor.
Serena clung to Jem. “Luisa! Sutton’s aunt! She fell over the rocks. She’s in the sea. There against the rocks …”
“Where? When?”
“Just now. I’ll show you. Hurry. The path was so narrow.…”
Jem grasped it all instantly. “You mean down there on the point where the path leads around the rocks and stops above the sea?”
“Yes. I’ll show you.”
“I know the place. She goes there nearly every day! I’ll go. You stay here. Phone for help—the police …”
He was running out the door. She heard him shout, “Dave—Dave …” and the clatter of some other door opening, and Dave’s voice in the distance: “Yeah …”
“Miss Condit. She’s gone over the rocks … Where’s the rope? …”
“Good God! I’ll get it …”
She looked around for a telephone. It was a living room with books and tables and chairs, a man’s room, half-bare, comfortable. The telephone was beside a window near her. As she ran toward it she could hear the men running, the bang of a door thrust open against a wall, then excited voices: “There was a better one around somewhere.” “This will have to do.” “How about a ladder?” “Not long enough.” “How about taking the old bike … ?” “It’s broken. It’d be quicker over the rocks—this way …” A door banged and she could hear them running as she grasped the telephone. “Police—police …”
The operator down in the village was quick and helpful. “That number’s busy,” she said. “Is anything wrong?” And when Serena told her, swiftly, she understood at once. “You’ll want a pulmotor, in case … I’ll get them there right away. The point below Dr. Seabrooke’s house. Right …”
By the time Serena got to the door of the cottage again the men were out of sight. But she’d have to show them exactly the place where she’d seen the sc
arf. Although that would be small indication of where Luisa’s body might be found, there was no judging or plotting the way of those currents.
Pooky wanted to follow and she shut him in, closing the door behind her. He yelped sadly as she started out again along the highway the way she’d come. She was slower this time; it seemed to her she plodded along the way. Eventually she reached the path going out on the treacherous point of rocks and turned into it. This time she was giddily aware of danger when she came out upon the next to last curve and saw the cove of lashing sea and rocks below.
She went on cautiously and rounded the curve that brought her in full view of the sea, darker gray now with a close-hanging gray sky. Jem and Dave were there. Just standing there, staring out toward the rocks. Jem had a coil of rope in his hand too worn and frayed-looking, really, to have withstood the terrific pull of the current, even if they could have reached Luisa. One end of it was tied around Dave’s waist. Dave had his coat off and his shoes lay on the path.
Both turned to glance at her. But it was no good, any of it, and all of them knew it.
Yet she heard herself telling it again. She pointed, she told of seeing the green scarf. “It’s hopeless to try to find her,” said Jem. “It’d be suicide to try, and useless. We’d never find her or live long enough even to reach those rocks. We know this coast.”
Nobody ever survived a fall like that. They had given up, all three of them, when Dave began slowly to loosen the noose around his waist.
“How’d it happen, Sissy?”
“I don’t know.” She shivered a little. “I don’t know. She was ahead of me, on the path. I’d stopped to put the dog down, and when I came around the curve she wasn’t here. And then I saw it. Her scarf, way out there—dragged under, toward those rocks …”
Jem said brusquely: “We’d better get back. Might as well meet the police. Come on.” He led the way, but at the steep and narrow curve he reached back toward Serena. “Take my hand,” he said. She clutched it until they’d left the sea. “We’d better take the highway,” said Jem. “Easier on Serena.” And then when they reached the highway he glanced at her and put his arm around her. “Hang onto me,” he said.
Dave, looking shocked and white, said: “It’s horrible. One thing, Sissy, she didn’t have a moment of struggle probably. Really. She must have dashed instantly against those rocks directly below and then the current, it’s terribly strong right there, caught her and …”
“Don’t,” said Jem. “Let’s get Sissy back to the cottage.”
Pooky flung himself upon them, squealing indignantly. Jem put Serena on a sofa and Dave lighted the fire; Jem pushed her sofa up near the hearth and brought her brandy while Dave went to the telephone, and presently came back.
“The police are on their way. They’ve notified the Coast Guard too. The fellow at the station says it’s no use. Nobody’s ever been got out alive from a place like that.” He looked at Serena. “Are you all right, Sissy? Oughtn’t you have some spirits of ammonia or something? What’s the matter with your hand?”
She glanced at her hand and the handkerchief that made a white bandage upon it and for an instant couldn’t remember. “Oh, yes,” she said then. “I fell when I put the dog down. Slipped …” Another painful shiver crawled along her body as she thought, that’s what happened to Luisa; she slipped but she didn’t catch hold of anything as I did.
Jem beside her on the sofa felt the shiver. “Drink this,” he said, holding the glass to her lips. Dave went to stand before the fire. “What possessed Luisa to go out on the point like that?”
“She goes there all the time,” said Jem. “I’ve seen her. She goes everywhere. She’s not afraid of anything. Sissy, stop shivering!”
There was a kind of exasperation of anxiety in his voice. His arm was warm and strong and inexpressibly kind; she shrank against it. Jem went on, in brusque comfort: “There was nothing you could do, Sissy. Thank God, you didn’t go over the edge too. It’s horrible. But it’s over; it was all over before you even knew that she’d fallen. Believe me. That’s true.”
“I suppose we ought to phone Amanda.” Dave went to the telephone again and then looked at Jem. “Jem, you do it. You know Amanda better than I do and you …”
Jem’s arm tightened a little. His face suddenly looked guarded. “Get Sutton, then,” he said shortly. “She was his aunt.”
“Oh, all right,” agreed Dave reluctantly. He got neither, however.
“It was Modeste.” Dave came back again to stand before the fire. His face looked tired and somber. He pushed the thin lock of black hair back from his forehead, took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes. “She says she’ll tell them as soon as they get in. She didn’t know where either of them is.”
“You’d better have a drink too, Dave.” There was a touch of compunction in Jem’s voice. “You look done in.”
Dave turned around suddenly, leaning his arms on the mantle and staring down apparently at the flames. “I’m all right.”
“Okay, but you …”
“Do you mind,” cut in Dave sharply and explosively, “not talking about it?”
There was a little pause. Not talking about what, thought Serena wearily. And then she was caught again by the shuddering picture of horror in her mind. Luisa de la Vega Condit; one moment alive and strong and full of energy, the next moment nothing but a green scarf, freighted heavily with something that by then must have had no feeling or sentience or being. It was queer that Luisa hadn’t screamed as she fell. Still, the sound of the waves would have muffled it, even so near. Or it happened too quickly, too suddenly. She put her hands over her eyes. Jem said, “Stop that, Sissy,” peremptorily and got up, went to a side table, mixed a drink for Dave and one for himself and, returning, put one of the glasses beside Dave’s arm on the mantle. “Drink that,” he said,
Dave’s shoulders moved as if he sighed. Then he straightened up, took the glass and turned toward Serena.
“Somebody got into my laboratory last night,” he told her, in a voice that seemed to wrench out the words. “Smashed everything up. That’s all.” He took a long drink, while Serena sat upright and stared at him.
“Laboratory! But who—why … ?”
Jem explained. “It’s pretty horrible, Sissy. You see, all Dave’s records were there. All his present experiments. Everything he’s accomplished …”
“Everything I was about to accomplish.” Dave swirled the liquid in his glass and added in a low voice: “Everything I might have done.”
Jem said: “It’s the damnedest thing, Sissy. The police were here this morning; we called them right away. They haven’t found out who did it. The horror of it is, it was probably done by a tramp, or even prowling kids. There’s no reason for it; just senseless destruction. There were unlocked windows. Dave never thought of locking them. He did latch the door, but that’s all.…”
“Nobody ever came around. It was perfectly safe. I didn’t have anything anybody would want to steal.” Dave’s face, bent downward, showed sharp, weary lines of pain.
“Anyway, it happened some time during the night; neither of us heard it. We sleep here in the house, Dave in the bedroom over there, and I’m at the other end. The laboratory is away from the house.…”
Dave, looking into his glass, broke in again, his voice dull: “Used to be the garage; I made a laboratory out of it. But there was nothing for anybody to steal.”
“Nobody stole anything; not even microscopes,” went on Jem. “It was sheer vandalism.”
“Everything smashed, torn out, destroyed,” said Dave. “As if a crazy man had got in there with a—with a whip. Or a hammer.”
“Dave, that’s horrible!” cried Serena.
Dave put his drink down. “I’ll go out and meet the police at the road,” he said. “No need to drag Sissy back there to the rocks. I’ll tell them how it happened.” He went quickly across the room, his shoulders drooping. The door closed.
“Jem, what a dreadful thing!
”
“He said this morning it meant practically a complete waste of everything he’d tried to do. Neither of us heard it. You can hear the sea from here at night, it muffles other sounds; still it seems as if we ought to have heard something.” Jem stared down at the fire for a moment. “He found it this morning; he’d got himself breakfast and I was in here writing. I didn’t notice when he went out to the laboratory. First thing I knew he was just standing there in the doorway. I thought he was sick. I jumped up and ran to help him; he looked as if he was about to die then and there. Then he told me; I ran out and looked. The wanton destruction of it seems so fiendish.”
“Who could have done it?”
Jem shrugged. “I called the police. It was just a gesture, of course. Oh, I’d like to see whoever did it boiled in oil, but I don’t have much hope of their being found. Weren’t any clues that I could see. He’d kept all his notes out there too, in a box. Not even a steel box, just a corrugated pasteboard thing. I’ve seen it plenty of times. Well—the records were burned. Out back of the garage—that is, the laboratory. Out of sight of the house. All burned.…We found the heap of ashes this morning.”
“Are you sure it happened last night? It’s queer you didn’t see the fire.”
“Dave was in the laboratory until about six last night. Then he came in, we had a drink and went up to Amanda’s. I rode down to the Lodge with Amanda and Sutton; Dave went to the station to get you. We got back—well, you know when; about eleven, I should say. Both the bedrooms, as you see,” he motioned toward doors at either end of the room, “are on the sea side of the cottage, away from the garage. It could have happened, of course, while we were all at the Lodge. Or it could have happened later in the night; neither of us heard anything. The fire was small, and shielded from the house and from the highway by the garage, and all the shrubs and trees. I couldn’t sleep and walked up to the ranch, as you know, last night …” He paused. Serena, thinking of a moment in the darkness, on the stairs, felt color coming in a warm little wave into her face. Jem said slowly: “That’s when I talked to you.” He lighted a cigarette rather deliberately and went on: “I didn’t see anybody around the cottage, either when I went away or when I came back. Of course it was a dark night. And the sea is very near; the sound of the waves drowns out other sounds.”
Escape the Night Page 5