Look Both Ways

by Carol J. Perry

  The black cat stopped, turned, and looked at me. A voice called, “Follow me, Lee,” just as it had in the dream. I ran, following the cat through the labyrinth of corridors and hallways. Here and there I spotted a tiny bit of blue tape along the baseboards. We reached the mansion’s entrance hall, and I twisted the knob on the massive front door and stepped out into the summer night and freedom. The black cat stood in the doorway, watching me as I ran down the curving driveway to Daphne’s cottage.

  CHAPTER 41

  Daphne’s door was still unlocked. I let myself in and looked around. I didn’t dare to turn on the lights. What if Tripp had climbed out of the pool and was looking for me? I saw a faint glow coming from somewhere beyond the living room and followed it. There was a small night-light shaped like a crucifix over Daphne’s bed. Next to the bed was the pink Princess phone she’d told me about. I called 911.

  Things moved fast after that. Sirens blared, and a parade of police cars proceeded up the long driveway. As soon as I saw the flashing lights, I went outside and waved one of the police cars down.

  “I’m Lee Barrett,” I told the uniformed officer. “Tripp Hampton is in the main house. He’s in the pool. He killed Helena Trent and Shea Tolliver.”

  “You’re soaking wet, miss. You’d better get in the cruiser.” He held the door open for me. “We’ve been looking for you for an hour.”

  An hour? Have I been gone only for an hour?

  I sat shivering in the backseat while the officer used his radio. “Detective?” he said. “I’ve got the lady you’re looking for. She’s right here in my backseat. Here. I’ll let you talk to her.” He handed me the microphone.

  “Lee? Are you all right?” Pete’s voice broke.

  I was so relieved to hear him that I began to cry. “Oh, Pete. It was Tripp.” Tears rushed down my cheeks. “He used chloroform. He was going to kill O’Ryan. I got away when he fell in the pool.”

  “The pool? Is that where he is now?” His cop voice was back. “You sure?”

  “That’s where he was when I got out of there,” I said. “Be careful. He’s crazy.”

  The officer stayed with me in the cruiser. Even turned on the heater, although the summer night was warm. After a while my teeth stopped chattering and the shivering stopped. Staccato voices sounded over the radio. I heard the sirens again, and red, white, and blue lights flashed past, heading away from the mansion.

  “What’s going on?” I asked. “Did they catch Tripp?”

  “Yeah. Detective Mondello’s on his way over here now to get you.”

  Just then Pete opened the cruiser door and pulled me into his arms. For a long moment, neither of us spoke. “I love you so much,” he whispered.

  “I love you, too,” I said, realizing that this was the first time we’d spoken those words to each other.

  “You’re cold.” He took off his jacket, then wrapped it around my shoulders. “Lee, it was the damnedest thing. The man was fully clothed, shoes and all, and was swimming around in circles in that pool. He fought us when we tried to help him out. Didn’t want to get out of the water.”

  I waited for him to say something about the cats. The hundreds of cats.

  Pete shook his head. “Damnedest thing I ever saw. All alone in there, just swimming around in circles. Anyway, when we got him out of the water, and he’d settled down some, he started talking. I told him he was under arrest for kidnapping, read him his rights, but he kept right on talking.”

  “What did he tell you?” I asked.

  “We were right about him slipping away from that charity thing and sneaking home. He killed Helena, all right, but the surprising thing is, he says he killed Shea Tolliver, too.” He led me to his car, and gently helped me into the passenger seat. “Come on. I’ll take you home. River is still at your place, and your aunt is frantic with worry. I’ll fill you in later. I have to get back to the station. Hampton will calm down and get himself lawyered up pretty soon, I’m sure.” He hit the siren, and we headed for home.

  “Pete, I need to tell you something. I know where the pink diamond is.” I blurted it out. I didn’t give him a chance to respond, just kept talking. “It’s on the island. Helena buried Nicky there in a metal coffin. The diamond necklace, the real one, is tied around his neck. There’s a fake one, too. The one Tripp killed Shea for. He threw it in the pool.”

  “How do you know all this? Never mind. Here we are.” We were in front of the Winter Street house. “We’ll talk later. I’ll come back as soon as I can. Wait for me, okay?” He left the Crown Vic’s engine idling, and together we hurried up the steps. Aunt Ibby and River rushed outside to greet me. Pete gave me a fast kiss, ran back to the car, and sped away without his jacket, siren blaring.

  Once inside the house, everyone talked at once.

  “Maralee, your clothes are wet.” My aunt threw her arms around me. “What happened? Where have you been?”

  “When I got here and found the back door wide open, I knew something was wrong,” River said. “I ran upstairs and saw that you weren’t there, so I called the cops and banged on your aunt’s door until I woke her up. We’ve been worried sick ever since.”

  “It was Tripp Hampton,” I told them, sitting on the living-room couch, where my aunt wrapped a warm knitted afghan around me. “He was waiting outside the door when I unlocked it. He had a rag with chloroform. He took me to his house. He took O’Ryan, too.... Heroine! He was going to drown O’Ryan. I have to look for him!” I started to get up, and my aunt put a calming hand on my arm.

  “Shhh. O’Ryan is fine. He came in through the cat door a few minutes before you got here. You say Tripp took you both all the way to his house?”

  The cat strolled into the living room, glanced at the three of us without curiosity, and curled up on his favorite needlepoint cushion.

  “Yes, he did,” I said. “All the way to his house.”

  “O’Ryan must have hitched a ride home, then,” River said, “to have made it here before you did. And you were riding in a police car.”

  “Maybe one of the other policemen drove him home and let him out. Yes. That must be exactly what happened,” I said, knowing in my heart that it wasn’t.

  “How did you get away from Hampton?” River demanded. “And why did he grab you in the first place?”

  “My phone was bugged. He heard me tell you that I know where the diamond is. And he’s been listening to my conversations with Pete, too. He wanted the diamond. He said he needs money so he won’t go to jail for stealing from his investors, and—”

  “Slow down, Maralee.” My aunt spoke softly, gently, the way she used to when I was little and got too excited about something. “Take a deep breath and start at the beginning.” She put a cup of hot tea in my still shaking hands. “There now. You’re safe here, and O’Ryan is safe, too. Take your time and tell us what happened.”

  I did exactly what she told me to do. I took a deep breath and a sip of hot tea and began to feel warmer, better, safer. I looked across the room at the cat, who appeared to be dozing, eyes squeezed shut, ears flattened, and I knew he was wide awake, listening.

  Do I tell them about the cats, O’Ryan? The hundreds of cats who came and saved our lives?

  I started at the beginning, as Aunt Ibby had instructed. I told them about how Tripp had knocked me out and how he had O’Ryan in a cat carrier and had threatened to throw him in the pool to drown him if I didn’t tell him where the diamond was.

  River interrupted. “So where is it? You still haven’t told us.”

  “It’s on Nicky. Helena’s little dog. She buried him on the island. He’s wearing the diamond necklace. It was all in a poem she wrote in her notebook after he died. She said he was running to meet his dad—that means her first husband—and she dressed him up in the diamond necklace John Hampton had given to her. That’s where it is now. Out on Misery Island, in Nicky’s coffin.”

  “My goodness. Did you tell Tripp Hampton that?” My aunt clasped her hands together.r />
  “I did. I had to tell him if I didn’t want O’Ryan to drown. I kept talking. Stalling for time. I knew you’d call for help, River, when you found me missing. I knew someone would come.”

  “But you got away. How?”

  “It’s a pretty wild story,” I said, “and I don’t think I can tell anyone except you two.” I pulled the afghan close and took another sip of tea. “Nobody else will believe it, anyway, but I sure wish I’d had a camera with me.”

  So I told them. I told them every crazy, impossible bit of it. How I’d worked my hands loose and freed O’Ryan from his carrier. How I had heard glass crack and had watched while cat after cat had silently padded into that long room, and how they’d crowded around Tripp Hampton until he backed into the pool.

  “And the cats kept coming,” I said. “Hundreds of cats. All kinds of cats. I swear, every cat in Salem must have been in that room.”

  My aunt and my best friend stared at me. Was it disbelief I saw in their eyes?

  I kept talking. “After Tripp fell in the pool, one of the cats, a black one with a red collar, led me through all those confusing halls and corridors, straight to the front door. I ran then, down the path to Daphne’s cottage, and called 911.”

  “I’ve seen that cat before.” Aunt Ibby spoke hesitantly. “A black cat with a red collar. I’ve seen her sitting on our back fence.”

  “Yes. I’ve seen her on that fence, too,” I said. “And on the roof, outside the attic window, too. She was there when O’Ryan and I were up there looking for things to use in the plays.”

  “You never told me about that.” Aunt Ibby refilled my teacup.

  “She was with another cat that time,” I said, recalling the scene. “A pretty gray one with a star-shaped white blaze on her forehead.”

  River sat forward, looking as though she was about to say something, then settled back in her chair, a smile flitting across her face.

  “I told you there seems to be a lot of cats around here lately.” My aunt shook her head. “A lot of cats.”

  “So, did Pete say anything about them?” River asked. “A roomful of cats isn’t something you see every day.”

  “Not a word,” I admitted. “They must have all gone away before he got there.”

  “Uh-huh,” River said. “Anyway, did you tell him where you think the diamond is?”

  “I did.”

  “Really? Didn’t he want to know how you figured it out?” my aunt asked.

  “Yes. But he was in a hurry to get back to the station,” I said. “He said we’d talk later.”

  “Looks like now’s the time, Maralee.” Aunt Ibby patted my knee. “Now’s the time to tell the truth about how you know . . . things.”

  I sighed. “You’re right. I’m going to tell him.”

  “Good,” Aunt Ibby said. “And I’m going to make some more tea. Be right back.” She headed for the kitchen, and River moved onto the couch, beside me, and began to speak in a tone so low, it was almost a whisper.

  “Those cats,” she said. “I believe you about the cats. I believe they were there.”

  “Thanks, River. That means a lot.”

  “I kind of doubted it at first,” she said. “After all, you’d been through a terrible experience—being chloroformed and all. But when you mentioned those particular cats, the black one with the red collar and the gray one with the star on her head, I understood.” She nodded confidently. “I understood exactly what was going on.”

  “You did? You do?” It was my turn to be puzzled. “What was going on? Tell me. Please.”

  “Remember what I told you about Bridget Bishop when you gave me the box with her spell book in it? About how she dressed?”

  “A red bustier.” I smiled. “Not proper dress for a Puritan lady.”

  “And do you remember Ariel Constellation’s beauty mark, which she was so proud of?”

  I nodded. “Sure. A star on her cheek.”

  River leaned back against the couch cushions and folded her arms. “Well?”

  It was like one of those long, silent moments when you almost expect to hear crickets chirping. Or like the lengthy pause in conversation while Mr. Pennington waits for someone to come up with the correct movie title. I could actually hear the grandfather clock in the front hall ticking.

  Then I got it.

  “Bridget Bishop with the red collar. Ariel with the star.”

  River offered a high five. I tapped her hand. “Right,” she said. “Bridget had control over cats. The court said so in sixteen ninety-two. And O’Ryan was Ariel’s familiar. Between the three of them—the black cat, the gray one, and O’Ryan—they called all those cats together to save you.” She looked over at the sleeping cat on the needlepoint cushion. “And to save him.”

  “Amazing.”

  “Not so amazing when you consider today’s date,” she said. “June tenth. Bridget Bishop’s birthday.”

  Pete came back to our house, as he’d promised. By then the sun had come up, and it looked as though it was going to be a beautiful summer’s day in Salem. River had left for home, and I’d taken a hot shower but, still feeling chilled, had climbed into my trusty old gray sweats. Aunt Ibby bustled around in the kitchen, making breakfast for the three of us.

  Pete told us all he could about what had transpired at the police station when they’d arrested Tripp Hampton on the kidnapping charge. “Looks like there’ll be more charges later on,” he said. “It’s a pretty sure bet that he killed both his stepmother and Shea Tolliver. Then there’s the matter of swindling millions from investors.” He shook his head. “What a mess he made of his life. Smart guy like that. Good education. Fine family.”

  “And it was all for a piece of jewelry,” my aunt said.

  “Apparently,” Pete said. “Lee says the necklace is buried on Misery Island, with Helena’s dog. That right, Lee?”

  I nodded. “It’s all here in her notebook.” I’d brought the notebook downstairs with me, knowing that Pete would want an explanation for how I could be so sure Helena had buried the gem with Nicky. I opened the book to the page with the picture of Helena and her dog wearing twin sailor hats. I read the poem about “picky little Nicky” aloud and explained about the dog wearing the necklace like his mom and running to meet his dad, hoping that would be enough evidence to justify my insistence that the gem would be found with poor Nicky’s remains.

  It wasn’t.

  “You said that she’d buried the dog in a metal coffin,” Pete said. “How do you know that?”

  I thought about lying to him. I could have said that maybe I’d seen something about it in one of the newspaper clippings, or that perhaps Daphne had mentioned it once. I caught Aunt Ibby’s eye but couldn’t read anything there. O’Ryan looked up from his red bowl of kibble and gave the tiniest nod.

  “After breakfast,” I said. “After we’ve eaten this delicious breakfast, which Aunt Ibby has so kindly prepared for us, if you’ll come upstairs with me, I’ll explain about that—and about a lot of other things.”

  So that’s what I did. We sat together at the Lucite table in my kitchen, and I tried to explain about scrying, explaining that it was a real gift that some people have. Yes, for the first time in my life, I actually called it a gift. I told him about the terrible vision I’d seen in my Mary Janes when I was five. I told him about the obsidian ball and the things Ariel had shown to me in that smooth black surface. I told him how Tabitha Trumbull had appeared to me in the giant patent-leather pump, and I told the truth about why the mirror in my bureau had frightened me. I talked about Helena and the grandfather and the little gray dog and the small metal coffin a tearful Helena had held in her arms, and I described the vision of Shea I’d seen in the brass candlestick.

  When I finished, I watched his face, realizing how much I loved this man and realizing at the same time that what I’d just shared with him might very well end our relationship.

  “You’re a scryer,” he said.

  “Yes, I am. Some p
eople would call me a gazer. Same thing.”

  “You see these things, these visions, whether you want to or not?”

  “I’m learning to control it. I can turn it on and off.”

  He smiled then. “Like a TV set.”

  “Something like that.”

  “A gift like that could come in handy sometimes, I suppose.” He leaned forward, his elbows on the table, his chin resting on his fists.

  “It has. Sometimes,” I said. “At first I really hated it. Scared me to death. Now I’m kind of getting used to it. I’ve wanted to tell you about it so many times, but I’ve been afraid.”

  “Afraid?”

  “Afraid you’d think I’m crazy. Afraid you wouldn’t ever want to see me again.” I felt tears welling up. I hadn’t fully described the horror of some of the scenes I’d witnessed or the astonishing wonder of some of the others. I hadn’t even told him about the hundreds of cats who’d probably saved my life just a few hours ago. I wasn’t at all sure I could. Not yet.

  “Okay,” he said, reaching across the table and taking both of my hands in his. “Listen to me. I don’t think you’re crazy. I think you’re the most wonderful, beautiful, caring woman I’ve ever known, and I love you. Please, from now on, do you think you can tell me when you see . . . something? Even if it’s bad stuff?”

  Can I promise such a thing? Am I ready to share that much of myself?

  “It would be a big relief to be able to do that,” I said finally. “I promise I’ll try.”

  “I understand,” he said, squeezing my hands. “I’m still trying to wrap my head around this amazing gift of yours, this new aspect of you. Thank you for trusting me.”

  “I do trust you, Pete,” I said and let the tears of relief flow. “And I love you, too.”