A DIZZYING BALANCE
Caught …
grey clouds up – sharp rocks down.
Caught …
mountain cliff – edging forward, no retreat –
Cold treachery behind warm smiles.
Poised between worlds –
--- a dizzying balance ---
Storm-tossed peril? …
Or love’s safe harbor…
Harriet E Rich
Copyright Page
Copyright © 2019 Harriet E Rich
A Publication of:
Grey Raven Books
A Division of Grey Raven Enterprises, S. de R.L. de C.V.
Valladolid, Yucatán, México
All rights reserved
No part or parts of this book may be reproduced, in any form or by any means, without the express permission given in writing by the author, excepting brief quotes used in reviews.
Cover Art
by
Sara Elaine Novakovich
A
DIZZYING
BALANCE
Chapter One
Miss Colson, look out!
Jennette played it again in her mind: … the stagehand shouting and pointing … someone screaming … the huge, heavy light above her head … jumping away just as it fell.
She’d worried about it for days. And the railing on the catwalk? ... feeling the old wood crack beneath her hand … grabbing a rope … swinging wildly into space … landing in a painful heap on the stage. Only accidents everyone had said, but were they? She stood staring out at the garden.
It had rained for days in southern California, bringing an unaccustomed chill to early May. Shivering, she pulled her cape close as she shut the glass doors and crossed the back terrace to the steps. The moon had not yet risen above the hill behind the house, and the sky was the dark blue-grey of late evening with a sprinkle of stars winking between high clouds. She walked down to the lawn, moving silently through the garden to the parking area in front of the long bank of garages. An owl hooted above her in the darkness of the tree branches. The soft scent of roses surrounded her. Her feet found the path to the cabin, and she climbed up through the woods.
The cabin was her own special place – near enough to the main house for convenience yet far enough away for privacy – and she often worked there, rehearsing lines or reading scripts for SailingStar. The path, still wet from that afternoon’s rain, was dark and slippery with the pungent earthy smell of fallen leaves. Yawning as she climbed, she listened to the soft wind sighing through the tops of the tall pines covering the hillside. She’d had a glass of brandy after dinner and, in spite of her worries, felt tired.
I’ve too much work. She shrugged her shoulders, trying to shake off her weariness. Got to get it done. And, again: Got to decide what to do … were they just accidents?
The cabin was in a small clearing halfway up the hill. It was old, almost as old as the house but much more rustic and had been built on a stone foundation with a squat stone chimney rising above the shingled roof. There was no light, but Jen felt that pleasant tug she always sensed of being welcomed. She crossed the little wooden porch to open the door, yawning again. Turning on the lamp, she sank into the couch still wrapped in her cape. It was cold in the cabin, she was sleepy, and although she knew she should be in bed, the thought of the legal papers that must be read held her. With a sigh, she started to get up to turn on the gas fire but the room began to spin. Laying her head back against the cushions, she closed her eyes.
* * *
The cold woke her. She lay on the couch, coughing and disoriented in the darkness. Her head swam and the smell of gas was nauseating.
Out. Get out! “Jen, you’ve got to get out!” And the harsh sound of her voice frightened her into moving. She struggled to stand but dropped to her knees, hitting her side on the sharp corner of the coffee table. Crawling to the door, she pulled herself up and wrenched it open. It was too dark to see the path. She stumbled blindly on the steps and staggered away, gasping for the cool fresh night air. Her feet flew from under her as a tree root tripped her and with a cry, she fell, rolled down the clearing, hit her head hard on a rock, landed like a rag doll against the trunk of a large tree. Breath whooshed from her lungs and an agonizing pain in her shoulder brought tears to her eyes. She felt something warmly wet on her forehead. For a few minutes, she lay there dazed and shaken while the roaring in her ears subsided.
Her head pounded as she struggled to stand without the use of her shoulder. Slowly, she pulled herself up one-handed, finding finger holds in the rough tree bark. At last on her feet, with her arm hanging at her side, she tried to make a fist but cried out as an exquisitely sharp pain threatened to send her to her knees once more. Leaning weakly against the tree, she took several deep breaths to clear her mind while she waited for the throbbing to lessen. The effects of the gas were slowly wearing off and the pain was at least bearable.
What had happened? She’d been so sleepy, but she knew she’d turned on the lamp. And she hadn’t turned on the gas. This time it couldn’t have been an accident.
Someone had come very close to killing her.
Who? Sleepy … dizzy … She remembered the brandy. Someone could have put something into it. And the stage light … the handrail? She nodded. If they had been deliberate, as deliberate as tonight, she had an enemy, nameless and faceless but very real. The thought was chilling.
Suddenly the ground shook and the blast of an explosion hit her like a fist. What was left of the cabin was in flames. Fiercely burning pieces of wood and shingle rained down around her and she shrank back from the blazing heat.
“You idiot,” she whispered. Without thought, she’d pulled the door closed, shutting in the gas behind her. Everyone at the house would come. Her fear leapt to panic. What if the killer is with them? What if he finds me before the others arrive? I’ve got to protect myself and the … She shook her head, trying to think more quickly, more clearly. She had to get away.
The woods were dark and cool and safe as she limped from the light of the fire. While she moved as quietly as she could down to the back of the garage, she heard them all shouting and crashing up through the underbrush. She was in danger from someone close to her and there was no one she dared trust. No … yes. There is one I can trust, someone who’s never been a part of this crazy life of mine. If I can get there … explain … apologize for my stubborn pride and all the lost years …
She had to try.
The keys to the Jaguar were in the pocket of her jeans and the car was parked at the top of the steep driveway. Wrapping her cape around her to cradle her arm, she stepped out of the shadows and slipped behind the wheel. Her purse was still on the passenger’s seat from the afternoon. Finally, this bad habit will do me some good. She nodded grimly, clenching her teeth against the pain as she eased the shift into neutral and struggled to release the hand brake. The tires whispered on the concrete as the car rolled silently down the long dark hill into the woods toward the gate, toward Santa Barbara, toward the freeway.
Chapter Two
Jen pulled into the diner’s parking lot, wearily switched off the engine and leaned back with a sigh. Two days of talking, worrying, trying to plan and they’d gotten only this far. They needed more time. Who could want to kill her? And why? She slipped on her sunglasses, settled the cape onto her shoulders and was reaching for the door handle when her cell phone rang.
“Jen, you okay?”
“Yes. I’ve stopped for coffee north of Long Beach.”
“I still think we should call the cops,” he said. “I’m worried.”
“We don’t know enough yet. I’m worried, too, but this is the best we can do right now. It shouldn’t take me long to get up to
the estate. You’ll be there?”
“I’ll be there, but it’s going to rain.”
“Then we’ll get wet on the back of the cycle without the car ….” She shrugged. “I’ll call your cell when I’m ready to leave. I promise I’ll be careful.” She hung up and went into the diner.
The man at the cash register recognized her, of course, as soon as she’d come in from the bright sunshine and pulled the dark glasses down her nose to look over the top. The green-gold eyes, the red hair and its pageboy cut, the cape – all were unmistakable.
“My wife and I have seen all your pictures, Miss Colson, and enjoyed every one of them. I sure am honored to have you here.” He asked for her autograph but was too polite to pry any further although she could see how curious he was. “Filming a movie down here?” was all he said.
“Not yet,” she responded with a smile as she signed the menu. “I’ve just been looking for locations, but I’m on my way home to Santa Barbara now.”
“If you need any scenes in a diner,” he pointed at the counter and booths, “you let us know. We’d be delighted to be in one of your movies.” And he added shyly, “Thrill of a lifetime, ma’am.”
“What a lovely compliment.” Jen smiled. “Please tell your wife I’m sorry I didn’t get the chance to meet her.”
* * *
Her ‘JCOLSON’ license plate was like a beacon and the convertible full of teenagers honked wildly as it shot past her in the fast lane of the freeway. Then it dropped back and the driver let it settle in, at sixty miles an hour, beside the Jaguar. For a brief moment, she and the teens were running parallel – she smiling and waving, they laughing and waving back and yelling delightedly. Finally, she blew them all a kiss goodbye. The driver did a beep-da-da-beep-beep on the horn, the kids all waved and hollered, and their car surged forward to continue on its way. Watching them disappear around the bend, she realized she was still smiling. In spite of all the worry, she had to admit that it certainly was fun being Jennette Colson.
At the exit, she turned east, away from Santa Barbara, and started the long climb up the winding highway. The hills were gloriously, impossibly green after all the rain. Each twist of the road brought another view of grassy slopes bright with wildflowers yellow and red against lush fields of shimmering jade. Each stand of trees shone deep emerald over brown-black shadows beneath. There had been sunny skies earlier, but they’d yielded to storm clouds as they had yesterday and the day before and almost every day over the past weeks.
She enjoyed driving the car. It moved well, hugging the curves of the narrowing road, and she pictured the Jaguar as a luxurious symbol of her life and of the woman she had become. Rich, powerful, driven. Jen shook her head grimly. She was ambitious and successful, but for some reason as yet unknown, one of the people closest to her wanted her dead. She had to decide exactly what to do, how to do it, and the nearer she got to the estate, the more apprehensive she became. Must do it carefully, she worried. I’ll be giving them a mystery to puzzle over.
When fat drops of rain began to splash against the windshield, she turned on the wipers. They skipped a bit, smearing the glass, then settled into a steady swish as the rain increased. The darkening sky made the beams of the strong headlights shine more brightly and she had that eerie storm-feeling of nightfall in the middle of the day.
As the car climbed, the road steepened only to fall away down short slopes, then turn to rise again. With narrow edges, it was now a two-lane road divided sternly by a solid yellow stripe. There were too many hills and blind curves for passing. The rain pelted down as if determined to continue for hours, running off the road in sheets, filling the shallow ditch that bordered the road on the left.
She had accelerated out of a curve to gain the crest of a hill when the rear tires started to slide, and the wheel suddenly came alive under her hands. Her heart leapt into her throat as the car slewed sideways but she fought to straighten it out, her foot light on the pedal. She’d almost managed it when the car fishtailed over the hill and she was blinded by headlights directly in her path. There was no time, nothing she could do. With its brake lights flashing, the truck swerved too late. The Jaguar struck its rear wheel and fender with enough force to spin it half around into the ditch. Jen heard the metallic tearing crash as she felt the air bags push her head and chest hard, back into her seat.
When she could see again, the Jaguar was sliding almost sideways down the rain-slicked road. Tapping the brakes, she tried to steer but the wheel wouldn’t respond when she pulled to the left. The rear end came around and the car spun twice out of all control across the road. Its front end hit the guardrail and Jen felt her seat belt catch as she was thrown forward with a sharp jerk. The world reeled again. Dizzy and breathless, she tried to use the pedal to somehow slow the car and gain control but before she could, she was slammed sideways into the door as the car swung to its final jarring halt against an unyielding metal pole.
Chapter Three
In a vague, half-dreamy way, Jen knew she was conscious and immediately wished she weren’t. If she’d ever thought her head had hurt before, she was now painfully aware that she’d been wrong – that the Anvil Chorus would be a mere merry-go-round calliope in comparison.
“… shoulder weak and very sore for a while … cuts and bruises will heal … black eyes gone in no time.”
Since it was simply too much effort to lift her eyelids, she lay there trying to push aside the terrible hurt to focus on the voices floating around her.
“She looks pretty bad, Dr. Addoms.”
“It’s not as bad as it seems, really. When the swelling has subsided, you can make the arrangements we’ve talked about for surgery on her broken nose. Considering the damage to the car, these injuries could have been a great deal worse. The concussion, however, is serious and quite honestly, it concerns me. It’s been almost three days since the accident and she still hasn’t regained consciousness.”
“Doc, there’s a gaggle of reporters camped outside this building demanding an update. What do I tell them?”
“I’m sorry, Mr. Manelli. At this point, you know as much as I do. Miss Colson’s condition is stable, and her vital signs are good. When she wakes up, we’ll be able to run more tests.”
The voices floated away.
Three days Broken nose Concussion Reporters
The words hung in Jen’s mind like disconnected silver shapes pinned to a black curtain of pain. Can’t think … must rest …
Black conquered silver and she slept.
* * *
The next time she woke, she was relieved to find that the pain had lessened to below Anvil Chorus level. Although it pounded in her head, she could bear it. She concentrated on opening her eyes but thought she had failed when everything was darkly blurry with fuzzy blinks of light. Then she realized that the blinks were from a machine behind her.
She squeezed her eyes shut against sudden whiteness as the door opened and the room was flooded with hallway light. A shadow fell across the bed – a nurse checking the IV, straightening the blanket, taking her pulse. Jen’s mouth was dry, and she had to lick her lips twice before she could speak.
“Where am I?” It came out as little more than a ragged croak. She felt the nurse’s fingers jump against her wrist and willed her eyes to open enough to look up.
“Oh, Miss Colson, what a start you gave me!” The nurse smiled at her. “You’re in the Santa Barbara Hospital and Doctor Addoms will be so pleased that you’re finally awake. Now don’t you worry about your looks,” she patted Jen’s hand gently. “You were saying ‘broken nose’ in your sleep when I checked on you earlier, but you don’t need to fret about that at all. After the specialists get done fixing it, it’ll be just as pretty as it used to be.”
“… head hurts …”
The nurse looked at her watch. “You stay quiet, and I’ll see to it.” Her shoes made a slight squeaking noise as she stepped across the room and back. Filling a syringe, she injected the medication
into the IV. “There now, that should only need a minute or two.”
“… thirsty …”
“Let me give you a few ice chips.” The melting ice was cool satin against Jen’s lips. “You can have more later if you want. For now, you rest. I’ll call the doctor to let her know but I’m sure that if you’re sleeping, she won’t want to disturb you until morning.”
“… nice … thanks.” Jen listened to the squeak, squeak as the nurse walked out of the room, pulling the door closed behind her.
“Two shiners.” Jen lifted her hand to feel the bandage on her face. “And a broken nose. What was it the nurse said? As pretty as it used to be.” She tried to find a comfortable position and with a slight frown, closed her eyes.
* * *
She knew it was day when she woke to the feel of sunlight warm on her arm. Opening her eyes warily, she anticipated brightness and pain, but the window was behind on the left, her face in shadow. She breathed a small sigh of relief and looked around. It’s true. She smiled. All hospital rooms look alike.
White walls, white ceiling, white blanket on a gray metal bed, gray tile floor. The sunshine lit up a picture hanging on the wall to her right, also gray on white and framed in wide brown wood, but at least there were blotches of blue and yellow with a few lively touches of crimson. Jen found it soothing to let her eyes wander over the painting, following line and composition. It required no thought, only feeling, and this was safe. Without thinking, she knew that safe was a good thing.
She’d just decided that going back to sleep would also be a good thing when the door opened and a woman wearing a white coat came in. From the stethoscope draped around her neck, Jen guessed she was probably the doctor but before she could speak, a man stepped into the room and when he saw she was awake, his face lit up.
A Dizzying Balance Page 1