Uninvited

by David Anderson

  “Probably got another pair of shoes from her bedroom,” I replied.

  “Possible, but I don’t think so. Not after her return visit this morning.”

  “How’s it linked?”

  Nora leaned closer. “No-one else seems to have noticed this. I examined the area around the back door and found something on a wet patch beside a drain pipe.”

  “What exactly?” Sometimes Nora could take forever to get to the point.

  “Footprints. Abby’s.”

  “Abby’s? How would you know they were hers?”

  “That’s just it,” Nora hissed, “They’re muddy prints of small, bare feet. Who else’s could they be? And that’s not all.”

  I waited for more, wishing she’d hurry up and spit it out.

  “Beside them was a partial print of the front of a shoe, just the toe area. When I looked at it close up the size struck me immediately.”

  “But if it’s just the front bit?”

  “It’s not hard to figure out the overall size of the shoe from the width of the toe area.” Nora paused. “Nick, it was a great big shoe, a man’s eleven or twelve.”

  “Must have been one of us then, from yesterday when we were out searching around.”

  Nora sighed as if I just wasn’t getting it. “But the position is so odd. It’s right next to the drain pipe. Why would any of us stand there, with our back tight to the wall? It’s as if Abby and someone else were hiding, close to the back door but out of sight.”

  “But whose shoeprint could it be?”

  “I don’t know, I really don’t. But I keep thinking something that makes no sense.”

  “What’s that?”

  Nora touched my arm and I could feel her hand shaking.

  “I did some checking in the bedrooms just now. Wheeler has a big head and a big mouth, but his feet are tiny. Toby and Ned wear medium size and so do you. Peterman is a size nine. We four females all have small feet, even Georgia who’s tall. Only one of us has really big feet.”

  A vein started throbbing in my neck. Suddenly I realised what she was about to say.

  “That’s right,” Nora concluded, seeing the look on my face, “Sanders wears size twelve. There’s only one of us who could have been standing side by side with barefoot Abby. And he’s a dead man.”

  Chapter Eight

  Later on Nora decided to be a goody-goody girl and dragged me into the kitchen in case the Petermans wanted us to do some actual work, as in chores. Thankfully, Peterman said we weren’t needed and I didn’t wait for him to change his mind. The two of us hung around the house for the rest of the morning, wandering from room to room, just like everybody else. No-one seemed able to settle into any one activity for very long.

  Mid-morning, I was sitting in the kitchen window seat, drinking Wheeler’s expensive coffee and watching poor Ned prowling around outside. Round shouldered, fists clenched, his face angry and weary at the same time – I wondered if Ned was about to have a mental breakdown. On top of everything else, that was all we needed; the mind expert having a blowout. My dad has some weird old expression he would say about things like that; ‘physician, heal thyself’ or something along those lines.

  Eventually Ned came in the back door. He gave me a look that could have cut steel.

  “That’s where Abby sat last night,” he growled.

  I nodded in reply, not knowing what to say.

  “I want a bottle of water and then I’ll be on my way,” Ned continued, as if he considered his presence indoors inappropriate. As he opened the fridge, Wheeler came in from the hallway.

  “There you are,” Wheeler said to Ned, “I thought I told you to rest-up for a while?”

  Ned’s face hardened to pure hatred then relaxed in surrender. All at once he seemed to physically deflate.

  “I’m not going to waste time arguing,” he told Wheeler, “But I’ll sit here for a bit since you insist.”

  “Good man. I’ll get Peterman to fix you up an energy drink. Better still, stick around for lunch.”

  Within a minute Peterman arrived. He saw Ned still standing, sipping water, and politely but firmly led him to the table and sat him down. Taking a large metal flask from the fridge he poured some of its contents into a tall glass and set it in front of Ned.

  “What is it?” Ned asked him, sniffing it suspiciously.

  “It’s a traditional German drink, sir. Try it, you’ll not be disappointed.”

  “Tell me what’s in it first,” Ned insisted.

  Peterman sniffed, obviously offended. “It’s called Kräuterlikör, sir, which means ‘herbal liqueur.’ It contains herbs and spices that help with stress, including liquorice, anise, poppy seeds, saffron, ginger, juniper berries, ginseng, Pfefferminze and valerian.”

  “You made it?” Ned asked.

  “Certainly not, sir. We import it directly from Berlin.”

  Ned knocked the smooth, dark liquid back and licked his lips. “It’s mostly citrus and sugar,” he pronounced. “What I’d call ‘half-bitters’. But I’ll have some more.” He held out the glass and Peterman filled it halfway.

  “Best go easy, sir, it’s quite strong.”

  Ned emptied the glass in one gulp and watched Peterman place the flask back in the fridge.

  Straightening up, Peterman checked his watch. “Lunch will be served in forty-five minutes,” he said. I tried to look small in the window seat, but it was too late.

  “Your sister and you will be required to assist,” Peterman added, and gave me a curt nod.

  * * *

  It wasn’t too bad. With not one, but two, big top of the line dishwashers to do the dirty work, Nora and I cleared up the lunch things in no time. Ned stuck around though he hadn’t said more than half a dozen words the whole time. After coffee, Wheeler shepherded the guests into the living room “to discuss events” and Nora and I trundled along behind. Again, we took a seat at the back of the room where we could watch everyone. Georgia laid claim to the awesome green leather armchair I’d sat in yesterday and crossed her shiny bare legs that seemed to go on forever.

  Sunshine poured in through the big floor to ceiling windows, gleamed off wooden pillars, oil paintings and varnished antiques. Dust motes floated in the bright beams criss-crossing the opulent room. The rain of yesterday seemed impossible now. I half closed my eyes and became peaceful, calm; almost serene like the Buddha. Wheeler stood up and ruined it.

  “Let’s talk about recent events.”

  “Isn’t it time we called in the rescue services?” Toby replied.

  Wheeler spread his hands in a pacifying gesture. “We could certainly do that, but what would we tell them?”

  “How about the truth?” Toby replied bluntly. “Tell them that a member of our party has gone missing.”

  Wheeler looked uncomfortable. “Isn’t that a little premature?”

  “You think so?” Toby wasn’t giving up. “This is no time to worry about your reputation, Julius.”

  “Even out here the police or rescue services want someone missing for a clear twenty-four hours before being called in. They don’t waste resources on a sprained ankle or marital spat.”

  Ned nearly exploded. “You think that’s what this is?” he shouted, his face beetroot purple.

  “Easy,” Wheeler replied, “I’m just making a point. Here’s what I think we should do now that the weather is good again; conduct our own thorough search this afternoon and evening. If we still haven’t found her, I’ll call in the professionals in the morning.”

  “That’s a hell of a long time,” Ned protested. He looked ready to strangle Wheeler.

  Georgia touched Ned’s arm, but he pulled it away. “Let me call them,” he growled, staring straight at Wheeler. “You have to.”

  Wheeler gave a nothing doing shake of his head. “What about the rest of you?”

  Toby gave Ned a sympathetic look. “Okay, Julius, if you insist. But you call tonight for sure. Do we have a deal?”

  “Sounds reason
able,” Wheeler agreed.

  “I’ll go along with that,” Georgia said.

  “Me too,” I chipped in.

  Five pairs of eyes turned and stared at me. I could feel my cheeks burning like hot coals. But weren’t Nora and I entitled to voice opinions too?

  Wheeler turned his attention back to the guests. “Ned?” he said.

  Ned Mackie stood up and stepped forward until he was toe to toe with Wheeler. There was a tense silence. Wheeler blinked first, took a step back.

  “Tonight, as soon as we get back, Julius,” Ned said coldly, “As soon as we get back, you do it.” He spun around and left the room.

  Wheeler went to the bar and poured himself a large whiskey. “Anyone else want one?”

  “We’re not in the mood, Julius,” Georgia replied.

  “Have it your own way then.” Wheeler knocked it back and refilled his glass.

  “You really think it’s a good idea to drink so much this early in the day?” Toby protested.

  Wheeler emptied the second glassful in a single swallow.

  “Nervous?” Georgia taunted. “Dutch courage?”

  “Not nervy at all, Georgia,” Wheeler replied, “This isn’t the kind of vacation I’d planned for you people. I wanted you to have a good time. The truth is, Ned’s a decent enough guy and I intend helping him as much as I can. But I have to think about my reputation too. That’s why I’m going to do my damndest to fix this situation myself.”

  Nora leaned close to my ear. “I don’t believe a word.”

  “Me neither,” I whispered back.

  * * *

  Again, Peterman and Marie stayed behind to watch for Abby if she returned to the house. Bright sunlight streamed into the big front porch as we stood ready to go. What a change from yesterday.

  “We’ll circle around the edge of the forest from west to east behind the house, then follow the river downstream, and finally head back up to the house,” Wheeler said when we were ready to leave by the front entrance. He always had stuff like this planned out in his head; moving us around like chess pieces.

  “There’s not much cover between the house and the river,” Georgia protested, “Do we really need to look there?”

  “It’s a scorching day,” Wheeler replied, “Anyone lying on the ground would be in trouble and hard to spot. Anyway, there could be footprints, dropped food, anything.”

  “We should include the boat too,” Toby said, “She might be sheltering there.”

  “Good idea,” Wheeler agreed, “We’ll look there before coming back up. Now, there’s one more thing.”

  Wheeler took a key out of his pocket and unlocked a large cabinet on the far wall. Dead bolts slid back, and the door swung open, revealing steel plating on the interior. Inside was a rack of gleaming grey metal and polished wood; a gun cabinet. At least a dozen rifles were stacked upright in a row, with shelves above them filled with boxes that I assumed held ammunition. As with everything else, Wheeler didn’t do things by halves.

  Wheeler reached into the gun cabinet and took out a rifle for himself. As he checked the breech and loaded up with ammunition he looked enquiringly around him.

  “We’ll be a fair distance from the house. Anyone else want one of these?”

  “I will,” Ned replied immediately. An awkward silence followed. “What, you think I’m crazy?” he added, scowling at us.

  I felt my face tingle red.

  “There could be someone bad out there,” Ned went on, “A stranger, a madman, holding Abby captive. If I find him, I know what I’m doing.”

  “He’s right about a stranger,” Toby agreed, “I hate guns but this time I’ll make an exception.” He held his arms out, ready to take one.

  Wheeler handed a rifle to Toby and another reluctantly to Ned. Georgia shook her head. I looked at Nora silently and she shook her head too. Not that Wheeler actually offered us one.

  Wheeler watched Ned closely. “Just be bloody careful you don’t take a pot shot at any of us.”

  He pointed at the weapons. “I keep a good selection of guns up here. Yours are .22 caliber semiautomatic Armscor 20Ps with Timber King scopes. It’s a great rifle for small game during hunting season.” He grinned. “Actually, not just in hunting season.”

  He gave the two of them ammunition. “Mine is a Thompson Center Encore single shot .308 caliber,” he boasted, holding up his own rifle, “Long range and extremely accurate.”

  “His is bigger than theirs,” I whispered to Nora, who held her hand up to her mouth to hide a giggle.

  Wheeler, now in full flow, paid us no attention. “In other words, just about anything I can see, I can kill,” he said, “Especially since I have a Simmons Whitetail Classic scope. If a bad guy pokes his head out of the woods half a mile away, he’s as good as dead.”

  “Nice strap too,” Georgia commented.

  I groaned inwardly, but Wheeler obviously liked the girly remark. “It’s a Ranger Sling, made of fifty feet of nylon parachute cord that unwinds from quick-detach swivels. Not only can I shoot anything dead, I can tie it up and drag it back to the house.”

  “Impressive,” Georgia said. Sadly, she didn’t seem to be kidding.

  Wheeler nodded. “Yes, it is.” He turned to Toby and Ned. “Are you two loaded up yet? I’m using expanding bullets with ballistic tips, match grade and soft nose. You guys have hyper velocity cartridges.”

  “I can virtually smell the testosterone,” Nora whispered into my ear. This time it was my turn to stifle a laugh.

  Peterman locked the door after us and Wheeler led the way west, toward the forest edge.

  * * *

  We kept together and worked our way from west to east as planned. We found zero signs of Abby or any other humans anywhere we looked. The trees were spaced too far apart to give us much shade and the ground was rough and uneven, making the going slow and walking tiring. Twice I almost twisted an ankle in hollow ground. The sun beat down relentlessly and the still air resembled an oven’s heat.

  By the time we got to the riverbank everyone was hot and sticky. A breeze coming off the water actually made things worse; instead of cooling us, it felt like having a hairdryer blowing in our faces. I wiped sweat from my dripping forehead and noticed little wet patches at the armpits of Georgia’s tight t-shirt – gross on anybody else, kind of cute on her. At least trekking beside the river was easier walking.

  The canoe house and damaged cruiser loomed up ahead and I thought of my last time here, of how odd and spooky it had been. We rested on a flat grassy area at the edge of the water before continuing. I stretched out and pulled my hat low over my eyes. Wheeler had been right about the ground drying again quickly after the rainstorm, and the grass under me made a springy bed. With the sun still beating down, my eyes began to close.

  “Let’s get going,” Wheeler said, standing up. So much for my much needed snooze.

  Our shoes pattered on the wooden planks of the jetty and Wheeler poked his head into the canoe shed. “Nothing here,” he said gruffly.

  A quick look around the damaged vessel and we’d be done for the day. Nora and I found ourselves at the front of the group for the first time. I slowed to let the others pass but they slowed too. It was as if none of us wanted to be first on board. Before I knew it, I was at the foot of the narrow gangway and in the lead by default.

  The cruiser loomed above me, creaking and swaying with the swell of the river. An odd wariness came over me, and the hairs on the back of my neck stood up.

  Nora pushed me gently in the back and I made myself step forward and walk up onto the deck of the boat, where I stopped and waited for the others. Looking around, the first thing I noticed was the door to the staircase leading down to the cabins. It was open. Nora and I hadn’t left it like that. Had Peterman or Marie, or Wheeler himself, been here since? Maybe the catch could have come undone and the door swung open, or even been forced open by a wild animal?

  A tall, stiff sided carrier bag sat on the deck beside the door
way.

  Wheeler came up beside me and pointed at it. “That’s the bag Peterman says is missing from the kitchen.”

  I swallowed hard. “Sure it’s the same one?”

  Wheeler nodded. “The writing on the side says Hôtel de Paris, Monte Carlo, where I stayed six months’ ago. There can’t be another bag like that for hundreds of miles in any direction.”

  I opened my mouth to reply when a sudden sound froze me rigid. Below deck a door banged noisily shut. Was someone coming up?

  Toby heard it too. “There’s someone down there.”

  Wheeler raised his rifle and slotted a cartridge into the chamber with a harsh metallic click. He pointed it at the top of the stairs. None of us protested.

  It seemed like an eternity of waiting but could only have been a few seconds. Then a pale white hand appeared on the stairs, raised aloft and palm outward, as if to signal to us. Followed by the top of a head.

  “Lower the rifle, Julius,” Ned growled from behind me.

  I kept my eyes fixed on the figure ahead.

  Abby Mackie looked up at us, ascended the last few steps to the top of the stairs, and slowly lowered her arm. She seemed perfectly calm, as if she was expecting us, and looked at each of us in turn, studying our faces as hard as we studied hers.

  “I am glad you have come,” she said in a slow motion voice, “I wanted you to come and find me here.”

  None of us replied. Georgia stepped forward and then stopped halfway, her hand flying to her mouth. Ned pushed past her, hesitated for an instant, then threw his arms around his wife and hugged her tightly. Within seconds he was making big sobbing noises and there were tears streaming down his face. He whispered something into Abby’s ear and kissed her neck.

  It was time for smiles and handshakes all around but none of the rest of us moved. What kept me spellbound was Abby Mackie’s response to Ned. Her face remained absolutely expressionless, and instead of bringing her arms up around her husband she kept them at her side. She didn’t even look at Ned.