by Girard, Dara
“Yes, Ms. Anderson?”
Katherine sat then said, “I’ve enjoyed being in your employ for a while now.”
“And I’ve enjoyed having you.”
“I liked the structured environment in which you chose to raise your niece. The staff hierarchy was instrumental to how efficient duties were performed and...”
Robert lost his patience. “Make your point.”
“Ms. Spenser feels she has the right to order me.”
“What did she order you to do?”
“To fetch Amanda’s cape.”
Robert stared at her annoyed that she would interrupt him with such a trivial complaint. “And that’s a problem?”
“Yes, it is.”
“Because she asked you and not Amanda?”
“I understood that the hierarchy in this household included whom should answer to whom. I have never in all my years working here had to fetch something for someone in a position below me.”
“The hierarchy has changed Ms. Anderson. Everyone is equal.”
“I doubt that, Mr. Braxton. Every household has its favorites.” She stood. “There is no need for a reprimand. I am giving you my notice.”
He nodded. “Very well.”
“But be careful, Mr. Braxton some poisons smell sweet.”
* * *
The next morning, Robert found Amanda and Victoria eating breakfast in the breakfast nook. “You’re bad for this house, Ms. Spenser,” he said pulling out a chair.
“Why?”
“Ms. Anderson has decided to leave us.”
She looked at him surprised. “What do you mean?”
“She gave me her notice.”
“But she can’t leave,” Victoria said alarmed. “Is she still here?”
“Yes, but it’s nothing to worry about. You could look after Amanda until—”
She pushed back her chair and stood. “No, I couldn’t.”
Robert shook his head confused by her look of panic. “Victoria, you just spent the night with her.”
“Katherine is better at this than I could ever be. I have to stop her.” Victoria ran to Katherine’s room. She’d been inside before. She found her completing her packing. “Please don’t leave.”
Katherine folded a blouse. “Why not?”
“I’m sorry I asked you to fetch the cape. We’ve never liked each other and I let my pride speak. I apologize. I understand that you only answer to Amanda. I’ll never ask anything of you again.”
She placed the blouse in her suitcase. “It’s too late.”
Victoria gripped the headboard. “You don’t have to leave. Please. I never wanted this.”
Katherine sent her a sharp look. “I disagree. I think you’ve gotten exactly what you wanted. You’ve successfully gotten rid of every person that could stand in your way.”
“You’re wrong.”
“Am I?”
“You can’t go.”
“Why not?”
She took a deep breath. “Because I can’t look after children.”
“Amazing, considering the many times you told me how to handle Amanda.”
“They were just suggestions.”
“I will not stay.”
Victoria lowered her voice. “If I were to leave...”
“I would rejoice.” Her tone filled with venom. “I regret the day you stepped foot in this house. No wonder there have always been rumors about you and the destruction you cause. Your spirit is as black as the ashes you see. You’ve created division and turmoil in the short months you’ve been here. Because of you Patrice and Nicholas are gone, Mrs. Braxton had harsh words with her son, Foster’s garden died, and your aunt passed away.”
Her voice broke. “That was not my fault.”
“Your behavior no doubt placed extra strain on her weak heart. Your aunt was a woman of such character, strength and humility. You were too selfish to know the shame you caused her by flirting with Mr. Braxton. Trying to impress him with your ‘gift.’ Now she’s gone and you have her money to live on. But you’ll never be one of them. No matter how fine you teach yourself to speak or what clothes you wear. You’ll never belong.” She smiled bitterly. “Though I know you will try.
“But Janet wasn’t the one you hurt the most. Mr. Braxton is your worse destruction. A man who once lived by order and rules, a man respected in his field had been reduced to using the ramblings of a cursed woman in his work. No, Victoria Spenser I wish you’d never come. You are ambitious and conniving. If only I had the stomach to stay and watch when he finally learns the truth about you.” She snapped her suitcase closed then left.
Victoria fell on the bed, a stab of anguish festering in her chest. No matter what she did she was ultimately condemned. She could leave. She could start somewhere else. Katherine was right she’d never belong.
Robert entered the room and sat beside her. “Victoria?”
She stared sightlessly at the wall. “I couldn’t get her to stay,” she said near tears.
“That’s okay. You can...” He stopped when she shook her head.
“I can’t handle the responsibility of looking after children. I don’t trust myself.”
He didn’t understand, but pretended to. “Okay. Then could you just stay in the house a for a time while I try to find someone else?” He reached for her hand, but she pulled it away. She didn’t want to feel his touch with Katherine’s accusations still ringing in her head.
“What did she say to you?” he asked.
Victoria stared at her lap.
“She was angry, you can’t believe anything she said.”
“But she meant it.”
“She’s gone now.” He reached for her hand again; she let him take it. “Please stay with Amanda.”
“I don’t know.”
He clasped her hand in both of his, and said gently, “She really enjoys you. We’ll all help out, Foster, Ms. Dana, and myself. Even Benjamin.”
Victoria bit her lip then said, “All right.”
He opened his mouth to say more, then his mobile rang. “Braxton.”
“We found the dog,” Grant said.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
They found the little beagle mix with its throat slashed five blocks from the house in a clearing full of weeds and debris. Local kids playing there had found the dog buried under tires. The sight of the dog bothered Robert. What bothered him more, however, was Victoria staring at the old woman’s burned house. She’d been determined to come with him, certain that she could read something from the ashes. Because they couldn’t state that the fire was arson, he hadn’t been able to come up with a profile of who they were dealing with. Victoria was their best hope.
“Someone wanted her dead,” Grant said as they walked to meet Victoria.
It was such a senseless loss of life. “Strange he didn’t slice the woman’s throat, too. He just left her to die in the fire. How did he know she wouldn’t escape?” They stopped and stared at what was left of the house. The wind scattered ashes across the burnt lawn. “So what do you think?” Robert asked Victoria.
She didn’t answer right away. She could feel the lingering pleasure of the firestarter as he’d watched the building burn. As he watched flames burst through windows and devoured furniture. In her mind she saw a photo of Glenn Miller melting. “He didn’t like the house,” she said. “He thought it was falling apart.”
“Why did he leave her inside?”
“Because to him she was just like the building.”
Grant swore; Robert agreed. That was not good. If the arsonist was now associating people with buildings, they could be dealing with someone with a God Complex. Someone who believed they had the right to choose who lived and who died.
Although they spoke to potential witnesses, they had few leads to go on and had faced the inevitable that this fire would be classified as accidental and considered closed. They followed a potential lead—the victim’s habit of pretending she was doing home remodeling and inviting d
ifferent contractors over. They called a variety of companies and spoke to people who had visited her house, but came up empty.
* * *
Prescott splashed water on his face and grinned at his reflection in the mirror. He’d handled the cops well. Especially that Braxton character. He was just as smooth as he’d appeared on TV. He wasn’t the kind of guy that meant what he said. He liked to let his big words and fancy clothes intimidate you, but he wasn’t intimidated. They probably taught Braxton to talk that way in those private schools the rich send their kids to.
Prescott wiped his face with a face cloth. He liked Braxton’s partner, though. What was his name... Elliot. Yea, Elliot. He seemed like a guy he could relate to. A guy who knew how it felt not to be able to afford a day off, that a buffet was the best way to stretch a thin budget. Elliot knew how it felt to be crapped on by people who had it easy in life.
Yea, he didn’t mind answering Elliot’s questions, but he felt sorry for him. He even felt a little sorry for Braxton. Poor guys. They really were baffled. He hung up the rag then left the bathroom. Why had the cops needed to talk to him, anyway? He’d thought they classified it as an electrical fire. What made them think it was something more? Perhaps he shouldn’t have killed the dog, but he knew it would be lonely without its owner. He’d done it a favor.
Maybe the dog hadn’t tipped them off. Maybe that psychic they used...what was her name? Yes, Victoria Spenser—Vernon Taylor’s daughter. Arsonist Extraordinaire. Wow. To think she lived in his county. Perhaps there was more to her skill than anyone suspected. She probably had her father’s skill with fire. No doubt Vernon had taught her a few things, had shown her some tricks.
He tossed the face cloth down on the counter. She was pretty and smart. She might even be impressed by the way he’d learned to manipulate fires. He’d love to talk to her. He felt a sudden adrenaline rush. He’d really love to talk to her...and soon he would.
* * *
Robert twisted and turned in his bed. Hampton. The little dog’s name was Hampton. He didn’t know why that bothered him so much. Why the sight of the dog lingered in his mind. He’d seen worse. Perhaps because the dog was a visual reminder of how the firestarter’s mind was deteriorating. His violence was escalating. If they didn’t catch him soon, he’d take another life.
Unfortunately, they were no closer to stopping him. He knew Victoria was just as frustrated as he was. He pounded his pillow then sat up. The case wasn’t the only thing that frustrated him. Victoria slept only a few doors away. He wondered what she was wearing. It didn’t matter what she was wearing. He’d picture her naked anyway. Or imagine her wearing just a garter belt. Red, no blue. He liked the color blue.
He lay back and stared up at the ceiling. She was probably asleep anyway. No, she wouldn’t be asleep. She was probably thinking about the house. Something about the house bothered her. He didn’t like the way she’d been staring at it. As though she were taking the death of the woman personally. At one point he’d felt as though he could read her feelings as though they were his own. He’d felt a desperate need to solve the case. To atone for something.
He groaned and threw his pillow on the ground. Great, now he was beginning to lose it. There was no special tie between them. He was just very good at observing people and decoding their emotions. He had to get some sleep. He couldn’t function this way.
He pushed the sheets aside and got out of bed.
* * *
Victoria stared at the strips of moonlight that cast a pale, unearthly glow on the floor. The room felt large and alien. She enjoyed the comfort of the sleigh bed with its silk sheets and the sight of the gilded mirror on the wall, but what fascinated and terrified her the most was the fireplace. A large fireplace with an intricate stone mantle almost swallowed the main wall. She wondered what it would look like with a fire burning inside. She had found a box of matches that had been left on the mantle, but she could never trust herself to start a fire. She had buried the matches in a drawer. At times like this, however, in the silent night, she wondered...
Victoria gripped the sheets when she heard footsteps outside her door. The door swung open and she recognized the figure that came into the room just by his stance. She sat up as the figure came towards the bed. “What are you doing here?”
“Move over,” he grumbled.
She did. “You can’t stay here.”
“Why not?” He waved a dismissive hand. “Forget it. Don’t tell me. I don’t care.” He climbed into the bed and drew her close. He rested his head on her chest and sighed satisfied. “There, that’s better.” Within seconds he fell asleep.
Victoria toyed with the tight curls at the base of his neck. Yes, he was right...that was much better. She pushed away thoughts of the fireplace and fell asleep, too.
* * *
“You don’t need to worry about the gallery,” Victoria told Ms. Linsol, the new housekeeper. She was a woman from Barbados who carried herself well and had attractive, finely sculpted features. Aside from her good looks and grace, however, she was Katherine’s complete opposite. She was a woman eager to learn and eager to help in any way possible, even taking Amanda out on occasion. She made everyone feel at ease.
Victoria was about to give more instructions when Foster burst into the room. “I don’t believe it,” he said.
The two women stared at him. “What happened?” Victoria asked, concerned when she saw tears in his eyes.
“You did it, Vicky, you did it.”
No one had ever called her Vicky before. Victoria usually wasn’t fond of nicknames, but coming from him the name filled her with pleasure. “Did what?”
“The garden. Haven’t you looked? I know you’ve been busy and all, but I thought you’d at least glance at it.”
“What’s wrong with it?” she asked, cautious.
“Nothing’s wrong with it. It’s blooming.” He ignored her puzzled look, grabbed her hand, and led her outside.
He stopped in front of the garden. “Look. Just look at it. Isn’t it beautiful!”
It was a labyrinth of blue. The garden looked as though all his ideas and sketches had leapt off the page of his imagination in full Technicolor. He had layered the plants tall to short and varied their tones from sapphire lackspur to violet-blue lisianthus to Spanish bluebells and finished off with pretty blue perennials and annuals. Sweet scents filled the air as the flowers warmed themselves in the sun.
“You’ve done well, Mr. Foster,” Ms. Linsol said.
Victoria threw her arms around him. “We won!”
He laughed and clumsily hugged her back. “Not so fast. There are still other houses that may have gardens better than this.”
“I doubt it.”
Victoria drew away when she heard the shifting of gravel as a car came up the drive. She turned and saw Robert stepping out of his SUV. Her heart overflowed with joy and she ran to him, stopping before she threw her arms around him. Though everyone now knew what was between them, she still felt awkward showing it. She skidded on the stones and crashed into him.
He steadied her. “Slow down. What’s wrong?”
She beamed at him. “The garden survived! We’re going to win. The rain must have helped the treatment work,” she said in a breathless rush.
“What?”
“The garden survived. Look!”
Robert looked past her and his mouth fell open. He slowly walked towards Foster in amazement. “I don’t believe it. It’s a miracle.”
“Named Victoria.” Foster grinned at her.
“I didn’t do it alone,” she said, not wanting to take all the credit. “You both helped.”
The men ignored her.
“I thought that mix was a bunch of nonsense,” Foster confessed.
“I know. A total waste of time,” Robert added.
“But hey she was determined and said that you wanted to do it so I figured let’s give it a go.”
“I thought I’d be indulgent. She was so determined, I wasn
’t sure I would get her out of my office until I said yes.”
Victoria spoke up. “Now wait a minute—”
“I was almost glad the rain came so that it wouldn’t work.”
Foster nodded. “Yea, it would have saved her the humiliation just in case the treatment didn’t work anyway.”
She folded her arms. “It was—”
Robert winked at her. “You’re free to start undressing at any moment.”
Her hands fell to her hips. “I’ll save that for the judges.”
The two men gaped at her alarmed. She laughed.
Robert quickly recovered. His voice was harsh. “If your fingers even brush against your buttons, you’re fired.”
She laughed harder “I’ll bet they’re all women anyway. Although some women—”
He scowled. “I’m not kidding. ”
“They’ll be too busy looking at the garden anyway. I bet all the other gardens will look like weeds compared to ours.”
Robert rested an arm on each of their shoulders. “You both make me proud. I want to thank you for a job well done.”
She leaned her head against him. “The judges won’t want to leave.”
Foster nodded. “If we don’t get First Place, we darn well better get second.”
She shook her head. “This garden deserves nothing but First.”
* * *
Melinda’s eyes felt raw after hours of staring at the computer screen.
“You need to give yourself a break,” Grant said.
“A break? I think I’m ready to quit.” She’d spent hours on the phone attempting to find CHC. When that resulted in nothing, she had searched the computer for chemical retailers and container manufacturers in the city. When she found nothing in the city, she expanded her search to the state, then the nation, and, finally, the English-speaking globe. Still nothing. “This is fruitless.”
He massaged her shoulders. “You’ll find them.”
She sighed, relaxing under his hands. She still couldn’t believe how quickly she’d gotten used to him being in her life. He still smoked too much, had a sick sense of humor, and bristled at the sight of authority, but she liked him. She liked him a lot. She liked his kisses even better. Who would have guessed a man with such a dirty mouth would have such sweet lips? She glanced at them now and had to hide a grin, very sweet. “Fifteen more minutes then I’ll stop and treat you to breakfast.”