Darkling

by R. B. Chesterton

  He exploded out of the water, snapping his jaws together only an inch from my face. My reflex sent me hurtling backward into the vanity, and my head struck with such force it stunned me and sent a cascade of cosmetics onto the floor.

  The nester perched on the edge of the tub. “You found me, Mimi,” it said before it leaped over me and disappeared into the swirling fabric in Annie’s bedroom.

  It took me a moment to find my breath. On my hands and knees, I gathered up the lipstick tubes, mascara wand, pressed powder, and blusher. I stood on shaky legs and tried to remember where the items had been on her vanity top. At last, I opened one of the drawers and tossed everything inside. She’d know I’d been in her room, but so what? What was she going to do, report me to the police?

  I was about to close the drawer when I noticed a bill of sale from a jewelry store. Margo had talked incessantly about Ambri’s Jewelry in the Bel Air Mall. She’d wanted a pair of opal earrings for her birthday, and she’d let everyone know.

  Pulling the paper out, I read over the item that had been purchased. A silver spoon ring engraved with an M. Size six.

  39

  Standing on Annie’s balcony, I watched for the children to emerge from the woods. Gut-wrenching worry and my encounter with the nester had left me numb. I’d drained the tub, dried the floor, and replaced the bill of sale in the drawer. No one would believe me, so the less said the better. The nester’s intentions were clear, but efforts to make the adults understand would be futile.

  I knew, and I was forewarned. I’d seen the creature stalking Donald along the edge of the Sound. Now I knew what it meant to do. There had been no forewarning for Margo. Her rash actions, in sneaking out of the house to meet Andrew, had given the nester an opportunity it had acted upon. Now she was dead, and if my presumptions were correct—and I knew they were—Donald was the next victim.

  When I saw Donald’s golden head bobbing along the path to the woods, I went downstairs to meet them. Berta slept, and she would not be awakened to the reality of Margo’s death by Annie’s careless laughter or the slamming of a door.

  Erin was the first to spot me, and she stopped on the path. My face revealed everything—the death of her sister and the horror of Margo’s final hours. I didn’t have to tell them. Children are intuitive in that way. Erin burst into tears. Behind her, Donald, too, began to cry.

  “Someone killed Margo and Andrew,” I said. I had to frighten them enough to make them cautious. “I’ve been worried sick about both of you.”

  Annie put an arm around each of them and hugged them to her as she faced off with me. The faintest hint of a smile touched her lips. “You’re cruel, Mimi,” she said.

  “Am I?” I only wished I could be half as cruel as she was. I would kill her in her sleep. If she slept. I wasn’t certain she required the necessities of other humans, for I had come to believe Annie was more than human. She was something else entirely. It wouldn’t surprise me to learn she could levitate or live without sleep or food. She was evil.

  “What’s wrong with you? You’re standing there like you aren’t going to let us in the house.” Annie pointed at the door.

  “I’m not going to let you rush into the house.” My fists clenched and unclenched at my side. “Berta is asleep. She’s about to have a breakdown over Margo’s death. Bob has gone to Mobile. Don’t slam into the house and wake Berta up.”

  “You’re probably lying. It probably isn’t Margo.” Annie was defiant, and she hugged the children against her so they couldn’t see the delight in her eyes.

  “I saw her. It’s Margo. She was in the passenger side of Andrew’s car in the bayou by the hotel.”

  Erin’s crying increased to a howl. Donald looked at me with confusion.

  Huddling the children against her, Annie pressed forward, determined to get past me and into the house. “Come on,” she said to the children, “Berta will tell us the truth.”

  “Don’t wake Berta.”

  “Step aside.” Annie’s face flushed with anger. “There was no need to tell the children this way. Why do you want to hurt them like that?”

  I grasped her arm and held it tightly. She’d gained weight, but her upper arm was still slim. “I know what you’re up to, Annie. I intend to stop you.”

  Above the children’s heads, she glared at me. “I don’t know what’s wrong with you, Mimi, but you’re frightening the children. You’re the one who’ll be stopped.” She shook free and herded the children into the house.

  Once Donald and Erin were inside, she came back to the edge of the porch. “You’re losing your grip on reality, and everyone sees it. Cora knows. Bob and Berta know. Even Mark can see it. You won’t be here much longer if you don’t stop acting like a freak.” With that she closed the door, and I heard the lock click into place. She’d locked me out of Belle Fleur. But at least the children were safely home.

  The keys to the station wagon were in my pocket. Berta would sleep another four hours or so. I didn’t want to raise a ruckus by pounding to be let in, and I had time to drive to Pascagoula and talk with the private investigator. While Berta would no longer pay him—Margo was found—I’d saved my entire salary for months. Annie’s secrets would be dug up. No matter the cost. She was practiced at this insidious infiltration of a family. It was probable she’d done this before, nesting in with people and then slowly destroying them from the inside. No wonder she had no memory. Very convenient.

  I backed the station wagon onto the drive and headed to Jimmy Finch’s office. His contacts in the sheriff’s department would have let him know that Margo was found, but I didn’t want him to lose a minute on the search for Annie’s past.

  Twenty minutes later I was sitting in a chair in his reception area. The woman who worked for him, a bottle blonde in her fifties, kept glancing at me as if she feared I would bite her. I went in the restroom to discover my hair was wild and my eyes ringed by dark circles. I looked like an addict coming off some kind of drug high.

  I dashed cold water on my face and used wet fingers to comb my hair into a semblance of order. I seldom wore make-up, but I wished for some foundation to even my skin tone, which looked splotchy. When I’d done the best I could, I went back to the reception area to wait.

  Finch’s office was utilitarian, but it was clean. And Sarah Waters, his receptionist with a nameplate on her desk, typed with great efficiency. When Finch’s door finally opened, a middle-aged man, his face strained with tension, raced out of the office without a glance to either side. Unhappy husband was my guess.

  “Mimi,” he said, coming to me. “I’m so sorry to hear about Margo.”

  “I know.”

  “There was no point coming here. You could have called. Mrs. Henderson can settle her bill whenever she feels better.”

  I cleared my throat. “We want you—I want you to continue with the other aspect of this.”

  He motioned me into his inner office and closed the door behind me. “Let’s talk about this.”

  When I was seated in front of his desk, he sat on the edge. His green eyes studied me. “I’ve really turned over every rock I can,” he said. “To continue with this would be unfair. I’d be taking your money for nothing. I’ve checked everywhere, and there simply is no one looking for Annie. There’s no record of her birth that I can find.”

  I leaned forward. “Don’t you find that strange?”

  “I do. But that doesn’t mean I can solve it. I know private investigators don’t have the best reputation, but I can’t continue to take your money when I don’t have a reasonable expectation of finding a result for you.”

  His attempts to be kind only annoyed me. He didn’t understand what was happening at the Hendersons. Unlocking Annie’s secrets was the key to safeguarding Donald and Erin, and even Berta and Bob.

  “I found a bill of sale in Annie bathroom for a ring, a spoon ring with an M engraved, like the one found on the severed hand.”

  That gave him pause. “Why wouldn’t she say
so?”

  I didn’t answer. It was best for him to draw his own conclusions. “There’s one other avenue to check, and I realize it’s going to sound very strange.” I gave him my best smile to show I understood I was about to make an irrational statement. I began to recount the tale I’d concocted as I drove to his office. “Annie was telling a story to the children, and it involved the death of a family, one by one. It started with the children.” I paused and let him put it together.

  His eyebrows slowly rose on his forehead. “You think it wasn’t made up. You think this teenage girl who couldn’t weigh a hundred and twenty pounds killed members of her family?”

  “I don’t know. I don’t. But if it happened once, it could be happening again. Margo was determined to push Annie out of Belle Fleur.” My voice started to shake and I clamped down on my emotions. One hint of instability and Finch would back away. “I understand this sounds nutty, but, Mr. Finch, I had to come and talk to you. What if I’m right and I ignored it? What if something happens to another one of the Hendersons because I didn’t do everything I could to check Annie out?” I put my hand on his wrist. “I couldn’t live with myself if I didn’t try everything. You should know, I’m paying for this. Not Berta. It means that much to me.”

  He eyed me as he considered my words. “You honestly believe that kid could kill?”

  I slowly shook my head to show my own puzzlement. “I don’t know. But what if she can? What if she did? I’d go mad if she hurt someone else and I hadn’t at least tried to stop her.”

  He stood. “Okay. I’ll check for families with unusual deaths.” He went behind his desk and sat down. Pulling a pad from a drawer, he started to make some notes. “Do you have any idea where to start? Has she ever mentioned a place or person?”

  “Not one single one. She’s perfected the amnesia act.”

  He tapped the pencil on his pad. “Can you help me with this?”

  “I can try.”

  “Find that suitcase she arrived with. Check it thoroughly. If she keeps a dairy, read through it. Can you do that without getting caught?”

  I kept my face solemn. “I can.”

  “As soon as possible. This will give us a starting place.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Finch.” I stood up and pulled the cash I’d withdrawn from my checking account out of my purse. I handed it to him. “When I owe more, let me know.”

  The heft of the envelope told him it was not an insignificant amount, half my savings. I was at the door when he stopped me.

  “Mimi, I did check into Belle Fleur. Like you asked. The house was sold by a corporation, Trident Inc.”

  I thought a moment. “I’ve never heard of that. There’s Azalea Realty and Skinners here in Coden. They’re the only two.”

  “A strange fact. I checked with the local real estate agencies, and they’d never heard of Trident. Neither real estate agency knew Belle Fleur was up for sale. The house had been empty for decades, so it never occurred to them it might be a property they could list. It wasn’t until Bob and his renovation crew arrived that they considered the opportunity they’d lost.”

  “So how did Bob learn about the property?”

  “I’m working on that.” Finch pulled his cigarettes from his jacket pocket and extended them to me. I knew I shouldn’t, but I took one. My nerves were shot. “Trident is supposedly based in Montgomery.”

  “Did you check?” I leaned forward to accept his light and inhaled deeply.

  “I did. I can’t find a phone listing for them anywhere in the state. They’re a blind corporation, a front for someone.”

  My mouth went dry. “What does that mean?”

  “I’m not sure, but it is curious. I’ll give you that.”

  “Keep looking.”

  For the first time he smiled. “Oh, I intend to. This has piqued my interest. I don’t believe you have a murdering sixteen-year-old at Belle Fleur, but I have to admit, something strange is going on. Cargill’s severed hand, the hidden company owning Belle Fleur, how the Hendersons, living in Cambria, California, and with no connection whatsoever to Coden, became aware of the property for sale. I’m still trying to track it down. And I will. Trust me.”

  For the first time in weeks I felt a ray of hope. Jimmy Finch was on my side. I had someone to help me get to the bottom of what was happening before anyone else was harmed. I stubbed out my cigarette and walked out the door.

  40

  The visit to Finch had taken only two hours, so I turned down the tree-shaded drive to Cora’s. The horror of Margo’s death would have reached her ears by now. Cora had many sources in Coden, and she was seldom without the latest news. Her roots ran deep, like her love of the community. She would be crushed by what happened to Margo, but my trip there was twofold. I wanted to check on Cora and also to try, once again, to probe her for any secrets about Annie. Or at least to try to understand why Cora was so emotionally invested in a sixteen-year-old girl who appeared on a downtown Mobile street. What was it about Annie that had rendered Cora so totally under her spell?

  I considered telling her about the ring with the engraved M, but I realized the sales receipt proved nothing except that Annie had not told the truth about the ring. And based on past reactions, Cora would only say Annie was trying to spare Berta and Bob. I would stay quiet until I had more proof.

  I’d never thought the day would come when I’d view my own grandmother as an obstacle in my path. It was only that her heart was too soft for girls like Annie, and perhaps this was the answer I sought. Cora helped girls who hadn’t had the chances I’d had, waifs desperately seeking love. Those female children were her weakness, and Annie was the most needy of all.

  She simply didn’t see the danger.

  Cora’s car wasn’t in the driveway when I pulled up. She never locked her door, so I went in and walked automatically to the refrigerator. I hadn’t eaten all day, and my stomach churned with emptiness and emotion. I found a chocolate pie, my favorite, and sat down at the table to eat a piece. Unless she was working, Cora was never gone for long. I’d wait an hour, and if she wasn’t back by then, I’d leave her a note.

  I’d taken only two bites of pie when I heard a car pulling in. Glancing out the kitchen window, I saw my grandmother. She got out of her car and stared at the station wagon as if it were a spaceship. When she glanced toward her house, her face held tension and stress. I lowered the fork and went to the front door to greet her.

  “Mimi,” she said, coming slowly up the steps. It seemed she’d aged a decade since the last time I saw her. “I heard about Margo. What a tragedy. What a nightmare. Poor Berta.”

  “And Bob,” I said, wiping the stickiness of the meringue from the side of my mouth. “I don’t know what they’re going to do.”

  She came to me and wrapped her arms around me. “Honey, they’ll cry and grieve, and then they’ll begin to live again. Same as we all do when tragedy takes our loved ones. Same as you’ll do. I know Margo pushed your limits at times, but I also know you’d grown to love her.”

  The tears caught me by surprise. I’d been so focused on saving Donald, on stopping Annie, that I’d failed to fully grasp that Margo would never return to Belle Fleur. She was dead and gone. I would never again hear her laughter, or suffer her gentle teasing, or witness her beauty parlor sessions where she practiced putting on different styles of make-up. There would be no more gossip about what television shows were good, no door-slamming complaints about curfews or studies. Leaning against Cora’s ample shoulder, I cried with abandon for all I’d lost.

  When I was a child, Cora soothed away my tears, and she did so now. Holding me close, she helped me into the kitchen. When I was at the table, sobbing into my arms, she put on a pot of coffee and rubbed my shoulders while it brewed.

  “Oh, Mimi,” she said. “You’ve been so strong for the Hendersons.” She kissed the back of my head and combed through my hair with her fingers until she had the tangles out. I felt her begin to braid it, a ritual that alway
s served to calm me. “Come home for a week and let me take care of you.”

  The offer was too tempting. What a relief it would be to walk out the door of Belle Fleur and not think about Annie or the nester or what might happen next. “I can’t.” I spoke with more force than I intended. “It would be awful to leave Berta now,” I said in a softer tone. “There’s no one to help her and Bob.”

  “It isn’t your responsibility,” she told me as her fingers worked my long hair. “You’ve taken on too much at Belle Fleur. You’re practically a child yourself.”

  “I feel I have a duty to the family.” Here was the opportunity, the moment perfectly formed. “Someone murdered Margo. What if they come after the other children?”

  Cora dropped the long dark braid over my shoulder. The ends were untied and it slowly began to unravel. “I think drugs were at the bottom of what happened to Margo and Andrew. There’s no reason for anyone to harm the smaller children.”

  “What if it wasn’t drugs?” I turned sideways in my chair so I could face her. Her gaze slid from me to the floor.

  “What else would it be, Mimi? Margo was high-handed sometimes, but that’s not really a reason for anyone to kill her. It had to be Andrew they were after. They cut off his hand. Margo just got in the way.”

  She wanted to believe what she said. I wished I could. “What if it’s someone from Annie’s past?”

  Tears filled Cora’s eyes. “What are you saying?” She put a hand on my cheek and turned my face up so that our gazes met. “What are you implying?”

  “Annie isn’t who she says she is. She’s something … more.”

  The first tear oozed out of Cora’s right eye. It tracked down her cheek, through the powder she applied so carefully, to the corner of her lip. “Oh, Mimi.” She pressed my face into her stomach. The scent of Evening in Paris filled my nostrils, and for a split second I was small and safe against her.

  I let her comfort me, her body trembling with her own tears. When I pushed back, she hesitated before she stepped away. “Honey, it isn’t Annie. She isn’t a threat to that family.”