“Drinking this early?” Vivian walked over to my father’s desk and set the basket down on the desktop. She sat down in his chair and opened the desk drawer.
Neither Zeke nor I said anything while Vivian took out the big checkbook, opened it, and wrote a check with the fountain pen that lay on top of the desk. She signed her name with a flourish. When she had finished writing, she looked at me. “Don’t worry, Sarah. I’m just getting some money for household expenses. Now that Anca’s gone, someone has to do the shopping.”
“Of course, thank you.”
“What’s happened?” Her eyes swept from Zeke to me. “Why are you both acting so strangely?”
Zeke stood, thank God, as I was unable to.
“Someone threw a knife at Sarah this morning. As you can imagine, she’s had quite a shock.”
“Are you all right?” Vivian’s concern seemed natural, as if she cared what happened to me, as if she were surprised at the unfortunate attempt on my life.
“I’ll be fine.”
She turned around and with her back to us, fiddled with the crystal decanter and the glasses on the credenza. When she turned around, she had two glasses of scotch in her hands. She stood and brought one over to Zeke. She kept the other one for herself.
“To calm nerves,” she said, after we all had glasses in our hands.
I lifted the glass to my lips, so did Zeke. He took a sip, and threw the glass to the floor where it shattered on the hard wood.
“Sarah--” Zeke took a few steps toward Vivian, staggered, and fell to the floor.
“Zeke,” I cried out. I set my drink down and ran over to him.
Vivian picked up Zeke’s glass, surveying the liquid that remained.
“What did you give him?” I shouted at her.
“Just a little something. I’m not going to tell you until you give me your passport and birth certificate. I need them so I can leave here. If you cooperate with me, I’ll tell you what I’ve given Zeke so the doctor can fix him.”
I knelt down next to Zeke. He trembled and clutched his chest as he beckoned me to bend close to him.
“I’m okay. Get her out of here and I’ll call the police,” he whispered in my ear.
“What did he just say?” Vivian stood behind me, staring down at Zeke. “What did he just say to you?”
“He told me to give you what you want.” I stood up.
“Then I suggest you do it. Get the passports,” she said. “And be quick about it.”
I raced up the stairs, into my room, grateful for the shotgun that rested against the wall where I had left it. Vivian followed behind me, step for step. I slammed the door shut and had almost slid the lock in place, but I wasn’t quick enough. Vivian threw her weight against the door and barged into the room.
The force of the door opening knocked me off my feet. I landed on my bottom, using my wrists to break the fall. Pain shot up my arm. I scrambled to get away from her, backing myself into the corner. I lunged for the shotgun, but she got there before me. With a stoic precision that made my blood run cold, Vivian took the two shells out of the gun and put them in her pocket. She leaned the gun against the wall with exaggerated nonchalance, as if she were propping up something innocuous, like an old ladder or a broken chair.
“There now,” she said, as she moved to stand in the doorway, blocking any attempt I might make to get away from her.
“You killed my mother. You stole her trunk, her clothes, her jewelry. You allowed those women to burn alive.” My voice was hysterical and shrill.
“What do you care, Sarah? You never even knew her. You want me to feel sorry for you, with your privileged life? Do you realize how foolish you are? And you can wipe that smug look off your face. You don’t think Zeke is interested in anything but your money, do you?” She moved close to bend down, bringing her face so close to me I could see a tiny blue vein bulge on her forehead and smell her foul breath. “None of that matters now. I’m leaving this hole of a town, and let me tell you, I can’t get out of here fast enough,” she said.
“You’ll never get away with it.”
“Of course, I will.”
“Not if I tell--” I wouldn’t be doing any telling. She was going to kill me in cold blood, like she had killed my mother.
“Now you understand. Good. That makes it easier. Dying isn’t so bad, Sarah. I’ll do it so it doesn’t hurt, like I did your mother and your great-aunt. You’ll be glad to know that I put knock-out drops in their coffee. I didn’t start the fire until they were fast asleep. And since you’re being so cooperative, I’ll tell you about your mother. She was coming to find you, her long lost daughter, whom she loved with a quiet desperation that made me sick.”
“Why did you kill her?” I tried to keep my voice calm, tried to keep Vivian talking.
“Don’t try to distract me, Sarah. This is business for me. I’m a professional. So if you’re thinking in that tiny brain of yours that you might be able to thwart me and come out of this situation victorious, think again. This little thing between us--” She waved her hand around my room. “--this is nothing to me. I’ll kill you and move on. As for your mother, she discovered who I was when I tried to withdraw some money out of her bank account in Maine. That woman had the audacity to search my things. She found some pictures I had taken that would have secured my financial future. I had to stop her before she ruined everything that I’ve worked so hard to attain. If she hadn’t meddled, I wouldn’t be here. I wouldn’t have to kill you.”
“Zeke knows who you are,” I said. “He’s going to track you down. You’ll hang for treason.”
She laughed. “You naïve idiot. Zeke is going to die. I gave him enough digitalis to kill a horse.”
“You killed Gran, too,” I said.
“Of course I didn’t. Don’t be stupid. Your grandmother was a meddling fool but she never did anything to me. You don’t seem to realize that things change when a war is on.” She pushed away from me. “Maybe I’ll burn Bennett House to the ground. Wouldn’t that be a triumph?”
The dark bubble of hatred that had been simmering since I came home boiled over. Like a wild animal, I launched myself at her. It seemed that I watched a film as it ran in slow motion. Vivian’s face took on a sudden look of surprise; her eyebrows raised, her mouth formed a perfect “O.”
I crashed into her with such force that we tumbled through the open bedroom door and onto the landing. Vivian recovered, came at me again, this time flipping us, with her atop me. She grabbed a thick lock of my hair and yanked. My rage rendered me impervious to the pain. Vivian stood up, and, with a surprising show of strength, she pulled me up with her. I charged again, throwing all my weight against her. The momentum of my body and the speed with which I threw myself hurtled us toward the railing.
The banister splintered before it collapsed under our weight. Together we plummeted downward, our fall broken by the wooden table in the foyer. The table shattered. We both hit the ground with a thud. I got a quick glimpse of the surprise frozen on Vivian’s face. Then everything went black.
Chapter 18
When I woke up, Sheriff Carpenter stood over me. At first I didn’t remember what had happened. A hazy fog enshrouded everything and wouldn’t allow me to focus. The white hairs in Sheriff Carpenter’s nose were thick and luxurious. I giggled as I tried to sit up, but when I put weight on my arm, bright lights flashed before my eyes and a wave of nausea washed over me.
“She’s awake,” Sheriff Carpenter said.
“Zeke.” I thought I cried out, but my voice sounded a whisper.
“He’s going to be okay,” Sheriff Carpenter said.
“Step aside, everyone,” a gruff yet familiar voice said.
I was surprised to see Dr. Hargrove, the man who had served as our family’s doctor for as long as I could remember. He retired years ago and had turned his practice over to his son. Dr. Hargrove was an old man now. His hair had turned snow white, and his eyes had a disjointed, rheumy look to them.<
br />
“Dr. Hargrove?”
“Don’t try to move, Sarah. Your arm is broken and I am waiting for one of those young FBI agents to bring me the supplies I need to set it and splint it. Would someone please tell me what’s going on here? Why is the FBI at Bennett House?”
If someone answered him, I didn’t hear.
I was still lying on the floor in the foyer, but someone had placed something under my head and had covered me with a blanket. Dozens of men, all wearing the same non-descript suits, milled around the door that led to my father’s office. The front door opened and a young man who I had never seen before headed up the stairs, passing another man who was coming down. I was curious about them for a second, until my arm started to throb.
Dr. Hargrove knelt down next to me.
“Look to the right,” Dr. Hargrove said. “Now look left.” He prodded my neck and shoulders. When he touched my arm, I cried out. The room started to spin. A man that I had never seen before approached the doctor. He held out the well-worn medical bag to Dr. Hargrove. “Here you go,” he said. “I got everything from the office, not that I’m usually a messenger.”
“Thank you, young man,” Dr. Hargrove said as he took the proffered bag. I had a vague recollection of him saying, “We need to move her to the couch so I can set her arm,” then I slipped away.
When I awoke, I found myself situated on the sofa in the library, covered with a blanket, my head resting on a pillow. The fire blazed. Dr. Hargrove stood with his back to me as he packed his medical bag. Zeke sat in the winged chair by the fire. When he saw me looking at him, he came over to me, sitting on a tiny footstool that had been moved close to the sofa. “Did the police arrest her?” I asked.
He shook his head. Before he could say anything, Dr. Hargrove interrupted.
“Don’t worry about that,” Dr. Hargrove said. He turned to Zeke. “I don’t want her moved. She needs complete rest. I’m going to give her something for the pain, and I’ll be back to check on her later.”
I couldn’t bear hypodermic needles, so I looked away while Dr. Hargrove took the glass syringe from the worn leather case and filled it with something. Soon I felt the prick of the needle, the flush of the drugs, and the waves of relief. I fell into a drug-induced sleep and dreamt.
I envisioned Vivian, lying dead on the floor of the foyer. In my misty, drug-induced fugue, I went to her. I bent down, examining her still, peaceful countenance. Vivian in death looked a gentle soul. My father’s book lay open on her chest, resting on her heart. I reached out a hand to touch her pale, cold skin. The motion of bending over her body caused my mother’s locket, which had been tucked under my shirt, to come loose and swing over her face. Her eyes snapped open. When they met mine, she started laughing, the hysterical cackle of a madwoman. She grabbed the locket from my neck and started to pull on it. I awoke with a start.
“My locket,” I cried out, using my good hand to reach for the necklace. The locket was safe around my neck, but I had been dressed in a nightgown and covered with a warm blanket. I wondered who had dressed me, but drifted back to sleep before I could give it much thought.
When I awoke, the morning light which came through the windows warmed my skin. Outside the gulls cried. I had slept for hours. My back had become stiff and painful. I tried to sit up, winced, and lay back down.
“Hello.” Zeke must have stayed with me all night, as he had a blanket over his knees and still wore the same clothes he had on yesterday.
“Are you all right?” I knew without sitting up that I was weak and dizzy.
“Just a little queasy.”
“How did you know she slipped something into your drink,” I said.
“She had her back turned a little too long, and then she had this look in her eye as she watched me lift the glass to my lips. I just knew right here.” He touched his hand to his heart, a gesture that reminded me of my mother that day on the beach.
“Where’s Vivian? Did the FBI find anything?”
“Are you thirsty or hungry? Dr. Hargrove said you were to be given water and broth.” He helped me to sit up, propped pillows behind my back, and held the glass while I drank some water. He spooned some beef broth into my mouth. It revived me and eased the nausea. He took two pills from a bottle that had been left by the sofa and handed them to me. “You need to take these pain pills, Dr. Hargrove’s orders.” He held the glass of water to my lips.
“Vivian Mason broke her neck in the fall and died instantly. You got lucky, Sarah, and landed on top of her. When I found you, I saw the banister and the shattered table. You were laying there, your arm--you could have been killed.”
“She told me she killed my mother. She had no remorse at all.” I shivered. “So cold blooded.”
“She’s evil,” Zeke said.
“Zeke, I need to tell you,” I said.
He leaned close to me and touched my forehead. “What?”
“I remember everything. I know who killed Gran, and I know what happened the night Jessica died.”
Chapter 19
“I thought I said that she couldn’t be moved,” Dr. Hargrove barked at Zeke. His eyes blazed with fury and his face had become so mottled, I was afraid he was going to have a heart attack.
Zeke and I had taken two adjoining rooms at The Bennett Arms. I had packed in a hurry, only grabbing the few nice pieces of clothing I had, the pictures that Vivian Mason had stolen from my bedroom, and a dozen of my favorite books.
Now, Dr. Hargrove stood in the nicer of the two rooms that Zeke had insisted I take for my own use. He had one gnarled hand resting on the marble mantle, the other pointed at Zeke, who paced back and forth in the front of the window that overlooked the street. We were waiting for Sheriff Carpenter to come, while Zeke kept a vigil on the street below.
“We had a situation, sir,” Zeke said. “Sarah was no longer safe at Bennett House. I made a decision--”
“Actually, I made the decision.” I interrupted Zeke. “I was able to travel and I am not any worse for it. I don’t want to discuss it further. Zeke, if you’ll excuse us, I’m ready for Dr. Hargrove’s ministrations.” I forced a smile and tried to act like my back wasn’t hurting and my arm wasn’t throbbing.
“I’m going to leave the door ajar.” Zeke made sure the window was secure. He checked the door that led into the hallway for the fourth time, with Dr. Hargrove watching him with a petulant look on his face.
“Would you care to tell me what’s going on?”
“I can’t, Dr. Hargrove. I’m sorry,” I said.
“Well, you can’t fool me, young lady. You’re in pain. I can tell by the look on your face.”
My hotel room faced the west and was filled with afternoon light. It was a charming room, with walls which were painted a warm turquoise blue, a low-beamed ceiling and knotty pine floors covered with white wool rugs. The small fireplace had two chairs before it. The single bed was tucked in a corner. There was a small desk, a bathroom with a huge claw foot tub and plenty of hot water, such a contrast to Bennett House, with its large, cold rooms that were never warm, no matter how bright the fires burned.
“Lay on your side.” Dr. Hargrove examined my spine, checked the splint he used to set my broken arm, and took my pulse. “You’re a very lucky woman, Miss Bennett. Your stepmother wasn’t so fortunate. I’ve spoken to Sheriff Carpenter, told him that you shouldn’t be bothered for another day or two. At some point you will need to speak to him. He will want a statement from you.”
I didn’t have the heart to tell the good doctor that Sheriff Carpenter was already on his way over here to get a statement from me, not only about Vivian’s death, but also about Gran’s murder and the night that Jessica fell down the stairs at Bennett House.
“I can give you a shot of morphine for the pain.”
“No, thanks, Dr. Hargrove,” I said. “If I need one, I’ll call.”
He grunted and was gone.
We hadn’t heard from my father since he left for New York. We had n
ever been able to reach him at the Algonquin, and the messages we had left so far had gone unanswered. After the doctor left, Zeke came back into the room with Sheriff Carpenter in tow. They sat down in the winged chairs, which we positioned before the fire. I remained standing for the sake of my back.
“I came as soon as Zeke called me,” Sheriff Carpenter said. “He said you’ve remembered the night of Jessica’s death, and that it ties in with your grandmother’s murder?”
I nodded.
“Why do I think I’m not going to like what she says,” he said to Zeke.
“Because it’s the worst case scenario, but I believe her. It makes perfect sense,” Zeke said.
Sheriff Carpenter leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest, as if to ward off what I had to tell him.
I told him everything that I remembered about the night my adoptive mother died and finished by telling him how the events of that night twelve months ago had led to Gran’s murder.
Sheriff Carpenter didn’t speak, didn’t say one word for a good five minutes. My back throbbed. I needed to lie down. I looked at the bed with longing. Zeke jumped out of his chair, put his arm around me, and led me to it.
“She’s going to lie down. It’s her back. She hurt it when she fell.” He helped me to lay on top of the counterpane.
“What a remarkable series of events. I can’t believe it.” The sheriff ran his hand over his mouth. “But it makes sense. I could see how someone could be driven--but your story is pure conjecture. There’s no hard proof.”
“Not now,” Zeke said. “There’s no proof now, but at least we have something to go on, a place to start.”
“I don’t want you two doing anything about this without my permission. Do you understand? No heroics, no renegade cowboy, just step back and let the professionals handle this, okay?” Sheriff Carpenter’s gaze travelled from Zeke to me and back to Zeke again. He didn’t trust us. I didn’t blame him.
The Spirit of Grace Page 17