“I'd rather eat," Shelley grumbled, but obediently followed along.
The door was still unlocked from the last time they'd been up there. It was getting dark, however, and Jane tripped over the small rug lying just inside the room. She caught herself from falling and found a kerosene lamp to light. Holding it high, they both gazed around the room, which looked much more ominous and crowded at night.
“Look! There it is!" Jane exclaimed, crawling over a box of petrified fishing reels.
She hauled out the small suitcase and set the lamp on the floor. Shelley helped clear a free space in the middle of the room and they sat down to examine the contents. There were a couple sweaters sandwiching a scrapbook.
Sloppily etched on the cover in gold ink was the name Dwayne Hessling.
Jane shivered. "I already don't like this.”
“It is creepy," Shelley said.
They flipped the first few pages quickly, then went back and studied them more carefully. Every page featured Dwayne. Pictures cut from school yearbooks, high school newsletters. A newspaper clipping about Dwayne being part of an amateur baseball team.
Other pictures showed him walking along the street (Captioned: Dwayne on his way to work). Lounging on a beach someplace. Waving to someone off to his left from a boat (A party in Evanston). Getting into his car (Dwayne leaving my apartment). Shoveling snow off a driveway with a couple other young men. Opening the door of a shop.
Shelley was frowning. "These last shots are all weird somehow. What is it about them?"
“None of these pictures are posed," Jane said, staring at Shelley. "He isn't looking into the camera in any of them.”
Shelley nodded solemnly. "He didn't know they were being taken.”
They huddled a little closer and looked at the third to the last page. It was a photo of Dwayne and Kitty standing next to each other. But the backgrounds didn't match. It was a composite of two pictures that had been cut and carefully fitted together.
It was captioned, Dwayne and me on our first date.
The second to last page had a marriage license application form. Kitty's part had been filled out and signed by her. Dwayne's part was also completed, but his signature was in the same ink and handwriting as Kitty's.
And on the last page, a cigarette butt had been glued to the page. The caption read, The cigarette Dwayne smoked after the first time we made love.
Shelley shuddered. "That's revolting."Jane frowned. "And it's not true."
“How on earth would you know?" Shelley asked, laughing nervously.
“Because one of the few times Livvy and I had a planning meeting, I asked her about smoking. Whether I should have ashtrays out at the lodge. She said it didn't matter, even though neither of them smoked, and went on to say that Dwayne was about the only person she'd ever known who'd never even tried smoking because he'd made some kind of deathbed promise to his grandfather."
“But Dwayne was a con man. I wouldn't believe anything he said."
“You're right about that. But Shelley, look at this book. It's sick. It's something like demented fans of famous people put together and then go shoot their idols. She followed him around, taking pictures of him when he didn't know it. All these pictures were taken where there were several or many other people around and he wouldn't notice her lurking in the area with a camera."
“She was stalking him," Shelley said. "She made up the whole fantasy and convinced herself it was true. Until she actually saw and heard him marry Livvy. The fantasy dissolved, if only for the moment it took to stab him. And…! And that's why she trashed Dwayne's room. The fantasy was under severe duress. It was crumbling. It was her warning to him."
“We have to take this to Mel," Jane said.
“In a second. Jane, how could this have anything to do with Mrs. Crossthwait? Surely there aren't two people here who are as flat-out insane as Kitty. What possible reason would she have invented for killing the seamstress?"
“It wasn't invented," Kitty said from the doorway. "She knew I was pregnant.”
Jane's heart leaped into her throat. She and Shelley had been sitting with their backs to the door. They both turned quickly. Now Kitty was standing on the little rag rug, holding a shotgun pointed at them.
“You couldn't be pregnant," Jane blurted out. Shelley pinched her arm. Hard.
Shelley spoke soothingly. "Where did you get that gun, Kitty?"
“Right here by the door. You were so busy saying wicked things about me that you didn't hear me come in."
“It's not loaded, you know. Hunters don't put their guns away loaded," Shelley said.
“Maybe so. Maybe not," Kitty said, smiling. "You don't know that and neither do I. But we'll soon find out. You interfering bitches! I've been listening to you and you're wrong. And you're evil."
“No, Kitty, we're not evil, and neither are you. You're just… confused. You need help and we want to help you," Jane said.
The door behind Kitty seemed to have a shadow that was moving.
“You don't want to help me. Nobody wants tohelp me. And nobody can. Dwayne's dead. Livvy killed him. And everybody's blaming me.”
The shadow resolved itself into the shape of Errol Hessling. He put his finger to his lips, then made a yak-yak motion to keep her talking.
“That's just because they don't understand," Jane babbled, tearing her eyes away from Errol. "You can explain it. We'll help you. We really will. Officer VanDyne is a friend of mine. He'll listen to what I say.”
Errol was crouched down, creeping up behind Kitty.
Kitty tossed her head. She didn't have the gift for doing it gracefully. "You won't help me. You're just a couple of dried-up old prunes. You don't know anything about me. Anything about Dwayne. Anything about love.”
Errol was making a motion with his thumbs telling them to move apart as far as they could.
They tried to obey — oozing away from each other without appearing to move.
“But we do know, Kitty," Shelley was saying, easing away from Jane at an almost glacial pace.
“Quit looking behind me like there's somebody there," Kitty said. "I'm not stupid. I won't fall for a dumb trick like that. You bitches think you're so damned smart! Well, I'll show you who's the smart one—”
Errol nodded, then shouted, "Move!”
He grabbed the end of the braided throw rug and jerked it hard.
Shelley and Jane flung themselves in opposite directions and Kitty came down like a load of bricks.
The butt of the gun hit the floor, blowing a hole in the roof.
Twenty-three
“Did he pay you?" Shelley asked as Jane carne into the room.
Jane tossed a check down on the bed so it showed up beautifully in the shaft of morning sunshine. "He not only paid me, he gave me an extra five hundred dollars. I think Livvy and her father had a little talk."
“Perhaps being married, widowed, and nearly arrested in the same afternoon gave the girl a bit of a spine," Shelley said. "If it didn't, nothing ever will.”
There was a tap on the door. "Come in," Jane called.
Layla and Eden crowded into the tiny bedroom. "We just came to say good-bye," Layla said. "This was the most awful few days of my life, but you ladies made it bearable. And you solved the murders as well. If I ever have occasion to get married again, I'll call on you."
“Don't you dare!" Jane said, hugging Layla. "Go home to your babies.”
Layla ducked out, but Eden sat down on the end of the bed. She glanced at the check, not even bothering to disguise her interest. "That's all he paid you? The old skinflint."
“It's the final payment," Jane said. "The second half.”
Eden nodded. "Then it's not so bad. You earned every penny. And more. You kept poor Livvy from going to jail. Kitty actually had me convinced for a while that Livvy might be a murderer."
“We considered it, too," Jane said. "But Shelley hit the nail on the head without knowing it when she said Kitty had an amazing capacity f
or fooling herself. But we had no idea until we saw that scrapbook that it was a pathological ability. If you'd seen that book, it would have been obvious to you, too. And if Errol hadn't literally yanked the rug out from under Kitty, we'd have been shot."
“What was Errol doing up there?" Eden asked.
“He said he saw Kitty go upstairs and wondered why," Shelley said. "Then he started thinking about what a sneak Dwayne was, and how if Dwayne and Kitty really had been an item, she might be the same sort of person. Or worse, as it turned out. Anyway, he got worried about us and crept upstairs to see what was going on."
“Do you suppose she really was pregnant?" Jane asked. "Not by Dwayne, but by someone else.”
Eden looked at her in astonishment. "And I was thinking you were such a good snoop. Didn't you think to look in her bathroom wastebasket? Lots of little wrappers that tampons come in. I assure you, she's not pregnant. But she sure is loony. I suspect she thinks she's expecting and poor old Mrs. Crossthwait yapping about how she'd gained weight made her think the old dear knew her 'secret.' “
Shelley said, "I've heard of false pregnancies. Didn't Bloody Mary Tudor have one of those? Really believed she was pregnant and even swelled up and looked like it?”
Jane said, "Yes, I've read that, too. Kitty did look like she was about five months along, come to think of it. I bet you're right. Isn't it amazing what your mind can do to your body?"
“Has your boyfriend learned anything more?" Eden asked Jane.
“Enough to convince him that Dwayne, sleazy as he was, had nothing to do with Kitty," Jane said. "Livvy says she met him when they both were present at a minor car accident and they stood around waiting and chatting until the police could get their statements. So Kitty's story of introducing them when she was out on a date with him was a lie.
“Officer Smith called Thatcher's attorney, with Thatcher's permission, who confirmed that there was a prenuptial agreement signed and he had a copy. If they had divorced, Dwayne wouldn't have gotten cut off without a penny. He'd have had a modest alimony for three years. And whether they had children or not, he would not inherit her estate if she died first. It also allowed for a generous allowance for him as long as they were married."
“Tell Eden about the landlady," Shelley said.
“He also had an officer in Chicago interview Kitty's very snoopy landlady," Jane said obediently. "She says Kitty never went out at night. Never got phone calls. The police are convinced that the whole affair with Dwayne was made up."
“But she believed it," Shelley said. "I think she was so far around the bend that she honestly convinced herself he was in love with her. That they were having an affair and he'd dump Livvy before saying their vows."
“And when the ceremony was over, and he was officially married to Livvy, it must have been a horrible assault on her whole elaborate fantasy — which she refused to recognize as a fantasy," Jane added. "I suppose she thought if she killed him she could maintain it."
“And she nearly got away with it. Her story, as I heard it, was pretty convincing," Eden said. She stood up, gathering her purse, sunglasses, and car keys. "Well, I'm off, ladies. I'm glad I got to meet you both. You did a great job in terrible circumstances.”
After hugs were exchanged and Eden departed, Jane looked around the room one more time to see if there was anything she'd forgotten to pack. If she missed it now, it was going to begone forever. She wouldn't come back to the lodge for any amount of money. "Okay, I think I've got everything," she said. "Shelley, what's in that big paper sack?"
“Sheets," Shelley said smugly. "Linen sheets. I found a moment early this morning to chat with Jack Thatcher and learned that his father left the building and land to him, but the contents of the lodge to Uncle Joe. So I spoke to good old Uncle Joe. Money changed hands. And I now have a nice collection of antique linen sheets and pillowcases. Larkspur overheard us haggling and talked him out of a bunch of old vases he'd found somewhere. By the way, Larkspur said to tell you goodbye and he'd get back in touch when we all escaped this place."
“So you got a treasure. Larkspur got a treasure. But nobody got The Treasure," Jane said, putting the check from Jack Thatcher into the zippered compartment of her purse. She slung the purse strap over her shoulder, and took a last look in the bathroom. Their suitcases and Jane's collection of notebooks were already in the station wagon. They walked out of the room and Jane allowed herself the luxury of pulling the door closed hard enough to qualify as a good, solid slam.
The doorknob came off in her hand and fell on her foot. The door bounced back open.
Jane screeched, dropped her purse, and sat down on the floor, hugging her foot and whimpering.
“Oh, come on. Don't be such a sissy," Shelley said. "You're getting soft in your old age.”
Jane drew a long breath and said, "It weighed a ton. I think I've broken a toe!"
“Jane, don't be silly. You can't break a toe with—" She'd picked up the doorknob and was hefting it in her hand. "This is heavy. Too heavy.”
Shelley went back in the bedroom and held the doorknob in the shaft of light that had so recently illuminated Jane's check.
“Stop sniveling and come look at this," Shelley said.
Jane got up, tested her foot, and limped over. "Look inside the back of it where the shaft went in. Get the light in there.”
Jane gazed at the doorknob for a moment. "It can't be—"
“Oh, yes, it can," Shelley said. "I believe what we've got here is your average solid gold doorknob that's been painted black. Close your mouth. You look adenoidal."
“The box of doorknobs in the attic…" Jane muttered. "Uncle Joe kept them, so he could put them back someday and take these away with him.”
Cars were being loaded up in the front drive. A uniformed officer was preparing to drive off Mrs. Crossthwait's Jeep to parts unknown. Jack Thatcher, surprisingly subdued, was loading the trunk of his car, which was blocking Jane's. "No, Daddy. That goes in the backseat," Livvy saidfirmly. He put the dress box in the backseat without a word. Iva and Marguerite were sitting in their vehicle, waiting while Uncle Joe unceremoniously flung their suitcases in their trunk.
“Just one thing puzzles me still," Shelley said. "The door to the attic was unlocked when we first looked in there and locked later. Who did that?"
“Uncle Joe," Jane said.
“How do you know?"
“Because I accidently told him we'd been in the attic when I mentioned that he could use the dolly in the attic to carry Mrs. Crossthwait's sewing machine up the stairs."
“Oh, of course!" Shelley said. Glancing around, she asked, "Where's Mel?"
“He left about an hour ago to have a chat with Gus Ambler on his way back home.”
Jack Thatcher finally pulled away, freeing Jane's car.
“Ready to go?" Shelley asked.
“Almost," Jane said.
She got out of the station wagon and walked over to Uncle Joe, who was still abusing luggage, and tapped him on the shoulder.
“Yeah?" he said.
She reached in her purse and pulled out the doorknob.
“This fell off my bedroom door. I'm sure you don't want to lose it.”
He put out his hand and a slow smile spread over his face. "I sure don't," he said. "I hear the doorknob standard is pretty high these days." He closed the trunk, went to the window of his stepsister's car, leaned down to speak to Iva and Marguerite. "Drive safely," he said, with such good cheer that they looked alarmed.
Then he turned and winked at Jane.
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A Groom With a View jj-11 Page 17