Yet for the moment I feel safe, since by a miracle it failed. Here in a strange bed, huddled beneath heavy blankets, with a fire burning in the grate nearby, and Irene dozing in a big armchair an arm’s length away, I can feel warm again, and sheltered. If I keep my eyes closed, if I refuse to think, refuse to remember, perhaps I can hold everything off and avoid the terrors of returning reality.
I cannot do this, of course. I lie here and long for Brendon to come and sit before me, to hold my hand and promise me protection. But all he is willing to promise is an escorted journey back to New York. Am I to accept this and never see him again?
I know now that it was idiotic of me to quarrel with Brendon out of my first misery and shock. It might have been better to have remained silent, to have pretended that I didn’t know, so he could continue with his make-believe loving. Until—perhaps?—he came at last to love me. Only me, and not Ariel. But I had thrown everything in his face, flown at him in a rage and destroyed the fragile thing we had between us. It has been destroyed, and I don’t know whether it can ever grow again for him. Because now he can no longer pretend.
My knowledge of the baby makes everything that much more difficult. How would he feel if he should learn about that? Would he come to hate Ariel for what she did, and thus give me a chance? Or would he reproach himself all the more for the bitterness of her death?
I can solve nothing. I can only turn in endless circles. Nor can I quiet my mind. Perhaps all I can do for the moment is to go back over what has happened and try to make sense out of the senseless.
It began this morning with the turning of that key in the lock of my door, forcing me to rouse myself and call, “Who is it?”
The door paused in its opening and there was a moment’s silence before it began to pull stealthily shut. I flew out of my chair and snatched it open to confront the man who stood there.
“Loring!” I said. “What do you want?”
He smiled at me blandly. “I’m sorry. I thought you were out of your room, or I wouldn’t have opened the door. I didn’t want to bother you while you’re resting.”
I wasn’t afraid of him. I refused to be afraid of him. Too much was at stake. I decided to attack.
“Why did you come up to my room, hoping I would be out? What are you looking for?”
“Is there something I should be looking for, Jenny? Whatever do you mean?”
“Never mind,” I said. “I’m tired of games. Just tell me why you came here.”
He considered me for a moment, his look still mild, concealing his thoughts. Then he seemed to come to a decision and strode past me into the room, leaving the door open behind him.
“All right, I’ll tell you. I agree that there’s been enough of these silly games. This was Irene’s little plot. She wanted me to come to your room when you were out and simply move all your things down to the house. Then you’d have no excuse to stay here alone.”
“That’s outrageous!” I cried.
“I agree. But she can be all of that sometimes underneath her helpless dependency. When she really gets an idea between her teeth, she’ll go to any ends to accomplish what she wants.”
I found myself remembering that I had once told Irene that I thought she was quite capable of action when it was necessary. But moving me out of this room was hardly necessary. Unless she knew something I didn’t.
“I choose to stay here,” I said.
“I don’t blame you for wanting to stay under the circumstances. It won’t be altogether pleasant at the house. But I think you might as well do what Irene wants. She thinks she has your protection in mind. Although that’s nonsense, of course.”
I changed my course. “What if she’s right? What if I do need protection?”
When Loring chose he could put anyone down with a smile that was not quite so open as a sneer, but which suggested that one had little intelligence and must be treated with condescending pity. He gave me that smile now.
“You’re quite safe anywhere at Laurel, I’m sure, Jenny. The only two people who could have been dangerous are dead. Floris and Ariel.”
I could feel a flush of resentment rising in my face. “You’re the one who told me you had proof that the boulder that fell was prepared ahead of time so it would roll easily. So there must have been someone else. A third person. If you have any such proof.”
“Would you like to see it?” he asked.
The offer took me by surprise, since he appeared to have been guarding this secret so carefully. I managed to nod and he went back to the door and closed it, then returned to me.
“Do sit down. We might as well be comfortable.”
I felt increasingly uneasy because I couldn’t trust him, yet I was not exactly afraid. If Loring Grant meant me any harm, it was not likely that he would hurt me here in the hotel.
When I’d chosen the straight chair at the desk, he took an envelope from an inner pocket and removed from it several photographic prints that he laid on the desk before me.
“These are small, of course. I have enlargements in my safe downstairs. But I think you can see what’s there easily enough.”
Snapshots in black and white had been taken of the spot from which the boulder had fallen. Other rocks nearby and below identified the locality, and I remembered the stunted pine tree growing from a narrow ledge there on the left. Each picture had been taken from a slightly different angle. In one there seemed to be evidence of tool marks on the remaining rocks, as though something had been dug away from their surface. In another snapshot some sort of rod protruded from the earth.
Loring took a pen from his pocket and pointed. “Do you know what this is?”
I didn’t know, and Loring was happy to explain.
“It’s a crowbar. You can see that it must have been wedged beneath the rock at an angle and could have been used for leverage beneath the boulder that fell. Once some of the supporting rocks on the other side had been dug away, it would have taken no great strength to tip the big rock on its course. Almost anyone could have done it. Or anyone who put weight on it from above could have enhanced the pressure of the crowbar and sent the rock rolling.”
I went through the snapshots carefully. “How did you happen to get these?”
“When Brendon went inside to phone for a doctor and the police, I went up there to have a look. When I saw what was there, I thought it might be a good idea to photograph the area. So that’s what I did.”
“But why didn’t the police make something of this?”
“Because”—Loring regarded me with a certain malicious triumph—“as soon as I’d made my shots, I pried out the crowbar, and effaced the marks on the other side with dirt and small pebbles. The police never saw anything wrong.”
“Didn’t Brendon and the others know?”
“Certainly not. I couldn’t chance all that stiff-necked integrity of Brendon’s. The last thing Laurel Mountain needs at this time is ugly publicity that could lead to a suspicion of murder. It was bad enough to have a death on the place. Of course it could have been left to look as though Ariel had caused what happened, but everyone was bent on getting her away, and I went along because it meant that much less publicity.”
“Do you know who the crowbar could have belonged to?”
“It could have been picked up anywhere around the place.”
“Why wouldn’t whoever used it take it away after the rock fell?”
“That’s a bit of a mystery. Maybe your sister scared off whoever was working on that crowbar as a lever. Or maybe it would have been removed later, if I hadn’t got there first.”
I handed the pictures back to him. “And you’ve known about this all along. Known that Ariel had nothing to do with what happened. It would have taken a man’s strength to tip that rock.”
“Not necessarily. None of the women around here sit about in rocking chairs. And you forget that it was Ariel whose weight tipped the balance. Maybe it was she who coaxed Floris into the Lair. Because Floris st
ood between Magnus and your sister. Because she meant to cause all the trouble she possibly could—to the extent of a whopping scandal.”
“Why do you think that about Floris?”
“Because she told me so. Because she came to my office earlier on the day she died. She was issuing ultimatums right and left to anyone who would listen. I told her exactly where she could get off.”
“And nobody else has seen these pictures?”
“Only Ariel,” he said.
I stared at him.
“I developed and printed them myself right away. So I showed them to her before she left.”
“What did she say?”
“Nothing. She took off as though she’d seen a ghost. And maybe she had. Either I scared her badly because of what I knew, or else she guessed who must have made those marks—and didn’t want to talk.”
“Who do you think made them?”
“Ah—that would be telling, wouldn’t it?”
His tone was sickeningly arch, and I’d begun to feel a little ill, as I often did with Loring. “If you didn’t want anyone to know about this, why have you saved the pictures?”
“They may be useful one of these days. Who knows? Don’t look so upset, Jenny. Nothing can really hurt your sister now.” He put the envelope of snapshots away in his pocket and turned from the desk where I was sitting. “Now then—let’s get you moved out of this room.”
“No!” I said. “Perhaps I’m the one who should go to the police.”
His unpleasant smile was back. “I don’t think you will. In any case, we can’t leave you here. Irene is right. Shall I pack your things, or will you?” As he spoke he picked up the phone and dialed the lobby. “Send a boy up to Mrs. McClain’s rooms right away,” he told the answering voice.
Abruptly I gave in because I had the horrid feeling that he might go ahead and move me anyway if I did not. Beneath Loring’s suave and sophisticated exterior lurked something rough that I didn’t like and didn’t want to arouse. Irrelevantly, I wondered if Brendon could ever win against him. Brendon would fight clean. Or would he? Wasn’t Loring’s opinion of his integrity overrated? Brendon hadn’t been honest with me.
Loring pulled my suitcases from the closet and I began to pack them in haste, while he helped by emptying drawers and carrying things from the closet to lay on the bed. By the time the boy came up from the lobby, I was nearly ready. A few things had been left on hangers to carry as they were, and we made a small parade down the hall to the elevator. In the lobby we chose the exit away from the lake and carried everything out to Loring’s car. Several of the staff members lived in houses away from the hotel, and there were cottages nearby to which guests were allowed to bring their cars. When we’d dumped everything in the trunk and back seat, I got in beside Loring.
He looked at me for a moment before he turned the ignition key. “We might as well try to be friends,” he said. “There will be enough people for you to fight with, without including me.”
I shrugged. “It doesn’t make any difference, does it? I don’t expect to be here long.”
“Too bad you and Brendon couldn’t hit it off. But your marriage had to be doomed from the first. We all knew that. Nothing ever hit him as hard as Ariel did. Oh, well.” He started the car.
I bit my lips hard and was silent. If there was anyone I had ever detested more in my life than Loring Grant, I couldn’t think who it might be.
At the house Irene came running out to the porch and put an arm about me in greeting. I walked away from her without responding. My touchiness wasn’t something I enjoyed, but I couldn’t seem to help it.
Loring carried my suitcases upstairs as she showed me to my room, and he left us there.
The bedroom that had been prepared for me was done in soft greens, with yellow touches at the windows, enhancing the sunlight. The bed looked inviting, and all I wanted to do was put my things away and rest.
Irene made an effort to collect herself, though strain showed in her eyes. “It’s past our usual lunchtime, Jenny. Why don’t you leave everything until after we’ve eaten? Then I’ll help you settle in. It really is a good idea to have you here.”
“I don’t care for high-handed tactics,” I said.
She came to me at once, ready to plead. “Jenny, I knew this might upset you. But you wouldn’t listen, and I had to get you away from that empty wing. You couldn’t stay there alone with Brendon gone. I’ve talked to him about it and he agreed.”
“Is Brendon staying here?”
“No, dear. You needn’t worry about embarrassing meetings. He has taken a room by himself in another part of the hotel.”
“Then please go and have your lunch. Since I’m here, I’ll make the best of it.”
I tried to smile at her, since there was no use punishing Irene for all I was feeling. She put her arms around me and held me for a moment.
“Be patient with us, Jenny. We all want to help you.”
“Not all,” I said.
She drew back from me. “There’s a kitchen downstairs, so when you’ve rested you can fix yourself something to eat, if you like.”
I nodded, but I still couldn’t be warmly responsive, and she dabbed at her eyes and went away.
When I had worked doggedly at unpacking, hanging up, putting away, I kicked off my shoes and lay down on the green and yellow counterpane. The room was pleasant enough. Less formal than our rooms at the hotel, with odds and ends of old, rather good furniture, and a thick carpet the color of goldenrod that felt soft under my feet. There was an adjacent bath, and I was grateful for that. From where I lay I could see only quiet woods beyond the windows—a stand of tall Norway pine, a little grove of birch trees. Unexpectedly, I missed the view of the lake and the tower on the mountain. No more could I lie in bed and watch its beacon at night. At least the quiet was blessed, with only occasional reassuring shouts from the tennis courts to break it. I was not so far from human company here, and perhaps that was better—wiser—after all. Yet I knew that Brendon would not come to me here. Brendon … Brendon … I must try to think about the things Loring had told me—yet whenever I was still, it was the thought of Brendon that surged back.
Was there anything I could do, now that my anger was dying and I felt less and less like stirring the blaze anew? Was there any possibility that I could still fight for my love and win him back to me?
I didn’t know. There seemed no quiet haven for me anywhere. My body yearned for some sort of releasing action, and at last I put on my shoes again and went down the wide stairs to the front of the house. There I stood hesitating. Everyone would be over in the dining room having lunch, and for a moment the house was mine. Naomi’s little sitting room at the rear of the hall seemed to draw me, but I resisted the temptation to go back there. There was nothing except pain for me in the room where Brendon and Ariel used to meet, and I never wanted to set foot in it again. Yet even as I told myself that, the pull seemed to increase. Before I left Laurel Mountain, I knew I would have to visit Naomi’s sitting room once more. Perhaps I wanted to hug pain to me, hold it close so as to make myself understand how real it was.
I let myself out the front door and moved down the steps, walking around the house to the rear. Since I’d been outdoors, the sun had disappeared and the sky had darkened, with gray clouds sweeping in as they could do so quickly in the mountains. A path nearby led upward through the stand of Norway pines, and I followed it idly, until it ended in the open above the lake. Now I knew where I was. Just below me was the place where Brendon kept his boat. I’d been out rowing in it only yesterday, and the thought of the quiet, empty lake appealed to me.
I scrambled down through brush to the open place where the boat was pulled up on the bank, its oars resting along the seats. I realized the moment I stepped into it that it was not the boat I had gone rowing in before. It looked older and more shabby, but that didn’t matter and I didn’t question the substitution. A boat was a boat. True, there was a little water in the bottom,
but there was also a tin can for bailing, so I didn’t worry.
In a moment I had cast off the rope, pushed down from the shore onto the water and seated myself. When the oar pins were in their sockets, I turned the boat around, rowing toward the center of the lake. Only then did I notice that the day had grown considerably colder. No matter, my jacket was warm and my brown slacks were wool.
The entire lake was mine for the moment, and I set out for the far end. Even the Mountain House vanished as I rounded the curve that put this end of the lake out of sight of the hotel. Rowing was harder for me than it had been the other times, because this boat seemed more sluggish and heavy, and also because a cool wind had begun to blow, and I was heading into it. Nevertheless, I put effort into my strokes and held my own, gaining gradually as I headed toward the wild end of the lake. There was something satisfying, something releasing in the physical effort I had to make. While I was fighting water and wind, there was no time for pain and indecision.
Once I stopped to bail out some of the water that sloshed beneath the boards in the bottom of the boat. But if there was leakage, it didn’t seem serious, and soon I went back to pulling on the oars.
My strokes were steady and strong at first, but my arms weren’t used to such effort. After a time, when I paused to rest, I turned my head so I could look up at High Tower directly above me, its great drum of rock rising beyond trees that crowded to the water’s edge. Mists had moved in to wreathe the tower, hiding its top in drifting white, and as I looked up a spate of rain lashed my face. So I wasn’t to have any moments of quiet after all. The wind was sharper now, with a bite to it, and rain cut slantingly across the water. I pulled my collar high and began to row hard toward the wilder shore, which by now was nearest to me. Rain beat across my back and I rounded my shoulders against it and peered ahead to find a good landing place. In gray storm light I couldn’t make out the shoreline clearly.
The Stone Bull Page 20