The Impersonator (Leah Randall/Jessie Carr Novels)

by Miley, Mary

  Privately I agreed but didn’t see any sense in saying so. We walked a while, passing the first cave, then the second.

  “I hate it here! Oh, it hasn’t been so bad this past month, with Ross and Henry home and you coming back, and the show and the party and the shopping trip, but now you are all leaving! You’re leaving tomorrow. Ross is leaving as soon as his thesis is accepted. Henry won’t be home again after he wins the election. Rainy season starts soon and the most exciting thing to happen in this stupid place will be church on Sunday. It will be so boring, I’ll go screwy!”

  “I didn’t realize you were so unhappy.”

  “Why would you? You have an exciting life. You ran away to vaudeville, and now you’re getting away again and going to Europe and we’re stuck here like … like criminals in prison. If it weren’t for our visit to you in Europe, I’d jump off that cliff! When do you think that will be? Christmas?”

  Lying to people I care for has always been hard. I should have tried harder. I should have just said, “You’re coming in January,” and been done with the topic, but a foolish surge of conscience caused me to hedge. “Well … I don’t know really … I’m not entirely sure where I’m going or when, so it will be difficult to plan…”

  “You’re going to London and France and Italy. That’s what you said. You said we could come too.”

  “Yes, I know. I know I said that, and I meant, well, it will be winter when I arrive and not too pleasant in those countries, so, well, I’ll probably go someplace like Greece or Spain first, for the winter, I mean, and then, once I have a place to stay, I’ll write and we can see what the circumstances are—”

  She pulled up and glared at me through narrowed eyes. “You’re lying. You don’t want us to visit you at all.”

  “That’s not true.” It was exactly true, or at least it used to be, but by tomorrow she and the whole family would learn the extent of my deception, and a missed trip to Europe would be low on their list of concerns.

  Caroline would not be calmed. She was already worked up about Mr. Nobody and this topped her off. She started to cry. “It isn’t fair! You’re leaving and we’re staying and I hate it here!” And she threw down her agates, turned, and ran back toward the path.

  “Caro! Wait! That’s not true!” I took three steps after her, then stopped. I didn’t have time to chase after her, nurse her back to good humor, and still explore the far cave before Henry got back. Don’t go there alone! said a voice in my head. I knew that. There might be someone there, left behind in the cave. But there might also be the one bit of evidence I needed to make my case against Henry stick.

  By my reckoning, I had at least an hour and a half, almost certainly more, and if I hurried, that would be plenty of time to climb the rocks and take a quick peek in the far cave.

  I took off running along the strand. Its width was narrowing; the tide had turned. Was it my imagination that the noise of the waves sounded louder? Even at low tide a person couldn’t get around the outcropping without getting wet up to the waist, so I scrambled over the boulders, ignoring the scrapes on my legs and hands as I struggled to maintain my balance. When I finally jumped down to the cove on the other side, I twisted my ankle. Without pausing to rub the pain, I pushed on.

  I knew I had plenty of time but I was nervous nonetheless. Being caught alone by Henry would be fatal. I tried to calm myself with the fact that it had taken him at least two hours to sail the distance from Dexter Bay south to the caves. He couldn’t be back before five o’clock and it wasn’t yet four. Don’t go there alone! I have enough time, I replied. And it was my last chance.

  The far cave was different from the other two, taller and narrower, with permanent access to the sea. I crept up to its mouth and peeked around the corner, listening for anything unnatural, looking for any movement. After a period of silence, I picked up a rock, threw it far into the cave. No reaction. I rounded the corner and went inside.

  It looked like Nature had built herself one of those pointed-arch cathedrals I had seen in Oliver’s travel books and decorated its wet walls with frescoes of colored algae, red and white barnacles, and starfish. A narrow ledge, smooth from centuries of erosion and slippery with strands of green slime, skirted the north side of the cave all the way to the back. A few feet below, the rising sea churned like boiling water, even on a relatively calm day like today. The waves broke against the cave’s mouth and sloshed noisily inside, each one bringing the water level closer to covering my walkway. I had arrived just in time. It wouldn’t be long before the ledge was submerged. I wondered whether high tide regularly filled the cave, and one glance at the barnacles stuck high on the walls answered the question.

  I had expected to see something. Boxes perhaps, or rope or a gangplank. Some sort of residue that would tell me Henry’s boat had been here and unloaded its cargo. But there was nothing. The cave was completely empty.

  Had his boat actually entered the cave? Would it even fit? Right now, its mast would probably scrape the ceiling, but there could have been room for a sailboat at low tide when the water was several feet below this. It could have motored inside and tied up on any of the jagged rocks that spiked the ledge. It could have unloaded those liquor boxes right here. Another boat could have followed it in and loaded up. But I hadn’t seen any other boats. And because the cave was not visible from the promontory by the house, I hadn’t actually seen Henry’s boat here, only headed in this direction.

  Why had I been so certain that the smuggling occurred in this cave? I had placed too much stock in the dreams about Jessie. Henry’s boat hadn’t been here. He had probably sailed farther south to drop off the Canadian hooch, perhaps to a tiny harbor that no one knew. Water dripped on me from the ceiling. I wiped my face on my sleeve.

  A loud noise behind me spun me around and sent my heart into my throat. A shower of rocks the size of my head had fallen from the ceiling and tumbled down the slope of the ledge until they plopped into the water. Was this the day it all collapsed? Chiding myself for overwrought nerves, I continued.

  In less than a minute, I had picked my way to the back of the cave. It seemed lighter back here, and I thought my eyes had become accustomed to the dark until I looked up and saw a streak of dark blue sky some thirty feet above me.

  With that, I understood everything.

  To my left a long-ago avalanche created when the earth split apart now filled part of the fissure with a rockslide that sloped halfway up toward the light. I could see at a glance that the liquor had not gone that way—no one could climb up that rock pile carrying boxes, even if it did put them closer to the opening. No, the smugglers had come here, to the back of the cave where I was standing, and hoisted the boxes straight up through the crevice to a waiting truck.

  Mystery solved. I’d already mailed my letters, but I would find the time to send another round with this added information. Henry was finished now.

  I felt his eyes on me before I saw him. I knew who it was before I spun around, even though it defied all logic. It should have been impossible for anyone to get here that quickly. Ahead of me at the mouth of the cave, backlit by the daylight, stood a familiar silhouette brandishing a club in one hand.

  50

  “Don’t be stupid, Henry,” I said, keeping my voice carefully neutral to disguise the terror that seized me. Like all bullies, Henry’s pleasure came from tormenting weaker beings, and instinct told me the slightest whiff of fear from me would excite him beyond control. “Caroline knows where I am.”

  He stepped inside the cave and started purposefully in my direction. “Indeed she does. She is the one who told me. And she thinks I’m in my room right now,” he said, his voice buoyant with the sort of self-satisfaction that comes after a hard-won contest of chess. The cave floor was slippery with strands of seaweed caught like hair on the jagged rocks, but he was sure-footed.

  “It’s too late, Henry. The game’s over. There are already three letters in the mail to the authorities, exposing you as a boo
tlegger and—”

  “Liar! You just figured it out yourself five minutes ago. And you won’t be telling anyone.”

  “And as the murderer of four girls in Dexter, at least two in Portland, and one in California.”

  That caught him like a blow to the face. He was still a good distance away but I could see his lips tighten and his eyes squint with hate. My only chance was to convince him to flee.

  “You think you’re so smart, but you’re really a dumb Dora. You don’t know a thing about those girls. They deserved everything they got. They asked for it. Like Jessie asked for it. Besides, you can’t prove a thing.”

  “The information I gave the authorities will let them prove it. Face it, Henry, we’re finished. Both of us. I admitted in those letters that I’m not Jessie. I’m leaving tomorrow, and no one will ever hear from me again. If you leave right now,” I continued in a tone of friendly advice, “you can get clean away too. You have until tomorrow to put as much distance as possible between yourself and Oregon.”

  “You’ll be dead by tomorrow, you interfering little bitch!”

  “If you kill me now, suspicion will fall on you at once, and you won’t be able to get away.”

  “You are just like her. Goddamnit!” he screamed, years of pent-up torment bursting out of its confines. “I hated her! And I hate you even more. I waited so long for that money—Jesus Christ, seven years they said I had to wait until they could legally declare her dead. Seven years! Do you have any idea how long that is? And then you come in at the last goddamn minute and try to steal everything. It’s mine!”

  Like a slavering beast with its mouth open and its eyes glittering wet, Henry panted heavily. The madman had lost all control, and I thought this was the moment to make a break for it, to push past him on the ledge, to escape while his rage consumed him. But his was a cunning madness that sensed my thoughts before I could act on them. A sly look came over his face. His chest began to heave as he calmed himself with great gulps of the cool, moist air, and as I watched, he harnessed his demons, calling them back from pointless ranting for the promise of a greater pleasure—killing.

  Slapping his palm again and again with a driftwood club as large as his arm, he came closer, now a canny predator toying with his prey. I couldn’t back up any farther. The only place for me to go was into the roiling sea where a girl who didn’t swim well even in a still pond stood no chance. I’d be dashed against the rocks before I had time to drown.

  Henry was only a few yards away. I played my last card.

  “David Murray is coming. He’s probably here now, looking for me.”

  That brought some flicker of thought through his mind, and he said, not too convincingly, “Murray? That dumb mick? I’ll take care of him when it’s time. Right now, it’s time for you. You wanted to be Jessie, I’m gonna help you be Jessie. You look like Jessie. You sure as hell act like Jessie. Well, I’m gonna help you die like Jessie.”

  For a big man, he moved fast. With his powerful forehand, the club struck my legs out from under me and I collapsed to the floor. The force was so great that the driftwood cracked. Then I saw my leg and realized it wasn’t the club that had snapped. Yet I felt nothing at all. Confused, I looked at my leg for what seemed like hours, until an agonizing pain exploded at the point of contact and spread to every pore in my body. I cried out in anguish.

  Seconds later came the second blow, aimed squarely at my head. I managed to take the brunt of it with my arm. Head ringing, I fell back, blinded by the searing pain, and braced for the blow that would crush my skull and end the suffering.

  Henry chuckled with glee. “That should hold you for now. What, did you think I was going to kill you myself? Hell, no, I’m not going to kill you. I didn’t kill Jessie. That surprises you, doesn’t it? But I’ve always been smarter than you thought I was. When they find your body, the ruling will be accidental death by drowning. You’re going to drown here, like she did. Nobody’s ever gonna blame me. Your broken body will wash up on shore with water in your lungs, and the only possible conclusion will be that you were caught in the caves at high tide and drowned. Unless your body washes straight out to sea like Jessie’s did, damn her to hell. That cost me a seven-year wait for my money! I need your body, so this time, I’ll be watching for it when the tide turns in a couple hours. This time, I’ll make damn sure the body’s retrieved.”

  He tossed the club aside and looked behind him at the vanishing ledge. “I’d love to stay and watch, but I’ve got to go before I get trapped in here too. Wouldn’t want that to happen, would we?”

  He started away, then turned back, a foolish grin on his face. I heard a metallic click as he came toward me, a pocketknife in his hand. Reaching down, he pulled up a hank of hair from the side of my head and roughly sawed it off. Taking a white handkerchief out of his pocket, he placed my hair tenderly in its folds, then turned to go. He didn’t say another word. He didn’t look back. No need to. Jessie Carr was as good as dead, a second time.

  51

  The water didn’t come slowly and gently, lapping at my feet, as it did in my dreams. One frigid surge poured over the ledge and drenched me head to toe, and a second one followed.

  The pain was so severe, I threw up. Gagging and spitting, I dragged myself with my good right arm toward the rockslide where the ledge was still dry. The floor acted like a cheese grater, shredding first my dress and then my flesh like so much cheddar, but I kept at it until I was a few feet higher, out of the water’s reach.

  My left leg was useless. My shoes had vanished. Shivering violently, I licked the salt from my lips and watched as ocean swells surged through the mouth of the cave, increasingly violent as they became trapped in the confined space. High tide was only a couple of hours away. Even if I could have walked, the ledge between me and the entrance was under water. There was no way out now.

  The tide showed no mercy. Another surge rolled me over. Like a sodden rag doll, I pulled myself closer to the rockslide. In minutes the entire floor would be covered.

  I looked up through the crevice at the slit of sky feeling as if I’d fallen to the bottom of a well. Here, I thought, the men stood as they hauled the boxes up like buckets of water with that pulley I’d stumbled over when I first took a walk in this area. What did it matter now? Everything is irrelevant when you are looking squarely at death.

  The water came at me again, not in regular waves from the sea but from all directions now, sloshing over me and throwing my body to and fro as I hung on to a rock. I didn’t consciously decide to climb higher on the rockslide; it was the instinct for survival that forced me up, inch by inch.

  There was no ceiling above me. This part of the cave opened to the sky some thirty feet up. I didn’t fool myself that I could get out that way—even with all limbs intact, it would have been impossible for anyone to climb up the sheer walls of that great gash in the earth. I was simply trying to escape the relentless sea. Teeth chattering, I got up on one bleeding knee and began to claw my way up, dragging my broken leg behind me, wondering why I wasn’t dead already from the pain.

  Several times I gave up and fell on my back, exhausted and throbbing, but every time the water rose and lapped at my feet the dream came back and I could hear Jessie urging me on. Keep going. Try harder. Don’t give up. Not much farther.

  Inside the crevice I had almost reached the level of the cave ceiling. The sea had nearly filled the cave behind me completely. My time was running out. As I made a final effort to wrench my body a foot higher, my fingers touched some powdery dirt. Even in my current state I realized that water would wash away loose dirt. I had reached a place the water could not reach, the top of the rockslide. I could go no higher.

  I lay there on that bed of nails for what seemed like eternity, sweating from the exertion even as I shook from the cold and wet, until I noticed a flat space to my left. Gathering my strength with several deep breaths, I hoisted myself up and over to a narrow shelf that protruded from the wall and rolled onto its
smooth floor with relief.

  My right hand brushed against something soft. Unable to see in the fading light from high above, I could only feel. It felt like a sack of sticks. I pushed it back out of the way a bit, and my shaking fingers closed around something small, round, smooth, and hard … a string of beads. Even in the dark I knew what they were—my Venetian beads.

  Except that my Venetian beads were still around my throat.

  I had found Jessie.

  52

  More than anything in the world I wanted to go to sleep. Sinking into warm oblivion where everything was soft and dry seemed immeasurably better than the black hell of pain that engulfed me. Death would feel good. But Jessie would not let me go.

  I’ve waited for you for so long. You can’t leave yet.

  I couldn’t stop shivering. My clothes, my skin, my hair, every part of me was wet. Every part of me hurt except my leg, which was already dead. The rest of me wanted to stop hurting too. Some things are worse than dying. Sleep was the escape.

  I just want to go to sleep and be warm again, I told her. I want my mother. Let me go.

  Teach me a song.

  What?

  Teach me a song. One you used to sing on stage.

  “Three Little Maids from School Are We”?

  Yes, that one. Sing it.

  I can’t. I’m too cold.

  Sing it.

  I can’t!

  Sing it.

  Three little maids from school are we

  Pert as a school-girl well can be

  Filled to the brim with girlish glee

  Three little maids from school.

  Louder.

  Everything is a source of fun

  Nobody’s safe, for we care for none

  Life is a joke that’s just begun

  Three little maids from school.

  I like that. Now teach me the dance that goes with it. The one your mother taught you.