The Devil's Cradle

by Sylvia Nobel

  After she turned and hobbled around the corner, I gave her a minute or so, then opened the door and began pulling on the rope. The wheel on the pulley squeaked softly and sure enough, a gentle scraping sound echoed up the shaft as the platform slowly ascended to the second floor. The experiment concluded, I sped to Audrey’s room calling out an expectant, “Well?”

  Seated at the dressing table in a modest white slip, she directed a blank stare at me. “Well what?”

  “Was that the noise or not?”

  “I didn’t hear anything.”

  Doubt tweaked me. “Are you sure?”

  “Positive.”

  “Impossible. You must have heard something.”

  “I didn’t.”

  I slapped my palm against the doorframe. “Damn it. I don’t understand. It’s the most sensible explanation to this whole fiasco.”

  “Well, thanks for trying, Kendall, but this just goes to prove what everyone thinks anyway.”

  “Which is?”

  A self-deprecating smile hovered at the corners of her mouth. “That I imagined the whole thing, of course. That I’m a certifiable nut-ball just like the rest of the Morgans.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Oh, please. As my grandmother used to say, you might as well get up off the pity pot, it serves no purpose.”

  “Pity pot?” she repeated, promptly dissolving into a fit of giggles. “I never heard that before.” She turned her back on me and began to rummage around in a dresser drawer, mumbling, “What did I do with my white belt?”

  Deeply dismayed that my theory had been a complete dud and slightly miffed that Audrey had lost interest, I left the room and got halfway down the stairs when I paused. Holy cow. There was no weight. No weight to strain the ropes on the pulley. I beat a path back to Audrey’s room, catching her in the middle of buttoning an ankle-length green dress. She looked up at me. “What?”

  “I want to try one more thing, so tell me if you hear anything this time.”

  “Whatever.”

  I returned to the vacant bedroom and began piling boxes onto the dumbwaiter. “There,” I said, dusting my hands together. “Now, let’s do this again.”

  This time the pulley emitted a series of resonant creaks and groans as the platform descended to the bottom of the shaft. “Bingo,” I whispered gleefully, turning to trot down the hall once more. “What about that?” I shouted, poking my head around the doorjamb.

  In the center of the room, Audrey stood frozen in a statue-like stance, the anticipated answer to my question clearly evident in her fear-shocked stare.

  Chapter 23

  Perhaps it was just the drama of the moment unfolding, but it seemed as if the sultry wind fluttering the lace curtains suddenly stilled. The lively chorus of birds outside the open window grew silent and, as the full impact of my startling discovery slowly sank in, the fleeting glow of triumph inside me vaporized and left in its wake a coil of cold urgency.

  “Jeez Louise,” Audrey said in a shaky voice, her already pasty complexion fading to the color of alabaster, “this is pretty heavy-duty, isn’t it?”

  Fearing she might be poised to have another seizure, I sprinted to her side. “You gonna be okay?” I led her to sit on the bed and she clutched the comforter. Her breathing was shallow and uneven for a few seconds before she finally exhaled a calming breath. “Yeah. I guess that new medicine Dr. Orcutt gave me is working okay.”

  “At least that’s good news,” I said, sitting down beside her. “The bad news is someone’s got free reign to wander around this house at will.”

  The realization slowly crystallized in her eyes. “So...that means someone’s been watching and listening to everything we’ve said.”

  An electric thrill zapped my heart. It now seemed probable the noise I’d heard yesterday coming from the old kitchen was the intruder. If so, that meant whoever it was had overheard every word of my conversation with Tally. I rose and began to pace the room, frustrated by the logjam of unanswered clues clogging my mind. “If you’re positive that was the same sound you’ve been hearing, then our lady in white was no figment of your imagination and this time she may have left behind a full set of fingerprints.” A weighty silence enveloped the room and I turned back to face her. “Your ghost wasn’t wearing gloves, was she?”

  There was a glimmer of uncertainty in her eyes. “I...I’m not sure.”

  “Oh, man. Well, one thing for sure, your father wasn’t the mental case everyone said he was. And if you factor in Fran Orcutt’s disclosure along with your mother’s rambling letter, you have to conclude this whole charade goes far beyond this thing last night. You remember your father’s last words about the angel of death and the day of justice finally arriving and all that?”

  Her expression of puzzlement deepened. “We still don’t know what he meant.”

  I hesitated for a fraction of a second before saying, “This is probably going to sound way out in the stratosphere but if you add up everything we have so far, doesn’t it sound like he was expecting something to happen?”

  She stared at me agog. “Are you saying he knew who this woman was all along?”

  “Yeah, I am.”

  “But...but, why wouldn’t he tell the sheriff?”

  “I don’t know, but my gut feeling is that somewhere in this crazy mix of past and present there’s a common thread that’s going to pull everything together.”

  Her eyes hardened. “It has to be Jesse. You heard her yesterday. She hates my guts and wants me out of here.”

  “That’s certainly a given, but we still can’t prove it. There’s still Willow to consider and don’t forget the barrette I found could point to Bitsy Bigelow. We can’t rule out that Marta might be in on it and if you think about it, it could also be just about anybody in this town.”

  Her mouth dropped open. “You mean like...Haston? You think it might be him traipsing around this house in a dress?”

  That presented such a ludicrous picture I couldn’t suppress a rueful smile. But I quickly sobered as another more disturbing thought generated a massive case of the creeps. What if Archie Lawton had been our midnight visitor? Suddenly Tally’s request for a lock on my door took on new meaning. “At this point, I’m not ruling anybody out.”

  “I still think it’s Jesse,” she insisted with an undertone of hopeful determination.

  “Let’s hope you’re right. If this is just another sick joke like the rabbit thing I think we can deal with that, but if it isn’t, if it’s the same woman who threatened you on the phone… then I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to be here alone.”

  She looked like I’d kicked her and as if to cement the gravity of my statement, the wind suddenly picked up again and whistled eerily down the chimney. Lost in our own thoughts, the hushed spell held us in strained captivity until the roar of a car below drew us both to the window in time to see Duncan Claypool’s bright red Jaguar screech to a halt at the foot of the stone steps.

  “Oh, m’ God!” Audrey lurched away and pinned me with a look of sheer panic. “What’s he doing here now? I haven’t fixed my hair or makeup! I can’t let him see me like this.”

  Out of the corner of my eye I watched him emerge from his car. “Audrey, calm down. You finish getting ready and I’ll go find out why he’s...” I flicked a look at my watch. “Three hours early.”

  “Okay, okay. But, tell him to wait. I’ll hurry as fast as I can.” She limped to the dressing table as I headed for the door thinking that at least his arrival had restored a modicum of color to her cheeks and ignited her eyes with an intense longing that pleased and dismayed me at the same instant. If, as he’d so compassionately demonstrated on their first meeting, his attentions towards her were truly genuine, it could be a blessing for this ill-fated young woman. But what if they weren’t?

  I skipped down the stairs, still wrestling with persistent misgivings. Should I say something to Audrey or keep quiet regarding the possibility that Duncan Claypool might be the head honcho b
ehind this frightening masquerade?

  I still hadn’t made up my mind as I answered his knock and swung the living room door open. “Miss O’Dell,” he began, his eyes lighting with relief before his extraordinarily handsome face gathered in a mask of concern. “Is everything all right here?”

  “What makes you think it wouldn’t be?” I watched closely for any telltale body language that would reveal any knowledge of last night’s adventure.

  Instead, he appeared nonplussed by my reproving tone. “Well...the...the storm, of course. There’s a ton of damage in some places and so...I’ve been trying to call from Tucson all morning to find out if things are okay but the phone lines seem to be out. I wanted to tell Audrey that I’d rearranged my schedule so we could get started earlier.”

  His earnest expression coupled with his candid response bore the ring of truth, so I softened my stance. “Come in and sit down. She’ll be down in a few minutes.”

  A sunny smile lit his face and most importantly, his eyes. “Great. This way we can spend the whole day together.”

  As he brushed past, I inhaled the spicy scent of his after-shave and couldn’t help but notice his form-fitting blue jeans. The guy was definitely buff and for Audrey’s sake, I hoped I was wrong about him.

  Once he was comfortably seated in the living room on the gold brocade couch, I headed back to Audrey’s room where I found her applying lip liner. Our eyes connected in the mirror and after I’d explained the reason for his unexpected arrival, a smile of astonished delight blossomed only to be snuffed out by immediate consternation. “Oh no. What about our appointment with Ida?”

  I slouched against the doorframe and folded my arms. “She’s expecting us in less than half an hour.”

  “For lunch?”

  “Yep.”

  “And there’s no way for us to cancel with the phones out.”

  “I don’t think it’s wise to cancel.”

  She seemed to deflate before my eyes. Uh oh. Decision time. Should she jump at the chance to enjoy a few extra hours with the very adorable Duncan Claypool or spend the time visiting with a woman more than four times her age? Her disheartened sigh betrayed her dilemma. “What should I do?”

  “It’s your call.”

  Her internal conflict lasted only a few more seconds and then she announced in a surprisingly decisive tone, “I think it’s more important for me to be with Duncan so we can go over these papers the lawyer gave me and try to settle this problem once and for all.”

  Well. Well. Apparently the realization that she was now a woman of considerable means and influence had bolstered her flagging courage and fostered a sense of maturity.

  I said, “I’m sure Ida will be disappointed but it’s fine with me.”

  She brightened perceptively. “You’ll know what to ask better than me anyway. Now, don’t forget to take those albums with you. I think I left them in the kitchen.”

  “With any luck, the old lady will be able to plug the gaps in Dr. Orcutt’s selective memory and then I’ll see what I can dig up over in Weaverville.”

  My little pun went unappreciated as she beamed me a look of gratitude. “Kendall, you’re the best. I’ll make it up to you. I promise.”

  Humming a cheery little tune to herself, she brushed her hair to a lustrous shine, completely oblivious to the inner discord that had my stomach tied in double knots. Should I mention my fears about Duncan and face her inevitable wrath? I really hated to deep-six her lofty mood, but her safety dictated that I must say something.

  “Um, I don’t want to worry you needlessly,” I began, meeting her questioning gaze, “but let’s say for the sake of argument that Jesse and Haston are the culprits...” I paused, still struggling with how to phrase my warning and then just blurted it out.

  Audrey gawked in astonishment for a few seconds, then slammed her brush onto the dresser. “I refuse to believe he has anything to do with all this stupid stuff. How can you even think such a thing?”

  “No need to have a speckled cow. Maybe it’s just my suspicious nature, but experience has taught me that sometimes the most innocent-looking people can be guilty as hell.”

  She wavered for a fraction of a second then her eyes grew flinty. “Well, this time you’re wrong. And don’t mention anything about last night,” she said, rising to balance on one foot. “Having the seizure in front of him was bad enough, I don’t want him thinking I’m crazy too.”

  No doubt about it, she had the ability to plumb the depths of denial better than anyone I’d ever met before. I pointed to her gauze-encased foot. “How are you going to explain that?”

  She stuffed the brush and makeup bag into her purse. “We’ll just tell him that I stepped on a piece of glass. It’s the truth. He doesn’t have to know the rest just yet.”

  I could tell by the obstinate set of her jaw there would be no talking her out of it. “You’re the boss, but be careful, okay?”

  She dismissed my warning with a careless wave and insisted on making a grand entrance for Duncan, minus the crutches. Wincing under her breath, Audrey grabbed my hand and hid her pain behind a tight-lipped smile as we descended the staircase together.

  “What happened?” Duncan exclaimed, vaulting to his feet to assist her down the last few steps.

  Haltingly, she repeated her rehearsed story and by the time I’d returned to her room and brought the crutches down, Duncan was standing by the front door with Audrey securely enfolded in his arms.

  The look of adulation plastered on her face told me that if he grew fangs at this moment, it would make no difference. I repressed my misgivings and mentally crossed my fingers.

  “What time do you figure you’ll be back?” I asked Duncan in an offhand manner after he’d maneuvered the crutches into the back seat and then eased behind the wheel. “We want to make sure someone is here when you bring her home all safe and sound.”

  His concerned gaze focused briefly on Audrey’s face, strayed to her injured foot and then to me. “Originally, I’d planned lunch, two mine tours and dinner at my club,” he replied tentatively, “but that’s a pretty long day and well...”

  I filled in his pause with “She might not be up to all that.”

  Audrey let out a little squeak of outrage and snapped, “Of course I’m up to it.” Then, as if regretting her brusque behavior, she beamed Duncan a disarming smile before giving me a look that clearly said, ‘don’t-you-dare-say-anything-else’.

  “In that case we won’t see you until about eight o’clock,” Duncan said as he turned the ignition key and then answered my farewell wave with a jaunty two-fingered salute.

  I swallowed back the words of warning still perched in my throat and watched the sleek car ease around the bend in the hill. It was out of my hands now but I’d make damn good and sure to keep my meeting with Ida brief so I would be back from my excursion to Weaverville well before Audrey’s return.

  Weaverville. The very notion that the long-kept secret to this convoluted puzzle might await me at the old graveyard sent my stomach plunging with hollow excitement. I hurried up the steps and by the time I reached my room the old clock was chiming eleven-thirty. I was already late for my appointment with Ida and was sorely tempted to skip it and head straight for the cemetery. But as I scooped up my camera and notebook, I hesitated. Ida Fairfield was a living, breathing history of this town whereas the poor souls at Weaverville weren’t going anywhere. I’d best opt for the living.

  I don’t know. Perhaps it was the knowledge that I was completely alone in the old house, or my ever-active imagination was working overtime, but all at once an inexplicable feeling of apprehension gripped me. I cast a quick look behind me to the doorway listening intently, but heard only silence. Not just any silence though. It was one of those deep, penetrating, four-o’clock-in-the-morning type silences that caused the moan of the wind beneath the eaves and the ghostly rustle of leaves in the nearby sycamore trees to sound oddly magnified.

  Considering what I now knew it
wasn’t beyond the realm of possibility to conjure up the disconcerting vision of someone hiding inside the house at this very moment. The thought of being watched by unseen eyes propelled me to the phone. Dead air met my ear.

  My apprehension escalated as I replaced the receiver but nevertheless, some part of me, the mulish part Tally would insist, tempted me to throw caution overboard and undertake a thorough search of the house. And what would I do if I did find someone skulking about the shadowy corridors or vacant rooms of the old place? What if I encountered more than one person? I had no weapon, no way to summon help, so I snatched up my things and bolted for the car making it to the middle of town before I realized I’d left the old photo albums behind in the kitchen. “Flapdoodle,” I muttered under my breath, wrenching the car in a U-turn.

  Chiding my stupidity, I gunned the car back up the road. Maybe it was an accident, maybe it was fate, but if I hadn’t forgotten the albums, I wouldn’t have arrived at the mouth of the driveway in time to look up and see dazzling flashes of sunlight reflecting back at me from something or someone moving between the wind-chiseled rocks at the summit of Devil’s Hill.

  Chapter 24

  Snowy-white thunderheads, whipped into frothy pillars by the late morning wind hovered over the palisade of mountains to the east by the time I located the albums and backtracked downtown. The possibilities of what or who might have been on the abandoned mine road behind the house troubled me. Of course, it could have been something as innocuous as a discarded bottle reflecting the powerful rays of the sun, a hiker out for a stroll, or perhaps kids out four-wheeling.

  Nice try, I thought as a grim, but more likely explanation pole-vaulted to the top of the list. Nine times out of ten my intuition served me well. I suspected my inadvertent return to the house may have afforded me the prize of witnessing our pseudo phantom high-tailing it over the hill and—my thoughts ground to a halt and a procession of goose bumps raced up my arms when the full impact hit home. Did that mean the person had been hiding somewhere in the house since last night?