Touch Me in the Dark

by Jacqueline Diamond

  Ian didn’t try to stop her. He knew that, in time, she would belong to him. Like his need to paint her and like the mysterious cycles playing themselves out in this house, it was inevitable.

  Sharon changed into her nightgown in the bathroom. After seeing Bradley’s face in the bedroom window and on the TV screen, she felt too exposed to undress anywhere else in the apartment.

  Ian’s studio, on the other hand, existed in a different dimension where she was once again impulsive and ablaze with sensations. She supposed his agreement to paint her outdoors tomorrow was a good thing, yet she couldn’t help wondering if there might not be some special influence on him when he worked inside the house.

  Buttoning her gown and sitting on the edge of the bed, Sharon forced herself to review tonight’s events. Despite the temptation to put some supernatural interpretation on the discovery of the grave, in the cold light of logic she came up with a better idea.

  Just as Karly must have been stirred by some buried memory when she turned down this street and found the Fanning house, so Ian might in childhood have been told about or shown his grandfather’s hidden grave. Bradley’s sister, his great-aunt, could have taken him there. Or perhaps he’d stumbled upon it while visiting his parents’ graves and noted the unusual location without reading the marker. Recent events might have awakened a subconscious awareness.

  Lying down, she soon fell into a troubled sleep. Sharon awoke once with the impression of having posed for Ian and become trapped in the canvas of two figures struggling. At last the dream faded and she fell back to sleep.

  In the morning, she awakened to a wash of weak sunlight and the sound of a Bugs Bunny cartoon from the TV set. The silly voices banished the echoes of her dreams.

  Back to normal. Today was Thursday, and she planned to spend the morning taking Greg to the La Habra Children’s Museum. She wasn’t going to think about this house, or last night, or what had happened sixty-five years ago. No more historical interviews and no more listening to the Gaskells’ weird ideas.

  When her cell phone rang, Sharon answered with a sleepy, “Hello?” She expected to hear Karly’s familiar greeting, since few people had this number.

  Instead, the reedy but firm voice of an elderly man said, “Mrs. Mahoney?”

  “Yes?”

  “My name is Grayson Wright. You don’t know me, but I was engaged to a relative of yours named Susan Fanning.”

  She took a moment to realize who she was talking to. The man in the newspaper clipping. Had the Gaskells put him up to this?

  “I know who you are,” she admitted. “What can I do for you?”

  “I need to talk to you,” he said. “This morning, please.” When she hesitated, he added, “It’s urgent.”

  “I’m confused,” she said. “Are you sure you don’t want to talk to someone more closely related to Susan?”

  “No, I want to talk to you,” he said.

  “How did you get my number?”

  “Please, won’t you just come and talk to me?” he said. “I can answer all your questions better in person.”

  For the elderly man to call a total stranger and beg for her attention must have taken courage. She could hardly refuse his plea, Sharon decided. Not even if it required taking one more step in a direction she wasn’t sure she wanted to go.

  “Of course,” she heard herself say. “I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

  Chapter Twelve

  The previous day at Disneyland hadn’t exhausted Jody. The woman might be in her mid-eighties, but her soul was young, Sharon decided while watching her and Greg battle each other for the last helping of Fruit Loops at breakfast.

  “I’ll be gone this afternoon,” Jody announced after ceding victory. “I’ve scheduled my annual checkups—doctor, lawyer, dentist. Get it over in one big gulp. Makes me feel like one of those snakes swallowing a cow.”

  “What snakes swallowing a cow?” Greg asked.

  “You need a nature lesson, young man.” Jody consoled herself on the dearth of Fruit Loops with a blueberry muffin that Sharon had baked. “I’m taking you to the Santa Ana Zoo this morning, if your mother has no objections. I like to go there once in a while myself just to see what’s new.”

  “That’s very kind of you. Are you sure it’s all right?” Sharon had planned to take Greg with her and let him sit in a lobby playing on his Game Boy. She still believed her son was spending too much time with Jody, but at least, with all those appointments, the woman couldn’t take off with him for the entire day.

  “If not, I wouldn’t have suggested it,” her landlady said.

  Sharon decided not to mention her appointment with Grayson Wright until she learned why he wanted to see her. Calm as Jody seemed to be whenever her sister was mentioned, that didn’t mean she would be thrilled about Sharon’s prying.

  She wondered if Ian had told her of finding Bradley’s grave. If so, Jody made no mention of it.

  The Gaskells were either hibernating or had gone out. Although she was curious whether they were the ones who’d called Grayson, Sharon didn’t intend to knock on their door and ask. The less they knew about her business, the better.

  The morning had dawned overcast, but the sun’s glare was already dissolving the cloud cover. After her son and Jody left, she followed Grayson Wright’s directions to the convalescent home located in a sprawl of shops and restaurants near a medical center.

  Sand-colored and modern, the place resembled an apartment complex more than a rest home and smelled pleasantly of flowers and vanilla. While visiting Jim’s uncle in Buffalo during the early years of their marriage, before the elderly man passed away, she had been distressed by the scents of antiseptic and stale urine. There was none of that here.

  A receptionist directed her to Room 105. “I’m glad someone’s here to see Grayson,” the woman added. “He doesn’t get many visitors.”

  “No family?” Sharon asked.

  “I haven’t heard of any,” the young woman said. “He’s ninety-five, so I suppose he’s outlived everyone. He never married, you know.”

  Although simple, the statement implied a great deal. Susan’s death had cast a shadow over Grayson’s life, as over Jody’s and her son’s. Even so, she couldn’t feel gloomy amid these cheery lemon walls accented with orange and tan racing stripes.

  The door to 105 stood ajar. As she approached, Sharon glimpsed an interior furnished with a patterned carpet, a Tiffany lamp and an antique desk, as if the room had been lifted from another era.

  She tapped lightly. “Mr. Wright?”

  “No relation to Wilbur or Orville, I’m afraid, but here I am,” announced the reedy voice she’d heard on the phone.

  The man who approached the door leaned on the arms of a walker. Liver spots peeked through his thin, pale hair, and even allowing for his slightly bent position, he had never been above average height.

  Grayson Wright wore his embroidered smoking jacket and neatly pressed taupe slacks with a courtly air, and behind thick lenses his eyes were bright, until they fixed on Sharon. Then everything froze, except the dark pupils shifting from her face to her hair and down the length of her body.

  “Susan.” The word shuddered from his mouth.

  “No. I’m Sharon,” she said.

  He shook his head apologetically. “Forgive me. Carl Arbizo told me you favored her. I just wasn’t prepared for such a close resemblance.”

  “It startles a lot of people,” she said. So that was where Grayson had learned about her. Karly must have given the pastor Sharon’s cell phone number in case of emergency.

  Grayson slid aside to let her in. “Please excuse the humble surroundings. I couldn’t bring many of my things. I suffer from congestive heart failure, you see, and can’t live by myself any more. But I’m not complaining.”

  As she settled on a chair that was probably older than she was, Sharon decided that she liked the man’s self-deprecating manner. What a shame he’d never married. “What kind of work did you do,
Mr. Wright?”

  “Owned an insurance company,” he announced, shuffling his way to an armchair. “Not very exciting, I suppose. What I really liked to do was travel. Used to go everywhere, unless people were fighting. Always regretted I didn’t visit Afghanistan or Iran while I could have. Who knew?”

  Sharon smiled. “I’m glad you called me.” She was in no hurry to pelt him with questions. If he had a motive other than curiosity, he would get around to it in his own time.

  “You’re a beautiful young woman.” Grayson pulled a monogrammed handkerchief from his jacket and wiped his forehead. “Like Susan. I promised to show her Rome once the war ended. Everyone promises to take women to Paris, but I prefer Rome. Have you seen Europe?”

  “I’m afraid not.”

  “Well, I would take you, but they shoot old coots like me who run off with young women,” said Grayson. “Have you got a boyfriend?”

  “I’m a widow.” For some reason, she didn’t mind confiding in this man, so she added, “I’ve become friendly with Ian Fanning. We’re distant cousins.”

  “Looks like his grandfather, doesn’t he?” Grayson cleared his throat. “I saw the boy when he was younger. Damn shame, he gets the girl all over again.”

  “He hasn’t got me yet,” Sharon blurted.

  “Good for you. Keep him guessing,” Grayson said. “Not that I’ve got anything against Ian. He could have been my grandson, you know.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “His father should have been my stepson. If I’d agreed to take the baby, Susan would have married me sooner. But no, I was too proud to take in another man’s child. So we had to wait until the baby was born, and then she was so sad about giving him up. Before we could get married, well, you’ve heard what happened.”

  “You weren’t in the service?” She hoped this wasn’t a sore subject.

  “4F,” Grayson said. “Terrible eyesight. I can see a pretty woman, though.”

  She leaned over and patted his hand. “You have quite a sense of humor.”

  “I’m whistling past the graveyard,” Grayson said, but he sat up a little straighter. “Which brings me to my point. Pastor Arbizo called to tell me Bradley Johnson’s grave turned up last night.”

  “Did you know Bradley? I mean, did you actually meet him?”

  The wrinkles deepened around Grayson’s eyes. “Sold him life insurance once. A bad bet, wasn’t it?”

  The answer startled a laugh from her. “That’s a funny thing to say.”

  “Not everyone appreciates my sense of humor,” the elderly man told her. “In any case, the pastor wanted to know if, as Susan’s fiancé, I objected to leaving Bradley’s body there, and of course I do. They’ll have to move it as soon as they can find somewhere else to put that villain. Anyway, while we were chatting, the minister mentioned you. I had to indulge myself and take a gander at you.”

  “So there isn’t really anything urgent?” Sharon didn’t mind, now that she’d met this engaging oldster.

  “Oh, everything’s urgent at my age,” said Grayson. “Tomorrow I might not be here. Might be dead, might go to Australia, who knows? First thing, I wanted to see you, of course. It’s a real treat.”

  “Had you known Susan a long time?” Sharon had believed from Ian’s account that the Fannings had forced Grayson on their daughter. Now that she saw what a charmer he was, she wondered if Susan hadn’t at least liked him, after all.

  “We used to keep company before she met Bradley.” Her host picked up a pipe, which he tapped against his thigh. There was no tobacco scent in the air, and Sharon recalled seeing a No Smoking sign when she’d entered the facility. “Once she met him, she didn’t have eyes for anyone else. My stumbling around like Mr. Magoo couldn’t compare to that dashing young fellow, I suppose.”

  “Did Bradley have a sense of humor?” she asked impulsively.

  “Not so you’d notice,” Grayson said. “Can’t understand why women find moodiness romantic. When it came to moods, Bradley was quite the Lord Byron. A wonderful painter, though.”

  “I’ll bet Susan would have been happy married to you.”

  He looked pleased. “I made her laugh. That surprised her, just as it surprises you. You thought I’d be a grim old piece of business. Tell me I’m right.”

  “You’re right.” Sharon grinned.

  “Well, she lives again.” Grayson let this remark ride while he sipped from a glass of water. “In you, that is. Same way of tilting your head, and that gorgeous hair. Ian Fanning is a lucky man. I hope he treats you right.”

  She debated whether to say more. Dragging the man into the murky goings-on that surrounded the Fannings didn’t seem right, yet he obviously still nursed an attachment to Susan. And she disliked patronizing him. Despite being in his nineties, he was as sharp as anyone.

  “Mr. Wright, since I arrived last week, some strange things have happened,” Sharon said. “Ian’s finding this grave, for instance. Also, I saw a face in the window when there was no one there. Bradley’s niece and her husband keep insisting there’s a ghost. I wondered if you had any insight into the family.”

  “The one you want to talk to is the sister.”

  She wondered if he knew that Bradley’s sister had died. “Which sister do you mean? The one who moved the grave?”

  “I don’t know anything about that one,” Grayson said. “I meant Jody. She’s the one who found the bodies.”

  “Jody found them?” No one had mentioned this before. That wasn’t surprising, Sharon supposed, since Jody didn’t seem to discuss the past much. “That must have been horrible.”

  “She came home early from church, before her parents. I always wondered if Susan was alive when she got there, if she confided something but begged Jody not to tell. Just a hunch.”

  “That’s a nerve-wracking hunch.” Until now, Sharon had assumed the whole family had come home from church together and discovered the tragedy. Another thought occurred to her. “Were you at the church that night?”

  “I was,” he confirmed.

  “Why wasn’t Susan there?”

  “That was her choice,” he said. “She wouldn’t leave little Martin with a sitter. She was going to give up the baby in a day or so, before the wedding, and she wouldn’t be parted from him until then.”

  “I thought her parents kept her locked up,” Sharon said.

  “They did, while she was pregnant, because of the scandal and the rumors that she was running around seeing other men,” Grayson said. “Of course, even after she had the baby, she couldn’t go out for several weeks while she was recovering. Susan had those blues women get after childbirth.”

  Sharon remembered the old minister mentioning the rumors about Susan’s supposed flirtations. Perhaps that had been the spur to Bradley’s fury, as much as the impending marriage. “How old was the baby when … when Susan died?”

  “A couple of weeks,” he said. “Her parents wanted the adoption people to take him right away, but Jody insisted that Susan should get to keep him as long as possible. She kept trying to talk her folks into raising the baby themselves or letting her do so. She said Susan wouldn’t be so sad that way. The folks wouldn’t consider such a thing, of course.”

  “Do you know why Jody left church early?” Although she assumed Jody had gone home to warn her sister and Bradley to leave quickly, Sharon wanted to hear Grayson’s take on the subject.

  “She didn’t like leaving her sister alone, knowing how sad she was.” He gave his pipe one last, fond pat before setting it down.

  “Jody must have been distraught about finding her sister murdered.” That terrible scene would have rocked anyone, not matter how strong.

  “Got hysterical,” Grayson confirmed. “The family found her cradling the baby and sobbing. There was talk she might lose her mind. If you ask me, what pulled her through was her devotion to the child. I believe that’s why they let her keep him.”

  Years later, Jody had lost him, too, in a car crash. How cou
ld a woman survive such losses? The second time, Ian must have been what kept her going, but this upcoming anniversary might hit Jody harder than either of them had anticipated. Perhaps that was why she was so eager to keep busy, taking Greg places.

  Grayson was speaking again. “You mentioned odd goings-on. If you ask me, that painting of the two of them is somehow to blame. Bradley’s work, you know. I always thought it wrong to keep the bloody thing after he got her pregnant.”

  “Did you know they burned his letters?” she asked.

  Grayson frowned. “What letters?”

  “Ian told me his grandfather wrote to Susan while he was in the Army but her parents burned the letters so she didn’t know,” she said. “I suppose Jody must have told him.”

  The furrows remained in his forehead. “I didn’t know that. I thought he abandoned her. So did she.”

  “Would that have changed anything?” she asked.

  “She’d never have agreed to marry me,” Grayson said. “Maybe it would have been a good thing if she hadn’t.”

  “Why?”

  “I loved her, but I’d have recovered. What tore me apart was losing her that way, that horrible murder. I always felt I should have protected her.”

  “Her parents did you an injury too, then, by not letting her and Bradley try to resolve things their own way,” Sharon said.

  “People can’t always foresee the outcome of their actions,” he told her. “They weren’t harsh people but they held to high standards. Society was different back then. Today anything goes, I guess.”

  “Thanks for helping me understand my relatives better,” Sharon said. “What you’ve said might help Ian. He’s been troubled lately, about this anniversary business.”

  “Anniversary? Coming around again so soon?” He obviously knew which anniversary she meant. “Every year, the date upsets me. This year won’t be so bad, though, after meeting you. Thank you for visiting me, Mrs. Mahoney.”

  The man was drooping, and Sharon needed to hurry home, fix lunch and take Greg to Karly’s house for his play date. She stood and shook hands with Grayson. “It’s been a pleasure.”