Now You See Him

by Stella Cameron

  “It’ll be sharper with the lights out,” Officer Turner said. He flipped switches and the room was bathed in shades of gray cast through high windows. The leaden sky squeezed out the day and hurled its burden of rain at the low building with a staccato noise like machine-gun fire pocking a wet street.

  A large monitor snapped to life and Spike said, “It really isn’t great. Don’t feel bad if none of it means a thing to you.”

  Joe found her wrist and rubbed Ellie’s forearm lightly.

  The familiar single checkout stand at Ben’s Foods wavered a little, but she instantly recognized the checker. Connie sometimes stopped in for coffee at Hungry Eyes. The woman scanned groceries rapidly, sliding them down the counter to a bag boy without glancing in his direction.

  The film bore the same date as the one stamped on the grocery receipt.

  The picture jumped, faded, then refocused. More customers checked out, many of them well known to Ellie, others with familiar faces and some she’d never seen before. She felt Joe watching her and turned to him.

  “Stop the tape,” Spike said.

  “Sorry.” Ellie faced the monitor again and waited for Turner to back up the tape and start it running again.

  Connie spent a lull cleaning up around her cash register. She took out a compact and reapplied lipstick, checked her nails, smiled at two girls who giggled while they bought candy.

  Ellie sighed. She’d give anything to be in a safe place with Daisy and Zipper—and Joe—and shut the rest of the world outside.

  Gator came through the line with a cart filled with toilet rolls. He stroked the hair of a baby in a cart behind him.

  “Gator’s okay,” Spike said.

  “Stop it there,” Ellie said. “Stop the tape.”

  “What did you say?” Guy asked.

  “I told you,” she said. Her blood quit flowing, she knew it. Her body turned cold and still. Even her breath waited.

  “Rewind about a minute and stop the tape,” Joe said. He scooted his chair until it touched hers and put an arm around her shoulders. “Hang in there. You thought you saw someone you know? Someone who shouldn’t be here?”

  Voices chattered in her head, rose and fell—and she saw faces.

  Turner ran the film again and Ellie said, “Stop.”

  Guy had come to kneel on the other side of her chair and he snapped out, “Stop it there.”

  “Now run it,” Ellie said.

  A well-built man put a basket on the counter. He had short, light-colored hair and wore a dark, collarless shirt tucked into jeans. He seemed unsure of himself and watched the person ahead of him unload her cart and place a divider across the belt when she had finished. Uncertainly, he kept glancing at the woman while her purchases were bagged and replaced in the cart.

  The woman left and the man’s face was obscured while he placed his groceries on the belt and carefully used a divider. Then he looked up and Ellie looked into his light eyes. “Stop it there!” She laughed and cried, her salt tears running into her mouth. The sultry atmosphere had already moistened her hair, but it turned cold and clung to her head. She wrenched away from Joe and stood up to walk around and stand behind her chair.

  “You know that man?” Spike asked.

  The stillness left her and she shook so hard she held the back of her chair for support.

  “Leave her,” Joe said. “Give her time.”

  Ellie couldn’t look away from the image on the screen. “That’s Jason Clark. He’s dead.”

  36

  It can’t get much closer than that,” Charlotte Patin said. Crackling bursts of lightning met the ground neck and neck with a rumbling explosion of thunder.

  The earth seemed to rock.

  Vivian Devol slapped her hands over her ears and laughed.

  “Vivian’s like her mother,” Homer Devol said, his startlingly blue eyes smiling despite the straight line of his mouth. “I reckon there’s nothin’ they like better than a good storm. Wild blood in those two, and they’ve got Wendy just as tickled when the weather gets wicked.”

  They gathered in the sumptuously eclectic receiving room at Rosebank. Ellie and Joe had decided they should accept the invitation to wait out the storm with the Devols and Charlotte.

  Vivian had once explained to Ellie how she and Charlotte had returned the decaying house to its original opulence. They’d inherited the H-shaped mansion from Vivian’s father. Originally Vivian’s uncle left Rosebank to his brother, who hadn’t lived long enough to enjoy it.

  Vivian, her mother, Charlotte, and Spike’s daughter, Wendy, sat on a couch freshly upholstered in rich gold tapestry. Homer had taken a matching chair. Both pieces had shiny brass elephant feet.

  Through high double doors Joe could see the grand entry hall where new chartreuse silk had replaced the shredded version of Vivian’s uncle’s time. In the receiving room, fringed red velvet drapes topped by swags of palm-tree-print satin were, he understood, also exact replicas of the former window coverings. Supported on legs with bronze pineapples above its wheels, a grand piano dominated the center of the floor.

  Ellie continued to feel a fine tremor inside. Jason hadn’t died in that basement, but Mrs. Clark had gone along with Ellie’s fear that he had. The woman must have been looking for a way to get her out of the house. Jason had been in the woods at Pappy’s, telling her he needed her help—and outside Hungry Eyes with his signs. He had injured Daisy.

  “You’re very tired, Ellie, and you, too, Joe,” Vivian said. “Bedrooms are ready for you. The weather won’t break before morning. Say the word and I’ll show you up for a rest.”

  Joe didn’t think it a good idea to look at Ellie. He doubted he could keep her from seeing the badly timed thoughts he had at the mention of their going upstairs.

  “Thanks,” Ellie said. “Shouldn’t Wazoo be back with Daisy and Zipper by now?”

  Charlotte, pretty and petite with close-cropped gray hair, crossed her arms and puffed loudly. “You’d think so, wouldn’t you? She gets an idea in her head then she won’t listen to reason. Insisted she had to drive straight on into New Orleans for some reason.”

  “Headstrong,” Homer said. “But she’s got a good heart. And it isn’t like she’s needed to work here when every last guest has scooted for some place where the wind don’t blow.”

  “She shouldn’t have taken my pets,” Ellie said, listening to the moaning wind that whipped in giant gusts. “I don’t want her hurt, either. It’s dangerous to be out there.”

  Joe had turned a battery-run radio on low. He held it to his ear. “Mixed opinions, as usual,” he said. He’d been interested in meteorology until he realized that unless he wanted radio or TV work, his options would be narrow. “Right now it’s coming right at us, but they think it could make a turn. Either way, we’re going to have a big cleanup on our hands.”

  “Does anyone know where Paul is?” Ellie said, suddenly remembering him. He’d treated Jilly despicably but Ellie could feel a little pity for him. The smartest people could be the biggest fools.

  “He’s in his rooms,” Charlotte said. “Working.” From her expression it was clear she knew nothing of what had happened between Paul and Jilly earlier. Ellie felt relieved to know Paul was safe even if she knew he was miserable and thought he deserved to be.

  Vivian’s cell phone rang and she answered hurriedly. “Hi, cher,” she said, then spent a long time listening.

  “Tell Daddy to come home,” Wendy said, and Vivian patted the little girl’s leg.

  “I’ll tell them,” Vivian said. “Wazoo’s on the road, even though I told her to come straight back from Ellie’s. Yes. She’s gone into New Orleans but she wouldn’t tell me why.”

  Vivian winced. “I leave it to you to tell her that. Come home safe…and soon.” She hung up.

  “What are you going to tell us?” Ellie asked at once.

  Beaming, Vivian jumped up, hauling Wendy with her. “Yes,” she cried. “The police dropped in on that Mrs. Clark. She said
she hadn’t seen or heard from her son in several years.”

  Joe flexed his hands and watched Ellie. The color of her eyes deepened.

  “But she lied!” Vivian’s delight glowed in her face. “They found Jason Clark hiding in the basement and he’s in custody.”

  Homer cleared his throat and said, very seriously, “Congratulations, Miz Ellie.” He gave Joe a sidelong glance. “And you won’t want my opinion, young Gable, but if I was you I wouldn’t let moss stick my parts together before I did what I had in mind.”

  Joe thought better than to laugh, which was just as well since Charlotte Patin got up and took Homer by the arm. Muttering words meant only for him, she hustled him out of the room.

  “Don’t mind Homer,” Vivian said. “He’s one of the kindest men I’ve ever known.”

  Joe smiled and was grateful when Ellie did, too. “Is Jason Clark talking at all?” Joe asked.

  “Spike didn’t say. But he had more good news. Lucien’s turned the corner. He remembers the attack—he says two different men jumped him—and he says he could identify one of them,” Vivian said.

  “It’s good he remembers things, isn’t it?” Ellie said, sounding out of breath. “That means his brain is okay. But…two men hit him in my yard? Were they together? Did they know each other?”

  Vivian said, “Spike didn’t say any of that.” She paused and cleared her throat. “When Spike checks in again I’ll ask him. Joe, how’s Jilly doing?”

  “She’s trying to be brave,” he said. “She’s pretty broken up, though.”

  Ellie didn’t like it that Jilly had refused to come to Rosebank with them. She thought Joe should be with his sister but, at the same time, dreaded being without him. Silly when she couldn’t expect to have him at her side all the time.

  “Cyrus is stopping in at the shop,” Joe said. “Jilly can’t come here. You can imagine why, but Cyrus thinks he can get her to accept Reb and Marc’s invitation to Clouds End. The café will be fine and there’s nothing Jilly could do if something happened, anyway.”

  Vivian’s phone rang again. This time she reported it was Wazoo and went back to listening. “No, I bet you don’t want to call Spike and it’s not because you’re afraid of interrupting him. I’ll pass your message to him, but you should stay in New Orleans until this storm decides what it’s doing and does it.” She frowned. “Well, I wish you hadn’t left already. Check in regularly. We care about you. Goodbye.”

  Joe tried not to look too curious, but he would like to know what message Wazoo had for Spike. He felt Ellie studying him and caught her smiling.

  “Wendy, honey,” Vivian said to the quiet little girl. “You’ll find Grandma Charlotte in the round sitting room. She’s pretty mad at your grandpa.”

  “She gets that way when he says funny things,” Wendy said very seriously. “I think it’s because she doesn’t know about jokes.”

  The three adults grinned and Vivian said, “Go on over there and sweeten her up. You’ll be helping Grandpa.” She waited until the child ran from the room and leaned forward on the couch. “Okay, this can’t mean a thing, but Wazoo went to see someone called Fester at a shop. About a bottle, she told me. She said a lot of things really fast so it was mixed up. I think Spike and Guy told her she wasn’t to go near Fester, whoever he is.”

  “I know about the bottle,” Joe told her. “So does Spike.”

  “I’m not surprised.” Vivian squeezed the bridge of her nose.

  The grumble of thunder sounded again and for moments the wind died down. White lightning crackled, finding its way through the shutters. Ellie rose from her chair but quickly dropped down again. Thunder boomed and almost at once the gale burst around the house.

  “The rose hedges will be ruined,” Vivian said. “We may have to start over, but they grow so fast.”

  Joe cleared his throat. “Was that all Wazoo said?”

  “She’ll be glad to get back here.” Vivian grimaced and pulled her feet beneath her on the seat. “Someone signed for this bottle, but the name didn’t mean a thing to me—or to Wazoo.”

  Joe waited and made sure he looked interested. Ellie held the arms of her chair.

  “Do you know anyone called Garvey Jump? That’s what it sounded like.”

  Disappointment wouldn’t help a thing but Joe sighed just the same. “Doesn’t ring a bell with me.”

  Ellie shook her head. “I’d remember a name like that.” She flopped back in her chair. “Would it really be okay if I rested for a bit? I need to calm down.”

  Vivian jumped to her feet. “You brought a bag?”

  “Just a little one. I can manage. Just tell me how to find the bedroom.” To her, quiet time was becoming a memory.

  “You’ll both be on the third floor of the—”

  “What am I thinking of?” Ellie said in a rush. “I must be losing my mind. Garvey Jump’s the maniac serial killer in the Sonja Elliot books. The heroine is a criminal psychologist. She gets closer to him in each story but you keep thinking he’ll kill her next because she’s seen too much.”

  37

  “Room 304,” Joe said. “This is me.” He turned the key in the lock of 304, switched on a light, tossed in his bag and shut the door. He also held the key to 302 and hesitated before telling Ellie, “I’d like to make sure you’re settled.”

  “Okay.”

  She sounded too meek for Joe’s liking.

  The rooms were in the central block that joined the north and east wings of the house to the west and south. This was the area Vivian and Charlotte intended to use exclusively for long-stay guests. So far Wazoo and three other employees on the ground floor, and Paul Nelson on the second floor, were the only residents.

  Ellie’s room was next to Joe’s and resembled a Victorian lady’s bedchamber, complete with a carved oak four-poster hung with lined chintz that rose to a queen canopy.

  Ellie walked in and felt sleepy at the mere sight of the high, soft-looking bed. She glanced at Joe and laughed. He studied plaster cherubs cavorting around the ceiling, a fireplace where flowers decorated each tile, and the rest of the very feminine room like a man who had mistakenly wandered into a ladies’ restroom.

  “It’s good to hear you laugh again,” Joe said, and narrowed his eyes at her. “Are you laughin’ at me?”

  She shrugged. “Your expression says it all. You’re threatened by feminine things—like this room.”

  “Not at all.” He raised his hands as if embracing his surroundings. “I love this room. And you’re feminine but you don’t scare me, either.”

  “I don’t scare anyone.” But she wasn’t the total chicken some might think her, or an ostrich with her head in the ground. When the news about Jason’s capture came in she had felt giddy with relief—until she learned Lucien had taken blows to the head from two, not one man. Since then Joe had told her that the bottle Wazoo mentioned to Vivian had contained the chloroform used on Daisy. “Whoever bought the chloroform never expected anyone to track down his source or discover he’d used Garvey Jump as a signature. It’s the bottle that ties me to two murders—again. He’s still out there, whoever he is. He’s angry with me, I can feel it.” She held the nearest bedpost. “Jason Clark didn’t kill Stephanie Gray or Billie Knight.”

  “No,” Joe said. “But you can bet he at least read about Billie Knight, and about you. That’s how he found you. You need to let go of it all for a bit. I’ll put your bag over here.” He looked behind him. “That must be the bathroom.” He wondered if he’d ever stop feeling he must check for hidden intruders, ever stop fearing for Ellie’s safety.

  Chintz paper on the windowless bathroom walls matched the bed hangings. A huge, claw-footed white tub made him think of drowsing in warm water. Satisfied no one hid under the sink he went back to the bedroom. Ellie stood with her back to him. She had taken off her dress and sandals and was rummaging in her bag.

  Each time he was with her he learned a new feeling, a sensation he’d never had before. In her white bra
and panties, with fading marks on her back and legs, this woman reached inside him and found what could make a man weak. She seemed small and very vulnerable. And, at the same time, even as he swallowed against tightness in his throat, his body responded to her.

  He coughed.

  “I know you’re there,” she said, dragging out a white cotton robe. “You’re not seeing anything you haven’t seen before.”

  “Miz Ellie, what I’m seein’ is doin’ the same things it always does to me. There’s no moss growin’ on me.”

  “Men can be so inappropriate,” she said, but didn’t sound too serious. She draped the robe around her shoulders, and from the gyrations she made inside its cover, he figured she was taking off her bra. Sure enough, it landed on top of her open bag. Ellie wrapped the robe around her and tied the sash. The storm set up a high whining noise and she shivered.

  Hoping to correct his cavalier reputation, he went to the bed, took off a heap of cushions at the head and turned down the coverlet. He plumped up the pillows, then noticed a wooden stepping stool intended to make the journey to the top of the mattress less hazardous. He held a hand out to Ellie. “Come on. The steps are on this side. Up you go.”

  She walked toward him. Keep your eyes above her neck, Gable. Real easy to do, he didn’t think. She took his hand and smiled, and moisture clung to her lower lashes.

  “Up,” he said, and shut his mouth firmly. He had to be careful what he said at a time like this or he’d admit his desire for her.

  Two steps, a nimble scramble, and Ellie knelt on top of the bed. She crawled to sit against some pillows and carefully made sure her robe covered her legs. Joe leaned to frame her face with his hands. “You’re already healin’,” he told her. “It’s amazin’.” The puncture marks from her teeth were livid on her bottom lip, but the swelling was half as much as it had been. Reddish bruising had faded to green and yellow in spots.

  She held still with her eyes downcast and let him examine her.

  “May I stay here with you?” he asked. “We haven’t had much chance to be alone lately—to talk,” he finished in a hurry.