The stranger eyed him, guarded and aloof. "Thought you could get away with it, did you? Thought you could kill your daughter and nobody would be the wiser?"
"What?" Walter backed up, but a crowd had gathered, keeping them both from moving too far. "What the hell are you up to, Joshua?"
"You killed her because she was going to tell the police you molested her when she was a teenager." Walter let his fist fly and, with a triumphant grin, the man danced out of range, managing to evade the blow. Someone shouted for help, and I could see Andrew motioning to Gary, one of the cops Murray had mentioned was going to be at the service. They headed our way.
The stranger continued. "Didn't count on me, did you? She told me all about it, Walt, all about how you used to sneak in her room at night and make free with the fingers. She was going to write a letter to the pig boys in blue. By the way, do you still beat your wife?" Walter blanched. "Oh, so sorry—my mistake. Now that she's dead, you don't have to." Walter lunged again, but the man had already backed away, heading for the door. Andrew and Gary caught up to him and escorted him out of the room.
Walter tried to shove through the throng. "Get out of my way. It's time to put an end to this—"
Another man, obviously a friend of Walter's, stepped forward to calm him down. "Calm down, Walt. Come on, the guy must be out of his mind."
Eyes blazing, Walter pushed him away. "Keep out of this; it's my fight. If he wants to rumble, then bring it on—there won't be enough left to mop up the floor when I'm done with him." He looked around at the crowd gawking at him. "What do you all think you're looking at? Don't you have lives of your own?" He stomped out of the room. Nobody made a move to stop him.
The whispering started almost immediately. I slipped to the side of the room, unnoticed by the milling guests. What the hell had just happened? Who was that man? Joshua… the name sounded familiar, but I couldn't place it. Whoever he was, he'd made some pretty ugly accusations against Walter. Great, I just thought Walter killed Susan. Now another specter had risen its head.
Andrew entered the room again and launched into damage control. There wasn't much he could say. "Thank you for attending. Due to… uh… unforeseen circumstances, we'll have a moment of silence for Susan and then fold up the reception early."
Thank heaven we didn't have to be on cleanup duty, too. While I waited for him to find his notes and jacket, I mulled over everything that had happened. One thing I knew for sure: Walter had dark secrets locked behind those steel-shot eyes, and I wasn't sure just how many of them I wanted to know.
Chapter Seventeen
By the time Andrew and I made it through the front door, I was so sore and tired that I didn't even bother to go upstairs; I just grabbed a spare robe that I kept hanging in the guest bedroom and disappeared into the bathroom. I belted the terrycloth robe around my waist.
As I scrubbed off my makeup and brushed out my hair, I fingered the gray strands that were firmly entrenched amid the darker brunette. Thirty-six and already turning silver. Should I break down and dye my hair? Maybe Andrew would like it? With a quick laugh, I decided that if he wanted me to, he could pay for it to be professionally done. He hadn't complained about my looks yet.
He had taken off his shoes and tie and was sprawled on my sofa. I grinned. "Nice to see you so comfy." And it was… nice to see a man on my sofa. I wasn't sure how we'd handle this when the kids came back, but for tonight I was going to enjoy myself. He patted the sofa, and I dropped into the seat next to him. He reached down and gently lifted my feet, rubbing my aching toes with the gentlest of fingers. "Mmm…" I leaned back against the arm of the sofa and closed my eyes, enjoying the pampering. "Now, talk. Who was that man? Why was he accusing Walter of killing Diana?"
Andrew snorted. "That was quite a scene, wasn't it? That man happens to be Joshua Addison, Walter's stepbrother. As to where his accusations came from, I have no idea. Gary took him down to the station before I got a chance to talk to him."
"So, we're not the only ones who suspect Walt of foul play. I have to say, though," I said, remembering Joshua's ice-filled eyes, "there's something a little out of whack with Joshua. I don't know what it is, but he's kind of scary."
"I think they're both warped. I'd like to forget that this whole night ever happened, everything got so out of control. Next time you try to talk me into anything like that again, remind me to hit the streets before I let you convince me to play along." He tickled my arch, and I playfully kicked at him. "Can you imagine the rumors circulating through the phone lines right about now?"
I couldn't help it, I had to laugh. "Oh, God, too bad Harl wasn't there. She would have given anything to see that little scene. Walt hit on her sometime back, you know—tried to spread rumors about her when she refused him."
"That sounds about right." Andrew stroked my leg. "On another subject, I'd like to ask you a question, and I hope I'm not being forward. If I am, just tell me to shut up."
"I always reserve the right not to answer." I yawned. "But please, don't stop with the foot rub. That feels so good."
He laughed and began to knead the pads behind my toes. Ooo… I opened one eye and gave him an appreciative wink. "This is as good as sex. At least right at this moment it is."
"We'll see about that later." His grin was devilish and, not for the first time, those wolflike eyes captivated me. "Okay, now for the question. Please don't take this the wrong way. I just want to understand you better."
"Ask away."
"Why don't you keep any alcohol in the house?"
How to answer? I didn't have anything against drinking, but sometimes I was afraid of how easy it was to down a glass of wine whenever there was a problem. "My taste for booze started to grow right after the divorce; I got scared, so I quit keeping it around except for special occasions. I'll have a glass of wine when I go out to dinner, but that's about it. And… Roy drank a lot; he was a jerk when he was drunk."
Andrew leaned over and kissed my cheek. "I understand. Okay, I was just curious."
The doorbell rang. I glanced at the clock. "Who could that be? It's ten o'clock." Andrew answered the door and came back, trailing a bemused Harlow. She glanced at his loose tie and at my bare legs.
"Did I interrupt?" Her eyes darted from Andrew to me and back again.
What was she doing here? She was supposed to be home with James, celebrating the baby. "I didn't expect to see you tonight. Did you tell him yet?"
She curled up in the overstuffed chair and stabbed a finger at Andrew. "I suppose he knows?" She glared at me.
"Nope, didn't say a word."
She looked surprised but grateful. "Truth is, I chickened out."
Andrew gave her an inquisitive look. She sighed. "Andy, I need you to keep quiet about this. I appreciate that Em didn't tell you, but it's going to come out sooner or later. I'm pregnant. I'm just waiting for the right moment to tell James."
"Wow!" Andrew gave her the thumbs-up sign. "Jamesy will be proud as peaches! You guys will make fantastic parents."
"I hope so," she said, shrugging. "Anyway, I promise, Em—I'll tell him tomorrow. I just—too much emotion tonight, with Susan's memorial and all."
I let a short burst of air whistle through my teeth. "Okay, but it better be tomorrow. You're going to start showing soon, and you have to tell him something."
She gave me a brittle smile. "No problem. How did the rest of the service go?"
We filled her in, and halfway through, her jaw had dropped lower than my boobs. "So… you know a lot about the goings-on. What do you know about Walter and Joshua's relationship?"
She nodded, still gape-mouthed. "Trust me, that's a real case of bad blood. Walter inherited Joshua's share of the estate from Josh's father. That had to hurt. Joshua left town during high school, he was a real troublemaker, and one day he just took off. He didn't come back for years, I understand, and then he only stayed for a little while and was gone again. I have no idea what he was doing or where he went. I don't know if anybo
dy does, except maybe Walter himself. But if he's back in town, he's probably here to stir up trouble. The two hate each other."
"Do you think Walter would molest his own daughter?"
"Even though he's a sleaze, I don't think he'd resort to that. But what if she was going to tell the police that he did? What if he found out? Would he kill her?" Harl leaned back in the rocking chair. "True or not, an accusation of child abuse would destroy his reputation."
Andrew leaned forward. "Walt hit Susan, or so she said. Joshua seemed to know about that."
"That's still rumor—nobody ever saw the bruises. I believe Walt hit her," I said slowly, realizing that I firmly believed Walter capable of violence. "You heard him screaming at her like she was dirt. And tonight he threatened Joshua. But molesting a child's far worse than hitting an adult. Harl's right. Joshua could destroy Walt's life just by making an accusation."
"So," Harl said, "what's next on the list of things to do?"
I licked my lips. This was going to be harder than I thought; I didn't want to tell Harlow she couldn't play. Part of my reluctance stemmed from the desire to keep her help, but I couldn't let her put herself in danger. "Harl, I've been thinking about this all evening. I don't want to throw a damper on you, but since you're pregnant, maybe you shouldn't be involved. I don't want you getting hurt. The ghosts have proved dangerous. Walter already caused trouble for you in the past. Now look at the charges against him—he might be involved in two murders."
Harlow regarded me solemnly. "Walter is dangerous," she said. "He did his best to destroy my reputation. Everybody knew his rumors were lies, but they were willing to accept them until they figured out that I have more money stashed away than he does and I'm more willing to contribute to community causes. But I still can help."
I was torn. I wanted her input; she was a ticket into parts of society that I couldn't enter without a guest pass. "I don't know—"
"Hold it," Andrew interrupted, stopping me before I crumbled. "Em's right—there's no way we can let you endanger yourself. However, you can help by feeding us information you might know. Other than that, I think you should steer clear of this whole situation."
"Aren't you the take-charge man. I guess I have to start thinking about somebody besides myself now, huh?" She sniffed. "I hate being left out of things, and you really do need my help. But I'll back off." She patted her stomach. "Hard to believe that there's somebody growing inside, huh? Kind of freaky. Speaking of Walter, did you see that near stumble when you mentioned Diana?"
"I noticed that, all right. There's more. Murray told me that Walter isn't going to inherit a single cent from Susan. She cut him out of her will before she filed for divorce. What it boils down to, folks, is that since Walter knew about both the divorce and the change in her will, two of his main motives are gone. He wouldn't inherit if Susan died, and since she was leaving, he had no reason to get rid of her."
Harlow let out a low whistle. "If he had no motive and his alibi holds, then are we barking up the wrong tree? Why would Susan lie?"
"I don't know. Revenge maybe, for having affairs on the side or for beating her up? Revenge for him abusing Diana, if he did?"
Harlow mulled over the situation. "He's not a stupid man. He wouldn't just go down to Seattle and kill Diana and hope nobody made the connection."
"No, not unless he thought that he got to her before she contacted the police. If he didn't know she was in contact with his stepbrother, then maybe he thought nobody would make the connection. Just a random coincidence—mother and daughter dying close together, but in two unrelated circumstances?"
Andrew joined in. "Want to make a bet he's got an alibi for the time of her death, just like he has one for the time of Susan's death? But the pieces have to fit together somehow. And we know one thing for certain: Somebody murdered Diana, and whoever did it probably won't hesitate to kill again."
I thought about it for a moment. There were so many questions, so many loose ends. But when I closed my eyes, I couldn't shake the brittle stare that Walter had given me, nor the feeling that he knew more than he let on. Murray had said to watch out for deception and subterfuge. The obvious answer was that Walter was the source of all of this, but then… was he? And would we recognize the deceit when we found it?
Andrew leaned back, his arms behind his head. "How about some tea? You've got me hooked on the damn stuff."
I gave him a grateful smile and we adjourned to the kitchen, where I put the kettle on to heat. Andrew leaned on the counter and picked up the witch's bottle I had found under Kip's bed. "What's this?"
I took the bottle out of his hands and put it back on the counter. "Leave that alone. Trust me, you don't want to mess with it." I supposed this was as good a time as any. I told them about my aborted exorcism attempt and what had followed—finding the witch's bottle, and Kip's confession. "Susan may have been drawn by the spell, too—she says she was murdered, and the spell is intended to summon a murdered spirit and to use the astral forces to bring vengeance for that death. Unfortunately, the astral force in question—Mr. B & U, that is—is bent on targeting our household because Kip messed up the wording."
They both stared at me for a long minute, then Andrew muttered something under his breath. I didn't ask what he had said. I didn't want to know. I went on making the tea and getting out the cups.
Harlow was the next to break the silence. "So I get to play spy?"
Andrew and I looked at each other, and then he gave me a little nod. I shrugged. "Consider yourself our internal operative." I rifled through the junk drawer until I found a notepad and pen. "We need to make a list of our priorities. The kids are due back tomorrow night, and I still haven't got a clue how to handle Mr. B & U, especially now that I know why and how he showed up here."
Harlow grabbed the side of the table, and her face took on a peculiar shade of green. "Hold on—I'm gonna puke."
She made a mad dash toward the sink. As she rushed by Andrew, she bumped into the counter. The witch's bottle had been sitting near the edge; it wobbled once and, before I could catch it, tipped and fell to the floor, shattering. Dirt and herbs spilled every which way, and the ouroboros skidded across the tile, coming to rest directly at Harlow's feet.
I stared at the shards of glass. This was so not a good thing. Murray had cautioned against breaking the bottle, and I seconded her concern.
Harlow urped but there wasn't much in her stomach to cough up. She rinsed out both the sink and her mouth as I leaned over the pile of dirt, wondering what to do next. Before I could stop her, she reached down and picked up the charm.
"Here you go." She held out the ouroboros.
"Drop it! Don't touch that." I scrambled to her side and grabbed the silver pendant out of her hands. "Harl, you shouldn't have done that."
"What? What did I do?" She looked alarmed. Andrew stood beside us, uncertain.
I fingered the charm—the energy was thick around it, oozing like old honey, and I didn't like the feel of it. "Let me clean up this mess—don't either of you touch any part of the dirt, herbs, or glass. Andrew, please get me the dustpan and whisk from the pantry. Harlow, I want you to find a box of salt in the cupboard, and wash your hands with salt water. Just do as I say." Maybe we could negate any possible ill effects.
After sweeping up the dirt, I asked Andrew to open the door for me. I took the dustpan outside and scattered the contents in the lot next door that was filled with snow-covered brambles, then covered the whole mess with salt and an entire package of sage. I went back inside and scrubbed the floor with Florida water, then carefully put the ouroboros in a saucer and set it aside. By the time we gathered around the table again, everyone's nerves were shot.
I washed my hands and dug through the cupboards for a box of saltines. "Here," I said, handing a packet of them to Harlow. "Eat a few of these. Then go home and go to bed. You need all the sleep you can get. Trust me, later on you'll be grateful for whatever sleep you've managed to snag. You're lucky, you
know—most of your pregnancy will be spent in the cooler months. Thank timing for that."
"I'm sorry about the bottle, Em. I hope I didn't cause any trouble." Harlow looked despondent. "What about our list of priorities?"
"We can deal with that later," I said. The bottle was history; there was nothing I could say about it that wouldn't frighten her. I had my suspicions but could only hope that I was wrong, and chances were, nothing would happen.
She sighed. "You know, a lot of people have a lot of grudges against Walter, including me. We just never get to have our say because he buys the players in the town off with his donations and public image. I hate to say it, but you know, the idea that Susan's attempting to frame him might not be as far-fetched as it sounds… revenge from beyond the grave?"
At that, we called it a night. Andrew walked her to her car, and she drove off into the icy night. The weather was still clear; at least she wouldn't have to contend with snow on the winding drive through the gorge to her home.
I washed out the mugs and cleaned up the counter while Andrew made sure the doors were all locked. He pressed against my back, curling his arms around my waist. "Is it all right if I stay here tonight? I'd really like to be with you again."
"I think I'd like that."
He nuzzled my ear. "So what do we do when the kids come home?"
"Honestly? I don't know." I leaned against the counter. "They like you and I'm not ashamed to have you here, but I have to know where we're going before the kids get used to you staying overnight. I don't want them getting attached and then have you disappear out of their lives. They already suffer from enough abandonment issues with their father."
"Fair enough. Then I suppose I'll just enjoy tonight for what it is—a rare gift. Once Kip and Miranda come home tomorrow I'll go back to trying to earn your trust. Especially since I've had a taste of what life with you is like."
We finished cleaning the kitchen, then curled up on the sofa. At a quarter of midnight, the phone jangled. I immediately thought of the kids. Please don't let it be Murray with bad news! I snatched the receiver. Something was wrong; I could feel it.
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