by Alice Ayden
“You’re Maeve’s man,” the owner smiled as she absorbed Maines from head to toe. After a few seconds, she motioned for them to go through to the back room.
They walked past pyramid displays of four and five inch heels. Maines stopped as he focused on the six figure price tag of most of the shoes with names he’d never heard of.
Weever pushed him along. “Don’t look. Don’t register. Don’t rant.”
Maines opened the door and found Iphigenia huddled in a corner.
She glanced towards the exit.
“My partner here can run down a cheetah.”
Weever smiled at the compliment.
Iphigenia hesitated. “Not here, okay?”
“Where?” Weever asked.
“At Stone Hill?” Maines asked.
Iphigenia grabbed her stomach like she’d be sick. She noticed a door that said, ‘Break.’ She opened it, glanced inside, and motioned the detectives in.
Maines studied the room with the designer chairs, big screen TV, and kitchen with upgraded granite and sub zero refrigerator. “Even the break room’s expensive.”
Iphigenia put her bags down on the floor and ran to the window to pull the drapes closed. She sat down in one of the chairs and buried her head in her hands. “Forgive me, Alison.” She quickly looked up. “That’s why you’re here, right? My cousin?”
Maines studied her. To anyone else, her flawless makeup and perfectly coordinated clothes and jewelry would have indicated a privileged existence. Maines, however, noticed the puffy eyes that even expertly applied eyeliner couldn’t conceal, and shorter nails meant she’d nervously chewed them. Something gnawed at her. “Tell us about your cousin, Mrs. Morgan Stonston.”
“Genia.” She jumped up and paced. She wrung her hands and grabbed her wedding ring as if trying to pry it off. “I live with Daniel’s psychotic family because…” She calmed herself. “I didn’t have anyplace else to go after he died. It’s been six months. It’s felt like six years. He wasn’t like them.” She glanced up at them like she naturally assumed they wouldn’t believe her. “He wasn’t.”
“Six months,” Maines whispered to himself. That would explain the bodies. Johnston’s brother wasn’t there to control him anymore.
“And they don’t even care my cousin’s missing. Anything to do with me matters as much as the garbage schedule.”
Weever stepped forward and pulled out a notepad. “How long has she been missing?”
Genia ignored Weever and rushed to Maines. “You know them, don’t you? You’re friends with Grand Maeve.”
Maines nodded.
“Did Johnston do something to her? Again?” Genia asked Maines.
Weever cleared her throat. “You believe your brother-in-law hurt your cousin? Was this reported?”
Genia stared at Maines and then at Weever with a look that asked, ‘are you serious?’ “You know how powerful Mags is?”
Maines nodded. His partner might be new to the area, but he understood the politics.
“So, why marry his brother?” Weever asked quickly.
Genia glared at Weever. “Daniel could control Johnston. He knew what he was, but after he died…” She quickly looked down as if she’d uttered something she shouldn’t.
“We know the family paid her.” Maines tried to defuse the situation.
Genia frowned. “Paid her?”
Maines glanced at Weever. “Six hundred thousand a year.”
“She never...why? Why wouldn’t she tell me? Why would she take their money?” Genia paced. “She wouldn’t. She couldn’t. Was she going to help him get Cora? That little freak’s obsessed with her. I’ve always liked Cora.” Genia stopped and studied Maines. “Grand Maeve trusts you. I’ll tell you what I know, but you have to protect—”
Genia’s phone rang. As soon as she answered it, even the color of her designer bags dulled. She turned her back to the detectives. “Yes...I know...I understand...I won’t.” She took a deep breath before facing the detectives again. “I believe we are done here.”
Maines frowned. Channeling Mags? “Who was on the phone?”
Genia didn’t answer.
“You know we can trace it,” Weever said.
Genia shook her head.
Maines knew Mags had too many judges at her disposal. He stepped close. “If that phone call threatened you or someone you care about. We can protect you. We can protect—”
“I can’t take the chance.” Genia blinked several times but held her cold stare. Her eyes filled with tears before willing them away. “I’m sorry. I know what he is, but you have to get him without me. Please find him before he hurts Cora again.”
Chapter 28: Will Them Away
The lone bulb illuminated the space. Dirt floor. Stone walls. Cold enveloped everything. Cora wished he hadn’t turned on the light. What was the name this time? Oliver?
It all made sense. Whole again, Cora turned around to run. She had to get help. She didn’t want to know this. She didn’t want to remember this. Someone grabbed at her. The pain pierced through her. She couldn’t stop it. Cora knew why she couldn’t remember. She didn’t want to remember.
Cora let herself slip. She willed the memories away. After a few minutes, she didn’t remember anymore.
Cora jumped straight out of bed. She searched in her armoire, under the bed, in her bathroom, and behind the drapes like a child desperately ridding her bedroom of gremlins before the midnight hour. Afraid to close her eyes, she sat in one of the white chairs. “What have I done?”
She held her head to steady the increasing pain and squeezed her eyes shut as the migraine vibrated. Her pulse raced. “Did I really will the memories away?” She shook her head. “How could I have been so selfish? So stupid? What did I will away?” She thought of the missing girl on the TV. “Did I know you? Did I see what happened to you? Could I have saved you?”
Cora rushed to the bathroom. After several minutes, she came back to find Darcie waiting for her. “Luckily, I won’t have to eat asparagus or fish ever again. One bonus.” She slumped in the chair and stared up at her alien mobile. “No more hiding. I will be brave no matter what the truth is.”
She closed her eyes and took a deep breath as images fluttered like flash bulbs. Cora tried to focus on them, but they flashed by so quickly.
“It is almost time for the 120th,” Mrs. Kiness said, gently shaking Cora awake.
Cora came to. “What time is it?”
“It is shy of six but closer to a quarter till.”
Cora glanced out the window at the encroaching dusk. “How long have I slept?”
“What does it matter if you needed the rest?” Mrs. Kiness examined Cora with the intensity of a neurosurgeon meticulously slicing out a cancerous tumor.
Someone knocked at the door and quickly threw it open. “Oh, Mrs. Kiness! Hey, Miss Austen.” Cheyenne, one of Mrs. Kiness’ protégés, waited until her breath caught up with her body. “Evan needs you. Sally can’t find that key. The tent collapsed. Chris accidentally insulted Grand Maeve. The caterers’ truck broke down. One of the dishwashers leaked all over the kitchen. There’s a tiny crack in one of the main windows. Three dozen of those canapé things Miss Lillia wanted are missing. And someone drank all the coffee.” Cheyenne gasped for air. “I love your dress, Miss Austen.”
Cora looked down at her red sweats.
Mrs. Kiness motioned to the dress hanging over the armoire.
“Go ahead, Mrs. Kiness. I’m fine.”
Mrs. Kiness nodded and followed Cheyenne out and downstairs.
Cora took a deep breath. “I just need one normal day. Get through this party, and then I can focus on remembering.” She searched for Darcie. No sign of her on the pink pillow or the purple one. Under the bed, Cora surveyed pieces of tortured stuffed animals mixed with broken bits of shovel, shreds of gardener’s gloves, and a few torn labels from the Ausmor wine bottles. “A new collection, Darcie?”
Darcie balanced on the balcony’s ledge.
<
br /> “There you are.”
The cat stopped her licking long enough to stare at Cora. Uninterested in the plight of humans, she returned to her preening.
Cora grabbed her dress and fled into the bathroom. After about twenty minutes, she returned, opened the armoire door with the mirror, and studied herself in the floor length silk dress. “Love the empire waists.” Cora shifted into different positions to admire the cream colored Regency dress. “They flatter and allow for heavy consumption of chocolate.” Cora traced the beaded lace dotting the modestly scooped neckline. The crystal embroidery flowed down the silk of each long sleeve. Cora turned this way and that to get a full view. A more subtle embroidery and crystal wave continued to the fuller skirt, and pearl beaded buttons darted up the back. “All for show rather than go.”
Cora blew on her just painted sparkly green nail polish and felt one nail to make sure it had dried. “Not exactly the shade Lizzy Bennet would have worn.” Then, she fiddled with her nest of hair trying to get the matching whatever they were into her hair. Cora gave up and shoved the barretty looking things into her pockets. “So, what do you think, Darcie?”
The cat blue eyed Cora for a few seconds; she yawned and pawed at a floating leaf.
Cora left her room and walked to the top of the stairs. “Just one normal day.”
At the bottom of the stairs, Johnston started up. He didn’t see her. Cora quickly looked towards her room before deciding to flee down the hall. Cora hesitated at Grand Maeve’s door. Giggles and a man’s voice prevented her from flouncing in. Waltzing into Grand Maeve’s room unannounced - dangerous and embarrassing. Cora knew that from experience.
Johnston tiptoed up the stairs. Cora didn’t have much time. She quickly opened Lillia’s door and slipped inside. She quietly locked the door and heard Johnston’s boots stop at her room.
“Miss Austen, are you in there?”
Cora held her throat.
Johnston threw open the door to Cora’s room. “Stupid little whore.”
His voice crawled over her like ants accosting a watermelon slice. Something wanted to purge from her stomach. “Stay with it.” She pressed harder at the door and held her breath. She wouldn’t worry about Darcie. Smart enough to stay away from trouble, the wily cat easily escaped slithery grasps.
Johnston slammed Cora’s door shut, walked down the hallway, and stopped at the top of the stairs. She quickly looked down at the small gap under Lillia’s door and hoped he couldn’t see her shadow hovering. After a few seconds, he plunged down the stairs. She breathed again, turned around, and gasped.
A pinkish bubblegum hue oozed over Lillia’s walls, rugs, bedspread, chairs, cabinets, armoires, posters, pictures, dressers, lamps, stuffed animals, and a laptop. “Wow.”
She noticed a pink framed picture on the mantle. Cora crawled closer. The picture: Johnston Stonston with his piranha inspired grin. “WTF?” Cora didn’t want to snoop, but anyone with a picture of Johnston needed more investigating.
At Lillia’s pink desk, pink pens, pink notepads, a pink calculator, and a pink cased iPad waited. Cora opened Lillia’s laptop and noticed a black magnifying glass icon named CAAT (Cora Attack Amnesia Theories). Cora hesitated; then, she clicked it open.
A file opened with a flow chart of different names and dates and places. Various boxes listed names: Jessica. Rachel. Sally. Gwen. Marie. Bobbie. Triangles with dotted lines held other names: Tiffany. Amber. Susan. Melinda. Jasmine. Tiny boxes with links floated along the side. Timeline of Cora’s mysterious scars and missing time. Missing college students. Possible Runaways. Geographical Profiling. Maps of the missing. Police theories.
Cora scrolled down the document and opened the Locations link. Has to be someplace private. Accessible. Have already checked out Bashwells and Stone Hill. But I swear I hear screams. It’s close.
Cora stopped reading. Goosebumps flashed across Cora’s arms. “Someplace close.” She started to close the laptop, but another link caught her eye. Suspects. Something told Cora not to open the link, but she had to. Johnston – not primary.
“What does she mean ‘Johnston – not primary?’”
Chapter 29: Warnings
Natalie fiddled with her new dress. “Dark blue polka dotty thing.” She examined the scars imprinted on her wrists from the handcuffs and chain. “Permanent reminders. I’ll need a jacket or sweater to hide ‘em.” Looking at herself in the mirror, she sighed. “Still look like a corpse.”
The blush and bronzer attempted, but her pallid skin warmed only to the color of spoiled milk. Nothing improved her eyes though. They reflected hell. Her eyes absorbed all the secrets. No amount of makeup cured that.
After about a thousand washings, Natalie finally rinsed the cellar’s dirt and blood out of her hair. The death smell took longer. As her dark blond waves flooded past her shoulders, she hoped her mother would recognize her. “I sort of look like me.”
She sat at the edge of the bed. “I’m sorry, Cora. This is for Grace.” She had to pull it off. Grace counted on her. She couldn’t think of Oliver. She couldn’t lose it. Not when freedom tempted.
Natalie breathed steadily. He’d be there. And Johnston. Natalie couldn’t warn Cora. He’d know. Natalie didn’t entertain the possibility of running. He’d find her. She wouldn’t risk Grace. She went into the bathroom and gingerly held a tissue against her eyes to catch the tears. She couldn’t redo her makeup again. Natalie heard the cellar’s screams and grabbed hold of the sink. “Stop.”
Someone cleared his throat.
Natalie glanced in the mirror and recoiled: Johnston sat on the edge of the bed. She jolted out of the bathroom and scanned the rest of the room.
“Just me.” Johnston leered Natalie up and down. “Nice dress. Clean up well, don’t you?”
Natalie froze as she did that day in the alley and automatically glanced towards the door and window.
Johnston laughed. “You wouldn’t risk your precious Grace. You need to do something.”
Natalie stepped back and braced herself.
“Nothing like that,” Johnston grinned. “Why do you always think the worst of me?”
Natalie had seen his worst and wouldn’t tempt him. Keeping off his radar was one of Natalie’s goals. She noticed his bruises and wondered what had happened.
Self-conscious, Johnston gingerly touched his face. “A misunderstanding.” The beads of sweat multiplied on his forehead, and his eyes angrily twitched. “He promised me I’d have my taste of Cora this time.” Johnston winced a bit and grabbed his side. “I’ll take you to the party.” He threw Natalie a necklace. “Wear this.”
Natalie fidgeted with the clasp.
“You want me to put it on?”
Natalie lunged back. “I can do it.” She didn’t want Johnston that close to her ever again. Her swollen fingers tried and then succeeded in opening and securing the delicate clasp of the old fashioned rose locket. She centered it against her throat. It had to be symbolic.
“Cora will recognize it.”
Natalie nodded, touched the edge of the locket, and toyed with the gold swirled clasp. She didn’t dare open it. She wondered if a picture waited inside to haunt Cora. What if Natalie opened it but couldn’t get it closed? Oliver demanded unquestioning perfection. Natalie walked to the mirror and practiced playing with the necklace as if it was the most natural thing to do in the middle of conversation.
Johnston studied the necklace and Natalie. “Poor Cora. She’ll never see it coming, will she?”
Natalie’s stomach churned. Would she ever be able to live with herself? “Once you have Cora I’m done, right?” Natalie didn’t realize she’d even thought those words, but, once uttered, she didn’t regret them.
Johnston flashed Natalie his trademark sickening grin. “Don’t you worry about what we’re going to do to her? Her mind is splitting at the seams. She might go mad before we’re done.”
“You speak about her like you actually care.” Natalie didn’t know where the cou
rage to argue with him sprouted. Johnston only needed a flimsy excuse.
Johnston hesitated as if waiting for Natalie to slide farther into dangerous territory. “Once he’s finished, he promised me I could exhaust her as I wanted.”
Natalie grimaced. She’d seen Johnston ‘exhaust’ the others. “He never let you touch her, did he? Cora was his.”
Johnston’s jaw twitched, and Natalie retreated. She lowered her head. “Sorry.”
Johnston walked to Natalie and grasped the necklace. He lingered for effect. “Yeah, Natalie.” He took out a baggie of dried cherries to munch on. “You’ll be done. You and yours.”
Natalie couldn’t decide if Johnston hinted at something else. She couldn’t warn Cora. It would happen regardless. Besides, Natalie thought, no one warned me.
Chapter 30: Clues
Cora flew down the stairs and through the side door. She zigzagged around people until she arrived in the Grand Entrance Hall. She heard Lillia’s voice in the Rose Parlor.
Six tourists listened as Lillia, holding Darcie, gestured this way and that. She sometimes used her pink gloved hand and other times she pointed with her frilly, yellow umbrella. The alternating layers of pink and yellow tulle mimicked the spirally bounce of her curls.
Cora motioned for Lillia.
Lillia nodded as she continued her spiel. “The walls of the Garden Parlor are the color of a green banana. You know those bananas that look like a banana, but the peel is locked and gets all smushed when you try to open and tastes a bit like wet grass?” Lillia stopped to catch a breath and soak in the smiles from the tourists. They loved her Silly Lillia routine. “But the Rose Parlor has a beautiful view of the back gardens, and, at one time, there might have been a river. Perhaps in prehistoric times. Maybe with some dinosaurs or terry cloth actuals.”
“Pterodactyls?” A tourist corrected her.
“And the scorch marks over there?” A tourist pointed out the tiny marks on the far wall under the window.
“A suspicious fire,” Lillia whispered. “Probably from that dreadful war between the snakes.”