Don’t Close Your Eyes

by Carlene Thompson

  “Yes, I’ll take him home,” Mary said with suppressed fury. “If we hadn’t been married since we were nineteen, I’d divorce him, the old fool.”

  She marched off and, after a brief but loud altercation on the front porch, Natalie heard her leading away a protesting Harvey. “Poor guy,” she said. “He used to be brilliant and so charming.”

  “Last week he spent the night in jail,” Nick told her. “I thought Hysell was going to cry when I arrested him, but I can’t have him sitting out in his boat yelling to a crowd of tourists that he hid a bomb on shore.”

  Natalie smiled faintly. “I appreciate the effort, but you don’t have to keep prattling about Harvey. It’s not going to take my mind off Jeff.”

  “I know, but you’re so pale I thought I’d give you a minute to recuperate.” Nick sat down and to her surprise took her cold hand in his. “Where’s your father?”

  “At the hospital. He’s always spent more time there than at home.”

  “Even when you were a little girl?”

  “Yes.” She looked at him. “He couldn’t help it. He’s needed.”

  “I wasn’t criticizing. When I think of how little time I’ve spent with Paige lately . . . well, never mind. Are you all right?”

  “I honestly don’t know. I keep finding bodies. It’s almost funny. I feel like a bloodhound.” Abruptly she started laughing. The laughter lasted for thirty seconds until suddenly it turned to ragged sobs. “I just don’t understand, Nick. I thought Jeff might have killed Tam, but now he’s been murdered. I guess this blows Ted’s theory. Lindstrom didn’t have anything to do with Eugene Farley.”

  “Yes, he did,” Nick said slowly. “His mother is Constance Farley’s sister. Eugene was Jeff’s cousin.”

  Natalie looked at him in disbelief. “His cousin! How do you know?”

  “I spoke with Mrs. Farley. She was really upset when she found out he was here. She said he was, and I quote, ‘an awful boy’ and ‘crazy.’ ”

  “Crazy how?”

  “She didn’t elaborate, but she was adamant that I not cooperate with him. She was especially freaked out over the possibility that I might discuss her or Eugene with him.” He smiled. “She wanted me to run him out of town.”

  “Tar and feathers?”

  “I didn’t suggest it, but if I had, she would have jumped at the idea.”

  Natalie wiped at the tears streaking her face. “What do you suppose he was really doing here?”

  “I don’t know. I considered the possibility that Mrs. Farley might have dispatched him to do her killing for her, but that seems too extreme. Then there’s the possibility that he really was interested in doing a true-crime novel and in his investigation he found out more than I did. Maybe he thought he knew who the killer was.”

  “And?”

  “And he made the mistake of confronting that person. He could have had plans to triumphantly drag the killer into the headquarters of the stupefied police. Or he could have had plans to blackmail the killer. Lindstrom was cocky as hell, Natalie. He was the type who thought he could outsmart, outmaneuver anyone.” Nick looked into her eyes. “But maybe he met his match.”

  II

  The door swung open and Mrs. Fisher looked at Nick belligerently. “What is it now?”

  “I need to speak with Dee.”

  “I need to speak with Dee, too, but she’s not here.” The woman clutched her flannel robe around her. She’d combed out her pin curls and her white hair formed a thin, frizzy halo around her wizened face. “I haven’t seen her since yesterday afternoon. No one to fix my dinner! No one to fix my breakfast! I could have died in the night and laid in my bed till I rotted!”

  Her face reddened and Nick feared she was working herself into another coughing fit. “Is there anything I can do for you?”

  Her gaze narrowed. “Always tryin’ to get into this house, aren’t you?”

  Oh, God, not this again, Nick thought. “Mrs. Fisher, do you have any idea where Dee might be?”

  “If I knew, I’d sure as hell tell you so you could drag her back by the hair to take care of me like she’s s’posed to. Free room and board I give her! And for what?” Her pale eyes pinned Nick. “Why’re you here lookin’ for her? She’s done somethin’. Don’t try to fool me. What is it?”

  “I don’t know that she’s done anything. I just want to talk to her.”

  “About what?”

  “I can’t discuss it with you.”

  “Well, to hell with you then!” Mrs. Fisher slammed the door.

  Nick stood on the porch for a moment, thinking. Dee Fisher had been acting strangely for over a week. According to her mother she was often gone at night and had received a number of secret phone calls. Wade at the Lakeview Motel had seen her coming out of Lindstrom’s room the night after Tamara Hunt’s funeral. She was upset. Lindstrom was never seen again. And now he was dead.

  And what about Alison Cosgrove? She’d been attacked around ten last night. Mrs. Fisher said she hadn’t seen her daughter since yesterday afternoon. That left nearly twenty-four hours unaccounted for. Twenty-four hours missing from the life of a woman who had loved Eugene Farley and never gotten over his death.

  As much as he hated to do it, Nick knew he had to talk with Ted Hysell about the possibility that his girlfriend was a killer.

  III

  The paramedics had taken Jeff Lindstrom away over an hour ago. A couple of reporters prowled the street, but everyone had sequestered themselves in their houses, refusing comment. Just twenty minutes ago Natalie had spotted a particularly pushy female reporter for the local newspaper standing on the patio peering in the sliding glass doors at her. Natalie had drawn the vertical blinds with a crash and an expletive loud enough to be heard through the glass.

  Now, numb from the shock of finding the body, she sat on the floor with her guitar and strummed absently, Blaine by her side. She hit ragged chords. Her voice quavered. She broke a string.

  The phone rang. Kenny’s disembodied voice floated from the answering machine. “Natalie, I know you’re there, so pick up. I want to talk to you. Let’s work this out. Natalie?” A pause. “Well, I love you, hon.”

  Nothing about having read of more murders in Port Ariel and being worried about her. Nothing about thinking of her sadness after Tamara’s funeral. “Let’s work this out.” He was bored, temporarily at sea without her. And, “I love you, hon.” Two weeks ago her heart would have beat faster at hearing those words. Now they sounded hollow. No feeling ebbed behind them. Had it ever? Or had she been nothing more to Kenny than the woman of the moment, someone convenient and eager to please?

  She began to play and sing, launching into “I Can’t Make You Love Me,” by Bonnie Raitt. Tears were gathering in her eyes when the phone rang again. “Natalie, it’s Lily.” Natalie put down the guitar, swallowed to control her voice, and picked up the receiver. “What’s going on?” Lily demanded anxiously. “You found a body?”

  “Do we have a Port Ariel town crier?” Natalie asked. “How did you find out?”

  “Your neighbors across the street called my father. Apparently they’re afraid they’re going to be dragged into something unsavory. They wanted to know if they needed representation and said they wanted the best.”

  “What a pair of self-involved idiots.”

  “Why didn’t you call and tell me what happened?”

  “I didn’t want to upset you. I figured all hell was breaking loose in your world already considering the attack on Alison.”

  “I didn’t know anything about it until this morning when I called Dad. He was just on his way to the hospital.”

  “He didn’t go until this morning?”

  “Apparently not.”

  “Viveca called here around one A.M. wanting my father to come. I wouldn’t wake him because he was wiped out and sound asleep, but I talked with her for a while. She told me she’d asked your dad to come, but he said he had his own problems.”

  “You think he was u
nfeeling.”

  “To say the least. He’s supposedly in love with Viveca.”

  “Well, maybe he’s not as crazy about her as he thought.”

  “Last night was a fine time to decide that.”

  “What is it with you?” Lily asked sharply. “I didn’t know you’d become Viveca’s champion. And my father has been through a lot. He’s nearly reached the end of his endurance.”

  “I didn’t mean to offend you. It’s just been quite a morning.”

  “Never mind.” Lily’s voice turned oddly flat. “About this body you found. Who was it?”

  Natalie stiffened. About this body you found. Who was it? Lily sounded like Natalie had found a stray cat on the porch. She’d gone off on a tangent about her father and Viveca before she even asked the identity of the body. “It was Jeff Lindstrom, Lily,” Natalie answered slowly. “His throat had been cut.”

  “Like Tam’s,” Lily said without expression.

  “And Warren’s and Charlotte’s and Alison’s.” Natalie waited for Lily to say something else, but she didn’t. “Who do you think could have done this to him?”

  “You sound as if you honestly expect me to have an answer,” Lily said edgily. “Do you think I know more about all of this than you do?”

  “No, I thought I was just asking if you had any ideas,” Natalie said carefully. “I haven’t talked to you since Nick found out Lindstrom was Eugene Farley’s cousin.”

  “His cousin!” This time Lily sounded genuinely shocked. “What on earth was he doing here?”

  “He told Nick he was gathering information to write a true-crime novel about the recent murders. Then Nick found out he was Constance Farley’s nephew. When he spoke with Constance, she said she didn’t know anything about a book and she was very upset that he was in Port Ariel poking around. Then he disappeared on Thursday.”

  “The day of Tam’s funeral.”

  “Lily, did Jeff ever try to talk to you or your father about Tam and Warren?”

  “The only time I ever saw him was that day in the store. You heard the conversation. And I know if he’d tried to talk to Dad about Tam, Dad would have mentioned it. He had nothing to do with Jeff Lindstrom.” Her voice rose. “Nothing.”

  “Lily, what is wrong with you?”

  “What’s wrong with you? You’re asking me all these questions about someone who was murdered. You sound like you think my father and I know something. And what’s all this with the sheriff? He’s Nick now? Are you on the rebound from Kenny? Trying to score some points with the handsome young sheriff by doing his dirty work for him, badgering your oldest and supposedly dearest friends about murders?”

  “Lily, for God’s sake, calm down!” Natalie was stunned by Lily’s outburst. “I didn’t mean anything—”

  “The hell you didn’t! Just keep your suspicions to yourself, Natalie, before you do a lot of damage!”

  For the first time in their long friendship, Lily slammed down the phone on her. Natalie sat dumbfounded, holding the receiver for nearly a minute as Lily’s words played over and over in her head: Just keep your suspicions to yourself before you do a lot of damage. But she couldn’t keep her suspicions to herself, not when Lily sounded so jumpy, so frightened . . .

  She called police headquarters. Nick had just walked in. “What now?” he asked in a harried voice.

  “Hello to you, too.”

  “Natalie, if you tell me you’ve found another body—”

  “Don’t worry. I’m not setting foot outside this house unless it’s an emergency. I’m calling to tell you I had a phone conversation with Lily. She’d heard about me finding a man’s body this morning.” Natalie paused, fighting down her sense of betrayal. Lily was her friend, but they were dealing with multiple murders. “She didn’t know whose body it was and she didn’t immediately ask, which was odd. When I finally told her it was Lindstrom, she didn’t seem shocked. I asked if he’d questioned her about Tam. She said no and that she’d only seen him once, that day in her store. But when I asked if he’d talked to her father, she got really edgy. She denied it vehemently. She was nervous and belligerent.” Natalie took a deep breath. “She didn’t sound right, Nick. She’s wary and she’s scared. Really scared.”

  IV

  SATURDAY 1 P.M.

  “Mr. Peyton isn’t home. I don’t know when he’ll be back.”

  A slender woman with salt-and-pepper hair and finely crinkled fair skin looked at Nick with startlingly beautiful, innocent violet eyes. “May I come in and wait, Mrs. . . .”

  “Ebert. I’m Mr. Peyton’s housekeeper.” She hesitated. “I don’t know. Mr. Peyton isn’t really up to visitors. This is a very hard time for him.”

  “Yes, because his daughter was murdered. But I’m the sheriff, Mrs. Ebert. I’m investigating Tamara’s death. I must talk to him.”

  Her hand fluttered to her chest. “Oh, no, has something else happened? Is Lily all right?”

  “Lily is fine. This concerns other developments, but it’s very important. Please, Mrs. Ebert.”

  He gave her his most ingratiating smile and she answered with a nervous smile of her own. “All right. After all, you are the sheriff and this is important. Please come in. Maybe I could get you something to drink? Tea? Coffee? A soft drink?”

  “A Coke or a Pepsi if you have it. It’s getting warm out.”

  “Oh, yes it is. Such a lovely day. Yesterday was so gloomy. Please make yourself comfortable in the living room and I’ll be right back.”

  Nick hadn’t gotten a chance to study the room after Tamara’s funeral. He didn’t know much about antiques, but he knew these were valuable. The room was beautiful, although much too fussy and formal for his taste. Above the fireplace hung an oil portrait of Tamara and Lily done when they were about sixteen. Both had golden blond hair brushing their shoulders, both wore pale green dresses that highlighted their hazel eyes. Their bone structure was identical, but no one who looked into their eyes would confuse them. Tamara had a gentle, shy gaze. Lily’s eyes looked at him boldly, twinkling with fun. A dove and a peacock. Both beautiful, but so different.

  Mrs. Ebert returned carrying a silver tray bearing a glass of Coke and a plate of Ritz crackers topped by thin slices of cheddar and Swiss cheese. “You have the air of a man who didn’t have lunch,” she smiled. “I could fix some soup if you like.”

  “No thanks. The crackers are great. You’re right—I haven’t eaten since this morning.” He sat down on a moss-green settee, took a sip of icy Coke, then reached for a cracker.

  “I’ll just go back to the kitchen while you wait—”

  “If you’re not busy, would you keep me company?” Nick tried hard to look innocent.

  The woman hesitated. “No, I haven’t anything to do. Mr. Peyton didn’t even eat his breakfast and said he might be dining out.”

  “He’s getting back into the world.”

  Mrs. Ebert sat down on a wing chair across from Nick. “No, I don’t really think he has dinner plans. He simply doesn’t want to eat.” She crossed her long, shapely legs and pulled her navy blue skirt over her knees. “He’s devastated, Sheriff Meredith. Those girls mean the world to him.”

  “At least he still has Lily.” She smiled. “And Mrs. Cosgrove.” The smile vanished. “Don’t you like her?”

  “I don’t know her well,” Mrs. Ebert said shortly.

  “About as well as you’d like, I imagine. I know Lily doesn’t like her and from what I’ve seen, I wouldn’t care for her, either. There’s just something about her . . .”

  “She’s overbearing,” Mrs. Ebert said promptly. “She acts as if this house is already hers, redecorating, doing away with Mrs. Peyton’s things.”

  “You were fond of Mrs. Peyton.”

  “She was an angel living on earth. Such a simple, unassuming woman. She considered having a housekeeper a wild extravagance, not to mention pretentious, but she really didn’t have any choice because her multiple sclerosis kept her bound to the wheelchair those l
ast few years. My first couple of months here were tense.” She smiled again. “I was recently widowed and so lonely. When she realized that, everything changed. We became like sisters. She saved my life—my emotional life.”

  Mrs. Ebert sighed and looked at the portrait of the twins. “I think she would be horrified by the idea of Viveca Cosgrove becoming the girls’ stepmother. Of course there’s just Lily now . . .” Her lovely eyes filled with tears. “I never should have talked so much about private matters. I had no right.”

  “You have every right to your opinion,” Nick said gently. “Of course, after what happened to her daughter, Mrs. Cosgrove won’t be around here much.”

  “Now I feel worse. That girl is very . . . disturbing, but she didn’t deserve what happened to her. It’s horrible!”

  Nick reached for another cracker. “But she’s alive, not like Jeff Lindstrom.”

  “Jeff Lindstrom?” she asked blankly.

  “His body was found this morning. He’d been murdered like Tamara and Warren.”

  The violet eyes flew wide. “My God! He was so young!”

  Nick had mentioned Lindstrom without expecting to hit pay dirt. He tried to hide his surprise and excitement. “You knew Jeff Lindstrom?” he asked casually.

  “I didn’t really know him.” Mrs. Ebert tucked a graying wing of hair behind her ear. “He came here once. He asked to speak with Mr. Peyton and I said Mr. Peyton wasn’t seeing anyone, but then he got rather loud and Mr. Peyton came in.”

  “When was this?”

  “Thursday night, after Tamara’s funeral. Can you imagine the nerve? Lily was still here. She told her father not to speak with him, but Mr. Peyton did anyway.”

  Lily had told Natalie she’d only seen Lindstrom once in her store. She’d lied. “He must have had something fairly important to say to insist on seeing Mr. Peyton at such a bad time.”

  “I excused myself, of course. And then Mr. Peyton demanded that Lily go to her room. The girls’ room is just as it was when they were teenagers. She argued with her father, but he was adamant. It was so upsetting!”