by Margaret Way
Mallory stared into the frozen blue chips that were Jessica’s eyes. She was reminded of the basilisk, the mythical animal that could kill with a stare. “You can’t tolerate that, Jessica?”
Colour blotched Jessica’s throat and chest like a heavy rash. “Don’t give me the therapist crap, the detached tone. I’m not one of your bloody patients.”
“Please keep your voice down.”
“What do you want me to do, whisper?” Jessica shot back. “Maybe a minute’s silence? Who cares about all these arseholes anyway?”
A clear warning flashed into Mallory’s dark eyes. “Your behaviour is an insult to the memory of my uncle. Please stop.”
“Mea culpa, mea culpa,” Jessica crowed. “You’re so bloody elegant, so refined, so fuckin’ beautiful we’ve all got to hush. I saw you give that numbskull Kathy a big hug. What the hell does she have on, a bin liner?”
“You really are a cruel woman, Jessica. Your behaviour is emptying the house.” Not that it was altogether bad. Many had been reluctant to leave. The vicar was still propping up the sideboard, downing another single malt. A pastoral calling was apparently thirsty work. “You must realize you’re making yourself and everyone else miserable? You and Jason are too much in one another’s pockets. I urge you to make a life for yourself. Let Jason go.”
For answer, Jessica moved in closer, hissing like a snake. “Who are you, Miss Marple? Sooner or later you’re all going to learn Jason can’t do without me.”
“Do you include your parents?”
“I told you to cut the crap.” Jessica was oozing spite. “I know what you’re doing, the quiet, controlled tone, the focused glance, the professional listener. Mallory James, the bloody psychologist.”
“What’s the big problem with your mother?”
“That old Bible banger,” Jessica snorted. “Anyone would think she’s never put a foot wrong.”
“Let’s not make it worse, denouncing your mother.”
“You and Jason wouldn’t have lasted long.”
“You would have thought of something to change that?”
“Too damned right! I don’t need any of your therapy. I don’t give a toss for it. Your lot suck, digging into lives, getting people to expose all their fears, their dirty secrets. The truth is I despise you. What good do you do? I’d say you damage people even more than they already are.”
“Clearly you don’t know a lot about the subject. By the way, Kathy told me you were there the night she and Jason got drunk or perhaps drugged?”
Colour surged from Jessica’s neck into her staring face. “That’s a lie! The poor little gnat isn’t a normal person.”
“You’re actually claiming you’re normal?”
“I don’t get rotten drunk. I know how Kathy is when she drinks.”
Mallory held her anger in suspension. “You’ve been spreading the word, haven’t you, that Kathy drinks?”
“She’s her father’s daughter, isn’t she?” Jessica was full of contempt.
“I would say as her father’s long-suffering daughter, she avoids alcohol. Would it be you who engineered it, Jessica? You’ve always been a woman with your own agenda. Were you planning on having me find out about it? Was that your strategy? Anything to get me out of the picture? I would be sure to break the engagement. The only thing you didn’t count on was Kathy’s falling pregnant. So the whole plan went horribly wrong. Jason undertook to marry the mother of his child. That must have driven you nearly crazy.”
Jessica only muttered, at a loss to hit back.
Blaine coming back inside the house caught sight of Mallory and Jessica Cartwright locked in tense conversation. He supposed everyone present would realize Jessica was out of control. He crossed the room in a few strides, hearing Jessica’s curious bark of a laugh, accompanied by an over-the-shoulder jerk of her head.
“Here’s your knight in shining armour to the rescue.” Jessica gestured in Blaine’s direction.
“And what are you, my enemy?”
“Ten out of fuckin’ ten.”
“Jessica, I always knew.” She could see a vein pulsating at Jessica’s temple. “You need help. Medication to control your moods. There are doctors, trained to understand your sort of problems. You could consider a short stay at a recognised clinic.”
Surprisingly, Jessica laughed. “They’d never let me out.” She looked Mallory full in the eyes. “I love Jason more than anyone in the world. When you ran off, he fell apart. It was my job to put him back together again.”
Mallory’s apparent composure was costing her a huge effort. She was so weary of the dysfunctional twins and their unsolvable problems. “Jessica, I don’t want to go any further with this. You forget what day it is. People are watching. When I’m ready, I’ll review the whole situation. Kathy must find life intolerable having you around all the time.”
“Kathy is the whole bloody problem,” Jessica gritted. “If Jason had to choose between the fuckwit he was forced to marry and me, there would be no contest.” Her expression was one of triumph.
Weird as her claim was, it was presented not as a boast but a truth. “For God’s sake, Jessica, you’re Jason’s sister. Is there something structurally wrong with your brain? You’re brother and sister. You’re not seeing straight anymore. Jason could well wish to be independent of you.”
Jessica’s mouth worked. “If you care to make a bet, you’d lose.”
“I have my doubts about that. Jason is under enormous stress. It could be you who is putting him there. Shouldn’t you be thinking about that?”
It wasn’t the answer Jessica’s ego demanded. She was nearly dancing on the spot. “You know nothing, nothing!”
“I don’t want to know.” Mallory’s expression was one of extreme distaste.
“Everything okay here?” Blaine joined them. The steely toughness in his attitude stopped Jessica in her tracks. “You have a problem, Jessica?”
A smile from Jessica that was anything but friendly. “Of course not, Blaine. I was just checking with Mallory about Jason’s position as manager.”
Blaine had already taken in the paleness of Mallory’s beautiful clear skin. “Not a good day to raise the subject.”
“My apologies,” she gritted, “but Jason has been in a terrible state wondering what was going to happen now.”
“Sounds like you’re the one in the state, Jessica. Mallory will let you know her plans in due course.”
Jessica got hold of herself to the point she was able to accept Blaine Forrester’s position of authority in the town demanded respect. “So now we wait?”
“So now you wait, Jessica,” Mallory said, desperate to have this vengeful woman out of the house.
“No matter what happens, Jason and I stay together.”
Blaine resisted the urge to get hold of Jessica and run her out the front door. Instead he made a brusque gesture towards it. “My advice to you, Jessica, is to go home and calm down. If you come with me, I’ll escort you to your car.”
“Don’t bother!” Ugly spots of red stood out on Jessica’s face. “If this is the result of asking a simple question, what chance have we got? But then Mallory has always been the princess around here.”
Blaine took a deep breath, marvelling at how he hadn’t objected more strenuously to Robert’s plan to offer Jason Cartwright a job. But then, neither Robert nor he knew Jason would enlist the help of his twin.
“Please leave now, Jessica.” Mallory’s face was a pale mask. “I’m out of patience, out of understanding. Don’t come back to the farm. You may think you’re indispensable to your brother, but I don’t think he’d have much difficulty finding a replacement for you. There would be plenty of well-qualified people happy to join the venture.”
Jessica spun violently. “You’re not hearing me, are you?” There was no hint of remorse or even embarrassment on her face, rather that weird look of triumph again. “Jason and I were fused in the womb. Attack me and you attack him. Sack me and you’ve s
acked him. It’s as simple as that.”
“I totally agree,” Blaine snapped. “Please leave, Jessica, or I’ll be forced to help you along. You’ve already drawn far too much attention.”
“Arseholes the lot of them,” said Jessica. “The dear old vicar is a right guzzler. They should launch a church enquiry into that. As for the two of you, I wish you luck!”
“Did you hear what she just said?” Blaine asked in some amazement, his gaze on Jessica’s tall, thin, retreating figure.
“She calls everyone arseholes. Don’t take it personally. I think she’s borderline crazy.”
“Why stop there? She didn’t say good luck or bad. I think we can guess which. Did no one teach her manners? She could have been raised in a dingo pack.”
“Dingoes would hold that one against you.” Mallory was trying hard to calm down. “Margery would have tried her best, but even the most conscientious parents can’t always get it right. Jessica has a whole set of psychiatric problems. I’m not sure now where we go from here. I’m not sure reconciliation within the Cartwright family is even possible. I fear for Kathy and Ivy. Both of them are victims.”
“It would be a real pleasure to fire the twins,” Blaine said, brow furrowed.
“But what of Kathy and Ivy? Who do they have to turn to?”
“Us.” Blaine gave a simple answer. “Don’t think about it today. Today is to remember someone we both loved.” He stared down at her. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
“I’m fine.”
“I don’t believe that for a single second. I don’t like you alone in the house.”
She gave him the shadow of a smile. “We have a formidable security system which you had installed in an amazingly short time. What is it you’re expecting, a terrorist attack?”
“I’m expecting that damned fool Cartwright to keep trying to see you. There’s danger in all of this.”
“Don’t worry,” Mallory said quietly. “I can handle Jason.”
“I don’t see it that way. You don’t have any real idea of him anymore, Mallory,” he said bluntly. “I’ll make sure you don’t have to handle him, as you put it. If you ask me, he’s a closet psychopath who actually hates women. Underneath it all, there could be a lot of hate for his twin.”
The idea curdled Mallory’s blood.
* * *
They ate in the formal dining room though no one outside Nigel James, the gourmand for all seasons, was hungry. Rare words of praise were heaped on Dot’s head. The salmon roulade with crab sauce was the best he had ever tasted. The pear and ginger tart also received praise.
Mallory wasn’t the only one to find Nigel James’s behaviour on the bizarre side. There had been no outpouring of grief, nothing much at all, really. Rachael, decent woman that she was, was looking quietly appalled. For a man with a near-awesome reputation, Professor James wasn’t showing up well. Few men showed so little emotion on the day they buried a brother, their only sibling. It beggared belief.
The will was read, and as everyone expected, Mallory was her uncle’s main beneficiary, inheriting the small fortune he had accrued and all forthcoming royalties on his very popular books. Then there was Moonglade and its contents, which included many valuable paintings and objects d’art. Her undeserving father had been left a pair of magnificent, over-the-top German silver candelabra and a rare signed edition of Dracula by Bram Stoker.
My father and Dracula have something in common.
Blaine received a wonderful bronze model of a cheval de course. His solicitor Gerald Templeton and his wife, Leila, were bequeathed a George III bracket clock they had always admired. There were several other bequests. A nice little nest egg for Dot Rawlings in recognition of her dedicated service.
Sometime towards ten o’clock, Gerald Templeton with a little pre-arranged signal to his wife rose to take their leave. Mallory and Blaine walked them to their car. The newly installed external lights were on. The brightness lit up the entire front of the large house like a stage, flooding the driveway and parts of the garden. Mallory could see how any would-be burglar would be pinned to the spot.
The alarm box with a four-digit code was inside the house, hidden in a compartment behind a convex mirror. The front door was controlled by the same four-digit code. Mallory was still at the stage of feeling quite daunted by the whole set-up. She worried if she forgot or wasn’t careful she could trigger the alarm, setting off an almighty din. At the same time she was glad the system was in place.
When they re-entered the house, they weren’t all that surprised to hear Nigel and Rachael enjoying a spirited late-night spat.
“What you’re saying, Nigel, is extremely small-minded, dare I say mean,” Rachael was saying with considerable censure. “Your brother was an achiever. I’ve read his books and thoroughly enjoyed them for what they are. Good entertainment with quite a dash of erudition thrown in. I can’t understand your attitude at all. And don’t you think you’ve had enough to drink?”
“Screw you, my dear,” he retorted with an ugly laugh.
“Not anymore you won’t,” Rachael said with burning conviction.
Blaine held Mallory back. “Sounds like your father and Rachael are having their first lover’s tiff.”
“God knows what would be in store for her if she stayed with him. Rachael is starting to see things in him she doesn’t like. Father has the obsessive need to be the absolute centre of attention. He reacts to any form of criticism with rage. She’s made the fatal mistake of taking him to task.”
“Good for her.”
Mallory could hardly trust herself to speak. “So what do we do now?”
“We go back outside, then we come right back in. I’ll start talking in a loud voice. That should do it.”
“Right.”
That was the plan. When they stepped back into the entrance hall, they found Rachael powering out of the living room, making such a beeline for the staircase she skidded on the travertine tiles. When she saw them she put a hand to her heart. “Goodness, you startled me.”
“Sorry!” They apologized as one.
“Your father and I have had a few words,” Rachael confided, red spots of embarrassment mottling her cheeks.
“We’ve only just walked in.” Blaine had no hesitation in telling the white lie.
Rachael appeared relieved. “Nigel can be outrageous at times. I’ll say goodnight to you both. Thank you so much for having me, Mallory. See you in the morning.”
“Are you all right, Rachael?” Mallory stepped forward. Rachael couldn’t hide her upset, and she was a guest.
“I’m fine, dear.” Rachael produced a wan smile.
“Goodnight then.”
Blaine addressed Rachael. “I’ll be driving you and Professor James to the airport, Rachael. Sleep well.”
“Thank you. Thank you both so much.”
All three knew Rachael wasn’t going to sleep well at all.
“Want me to check in on your father?” Blaine asked after Rachael had disappeared along the gallery. He didn’t want to leave Mallory, but he knew he had to.
“A bit steep to ask that of you. It’s my job, Blaine. It’s meant everything to me having you here today.”
“Where else would I be?” he said, simply.
“Father has probably made his way up to bed. He never wants to talk to me. We’ve never had a single true conversation. I think just looking at me exhausts him. It’s very good of you to drive him and Rachael to the airport. It’s a long way.”
“No problem. Something has to be done about the Cartwrights, but we don’t need to think of that tonight.”
An eerie feeling was creeping over Mallory. “Jason and Kathy would be better off divorcing.”
“We’re both ready to help Kathy and the little girl. But understand this, Mallory,” he said firmly, “the Cartwright twins constitute a real threat.”
Mallory answered, worriedly. “Kathy is so needy she might stick with Jason wherever he went. She might consider b
eing with Jason is better than being on her own. Lord knows her poor mother put up with a lifetime of hell. Kathy is her mother’s daughter. She’s desperately low on self-esteem. It’s a pity she’s so fearful. Already life is overwhelming her. Then there’s the question of Ivy’s frequent bouts of sickness. I’m determined to look into it.”
“You’re no relation, Mallory,” Blaine said as they walked out of the house and towards his car.
“One doesn’t have to be a relative to keep one’s eye on a child in a bad situation. Dr. Farnsworth and I will be onto it like a flash if Kathy presents again.”
“She will,” Blaine said, without hesitation. “Somehow it all fits together with the Munchausen thing.”
Mallory’s heart lurched. “You think so?”
“Yes.” He was blunt. “You don’t need this conflict in your life, Mallory. Say the word and the Cartwrights move on. Kathy has to ask for help, Mallory. We can’t force a decision on her.”
“First up, Jessica goes. Jason can stay until something is worked out. I don’t want Kathy and Ivy escaping into a worse mess.”
* * *
Blaine waited until Mallory had walked back into the house before he began the cruise around the central fountain. Banks of lavender-blue hydrangeas were in bloom. The extravagant mop tops glowed in the car’s headlights. He couldn’t shake off his feeling of deep unease. He recalled the conversation he’d had with a friend, an ex-nurse, who had suggested Kathy Cartwright might be responsible for her child’s frequent illnesses.
“Everyone knows about Munchausen by proxy these days, Blaine. She always was a needy person. Such a disadvantaged upbringing! She could well have a psychological disorder.”
The comment had dismayed him at the time, although he had accepted it was possible. Unquestionably Kathy Burch had made a bad marriage. It would have been better if she and Jason hadn’t married, but worked out some other arrangement. It would have helped enormously if the twins hadn’t fallen out so badly with their parents. The alienation had lasted. It had to be something major, something beyond the fact Jason had betrayed them and the beautiful woman he had been engaged to. Something that had brought them all to a perilous edge.