At her knock a faint voice called, ‘Who is it?’
‘It’s Emily. Just checking whether you need anything.’
She heard the creak of bedsprings and rustle of fabric, then a moment later Olivia opened the door, wearing a negligée worthy of Ginger Rogers. But her hair was unbrushed, her normal pallor had turned translucent, and her eyes looked bruised; the skin was stretched taut over her high cheekbones. ‘Come in, please. I need to sit down.’
She sank into the wicker armchair and motioned Emily toward the fabric-covered stool at the dressing table. ‘I’m so exhausted I can hardly speak, yet I can’t sleep. I keep thinking of—’ She broke off with a shudder.
‘Let me call Dr Griffiths. I’m sure she could give you something to help you sleep.’
‘I don’t want to give you any trouble. I’ll be all right.’
Emily doubted that. ‘At least let Katie make you some chamomile tea. That’s always relaxing.’
Olivia gave an enervated nod. ‘Yes, all right. Tea sounds good.’
Emily stepped to the intercom and called down to the kitchen. ‘Right away, Mrs C,’ Katie replied cheerfully. At least there was one person in the house Emily didn’t need to worry about. Well, two, counting Marguerite.
Emily returned to her stool and leaned toward her guest. ‘Olivia, please don’t think me callous or anything, but it seems like Cruella was the one person in the world you had most reason to hate. Don’t you feel some – well, relief – that she’s out of the way and can’t pester you anymore?’
Olivia gave a hoot of dark laughter that startled Emily with its vehemence. ‘Pester! Is that what you call it? Emily, that woman ruined my life! And Ian’s as well.’
‘I’m sorry, I didn’t know. I was only speaking of what I could see here in the last few days.’ She hesitated, then took the plunge. ‘Would you like to talk about it?’
‘Maybe that would help …’
Olivia trailed off as a knock came at the door. Katie must have had water hot already, because she stood there with fully equipped tea tray in hand. ‘I thought a little something to eat might help as well,’ she said, indicating a trio of chocolate truffles on a paper doily.
‘Thanks, Katie,’ Emily said as she took the tray. ‘You think of everything.’
She poured a cup and handed it to Olivia, who blew on it to cool it and then sipped. ‘That’s better.’ She nibbled at one of the truffles. ‘Much better.’ She even managed a pale smile. ‘So you want the story of my life?’
‘Only if you want to tell it,’ Emily put in hastily. ‘I don’t want to pry.’
‘I think I’ve been waiting for someone like you to tell it to for years. I knew when I first saw you that you were a kindred spirit.’ She smiled to reinforce the reference to the writer for whom her room was named.
‘It all started quite a few years ago. I met Ian and Cruella together – would you believe he was married to her at one time?’
Emily started. Although Marguerite had floated the idea early on, she’d never been able to absorb it. ‘Really?’
‘She was actually sort of attractive back then, in a kind of gypsy, tantalizing way, I suppose. Ian said she’d bewitched him, but it didn’t take him long to wake up from her spell. By the time I met them he was already miserable with her.’
‘And so he naturally fell in love with you.’
‘Not right away. At least, he resisted it as long as he could. But we were thrown together a lot – we were both on the board of the Mystery Writers of America, active in the New York chapter, so we couldn’t help seeing each other. Eventually we had to admit we were in love.’
Olivia’s dreamy expression suggested she was lost in pleasant memories. To recall her, Emily said, ‘And Cruella found out?’
‘She assumed it before it even happened. And assumed we were having an affair when we weren’t. She was terribly jealous where Ian was concerned, always. Every attractive woman he met was a threat.’ Olivia raised her cup to her lips and saw what Emily had just noticed herself – a spider crawling on the saucer. Emily cringed away – she couldn’t stand spiders – but Olivia calmly set her cup down, carried the saucer to the window, opened it a crack, and tipped the spider gently out on to the sill.
Emily swallowed her discomfiture. ‘So Cruella blamed you for their breakup?’
‘She did. But I wasn’t responsible for their divorce – Ian had already started proceedings before we even met.’ She sighed miserably. ‘The thing is, if it hadn’t been for me, she might not have put up such a fight. I think she was tired of Ian herself by that time – as long as she got a good settlement out of him, she would have been happy. But once I came on the scene, she started fighting for him like a she-tiger. She couldn’t stand to see him happy with someone else.’
‘He did get the divorce eventually, though?’
‘Oh yes, he got it. But at a terrible cost.’
‘Financially, you mean?’
Olivia waved a languid hand. ‘The money was nothing. She milked him, all right, but Ian had plenty of family money she couldn’t touch. No, she took her revenge where it really hurt.’ Olivia closed her eyes and took a deep, shuddering breath. ‘She killed his writing.’
Emily was shocked and baffled at the same time. ‘How could she do that?’
‘She stole the best idea he’d ever had and twisted it beyond recognition. She made it laughable, really pitiably bad.’ She looked down and her voice went small. ‘And she put me in the book too. That was what Ian ultimately could not forgive.’
Emily winced in empathy. ‘I presume the portrait was unflattering.’
‘You could say that.’ Olivia’s voice was dry enough to absorb her entire cup of tea. ‘It was the worst kind of caricature, with just enough truth to make it recognizable and the rest as calumnious as even she could imagine. It nearly broke me.’ She passed a hand over the streak of white hair at her temple. ‘It gave me this.’
‘Did you try suing her for libel?’
‘That would only have called attention to it – all the world would have recognized the caricature instead of only the people who knew me. And Ian couldn’t sue for plagiarism, because he had nothing in writing – the idea was all in his head. Believe me, he rued the day he ever spoke of it to Cruella.’
A moment of silence was called for at that point. But Emily was still curious. ‘You say that killed Ian’s writing – but you managed to keep on.’
‘Eventually, yes. After I recovered from my nervous breakdown. My stiff-upper-lip British side pulled through and made me start over. You see, I couldn’t let Cruella’s victory be complete.’ She gave a one-sided smile. ‘But I’ve always thought I could have been a better writer, a deeper one, if she hadn’t made me so gun-shy. I was always afraid of writing anything that might set her off again.’
Not for the first time, Emily marveled at the depth of malice the human soul could contain. If she’d been a pagan who believed in the evil spirits of the dead lingering near the place where they died, she would have had to move out of Windy Corner to escape the evil that was Cruella. ‘So did you and Ian … get together after that?’
‘No. She had poisoned our love. We never could get over it – at least I couldn’t. We both moved away from New York and didn’t see each other for years.’ She looked up at Emily with tears in her eyes. ‘Until now.’
Emily reached over and took Olivia’s cold hands in her own. ‘You still love each other, don’t you?’
Olivia nodded. ‘More than ever.’
‘And he would do anything for you.’
She nodded again, then jerked her head up. ‘But not kill. You don’t know Ian. He would never kill.’
SEVENTEEN
Luke was closing Cruella’s laptop when somebody knocked on the office door. At his ‘Yeah?’ Emily poked her head in and said, ‘Do you have a minute?’
It almost softened him to see how tentative she was, like she was afraid he might bite her head off. But then he remember
ed her sitting there bold as brass holding Lansing’s hand. He wouldn’t bite – but it wouldn’t hurt her to worry about it.
‘Shoot.’
‘I was just talking to Olivia.’ When his brows shot up, she added hurriedly, ‘I didn’t mean to trespass on your territory or anything, but she wanted to talk, and I think she needed to talk to another woman. Nothing about the murder – only about their past. Hers and Ian’s and Cruella’s.’
He got to his feet, crowding her in the tiny space. ‘Let’s go in the library.’
He stood in front of the hearth while she sat in one of the wing chairs, having picked up Levin and settled him on her lap.
‘Ian and Cruella were married a long time ago.’
‘Yeah, he told me that much.’
She looked startled. ‘Oh! Well, maybe you already know the whole story then.’
‘He wouldn’t say anything about Olivia. Did she break them up?’
‘Don’t rush me. She said it wasn’t like that – Ian was already trying to get a divorce when they met. They fell in love, but they kept it platonic. But Cruella fought the divorce and blamed Olivia for everything.’
‘Pretty much what I figured. Except the platonic part. Not sure I buy that anyway.’
‘But you haven’t heard the really bizarre bit yet.’ She told him about Cruella trying to ruin both Ian’s and Olivia’s careers.
Luke whistled. ‘Now there is a double motive for murder if I ever heard one. Each of them wanting revenge, both for their own sake and for the other’s. That woman was begging to be murdered.’
Emily bit her lip. ‘Olivia was adamant Ian didn’t do it. Wouldn’t do it. And I really can’t see Olivia killing anyone.’ She shook her head as if in disbelief. ‘Do you know, while we were talking, distraught as she was, she put a spider out the window rather than kill it?’
‘Hmm. That shows compassion, but it also shows a cool head. I wouldn’t rule Olivia out. She might not kill to avenge herself, but to avenge the man she loved … She still loves him? That the impression you got?’
‘Absolutely. Devoted, I’d say.’
‘Me too. Lot of high emotion running there. I’m not ruling either of them out.’ He noticed the fire was burning less hot on his legs and turned to poke it up. Another thought was nagging at him, but he hesitated to let it in.
Then Emily spoke it for him. ‘You know, Luke, if Cruella trashed Ian and Olivia in one of her books, she might have done the same to someone else. Maybe even someone who was here.’
He straightened and faced her. ‘I was just thinking about that. I hate to say it, but it looks like somebody needs to read her books. At least skim them.’
Emily shuddered. ‘Perish the thought. Although we are stuck here with not much to do until the weather breaks … But how would we even get hold of the books?’
‘Yeah, that’s a problem. She might have copies on her laptop, but I can’t get into that yet.’ He scratched the back of his neck. ‘Wonder if anybody here’s got an e-reader of some sort.’
‘I think Katie has one.’ Her voice went stiff with disapproval, and Luke smiled. To Emily, a book was made of paper and cardboard – or preferably leather – not of bits and bytes. Half of him wanted to drag her into the twenty-first century, kicking and screaming if need be, but the other half loved her exactly the way she was, with her old-fashioned courtesy, kindness, and respect for other people to match her old-fashioned taste and style.
‘Perfect. I’ll ask her.’ He hesitated, knowing his next request would stretch her sensibilities to their limits and beyond. ‘Would you be willing to do some reading?’
She closed her eyes and took in a long breath. ‘I guess so. If …’
‘If …?’
‘If you’ll let me explain about last night. When you saw me with Oscar, it wasn’t what it looked like. He was really upset, and I was trying to comfort him. Like a friend. Or a mother, even. It wasn’t romantic at all, I promise you. I really and truly do not have that kind of feelings for him.’
He frowned at her. She seemed sincere, and Emily had never been the kind of woman to fudge the truth – except for that one time, but that was because Katie was involved. Katie brought out the mother tiger in Emily. Maybe it was true, she felt motherly toward Lansing too, despite the age difference being less than a full generation. He did seem like the kind of guy who badly needed a good mom.
‘All right. Apology accepted.’ She hadn’t actually apologized, but he’d ignore that if she would.
Her smile lit up the room. She stood and came up close to him. ‘Kiss and make up?’
He wasn’t quite ready to go that far. ‘Why, I’m surprised at you, ma’am. I’m an officer on duty.’ He said it jokingly, but she stepped back, crestfallen. Fine. Let her stay in the doghouse a little longer. Maybe it would make her see reason about marrying him.
She started to leave the room, then turned back. ‘Oh, I almost forgot. Oscar wanted me to ask you when he can have his phone and computer back. He can’t get any writing done without them.’
Yeah, right. You mean he can’t call Mommy and whine. ‘I’m done. I’ll take all the stuff back right now. It’s only Cruella’s I need to hang on to. Gotta send that one in to get hacked.’
‘Did you find out anything interesting from the others?’
‘Only confirming what I already knew. Oh, I did figure out how Cruella knew to come here. Dustin splashed it all over his Facebook page. Idiot. Trying to avoid a blackmailer and he puts his destination up for all the world to see.’
He saw the same realization he’d had dawn in Emily’s eyes. ‘Do you think he might have done that on purpose? To lure her here so he could kill her?’
‘It’s a possibility. One I need to check on very carefully.’
Luke went off to return the laptops and borrow Katie’s e-reader, leaving Emily in the library, cautiously optimistic. She hadn’t been fully restored to his good graces, but at least he’d accepted her explanation. And he wasn’t shutting her out of the investigation. They could be partners on that level as before. Perhaps the rest would follow.
She was debating whether or not to make another attempt at Dostoevsky when she heard Dustin stumble out of his room and into the bathroom. A few minutes later he appeared in the doorway. ‘Can’t a fellow get anything to eat around here?’ he grumbled. ‘And close those curtains, can’t you? That sun is blinding me.’
Emily glanced at the west-facing window, where the morning sun would not have been visible even without the solid gray cloud cover. ‘Why don’t you go in the dining room and I’ll see if Katie can find you some breakfast. Everyone else finished some time ago.’
He shuffled off, still grumbling, and Emily went to the kitchen. ‘Katie, can you find some breakfast for Dustin? Don’t cook anything special – it’s his own fault he missed out. I suspect he has the mother of all hangovers from the way he’s acting.’
Katie made a disgusted face. ‘I’ve got just the thing for hangovers. Plenty of practice with my dad.’ She reached into the refrigerator and brought out a handful of eggs and a can of tomato juice. ‘A Jeeves special, coming right up.’
‘That’s my girl.’ She turned to go, then remembered. ‘Did Luke ask you about borrowing your e-reader?’
She nodded. ‘I told him where to find it. He can use my WiFi to download the books.’
Of course, Katie had WiFi at her apartment. Emily was always forgetting about that. ‘Does your WiFi work here in the house?’
‘Kind of. It’s weak, but I can usually get a little signal in the rooms on this side of the house. Upstairs is better than down.’
Emily filed that information away for the future, in case a guest had a legitimate pressing need to get on the internet. She supposed such things did happen.
She waited a few minutes to allow the Jeeves special to be prepared, consumed, and take effect. Then she entered the dining room as quietly as she could manage.
‘Is everything to your satisfaction?’ s
he asked in her best Jeevesian voice.
‘Mmph. Not a bad pick-me-up that girl came up with. Feel better already.’
‘I’m so glad to hear it.’
Katie came in with a plateful of scrambled eggs and toast, which she set in front of Dustin. As he began to shovel them in, Emily said, ‘I understand from Lieutenant Richards we have you to thank for Cruella descending on us this weekend.’
Dustin spluttered out a mouthful of coffee. ‘What the hell do you mean by that? I’ve been trying to avoid that bitch for months. I sure as hell didn’t invite her here.’
‘No, but you did post about this retreat on your Facebook page – where she could easily have seen it.’
Dustin stared at her with what she could swear was pure astonishment. He picked up his jaw and mumbled, ‘Hell. Never thought about that.’
No, this man did not seem like a clever, foresighted murderer who would lure his victim to an out-of-the-way place in order to do her in. He was a plain, shortsighted, self-absorbed idiot.
Emily returned to the library, and shortly afterward, Luke came in with Katie’s e-reader. ‘Got the books on here,’ he said. ‘Lucky for you she’s a slow writer – only six of them. Given how long she’s been at it, I expected about twenty.’
‘Six is bad enough. You’ll have to show me how to work this thing. Do you need special glasses or something?’
He laughed. ‘Nothing like that.’ He gave her a crash course in the device controls and opened the first book, Quandary on Queer Street. ‘Go to town.’
She poised the reader between her fingertips as if it might zap her with intelligence-draining rays. ‘What am I looking for, exactly?’
‘Can’t tell you exactly. Anything that sounds like it might have anything to do with anybody who was here last night. You could start out by searching all the names, but chances are she’ll have changed them.’
She groaned. ‘Lord, give me strength.’ This job had better put her firmly back in Luke’s good graces, because it was going to be like picking through the cats’ litter box by hand looking for the juiciest bits. She felt polluted already.
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