by Mollie Hunt
“Yeah. Thanks. So what do you think will happen now?”
“What do you mean? With your mom?”
“No, I don’t want to talk about that anymore. What will happen with you?”
“Oh, I really do believe they’ll figure out I didn’t kill Crystal, but in the meantime...” I sunk into myself with a shiver. “It’s hard to wait.”
“I can stay with you, if you like.”
“I’d like that very much, Nathan. I’ll owe you one. For life.”
We both fell silent, then Nathan took a deep breath and asked, “You want to rest? I’ll make sure no one bothers you.”
“Not much chance of that. But I already slept. Now I’m way too anxious. I wish I knew what was going on. Have you heard if they’ve found anything new? Are they still blaming me for Crystal’s death?”
Nathan didn’t answer.
I turned to the young man. His eyes were stony in the lamplight. “Come on, Nathan, you were out there with them. I need to know what I’m up against.”
“No one’s talking that much about you. More about Crystal. What she might have done to get herself killed like that. But no, the students don’t for a minute think you did it, and it seems like the others are coming around. Realizing they acted rashly.”
“What about Simon?”
“Don’t know about that one. No one’s seen him since he announced the decision to put you here. I thought he was your friend, Lynley.”
“So did I, Nathan. So did I.”
“Well, don’t friends stand up for each other?”
“Friends don’t lock friends in the basement, you mean?” I chuckled.
He stared at me. “I don’t know how you’ve managed to keep your sense of humor. If it was me, I’d be mad as heck.”
“I would be if it weren’t for you. Having someone to talk to and a cat in my lap makes me feel like everything’s going to turn out okay. You knew just what I needed.” I found myself putting a hand on his. We both looked a little surprised.
I pulled back, but not before he gave it a little squeeze. “That’s okay, Lynley. I’m sure someone else would have come if it hadn’t been me. The others are all very concerned.”
“So talk to me, tell me what’s happening with them. How’s the Fox... I mean, Mrs. Fox? Crystal was her friend.”
“She’s alright. She’s in the hall with the rest of them. She was really hyper at first, crying and yelling, then she quieted down. Last I saw she was slumped in a chair by herself eating a big bowl of melting ice cream.”
“The cure for all ills,” I said. “And Nancy? She seems so sensitive. How is she taking it?”
“Oh, she’s flipped out I think. Very young to be faced with such violence. But Jane Knott has taken her under her wing. The two of them were doing some remembrance drawings, a therapeutic suggestion that Simon made.
“Sympathy and Trace have coupled up too,” Nathan added. “They were off in a corner practicing some sort of semi-erotic yoga.”
I laughed. “I saw that one coming. They make a cute pair, all healthy and fit. What about George Harrison, the loner?”
“I don’t think he came up to the hall at all. It wasn’t mandatory, of course. He probably preferred to stay in his cabin by himself, even without the lights.”
“Can’t say as I blame him. Once you’re asleep, what does it matter if the electricity is out?”
“I think Simon was working on the premise that no one would want to be alone, what with...” He faltered.
“What with a killer on the loose?” I finished for him.
“Well, yeah. Which sort of in a roundabout way proves he doesn’t think you’re the one, since you’re safe in here.”
“I suppose it does,” I said flatly and without consolation.
“Marissa’s missing too.” Nathan snickered. “Suppose she and George hooked up?”
I had to smile at the thought of the dour older man and the nondescript young woman together. Stranger things have happened!
Suddenly I froze. I didn’t take seriously the idea that Marissa and George had got together, yet in a situation like this one, Marissa didn’t strike me as the sort of person to go it alone.
“Oh no!” I exclaimed, springing from the couch and displacing Emilio.
Nathan watched in astonishment as I grabbed the cat and motivated him back into his carrier. Emilio and I were half-way up the stairs before he could respond.
“Lynley, wait! Where are you going?” he called as he bounded after me.
I couldn’t stop to explain; there wasn’t time. The best I could do was to yell back at him, “I think there’s been another murder.”
Chapter 16
In 2012, a 94-year-old Italian heiress left her entire 13-million dollar fortune to her cat, Tommaso, a stray she had taken in from the streets of Rome.
I stumbled through the unlocked door and out into a long hallway where I stopped short, realizing I didn’t have a clue where I was. The trip down, escorted by Officer Jami, was hazy at best and seemed like on aeon ago. Toward the far end of the hall crouched a lantern, turning the many doorways into long, flickering shadows. Jami slumped on a small love seat about halfway, sleeping guard, just as Nathan had described. I ran to her; she wasn’t moving. For a moment, I feared the worst, but then she came to, gun in hand and aimed at my heart. Instantly, she was on her feet and all business.
I raised my free hand, the other still clasping the handle of Emilio’s carrier. “Jami, it’s me, Lynley.”
“I know who it is. Get those hands up where I can see them,” she commanded.
I set the carrier on the floor and did as she bid.
She peered at me sideways, checking the room with her peripheral vision. “How did you get out?” When Nathan materialized at my side, she groaned. “Oh, it’s you. You better get ‘em up too, cowboy,” she said to the young man. “while I figure out what to do with the both of you.”
“Listen to me, Jami,” I began. “I’m not trying to run away. In fact I was coming to find you. I think something’s wrong.”
“Hush up,” she ordered. “Just wait a minute. I’ve got to think. Follow protocol.”
“Look,” I sighed in exasperation. “I’ve been in on a few police actions before, and as far as I can see, no one’s followed protocol from the very beginning of this fiasco. I realize everybody’s scared and wants a quick answer—that’s why I let you put me in the basement—but now we have a bigger problem. Will you at least hear me out?”
I guess I’d gotten a little loud because people were beginning to gather. When I saw Simon come out of his office, I immediately addressed him. Hands still in the air, I confronted the man. Enough was more than enough!
“Simon!” I said in my most authoritative voice. “Tell our nice Officer Jami she can trust I won’t hurt anyone if I put my hands down.”
After only the briefest hesitation, he nodded. “Sure, Lynley.” Gratefully my arms fell to my sides. Simon glanced at the security guard. “Put your gun away, Jami. She’s not going to pull anything.”
Jami wavered. “Are you sure, sir?”
“I’m sure.”
She still vacillated, then reluctantly slipped the gun back into its black leather holster.
Simon returned his attention to me. “But I thought you were...”
“Locked in the basement? Never mind about that now. Has anyone seen Marissa Peabody-Jones?”
“Marissa?” He glanced at Jami who shook her head.
“I’ve been here most of the time, sir. But I did take a run around Wolf about an hour ago. Peabody-Jones—she’s about five-three, dark eyes and short brown hair, mid to late twenties?”
“That’s correct. One of the art retreat students.”
“I don’t remember seeing her.”
“What’s this all about, Lynley?”
I slumped. “I’m not sure, but when Nathan told me Marissa hadn’t come up to the hall with the rest of the group, I had a bad feeling.”
I faltered; the overwhelming portent of doom was receding now, and I wondered why I had been so fearful for the missing girl. In fact, I had no assurance she was missing at all. Most likely she was just somewhere else. But I had been so sure.
“Several people didn’t bother to come to Wolf Hall,” said Jami. “It was just an offer, for those who wanted company and light. If they preferred to catch some sleep and didn’t mind about the blackout, that was their choice.”
“I know,” I said, “but Marissa isn’t like that. She told us she doesn’t like to be by herself. Not at the best of times and certainly not in the middle of a thunderstorm with the lights out and a murderer running around. She almost had a fit when we did the solitary drawing study, worried what could happen to a woman alone. Oh, please. Just call it intuition, but couldn’t you at least look?”
Jami thought for a moment. “What do you think, sir?”
I turned to my old friend, but Simon had gone pale. He stood stock still, then drew a darkish piece of paper from his pants pocket. He didn’t bother to look at it before he shoved it back.
“Your intuition has always been spot-on, Lynley,” he said, the color flushing back into his face. “Okay, we’ll check it out. But you have to promise to stay here. For your own safety if nothing else. There are still people who think you’re guilty of murder.”
“Not back in the basement,” I groaned.
“No, you can wait in my office.”
“Can Emilio come?”
Simon’s face softened. “Of course. I should have known you’d have a cat up your sleeve somewhere.”
Simon’s strange flash-mood had passed and his facade of somber authority was beginning melt into his old self again, which I took as a hopeful sign. He stepped aside and gestured me in to the dimly lit room. “I’ll be with you in a minute. You can let the cat out; I’ll be careful.”
I traipsed past him, meek as a lamb. If my instincts were as spot-on as Simon thought, the man was going to have enough to worry about without any added contrariness from me.
Nathan had stood by me throughout the conversation, but now that he saw I was in good, or at least friendly, hands, he gave a little wave. “I’m going to get some rest, Lynley. Unless you think of anything you might need,” he added.
“No, I’m good,” I told him with a smile. “Thanks for everything, more than I can say. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“See you tomorrow. Make sure you let me know what happens.” He stepped close and whispered, “Don’t let them get away with anything. Just send word and I’ll be there.”
“Thanks, I will.”
He turned to go. I noticed he was shuffling like a man far beyond his years and realized he must have been up all night.
“Be careful out there,” I called after him.
He smiled back, but I had been serious. There was still a killer at large, and until they were caught, no one was truly safe.
* * *
Emilio and I hung out in Simon’s office while he gave orders for Officer Jami to check Wolf Hall and Marissa’s cabin. Afterward Simon joined me to await the results of the search. I hoped Jami would return saying the girl was here or there or really anywhere, but suspicion told me otherwise.
Something else was nagging at me and it seemed as good a time as any to get it out.
“Simon?” I began, unsure of how to start.
“Mmmm?” He was standing by his desk, deep in thought, or maybe just drifting. When I didn’t respond, he snapped to and looked at me. “What is it, Lynley? Do you have something to confess?”
“Confess?” I faltered. “No, I do not have something to confess,” I prickled, then paused again. This wasn’t going to be easy. “It’s Crystal. Right before she died, she told me some things.”
Simon went rigid, then his shoulders slumped and his head dropped to his chest. He turned away, staring out into the blank, black night. “Go on.”
“I’m sorry. This is really hard for me, too. But I have to know if she was telling the truth. Why didn’t you tell me you were married?”
He sighed. “You didn’t ask?” he joked lamely.
“Simon! I’m serious. Why couldn’t you have just said, ‘Oh, by the way, I got married since I saw you last.’ ”
“I got divorced.”
“Okay. I get that it was in the past, and I get that it’s your business, but that’s not the problem.”
Simon drew himself in like a man about to be executed. “Yes, Lynley?”
Okay, time to spit it out. “Crystal said you were abusive, that you physically abused her when you were married. Oh gosh, Simon! I can’t imagine you doing any of the things she described,” I rushed on. “Please tell me it isn’t true.”
He walked to the window, so close it was as if he would step right through. “It’s complicated, Lynley.” He paused, then turned to me. His face was wet with tears. “But it’s true. I’m ashamed to admit I was an abusive husband.”
Emilio chose that moment to jump on my lap and settle in as if he had always been there. I buried my hands in his long black fur, taking what comfort I could in the vibration of his purr. Abuse, especially between husband and wife, was something I had come to believe was inexcusable, and here was my friend telling me he was guilty.
As if he read my mind, he blurted, “I have no excuse for my actions and I’ve regretted it to this day. It’s the only time in my life I’ve hit a woman—hit anyone for that matter. I...” He bowed his head. “I lost control.”
“What happened?”
He looked at me. “Do you really want to know?”
I gave a shaky nod.
“Alright. I’ve never told anyone this story, but I will tell you. You may be the only person I know who might begin to understand.”
Simon came and sat next to me on the couch. He ran a hand lovingly across Emilio’s back. “It all comes down to cats,” he said with a sigh. “Cats. A cat. A dead cat. And a dead drunk,” he added angrily.
“I guess you’ve realized by now that Crystal is—was—an alcoholic. That was no secret. She’s been in and out of treatment several times. It never took. That was why I married her in the first place, to help her through a bad time. She’s not really my type, you know.” He managed a wan smile. “It didn’t take long for both of us to realize we’d made a huge mistake, that you can’t help an alcoholic by enabling her. But that’s another story.
“One day, I got a call at work. It was Crystal, drunk and gibbering about finding a dead cat in our yard. She was convinced someone had killed him and put him there to frighten her. I tried to calm her down. I told her I’d bury the cat when I got home.
“Well, by the time I got there several hours later, she had gone ahead and buried the cat herself—if there even was a dead cat, which I have no way of knowing for sure. Crystal was in terrible shape at that point. Between her lies and her hallucinations, I never could tell what was real.
“Anyway, she got on this rant about what a bad day she’d had. At first I tried to console her, to sympathize with her, which I did—she didn’t love animals the way you and I do, but it would have been hard finding a dead one on the lawn. But she wouldn’t stop. In fact, it just got worse. Then she started in about how someone was out to get her, how they’d left the cat as a warning, and how they were going to kill her next. I asked why she thought that, if someone had sent her a note or done something that would lead her to believe she was in danger. She got angry, over the top angry, the way people do when they’re intoxicated. She began accusing me of not believing her. She threatened to go out in the back yard and dig up the cat to prove me wrong.”
“Oh, no! That’s horrible.”
“I gave up at that point. I tried to walk away, but she kept at me. She ran to the back door and snatched up the shovel. That’s when I snapped. I grabbed her and slapped her across the face.”
He was silent. The only sound in the room was the groaning of the storm and the purring of the cat. I didn’t know wha
t to say, so I said nothing. When Jami burst in I think we were both a bit relieved.
The news was not good. Marissa Peabody-Jones hadn’t been seen since dinner. Jami had made a headcount at the hall and passed around a checklist to find out exactly who was where. Most people were accounted for; a few were off the grid but understandably so—employees attending to the animals or known to do their own thing. Only Marissa was missing.
“Organize a search party,” said Simon, jumping to his feet. He checked his cell phone connection for the umpteenth time and shook his head in frustration. The battery-run clock on the wall showed four-ten a.m.
“Will this night never end?” he muttered. To me he said, “Lynley, listen. I hope you’re wrong about Marissa, but I need to go out and hunt for her with the others. There are some dangerous places here. She might have slipped and fallen—well, you know how easy that is to do.”
“Yeah,” I muttered. “Especially when someone helps you along.”
Simon leaned close to me, his hand on the arm of sofa. “This isn’t a joke, Lynley. Please, please can I trust you to stay here and wait for me?”
“Okay,” I capitulated. “But if you don’t come back and tell me what happened, I’ll come find you. You know I will!”
“I’ll count on it.” He grabbed a set of rain gear out of a closet. As he left, he said only one more word: “Pray.”
* * *
When I heard the screams and shouts some time later, I knew my prayers had been in vain. I grasped Emilio, who had been resting on my chest as I reclined on the office couch, and ran to the door just in time to see a parade of sodden searchers pile into the foyer.
“Stay here, boy,” I told the cat as I slipped out the door to join the group.
From the shadows, I picked out Simon, made straight for him, and caught him by the shoulder of his dripping slicker. He turned to face me. I didn’t have to ask what they had found; the story was in his eyes, sad and desperate and wondering what had happened to his safe sanctuary life.
“Marissa?” I choked.
He shook his head no.
“But you did find her, didn’t you?”