The Midnight Club

by Love, Michelle

  She told Lisander over dinner. “I will really miss Gerry and everyone.”

  Lisander took her hand. “Don’t think I don’t appreciate the sacrifice you’re making. One day, I promise, the roles will be reversed.”

  She smiled. “As long as I’m with you, I don’t care.”

  They chatted casually about the logistics of moving her life down to Argentina then went to bed and made love. Afterward, Kate snuggled into his arms. “Did you speak to Alex?”

  Lisander sighed. “He’s a mess. Netta told me he’s seeking help, but it’ll be a long road. Whether or not we’ll ever find who tried to kill Ori, I don’t know.”

  Kate propped herself up on her elbow. “Did you check the website today?”

  Lisander shook his head. “It’s gone,” Kate told him, and watched his eyes widen.

  “Gone?”

  “The police called me today. I’d put in a query about tracing it, but they told me they were unable to help because it’s gone. Wiped from the net, every trace. Funny that should happen just as Alex seeks help, don’t you think?”

  Lisander was silent, but met her gaze. Kate could see the pain in his eyes, and she stroked his face.

  “I’m sorry, my love. I know you didn’t want to think of him like that.”

  Lisander closed his eyes and pulled her closer, and they held each other for the rest of the night.

  Netta finished work and left her studio just after five. She had rented the small room in the local town, a few minutes from Alex’s place in Vermont so she could stay with him and keep him steady.

  The night was dark and cold, and she was glad when she arrived home. No lights were on, which she found strange.

  Pushing open the front door, she called out for Alex and got no reply. She walked through the dark house calling for him, but found no answer. She could see the light on in the drawing room at the end of the corridor and walked towards it, but as she pushed the door open and saw what was inside, she gasped in horror— just as a hand with a cloth soaked in chemicals was clamped over her nose and mouth.

  Just before she passed out, she finally realized the truth about Alex …

  Shiloh had returned to Africa and to her work, but she knew her heart lay in Paris with Benoit. Regretfully, she gave notice and headed back to France, eager to start their life together. Benoit was overjoyed. Their daughter was growing and healthy, and he found himself preoccupied with his new life. He began to make changes at work, inspired by Shiloh’s passion for environmentalism, and although his colleagues chafed a little, they soon discovered that their work and social responsibility could work to their advantage.

  Everything was working out great. There was just one loose end as far as Benoit was concerned. Marcella.

  Since everything had happened, he could not stop thinking about that night when Shiloh had left and he had turned to Marcella. The guilt he felt over how he had treated both women was eating him alive—and there was the fear that Marcella, out of jealousy, could still tell Shiloh what had happened.

  He called Marcella, and she invited him to coffee at her place. Benoit wondered at the sense of going to her place but accepted anyway.

  Marcella opened the door to him, and to his relief, her smile was friendly but not malicious. “It’s good to see you, Benoit.”

  “You look stunning, Marcella.” She was wearing a dark red dress, her brown hair gathered in an elegant chignon. She inclined her head.

  “As do you. Please, come in.”

  She made them both coffee, a rich, dark blend, and they chatted idly before Marcella met his gaze. “And how is your lovely Shiloh?”

  “She is very well, thanks.”

  “And the baby?”

  Benoit nodded warily. “Good, um, as far as the scan says, anyway.”

  “Do you have it with you?”

  He hesitated, his eyes wary. “Really? You want to see it?”

  She nodded encouragingly, and he shyly brought his wallet out. He passed the scan to her, watching her face as she took it. She swallowed, then gave a little laugh.

  “Okay, well, you’re going to have to show me what end is what.”

  He laughed too then and pointed out the fetus, an amorphous thing at the corner of the scan.

  Marcella saw his expression change, a sort of awe in his voice. The realization at once made her sad for herself and happy for him.

  “It’s a she,” Benoit said, and she saw the love in his eyes.

  “You want this child, don’t you?” she asked softly. He nodded, smiling sheepishly.

  “I do … I didn’t at first, but then, God, seeing this. That’s my little girl in there.” Bewildered joy. She felt tears pricking her eyes, and he frowned. “I’m sorry.”

  She shook her head. “No, don’t be, these are happy tears. I’m honestly happy for you, Benoit.” She looked at the photo again, traced the outline of the fetus. “You’ll be a great father, the very best. I can’t say I’m not a little surprised by the turn of events, but I really do congratulate you. You found her. You found the one.”

  “Like you told me to,” he said gently, and she nodded.

  “I did. And I’m sorry about before, Benoit. I admit I was jealous. Very jealous.” She laughed softly. “I had thought our arrangement would carry on forever. But it was not to be. I really do wish you and Shiloh a very happy life. And don’t worry—our little … meeting … will never be mentioned by me again.”

  Benoit walked back to his office slowly. Despite his gratitude at Marcella’s words, he still felt uneasy. He tried to pin down why; Shiloh was back in Paris and healthy; they were happy and living together was working out; the baby was good … so why did he feel like something bad was about to happen?

  Shiloh noticed his strange mood when he came home from work and at first he avoided her questions, but then asked her to sit with him. Marcella’s promise to keep their assignation a secret was good—but he could not start his new life with Shiloh with a lie.

  Haltingly, he told her about the night she had left for Africa, how he had gone to Marcella just to talk but had, in fact, slept with her. Shiloh listened, her face pale. After he finished, he studied her reaction.

  “Shiloh? You know I would never cheat on you. Never. That night … I don’t know what happened. I was mixed up, stupid. I wanted you to know because I want to be totally honest with you and that’s new to me. I don’t usually let myself become open to anyone.”

  Shiloh nodded slowly. “Thank you for telling me. I just need some time to process it.”

  “Of course.”

  They lay side by side in bed that night, both of them awake until Shiloh suddenly turned to him and rested her head on his chest. Benoit felt a sudden rush of relief, and he wrapped his arms around her, thinking that everything was good and he could relax.

  He had no idea that he would soon receive some of the worst news of his life.

  Netta was tied to the chair, shivering and terrified, but determined not to show him how scared she was. He’d stripped her down to her underwear now, and his hands roamed freely over her skin.

  “So soft,” he cooed in a sing-song voice, almost tender. She could almost believe him to be that caring—if it wasn’t for the crossbow in his other hand. He saw her looking at him and grinned. He brought it up and leveled it at her. Point blank.

  “Tell me you love me,” he said tenderly, and she looked him straight in the eye.

  “No.” Her voice was strong and defiant.

  He smiled. “What a waste of such beauty,” he said, and fired the bolt deep into her body.

  The pain was unimaginable. Netta screamed as the bolt sank deep into her flesh, her blood beginning to flow.

  “Tell me you love me …”

  Panting for air, she looked up at him, her hatred radiating from her. “No. You are not worthy of anyone’s love. Not Viola’s. Not Ori’s. Not mine.”

  He smiled. “Viola’s dead. Ori will be dead soon. You will be dead even sooner.”
>
  Netta, despite her fear, smirked. “Poor little lonely boy. You’re pathetic.”

  That got him. He ripped the bolt from her and used it as a knife, driving it again and again into her soft flesh. Netta felt her life slipping away from her as the blackness loomed.

  He pushed the chair she was strapped to onto the floor, and Netta struggled to take one, two, three more breaths, and then there was just emptiness.

  Kate and Lisander were woken by a terrific banging on Kate’s apartment door. Lisander opened it to see Seth, his usual tall frame bent over with grief, his eyes haunted.

  “Seth … brother, what is it?”

  Kate watched as Lisander pulled Seth into the apartment and walked him to the couch. Seth almost fell down on it. Kate and Lisander shared a look of concern.

  “Seth … what’s happened?”

  Seth looked sick. “Netta’s dead. Alex killed her and then hanged himself. Jesus, Jesus.” Lisander and Kate looked appalled as Seth began to sob.

  * * *

  Seth hugged Ori and Maceo as they arrived at the funeral home. Both of them were startled by Seth’s gray face, and Ori felt tears pricking her eyes. So much loss.

  Netta’s funeral. The medical examiner had finally released her body to be buried; Alex was still being examined. “He stabbed her to death and then hanged himself,” Seth kept saying in an almost disbelieving tone. “Why didn’t he just kill himself? Why take her with him?”

  Ori leaned against him. “I’m so sorry, Seth.”

  He put his arm around her. “Thank you for coming, Ori. I know you must be exhausted.”

  “I’m fine, Seth, really. I’m worried about you.”

  Seth looked at Maceo. “Well, at least we can say it’s over now.”

  Maceo nodded. “But what a price.”

  “What a price.”

  Ori and Maceo held hands throughout the funeral service. Despite his rage at Alex and his certainty that he was behind Ori’s attack and Viola’s death, Ori knew Maceo was suffering. Alex had been his brother for so many years. What the hell had set him off? She knew Maceo blamed himself; if he hadn’t slept with Viola, maybe none of this would have happened.

  They stayed with Seth at the home he had rented in New York, out of the city. “I think I feel closer to Netta here,” he, said as if in explanation. “And Kate and Lisander are here for a couple more weeks.”

  Maceo told him they would stay in New York too for as long as he needed and Seth had grinned ruefully. “I’m surprised your business is still up and running, but I’m grateful.”

  It was in the second week that Maceo got the call from the police in Vermont. They had some questions and wanted to ask someone close to Alex Milland; could he come up? Maceo said he could, wondering why they hadn’t asked Seth. The police office had hesitated and asked Maceo to keep his visit a secret.

  He told Ori that he needed to go see a client and she nodded. “I’ll go see Seth and keep him company.”

  “Good idea.”

  He drove Ori to Seth’s house and kissed her goodbye. “I’ll be back this evening, I love you.”

  He took his private jet up to Vermont and talked to the policeman in charge of the investigation.

  “We’ve found a witness who spotted someone at the Milland house carrying a crossbow. Not this time, but when Viola Redman was murdered. Well-dressed, tall, dark. The witness also claims he saw the same man in the local town the day Alex Milland allegedly killed his sister. We want you to talk to him.”

  Maceo nodded. He realized they wanted him to be seen by the witness; he didn’t care, he knew he hadn’t been anywhere near the house when Alex and Netta died or when Viola was murdered. “No problem.”

  The police officers exchanged a look. “Let’s do it.”

  The witness was an old Chinese man who shook Maceo’s hand somberly. “I don’t know what else to tell you; I haven’t seen the man much.”

  “Alex Milland?”

  “No, so I don’t know if he is the same man.”

  Maceo nodded. “Do you mind if I talk to you for a while?” He turned to the detectives. “Could you find me something? I have an idea.”

  Seth had taken her out to lunch, but Ori was uneasy. All morning he had been in a strange mood, almost hyperactive, his eyes darting everywhere. Ori wondered, with a shock, if he was on something. Netta’s death had obviously hit him for six.

  “Seth, why don’t we go back home and maybe you can rest a while?”

  “No, I’m fine. How’s your crab salad?”

  She looked down at her plate; she’d barely touched it. “I guess I’m not hungry.”

  Seth reached over to take her hand but Ori, not thinking, jerked it away.

  “Are you okay, Princess?”

  Princess? Okay, this was getting weirder. Ori tried to smile. “Yes, fine.”

  He searched her face. “You don’t seem fine. You seem … afraid.”

  With a shock, Ori realized that was just how she felt, and she couldn’t explain it. It was a gnawing feeling in the pit of her stomach. “No, of course not.” Even to her own ears, she sounded fake.

  Seth laughed, but it was without humor. He glanced at her, his eyes searching her face. “You can’t possibly consider that I would harm you in any way?”

  Ori couldn’t help the thought that slammed into her mind. Yes. She drew in a sharp breath, and as his eyes narrowed, she struggled to keep her face blank.

  Her hesitation was a beat too long. “No, I …”

  He let her hand go and sat back, hurt flashing across his face. “You do. My God.”

  Guilt flooded through her. “No, of course not. I’m sorry.”

  “You think I’m capable of doing those horrific things?” Incredulity, his voice rising.

  She shook her head, trying to meet his eyes. A couple on another table was looking at them curiously, and she felt her face burn. “Seth … I, please, let’s talk about something else.”

  “But we’re not talking. You’ve barely said a word all morning.” He leaned in, lowered his voice. “Are you worried I’m going to stab you to death, Ori?” It was a growl, his face, contorted. “Are you scared I might eviscerate you? Cut you open like Alex did?”

  Icy drops of terror went down her spine. She couldn’t look away from his gaze. The other couple was staring at them, and Seth turned his head and glared at them.

  “Something interesting?” His fierce eyes bored into them, unblinking, the pupils so constricted they had almost disappeared.

  The couple looked away quickly, clearly disturbed. Seth continued to stare at them until they got up and left, the woman casting anxious glances at Ori.

  Ori was mortified. She got up and strode out of the restaurant, away from him, away from the violence of that moment. She walked blindly, automatically, toward the parking lot. She had to get away from him. Her breaths came in short, sharp gasps, fear and embarrassment a churning mass inside her. Seth caught up to her. She wrenched her arm from his grasp, but he stopped her.

  “I’m sorry, please, Ori. I’m sorry.” He was breathing hard, his face red. “I’m so sorry. I’m just so … I can’t believe you’d even consider that of me. I’m just … hurt.” He stepped closer to her but didn’t touch her. “I’m hurt because you mean more to me that anyone ever has. I mean it. You are my family. I can’t imagine what it would be like to lose you. Please don’t push me away. Please. Look, let’s go home and talk.”

  Without waiting for her answer, he took her arm and led her back to his car.

  The detective came in and handed Maceo the photo. Maceo glanced at it. All five of them Every member of the Midnight Club. He felt sadness as he looked at them. Before all of this. Happy. Laughing. Brotherhood. He swallowed the lump in his throat.

  “Mr. Wu, when you say you saw a man with a crossbow, is he in this photograph?”

  He handed the man the photo and waited. With a sinking heart, he watched the man nod.

  “Yes, yes. I do.” He waved a shaki
ng finger towards the photo.

  Maceo closed his eyes briefly, then said to the detective. “There you have it. Proof that Alex was the killer. Good riddance to the son of a bitch.”

  The detective focused on Mr. Wu. “Mr. Wu, do you mean this man?”

  He indicated Alex, standing in the center of the group, flanked by Maceo and Benoit.

  “No, no. ” The man pulled on Maceo’s shirt as he turned to him. “Not this man … this man.”

  Maceo’s blood turned to ice as he saw who the man was identifying. Everything he knew was wrong. His heart banged against his chest, and he felt lightheaded. Oh god, no …

  Because the man Wu identified was the one person he could have sworn would never have done this. The one person who they all relied on. The person that at this very moment was with the love of Maceo’s life. The man who had already tried to kill her.

  Seth.

  Panting for air, Netta looked up at him, her hatred radiating from her. “No. You are not worthy of anyone’s love. Not Viola’s. Not Ori’s. Not mine.”

  Seth smiled. “Viola’s dead. Ori will be dead soon. You will be dead even sooner.”

  Netta, despite her fear, smirked. “Poor little lonely boy. You’re pathetic.”

  That got him. Seth ripped the bolt from her and used it as a knife, driving it again and again into her. He could hear her moans growing weaker, her life slipping away from her. Collateral damage, he thought. As he pushed the chair over and let her bleed out on the floor, he looked at her coldly. She’d been a good fuck, a beautiful distraction from the nearly overwhelming urge to kill Ori. Nothing could compare to that night in the car, Ori’s gasp of shock as he plunged his knife into her soft belly. He relived it every moment.

  Seth coolly watched Netta die, then settled into the armchair to await Alex.

  Poor, misunderstood Alex. How he played right into Seth’s hands.

  A half hour later, he heard Alex’s car on the driveway and got up. Less than two minutes later, Alex’s howl of grief when he found his sister dead … then as Seth, coming at him from behind, looped the rope around his neck, finally the understanding in his eyes.