“V.J.?” boomed a masculine voice.
“Tom!”
Bless him. He’d come back for her, lifting a lamp high. Light flooded around her, and the wax figures stood obediently still.
“Victoria, you’re not staying down here, are you?” Tom asked softly.
V.J. felt life and movement return. She flashed Tom a smile and hurried after the group with him. Susan was leading the way, striding ahead of them all. It was amazing to V.J. that a woman like her, who sometimes made an art out of the act of walking itself, could swing her shoulders and stride with the tough-guy gait of a trucker.
On the ground floor, candles gleamed all around them. The household staff had been at work.
And there, three of their number deserted the gang. As Susan started up the stairs to the second floor, barging along like the Wicked Witch of the West in search of Camy Clark, Thayer Newby followed her, but Tom Heart halted.
“You do your best with this one, Victoria. I’m not watching a lamb at her slaughter,” he announced, shaking his head.
V.J. bit her lower lip lightly, knowing how he hated Susan.
“I’ll be joining Reggie for a drink,” Anna Lee interjected, walking toward the library. Over her shoulder she added, “Maybe Thayer can keep Susan from extreme violence. The rest of us should just huddle around the fire like the true chickens we are.”
“I’m with Tom,” Joe Johnston agreed.
V.J. looked at them both. They stood side by side: Tom tall, handsome, so dignified with his beautiful crop of silver-white hair, and Joe, bearded, heavier, coarser and a bit gruff. One dressed Versace, one Salvation Army. One was a second Sean Connery, the other a Grizzly Adams. They seemed strangely united now.
“Susan’s going to do her best to humiliate young Camy,” Tom explained. “And Camy might not want an audience,” he added softly.
V.J. nodded, but stood her ground. “We don’t all need to barge in on her, but I’ll go and back up Thayer.”
“I’m with you,” Dianne said, her eyes curiously wide with excitement. They all looked at her. She tossed back her perfectly cut black hair. “Susan can be a real monster—we all know it. I’ll be there to back up V.J. as Susan tries to draw blood, so V.J. won’t have to take the heat alone.”
“Just remember, after this weekend we may all be paying for the fact that Susan’s a monster,” Joe said dourly.
Tom was watching V.J., his thoughts held in check. She turned away and hurried up the stairs, Dianne right behind her.
Susan had already burst in when they reached Camy’s room. As usual, Jon’s diminutive assistant was sitting at her desk. Evidently power failures didn’t daunt her. She was working by the light of a large battery-powered lamp.
“You stupid, miserable, little bitch, I will have you fired for this!” Susan raged at her.
Camy jumped up, shaking, staring at Susan. Her mouth worked, but no words came. Tears stung her eyes, and she looked helplessly past Susan to Thayer, V.J. and Dianne.
“I—I…” she began, stunned. She looked as vulnerable as a baby chick fallen out of its nest.
“Susan, do you at least want to tell her what you’re accusing her of doing?” V.J. snapped firmly.
Susan swung around to glare at her.
Well, even if her next book were the Bible, V.J. thought wearily, Susan was still going to trash it in the media.
Susan swung back to Camy, her face contorted in fury. “She knows what she did. She wrote me a note, sending me into the chamber of horrors, then she snuck down one of the secret staircases and did her best to scare me to death. She shouldn’t just be fired, she should be arrested, and I intend to see that it happens!”
“Susan,” Camy cried in self-defense, “I didn’t…I don’t know…I swear to you—”
“Lying little maggot!” Susan said through gritted teeth, starting forward.
“Now, wait a minute there,” Thayer interrupted angrily, taking a step to stop Susan.
“Oh, let her bitch,” Dianne said casually.
“Oh, Susan, why don’t you just quit being such a royal, self-righteous bitch!” V.J. blurted.
Oh, great. Mystery Week, and she’d turned suicidal. She was mincemeat in the press.
“I—I—I didn’t give you instructions to go to the chamber of horrors,” Camy said to Susan. “Everyone was ordered to the séance in the crypt. Joshua was supposed to make a tapping sound from behind the tombs, but he followed Jon in case there was any trouble—I mean—uh, in case someone was stranded or the snow got too bad.” She stuttered and paused, realizing she was admitting that her boss was in a high temper when he rode out after Brett McGraff and Sabrina Holloway. “He—he thought Jon might need help in the snow, and that you would all amuse yourselves just fine in the crypt.”
“Oh, yeah, nothing like an amusing morning among the dead,” Dianne said dryly.
Camy shot her a pathetic look. Dianne instantly looked contrite. “Well, it was definitely more important for Josh to make sure no one got lost in the snow,” she added quickly.
The truth hung in the air. Or to make sure Brett and Jon didn’t come to blows over Sabrina?
“Susan, I swear, if you had a note sending you somewhere else, I didn’t write it,” Camy said.
“Then just where did the note come from?” Susan demanded.
Camy was still shaking and in distress. “I don’t know, I don’t know. I don’t know where the other one came from either—”
She broke off, staring at them all, white as a sheet.
“Someone else got a note you didn’t write?” Thayer demanded.
“I—I—”
“God in heaven, quit stuttering like a complete ninny!” Susan cried.
“Who else got a misleading note?” V.J. asked quietly.
“Yes, please, who?” Dianne asked softly.
“I’m not at liberty to—” Camy began defensively.
“Jon! It was Jon Stuart!” Dianne guessed. She appeared strangely excited again.
Camy remained white. She looked like a little lost doe, standing there shaking.
“You know what I think?” Susan demanded. “I think this is all a pile of B.S. I think you’re a troublemaker. Who else could be giving people different notes and stealing the ones you had really written? You’re doing it all, Miss Clark. The only question is why.”
“No, oh, no, please, Ms. Sharp. I couldn’t. I wouldn’t. Honestly,” Camy said, desperately trying to state her innocence. “I’m so sorry you were frightened, but—”
V.J. felt as if she were watching a puppy being slaughtered. She had to risk stepping in again. “Oh, Susan, get off your high horse! None of us is in chains. We’re all free to sneak around the castle! It could be anybody playing tricks!” she said angrily.
Susan stared at her with pure venom in her eyes. “You weren’t locked in with some awful monster breathing down your neck. He could have killed me. I know he would have killed me if you all hadn’t gotten to me first!”
“He who? You’re accusing Camy of sending the notes,” Thayer said.
“He, she, little precious Camy here pretending to be Jack the Ripper—what difference does it make? Someone meant to kill me, and I’m certain it was this little bitch right here!” Susan accused.
“Oh, Susan, stop it. You really don’t know anything at all,” Dianne told her quietly.
The young woman seemed oddly disappointed, and V.J. belatedly wondered if Dianne had looked forward to this confrontation, hoping it would help her discover something that was eluding her. She was so young, V.J. mused again, watching her, and she suspected that life had given her a few hard kicks, not just early successes, along the way.
Susan looked from one of them to another. She remained furious, her face pinched and ugly. V.J. thought that, at that moment, any one of them would happily lock her away with Jack the Ripper.
“Well, fuck you all!” Susan said softly. And once again she looked around the room at them. “And trust me, you a
re fucked!”
She stomped out the door, slamming it behind her.
Once again, V.J. had an image of the Wicked Witch of the West.
Camy started to cry softly, Thayer looked grim, and V.J. realized that she was trembling herself from all the dramatic emotions swirling about.
“I think we all need a drink,” Dianne announced. “Come on, Camy, come on down and have a drink with us.”
“I—I—was working,” Camy said, a ragged sniff following her words as she tried to control her sobs.
“That’s all right, you can work later, dear,” V.J. said gently.
“But I’m not one of you. This is Mystery Week, and you’re supposed to be solving a whodunit.”
“Oh, we’ve enough mystery going on without having to work at it too much,” Dianne said. “Either that or we’re capable of making a mystery out of anything. Come on. Jon wouldn’t mind. He’d want you to take a breather after an encounter with old Medusa there.”
Camy nodded. “Jon would never mind,” she said softly. “I do know that.”
“Then come on,” V.J. said. “I need to sit down before I fall down, and right now, I want a martini when I sit.”
She started from the room, and the others followed.
And just as they did so, a high-pitched, bloodcurdling scream sounded from the first floor.
11
Never, in fact or fiction had Sabrina ever heard such a shriek. Following Jon into the house, she nearly jumped a mile at the sound.
It was Anna Lee, standing in the entry, her beautiful eyes huge as she stared at Brett, unconscious in Jon’s arms. Clearly she thought Brett was dead.
“He’s alive!” Jon announced quickly. “He’s alive.”
And at that, Brett stirred slightly. His eyes opened. He groaned. Then he looked up at Jon, the friend who was carrying him, and tried to smile. “Jon, we’ve got to stop meeting like this. Rumors will begin to fly.”
“I think he’s going to be all right,” Jon said dryly, striding toward the library.
By then Reggie, Tom and Joe had rushed into the foyer from the library, and V.J., Dianne, Thayer, Susan and Camy had made an appearance, running down the stairs. Sabrina felt Joshua crash into her from behind.
“What happened?” Camy demanded.
“A riding accident,” Sabrina explained quickly.
“Stupid horse threw me,” Brett said, grimacing. “Right onto a rock! I’m in pain, ladies. Be kind to me!”
Jon groaned wryly, seeing that his patient was coming to in good form. He called over his shoulder, “Someone get a cloth and cold water, please.”
Camy rushed to do his bidding. Brett was soon ensconced on a sofa in the library, and among them all they determined that his only injury was the blow to his head that had knocked him out. Brett was lording it over them all nicely, wincing, playing on their sympathies, insisting that Sabrina be the one to bathe his wound and press cold cloths to his head. Dianne Dorsey produced some painkillers to relieve the pain and swelling, and Brett gave a dramatic rendition of how his wild steed had suddenly reared, sending him flying into the snow. Listening to him, Sabrina found herself newly curious about what Joshua had been looking for out there, and she turned to glance at him. He stood in the shadows by the fire, alone and watching.
“Electricity is gone?” Jon asked, looking up at Thayer.
“We lost power awhile ago. Actually, while—”
“Right after I was viciously assaulted!” Susan declared.
Jon, accepting a drink from Anna Lee, arched a brow at Susan. “Assaulted?”
“I was sent to the chamber of horrors, while everyone else was involved in that silly séance in the crypt. I was locked in, and Jack the Ripper attacked me!” Susan cried.
Joshua made a strange, choking sound.
“Jack the Ripper came to life?” Brett said politely, laughter just behind the words.
“Susan wasn’t locked in,” Thayer said firmly.
“The door had jammed,” Joe explained.
“So they say,” Susan stormed. “But I think she did it!” Very dramatically, she pointed at Camy.
Brett let loose with a snort of derision. Camy softly started to cry. Joshua pushed away from the fireplace, as if to come to Camy’s defense.
“Camy?” Jon said very softly.
“I don’t know what she’s talking about, I swear to you!” Camy cried.
“Since it seems that no one really knows anything, I suggest we not point fingers at one another—unless it’s in the fun of the game,” Jon said firmly.
“Jon Stuart, you’re not going to ignore me!” Susan declared. “I’m not crazy, and I assure you that—”
“That what?” Jon demanded grimly.
“Your guests are a pack of liars with plenty of secrets to hide,” she said, staring at them, one by one. As she did so, she added furiously, “And I warn you all, I will not be ignored. Someone will pay.”
“Susan, if you know something—” Jon began.
“Oh, I know everything!” she snapped. “But I’m not out to tell tales about anyone—yet.”
“Susan, if you’re afraid you’re in danger,” Dianne said, twirling a strand of black hair, “maybe you should stop threatening people.”
“Yeah,” Thayer added.
Sabrina thought that they all sounded and were acting like a group of children, finally ganging up against the neighborhood bully.
“Maybe you all—every one of you—should take a look at your nice little lives and think about the pathetic, hypocritical lies you’re living!” Susan retorted.
Jon sighed deeply. “Susan, for the love of God, if you’d quit playing games—”
“Oh, but we came here to play a game, didn’t we?” she demanded.
Jon shook his head, clearly leashing his anger and aggravation. “If you’re really scared, then the stakes have gotten too high. Maybe we should call a halt to the whole blasted week.”
“Oh, no. The game is going to be played, all right—or we’re going to expose whoever it is who wants to play outside the rules,” she said. “And Jon, I expect you to—”
“I’ll take a look at the doors in the chamber of horrors, Susan,” Jon said. “But I imagine it is possible that you only thought you were locked in.”
“The mind can play very mysterious tricks,” Anna Lee said in a soft, sultry voice.
“My mind doesn’t play tricks,” Susan said flatly. “And again, I promise, someone will pay.”
“Susan, I’ll do my best to find out what happened,” Jon repeated. “But I’m afraid we’re in a rather sorry situation. I warned you that a storm was coming, and God knows how long we’ll be snowbound. Now we’ve lost the electricity as well, and though we’ve got generators and batteries, I’m afraid we can’t keep this place as well lit as I would like. There’s only so much we’re going to be able to see, and only so much we’re going to be able to do.”
“But we do have a nice buffet set up in the great hall,” Reggie said. “I think we should all get something to eat, and we’ll feel better, and we won’t be so prone to wild hysterics.”
“I wasn’t hysterical!” Susan snapped.
“Oh, Susan, you’re always hysterical,” Brett complained. “And you’re stealing my thunder here. I need all the attention I can get, people flocking around me with wonderful concern. So get a grip. I am supposed to be the patient here,” he reminded her petulantly.
“I hit my head falling, too,” Susan said.
“Yes, but rock against rock…” Dianne murmured.
“I heard that!” Susan snapped at her.
“So you did,” Dianne said smoothly, her eyes venomous as they met Susan’s.
“Susan, we’ve generators for hot water,” Jon said. “We need to use the water a little sparingly, but right now I think that a drink and a long hot bath might make you feel better.”
Susan looked mollified at Jon’s words. “Yes, a hot bath, a drink. A strong one. Make me something, darl
ing, will you? And will you stay with me while I bathe? Stand guard? I’m so very nervous now.”
“Susan, I’m going to take a look around below, search the chamber of horrors, the chapel, the crypt,” Jon said. “You’ll be all right. Someone else can—”
“I’ll stand guard at Susan’s door,” Thayer volunteered.
“No,” Jon told the ex-cop, “I’d like you to come downstairs with me.”
“I’ll watch over her,” Sabrina heard herself say.
“No!” Brett protested, capturing her hand where it lay on the cold towel pressed to his head. “You can’t desert me now. Please, Sabrina.” He winced as if in great pain. Looking down at him, she had to admit that he did have a nasty gash, and she was glad that he was alive.
“I’ll stand sentinel at Susan’s door,” Tom Heart offered.
Sabrina looked up and saw that Jon was staring at her. She felt as if his eyes were piercing through her. There she sat on the arm of the sofa, her hand on Brett’s head, his hand now upon hers, as well. It must make a cozy, intimate picture.
“Help me up to my room, sweetheart, will you?” Brett asked then. “Please, I don’t think I could manage alone. You could bring me a small lunch, make sure I don’t have convulsions or anything.”
By then, Jon had turned away. And, followed by Thayer, he was soon gone.
“Well, let’s eat. I’m famished,” Reggie said.
“Two people hurt, and you’re famished?” Susan protested.
“Two silly, careless people, and yes, I’m famished. Susan, you’re a mess. Go take your bath. Sabrina, go ahead and get that randy little rooster upstairs and come back and have some late lunch with us. It’s going to be a long day!”
It would be a long day. Sabrina knew that right after she helped Brett upstairs.
His clothing was soaked, and naturally, he insisted that she help him out of it, thanking her as she dispatched his boots, his jacket and his shirt. She drew the line at his pants, however.
“Oh, come on, Sabrina, it’s not as if it isn’t familiar territory,” he told her. He looked at her pathetically. “Sabrina, I swear, I haven’t an ounce of strength. Help me.”
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