“Did she say what she plans to include in her report?”
“She didn’t. I believe she’ll help Milton if she can.”
Marjorie made a face like she found the idea of Lia’s assistance hard to believe. “Why would she stick her neck out for him, a man she doesn’t even know?”
“I don’t believe she is doing it for him,” Addison said. “I think she’s doing it for me.”
CHAPTER 38
Rick Snider reclined back on his patio chair, thumbed the cap off his third bottle of beer, and took a long, heavy swig. Over the past year, his belly had become so round he could rest a beer can on top of it like it was a miniature table for one. The light beer he was currently chugging had been his wife’s idea, her polite way of saying he was becoming a fat lard without actually coming right out and saying it. Secretly, he despised her for it, seeing her coercion as female manipulation at its finest. Watching him drink the lower-calorie beer put a smile on her face. Put a smile on his too, because he understood something her dumb ass didn’t. Her efforts to trim the fat hadn’t done squat. If anything, they validated his indulgence in a few more beers per day than usual. After all, low calorie was less filling, right?
Rick kicked his feet up, resting them atop the plastic cooler in front of him. A pickup truck passed by. He watched it do a U-turn and roll to a stop at the edge of his driveway. A man and woman exited the vehicle. They were young, upper twenties maybe, or lower thirties. Too old to still be in college, he guessed. They didn’t look familiar. So what were they doing walking across his front lawn?
Rick smacked a hand against his chest a few times to release the belches he’d sequestered and said, “You here about the puppies?”
“The puppies?” the woman asked.
She was smiling, flashing him a set of perfectly straight teeth, so straight he wondered if they might be veneers. Her shiny hair smelled like roses dipped in honey. He leaned forward, taking a nice, long whiff. “We only have the one boy left. All the girls sold yesterday.”
“We’re not here about the puppies.”
“What are you here for then?”
“Are you Rick Snider?”
He nodded. “I’m Rick. Who are you?”
“My name’s Addison, and this is Luke.”
Luke tipped his head forward, said nothing, which Rick found disturbing. Why let the woman do all the talking?
“We’d like to talk to you about Vivian and Grace Clark,” Addison said.
“Who?”
“The Clark girls, Rose and Clifford’s kids. I know it’s been awhile, but you were at the Easter party the night they fell from the window, weren’t you?”
Meddlers. If he had known what they were after, he would have gone inside the house when they drove up, shut the door, locked it. Too late now. He set the beer down next to him and crossed his arms on top of his belly. It had been such a long time, he hardly remembered what the twins’ names were anymore.
“I was there,” he grunted. “So were a lot of other people.”
He thought about asking them who they were, why they wanted to know. He decided against it, hoping the less he said, the faster they’d leave.
“Were you ever with the girls that night?”
“What do you mean with them? We weren’t the same age. I wasn’t friends with them. I was friends with their brother.”
“So you didn’t play hide-and-seek?”
“Hide-and-seek?”
“In the attic?”
Rick sat straight up. “Who are you?”
“A friend of Rose Clark.”
He found this disturbing too. Why send kids to do her bidding? Wasn’t like Rose. Not the Rose he remembered. “Why is Rose dragging all of this up again?”
“She has her reasons.”
“Which are?”
“You never answered my question.”
“Which question?” Rick asked.
“The one about you playing with the girls.”
“No, I wasn’t playing hide-and-seek. No, I wasn’t with either one of the Clark girls. This subject was buried long ago. Best to leave it where it is.”
“Best for whom?”
“I don’t follow.”
“What if I told you the Clark girls’ deaths weren’t an accident?”
Rick stood and turned, his arms flailing to the side to keep from losing his balance. Perhaps he’d had enough light beer for today. “I’d tell you you’re crazy. You’re both crazy. And you’re wasting your time.”
“Wait, if I could just ask you a few more questions. Please, it’s important. If you could just hear me—”
“Get off my property or I’ll call the police.”
Rick entered the house, slamming the front door closed behind him. He walked to the kitchen table, shoving the mess aside until he found what he was looking for—his cell phone. Picking it up, he scrolled through the names trying to decide who he should call first: Derek or Dean.
CHAPTER 39
The difference between Rick Snider and Dean Roberston was like the difference between a carrot and a pea. Although both were in their mid-fifties, Rick’s appearance was weathered and worn, while Dean, with his dark hair and tanned skin, didn’t look a day over forty. Dressed in a tailored grey suit, a silk necktie, and manicured fingernails that gave Addison the urge to hide her own nails inside her pockets, it was obvious his physical appearance wasn’t just important to him—it was everything.
Sitting in Luke’s truck in a parking lot next to Dean’s law firm, Addison watched Dean pace back and forth while talking on his cell phone. She wondered if it was Rick on the other end of the line, until Dean smacked his leg, threw his head back, and cackled like he’d just been given the world’s funniest punch line.
“When he gets off the phone, I’d like to approach him on my own,” Addison said.
“Not a chance,” Luke replied.
“If you’re sitting here watching our conversation, I’ll be fine.”
“I don’t like it, Addison. It’s not a good idea. We don’t know anything about this guy.”
“I promise I’ll stay where you can see me. I won’t go inside the building.”
“How do you even know he’s Dean Robertson?”
Addison raised a finger, pointing at the billboard next to Dean’s office. It was a cheesy, larger-than-life picture of Dean’s face, along with the caption: You’re not alone. We’re in this together.
Nice.
“This guy will do better if he’s approached alone, and by a woman,” Addison said.
“And you know this because …”
“Before I met you, I dated guys just like him. All flash and flare and ‘stroke my ego, baby’. Trust me, I’m fluent in high-powered attorney.”
Luke shook his head. “Stay where I can see you. I mean it, Addison.”
She gave Luke a military salute, which he didn’t find amusing. She then exited the vehicle and crossed the street. Mission accomplished, she realized she’d been a bit too hasty. Dean was still chatting away like a gossipy school girl at a frat party. She loitered for a moment before spotting a bench. She walked over, sat down, and waited.
And waited.
And waited.
“Do you always nap outside buildings before going inside?”
Startled, Addison looked up, realizing she’d sat for so long she’d drifted off for a minute. Dean stood in front of her, arms crossed, head cocked to one side. Curious.
“Who said I planned on going inside?”
“This is the only building on the block. What else would you be doing here?”
“Waiting for you.”
“For me?”
“You’re Dean Robertson, aren’t you?”
He reached up, loosened his necktie, bestowing her with his million-dollar grin. “Have we met before? Nightclub, maybe? Did I … give you my card or something?”
“I’m afraid not.”
He fiddled with the end of his tie, thinking.
&nb
sp; “You can relax,” Addison said. “We haven’t met.”
Though he put on a brave, neutral face, the deep breath he took proved she’d put him at ease. “Do we have a meeting my assistant failed to tell me about?”
“I’m not a client.”
He stroked his chin, grinned. “Tell me, Miss Not-a-Client, how long before we skip the shenanigans and cross the finish line?”
“Depends.”
“On what?”
Addison leaned back, smiled. “How much time we have together.”
“How much time would you like?”
Though she played it cool, the thump, thump, thump inside her chest proved otherwise. “How much are you offering?”
“Depends on why you’re here, what you want from me. What you really want.”
“I’m afraid it’s not half as scandalous as you hoped.”
He sat down next to her, so close their hips were touching. He glanced at his watch. “Well, if you’re going to burst my ‘woman of mystery’ fantasy, you better get on with it. I have a real client in ten minutes.”
Go time.
“My name is Addison Lockhart. I came here today hoping I could talk to you about Vivian and Grace Clark.”
There was a long pause followed by a nod of understanding. “Why dance around it? Why not come right out and tell me why you were here in the first place?”
“Honestly? I thought if I did, you wouldn’t talk to me.”
“Have you looked in the mirror lately?”
Had she … what?
“I don’t know what you mean.”
“You’re stunning, Addison Lockhart. What man wouldn’t talk to you?”
Plenty of men.
“You’re not upset?” she asked.
“Why would I be?”
“You’re not the first person I’ve talked to. It’s not the most welcome topic. Believe me.”
“I understand why there would be reservations. What happened back then was horrible. I can still see it in my mind like it was yesterday. I wish I couldn’t. I really wish I couldn’t. What’s your interest in their story?”
“I’m friends with Rose Clark. She’s been doing a lot of thinking about her daughters, about the night they died, how they died. I don’t think she’s ever stopped grieving, or wondering what really happened that night in the attic. What do you remember?”
He crossed one leg over the other, rested a hand on top. “Let’s see. It was crowded, and loud. People everywhere. I was maybe fourteen at the time, or fifteen. The dinner setup was elaborate. Four long, rectangular tables in two rows. Ten or so at each table. Everyone ate dinner together. Once dinner was over, the adults separated from the kids. We had the run of the house, but we were warned to stay out of the main living room where the adults were drinking and carrying on.”
“What did you do during that time?”
“The truth? I snuck into the kitchen when the servers weren’t looking, took a bunch of glasses of alcohol off the trays. Then I went out back and drank it.”
“Were you with anyone else?”
“Derek Clark and Rick Snider. Swiping the liquor was Rick’s idea. He was the only one who’d ever had alcohol before. Derek and I were liquor virgins I guess you could say. Rick had four or five. Derek and I had maybe two or three each, which would be nothing now. But when you’ve never partaken of an adult beverage before …”
“So, you had a few drinks. What then?”
“Derek said he wanted to show us something in the attic. When we got to the door, it was locked. I thought that was it. Then Derek pulled out a key.”
“Did he say why it was locked?”
“He didn’t, but once we got inside, we had a pretty good idea. We followed him over to a box in the corner and opened it. Inside were stacks and stacks of Playboy magazines. He said they were his father’s. He dug a bunch of them out and passed them around.”
Dirty magazines. Now she knew what Vivian had found. Her face felt hot, sweaty. “When you looked at the magazines … did you, uhh … I mean, were you … was anyone else up there with you at the time?”
He shook his head. “It was just the three of us at first. We were flipping pages, pointing and laughing at the pictures like the stupid teens we were. We were up there for about five minutes when we heard footsteps on the stairs. Derek thought it was his mom, coming up to bust us. We threw the magazines back in the box and slid it to the side. When the door opened, it wasn’t his mom. It was Vivian and Grace. One of their bedrooms was right beneath the attic. They were playing together and heard us walking around.”
“What did you do when you saw them?”
“What do you think we did? We panicked. Vivian said she knew we’d been drinking.”
“How?”
“She’d spied on us earlier, saw us outside. It changed everything. The original plan was to go back to Derek’s room and hang out until we felt normal again. And our parents had all been drinking so we figured there was no way they’d notice. When Vivian confessed, all we could think about was what we could do to keep those girls quiet.”
“Keep them quiet?”
He raised a brow. “Bad choice of words. I know what you’re thinking, and you’re way off. The plan was to keep them occupied until we sobered up. Then it would be our word against theirs if it ever came out.”
“So you all played hide-and-seek with the girls, right?”
He raised a brow. “How did you know?”
She ignored his question. “Did everyone play?”
“At first.”
“The police report stated the girls were alone in the attic when they fell. I imagine you were all interviewed. Why lie?”
“We didn’t lie.”
“Then how did Vivian and Grace end up alone?”
“Rick and I distracted the girls while Derek went downstairs to make sure no one saw his sisters go up to the attic. Stupid idea. He ran into the cook. She knew the alcohol was missing and could tell by the way Derek was acting that he’d been drinking. She said Rick’s mom had been looking all over for him.”
“What did you do?”
“At first we thought if we all stayed in the attic, we’d be fine. But we knew Rick’s mom wouldn’t stop looking until she found him. And since he’d had the most to drink, we thought she’d tell everyone else’s mom and we’d all get busted. Derek came up with a plan, and the three of us went downstairs together.”
“You said three. What about the girls? They weren’t with you?”
He shook his head. “We told them we’d be right back, and we meant it. Once we had everything under control, we planned on going back to the attic.”
“Weren’t you concerned they wouldn’t stay up there?”
“We told them we were going to get some candy from the kitchen pantry, and if they wanted any, they needed to wait for us and to be quiet.”
“What was Derek’s plan?” Addison asked.
“To separate.”
“Why?”
“He thought if we were apart, we had a better chance of convincing everyone we weren’t up to anything. We made a deal that if one of us was caught, he wouldn’t rat on the others. Derek went to his room, Rick stuck about five sticks of chewing gum in his mouth and went to find his mom, and I found the closest bathroom and shut myself inside for a few minutes until it was time for us to meet back up again in the attic.”
“And did you meet up again?”
“We didn’t. Several minutes went by, and then I heard a woman scream. I peeked out the bathroom door. The adults were gasping and crying, and I heard someone say Vivian and Grace were dead.”
“Do you remember seeing the doll that night—the one police found on the roof?”
“I don’t. I mean, there were a lot of boxes up there, so it could have been anywhere.” He paused for a moment then said, “Rose doesn’t think it was an accident anymore, does she?”
“What do you think?”
“I’ll admit I’ve gone over it
in my mind many times over the years. The idea of their deaths being an accident has never sat well with me.”
“Why not?”
“When I reached the bottom of the stairs that night, I saw this guy, Corey Finch, walk out of one of the bedrooms. He was zipping up his pants. A woman walked out behind him. She was older than he was. I don’t know how much older, but I do know this—she was married, and not to Corey.”
“What does that have to do with Vivian and Grace?”
“Vivian was a lurker. It was like every time I came around the corner, there she was. Watching. Observing. I mean, it’s probably nothing, but what if she saw them together and they knew about it? Like I said, it’s probably nothing.”
“Why not tell the police your suspicions?”
“I was a stupid teenage kid. I didn’t think anyone would believe me. And even if they did, there was never any proof they were involved.”
Never any proof—yet.
Dean stood. “Well pretty lady, it’s time for me to go. Give Rose my best when you see her, would you?”
Addison extended a hand. “I appreciate you taking the time to talk to me.”
Dean reached inside his suit, handed Addison his business card, winked. “If you ever feel like getting together again, for drinks, or … anything else, you know where to find me.”
CHAPTER 40
Marjorie sat in the living room, a half empty glass of wine in hand, staring at the wall. When Addison and Luke came through the front door, she didn’t budge or even blink. She just kept staring.
“Marjorie, are you okay?” Addison asked.
She leaned back, swallowed the remainder of the wine. “I will be. Eventually.”
“Did you see Milton?”
“I did.”
“And?”
“It’s over. He confessed. Like he said before, he couldn’t live knowing he’d lied about what happened.”
“I’m sorry,” Addison said.
“Don’t be. Yesterday I thought protecting him was the right thing to do—the best thing. I was wrong. Seeing him today, he’s in a better place. His conscience is clear.”
Addison Lockhart 02-Rosecliff Manor Haunting Page 11