Storm Island: A Kate Pomeroy Mystery (The Kate Pomeroy Gothic Mystery Series Book 1)

by Linda Watkins

  “Well, speaking of food, I’m starved. I can nuke something for me and maybe heat some soup for you, if you like.”

  “That sounds wonderful. While you do that, I think I’ll take a shower, then change these sheets. I do believe I sweat them out.”

  Grinning, Jeremy kissed me on the forehead. “Sounds like a plan.”

  We ate dinner then sat on the couch in front of the fire, talking. Jeremy offered to cancel his trip to Machias the next day and stay home with me if I wasn’t feeling well. Knowing that I was still expected at the manor house on Saturday evening, I declined his offer.

  “You go and do what you need to,” I said. “I’m expected for dinner up there tomorrow and I promise I’ll stay away from anything that’s fish. I’ll be okay. I’ll miss you, but I’ll be okay.”

  “All right, then,” he replied, getting up to put another log on the fire. “I’ll leave around nine and be back bright and early Sunday morning. Maybe we could take a ride out to one of the other islands, if the weather’s good, and do some hiking.”

  “That sounds fantastic.”

  We went to bed early and, the next morning, he left as planned. I was feeling like my old self again and decided to spend the day far away from the manor house and its occupants.

  I packed a lunch and, donning shorts and a T-shirt over my bathing suit, grabbed my bike and headed to the far end of the island where the best beach was located.

  After a day of sunning, swimming, and exploring, I finally arrived back at the carriage house around four o’clock. I felt great and, though not looking forward to dinner at Stormview, was sure I would get through it with flying colors.

  I took a lengthy shower, washed my hair, then applied lotion to my body, which was sporting the first hints of a sunburn. Then I dressed as I had for that first meeting with Jeremy, in a long peasant skirt and silk blouse. I piled my hair on top of my head, dabbed on some blush, and applied a pale pink lipstick. Surveying my appearance in the mirror, I smiled. I looked good … not at all like the girl who retched up her lunch the previous afternoon.

  I checked the time. It was almost six … the cocktail hour had begun. Quickly, I grabbed a flashlight, stuffed it into my backpack, and, locking the door behind me, headed for the manor house.

  Dinner At Stormview

  WHEN I ARRIVED, once again, everyone was on the porch. A bar had been erected on the far side and Raoul was acting as bartender. The rest of the guests were sitting around a wicker coffee table, drinking and exchanging stories, all medical to be sure.

  “There she is!” exclaimed Raoul. “Our little Katherine. Come here, sweetheart, and let me make you something special.”

  I laughed, placing my backpack on one of the side tables.

  “Nothing fancy for me. I had a little bit of an upset yesterday after lunch. Think the lobster salad might have gone over.”

  “Oh, no!” he exclaimed. “I will talk to Cook. We cannot have our guests getting ill because of poorly prepared food. Are you all right now?”

  “Yes, I’m fine. No, not just fine, I feel great!”

  “Well, then, there’s no excuse for not having something special to drink, is there? How about a chocolate martini?”

  I was about to say, “No, thank you” but he’d already turned away from me and begun preparing the drink. He yelled over his shoulder.

  “Take a seat. I’ll bring it to you.”

  Not wanting to be impolite, I decided to accept the drink, and thanked him. After all, what harm could it do?

  Saying “hello” to everyone, I sat down on one of the wicker lounges.

  “What was that about the lobster salad, Kate?” asked Hettie, a look of concern on her face.

  “Oh, after I got home, I got sick. Actually, spiked a temperature. But, after a good sleep, I felt better. Think it was food poisoning. Maybe the salad had been left out too long.”

  “That’s terrible,” she replied. “Did anyone else have the salad?”

  A chorus or “no’s” and “not me’s” greeted her question.

  “Well, you can be sure I will talk to the staff about this. That’s not the way we want the season to begin. Poisoning our guests!”

  Raoul interrupted, handing me the martini glass with a flourish.

  “This will be the most delicious drink you have ever had, my dear,” he said with a grin. “Now, is anyone else ready for a refill?”

  We sat on the porch, drinking and talking, for about an hour or so. My drink was, as Raoul had promised, delicious and I happily accepted a refill when my glass was empty.

  “Shall we go inside?” asked Hettie. “I think it’s getting a little chilly out here.”

  No one bothered answering, but we all picked up our drinks and followed her to the great room.

  Hettie, wearing a sleeveless silk blouse, glanced around. “Now, where did I leave my shawl?” she asked.

  “You had it yesterday,” chimed Raoul. “When you were inspecting the upper floors.”

  “Oh, yes. Thank you, darling. I must have left it in the tower room. Kate, would you be a dear and go retrieve it for me?”

  I was a bit taken aback that she would ask me to go to the tower room, given my history there. But, I’d been in that room numerous times in the past few weeks as we got the house ready, so I didn’t hesitate.

  “Sure, no problem. I’ll be right back.”

  “And, I’ll go check on dinner,” said Raoul.

  We both left the room at the same time. I jogged up the steps to the second floor, then, taking a deep breath, ascended the winding staircase to the landing in front of the tower room.

  The door was slightly ajar, but it was dark inside. Hesitating for a moment, I thought I could hear the sound of the ceiling fan going ‘round and ‘round. Aunt Hettie must have left it on by mistake.

  Opening the door, I reached inside and flicked on the light switch. The light went on, illuminating the room, but was followed immediately by a loud “POP” and, once again everything was plunged into darkness.

  My jaw dropped. In that momentary burst of light, I saw my mother’s body hanging from the ceiling fan, her face bloated and rotting.

  In shock, I backed away from the door, stumbling on the landing. On my knees, my face in my hands, I mumbled, “No, no, it can’t be. It’s just a hallucination.”

  Trying to get a hold of myself, I opened my eyes and stared up through the open doorway again.

  In the dim light, I could still see her hanging there … feet bare, skin turned black with decay.

  I screamed once, then fainted.

  When I came to, I was lying with my head in my father’s lap, on the floor of the tower room.

  “Katherine?” he asked. “Are you all right?”

  “I … I don’t know. Mom … she … she was there,” I said shakily, pointing my finger at the now-empty fan. “Hanging like before, only her corpse was old and rotting.”

  Aunt Hettie knelt down beside us. “There, there, child. Look around. There’s nothing here. And, take a deep breath. The lightbulb must have burst and startled you.”

  I sat up, shaking my head. “I don’t know what happened, but I saw her. I know I did.”

  My father stood. “Perhaps you’re still feeling the effects from the food poisoning yesterday.”

  I got unsteadily to my feet. “Maybe. Yes, that’s probably it. I’m sorry, Aunt Hettie.”

  “Nothing to be sorry about, dear. I’ll have to call Tom in the morning. There must be a short in the wiring or something. Let’s all go back downstairs. Maybe what you need is a good meal.”

  Raoul gave me his arm and we left the room. Hettie and my father followed and I could hear them whispering as we descended the spiral staircase. I couldn’t hear everything, but I caught the gist of it. Apparently, Horace had told my aunt about the episode in the tower room … my complaining about the smell and the broken rail on the widow’s walk. Hearing this, I knew that, once again, my mental health was being called into question.r />
  Alistair and Seth were standing at the foot of the staircase to the second floor, waiting for us.

  “What happened?” asked Seth as I stepped onto the polished walnut floor.

  “Oh, nothing. I just thought I saw something move up there. Maybe a mouse.”

  “Well, you sure gave us a fright. With a scream like that you could give Jamie Lee Curtis a run for her money. I’m glad you’re okay.”

  “Yeah, I’m fine. And hungry. Want to escort me to dinner?”

  Seth grinned and offered his arm. “My pleasure, Dr. Pomeroy.”

  As we walked toward the dining room, I could see Alistair out of the corner of my eye, lounging against the mahogany bannister, a sneer on his face. He was enjoying this.

  Dinner, like lunch the day before, was elegant. We started off with a Caesar salad and lobster bisque. This was followed by the main course, prime rib and/or Maine scallops. Various wines accompanied the meal and, by the time, dessert was served - crème brulée - everyone was pretty high. I, however, limited myself to one glass of chardonnay given what had happened earlier in the tower room.

  Conversation was lively and centered around, of course, the practice of medicine.

  When we had polished off the last of the dessert, Hettie suggested we all go back to the great room for after-dinner drinks. My father, tired, excused himself and retired to his bedroom on the first floor.

  After he left, the remainder of the group became more raucous, the men now exchanging off-color stories about patients, nurses, and, in some instances, female doctors. Hettie and I listened politely for a while, then she steered the conversation in another direction.

  As we conversed, Alistair kept staring at me and it was beginning to make me feel uncomfortable. However, despite this, I was having a good time, and decided to accept another chocolate martini from Raoul.

  The evening wore on and when I got up to go to the powder room, I was surprised when everything around me began to spin. Quickly, I sat down, trying to regain my composure.

  “Something wrong, Kate?” asked Alistair solicitously, crossing the room to sit by my side.

  “Think that last drink was one too many,” I said, trying hard not to slur my words. “Think it’s time to go home.”

  “Can you make it by yourself?” Hettie asked.

  “I can,” I replied getting unsteadily to my feet.

  “I don’t think so,” said Alistair. “Hettie, why don’t I escort her home. We don’t want her falling and hurting herself, do we? And, I could use some fresh air, too.”

  I tried to object, but Alistair took my arm firmly, steered me toward the door, and, before I knew it, I was outside on the trail to the carriage house

  As we walked, I became even shakier and Alistair put his arm around me to keep me from falling.

  “Just lean on me, sweetheart,” he said, gripping me tightly. “I won’t let anything happen to you.”

  I stumbled and almost fell, but, true to his word, he kept me upright. I was feeling weaker by the minute and my mind was becoming more and more confused. Where was I? Who was I with? And, where were we going?

  By the time we got to the carriage house, my legs were leaden and Alistair was practically carrying me. He rummaged through my bag for the keys and, once the door was open, swooped me up in his arms, took me inside, and lay me down on the sofa.

  “Water,” I mumbled, suddenly dying of thirst.

  Alistair nodded, walked to the kitchen, and pulled a bottle of spring water from the fridge.

  “Here you go, Pomeroy,” he said, handing me the bottle.

  I drank deeply. The cool water tasted delicious and I began to feel a little better.

  “Thanks,” I said. “I don’t know what happened back there. I suddenly felt so unsteady.”

  “You’re drunk, my dear,” he said, putting his arm around my shoulder. “Just rest for a while.”

  He removed his suit jacket and loosened his tie, then sat down beside me.

  I was beginning to feel strange again, my body unresponsive. It was as if I had been frozen or gone suddenly numb.

  I closed my eyes. When I opened them again, I saw Alistair had his hand on my thigh and was caressing me through the thin fabric of my skirt. However, I felt nothing.

  “Don’t,” I mumbled incoherently.

  Ignoring me, he continued to massage my leg, then, with his free hand, began to unbutton my blouse.

  “Don’t,” I said again, but there was no conviction in my voice.

  “Hush,” he said. “You’ll like it. You know you will.”

  As he spoke, he slipped his hand inside my blouse, under my bra. His other hand left my thigh and began to worm its way up under my skirt.

  I tried to scoot away but my body was still leaden and wouldn’t obey my mind’s commands.

  “Please don’t,” I said again.

  My skirt was now rucked up to my waist and Alistair lay on top of me, pushing his pelvis tightly against mine.

  “Just relax,” he murmured. “You know you love it.”

  He pressed his lips to mine, forcing his tongue inside.

  “No!” I cried, garnering all the strength left in me. “I don’t want this.”

  He pulled away in surprise. “Funny,” he said. “You gave a pretty good impression of wanting it, but, far be it from me to force myself on a woman.”

  He stared at me for a moment as if expecting me to change my mind, then grabbed his suit jacket from the chair where he had tossed it.

  Draping it over his arm, he laughed. “I will take my leave of you now,” he said. “It’s been fun, Pomeroy.”

  I watched as he sauntered toward the door, still laughing. I tried to push myself up from the sofa, but when I moved the dizziness returned and I started to fall.

  Alistair saw me stumble and quickly returned to my side.

  “You need some help?” he asked. “Here, take my hand.”

  Not knowing what else to do, I did as he said and he pulled me unsteadily to my feet.

  “Don’t move,” he said. “Let yourself settle.”

  Again, I did as he instructed and stood with his arm around my waist, as I waited for the dizziness to pass.

  “Better?” he asked.

  “Yes, thank you,” I replied.

  “Good. Now I’m off. See you tomorrow.”

  Without another word, he removed his arm from my waist and walked to the door, his suit jacket now flung over his shoulder, like Frank Sinatra leaving the stage.

  “Night, Pomeroy!” he yelled as he opened the door. “It’s been fun.”

  I opened my mouth to reply but was surprised to hear a familiar voice booming from just outside the carriage house entrance.

  “What the hell?”

  It was Jeremy. He’d come home early. Boy, was I in trouble.

  I walked unsteadily toward the sound of his voice, hoping to explain Alistair’s presence in my house. Unfortunately for me, I’d forgotten how I looked … blouse unbuttoned to the waist, bra only half-covering my breasts, lipstick smeared across my face.

  Jeremy stared at me, then back at Alistair, who lounged in the doorway, as if enjoying the situation.

  “You must be little Katy’s summer boy,” he said to Jeremy. “Well, she’s all yours now.”

  Jeremy didn’t reply. He just stood on the pathway, fists clenched, jaw set.

  Alistair laughed, then ambled away, back toward Stormview.

  It was just Jeremy and me now.

  I opened my mouth to speak, but, as I did so, the world began to spin again and I reached out and grasped the doorframe to keep from falling.

  Jeremy watched me, then shook his head, turned, and walked away.

  I tried to call out to stop him, but was unable to speak. What was wrong with me? This was more than just drunkenness. I felt drugged, plain and simple.

  Jeremy got into his truck and, tires spinning, peeled away from the carriage house. I sunk to my knees in the doorway and grasped my head with my ha
nds as hot tears burst from my eyes.

  I stayed in the doorway, crying, for the better part of an hour. Then, pulling myself together, staggered back inside and passed out on the floor.

  Confrontations And Accusations

  I DIDN’T WAKE until the next morning with the sun streaming through the living room windows. I was alone, still dressed in the skirt and blouse I’d worn to dinner the night before. I tried to sit up, but any movement caused my head to pound painfully, so I lay back down, trying desperately to make sense of what had happened to me.

  When I finally had the strength to get up, I staggered to the bathroom and quickly downed three ibuprofens and splashed cold water on my face. Then, I looked at my reflection in the bathroom mirror.

  My hair was a tangled, knotted mess and my eyes were ringed with dark circles. My lipstick was smeared across my face and I grabbed a tissue to wipe it off.

  I tried again to remember what had happened the night before, but all I could recall clearly was Alistair walking me home, his attempt to make love to me, and Jeremy’s arrival and subsequent departure.

  Gagging at the thought of what Jeremy had seen and what he had surmised had happened between Alistair and me, I dashed to the bathroom, leaned over the toilet, and vomited up the remains of my dinner. Feeling soiled, I opened the shower stall, turned on the hot water, and stepped in. As the hot spray hit my body, I sank to the floor, hugging my knees to my chest, weeping.

  Finally emerging from the shower, I dried off and slipped into a pair of loose sweatpants and one of Jeremy’s sweatshirts. I towel-dried my hair, then went to the kitchen where, first, I drank a bottle of spring water to rehydrate, then brewed a pot of coffee. My mind was clearer now and I sat at the dining table and forced myself to once again relive the events of the evening before.

  I’d been fine … a little high … but fine until we’d adjourned to the great room after dinner. My father had gone to bed early, saying he felt sleepy. I’d accepted a drink from Raoul and it was after taking a sip of that concoction that things began to get hazy.