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

by Linda Watkins

  I remembered Alistair escorting me down the path and that it wasn’t until then that I had begun to lose control of my body. Putting on my doctor’s hat, I thought about my symptoms: loss of muscle control, difficulty with gross motor movements, feeling drunk, confusion, and finally, a black-out.

  Had I simply had too much to drink? I didn’t believe so. My symptoms were too exaggerated for that and they were similar to those commonly associated with the date-rape drug, Rohypnol.

  Had Alistair slipped a roofie into my drink?

  It was possible. The drug was tasteless, odorless, and fast-acting. And nothing else could explain my inability, at first, to resist his sexual advances.

  Again, I went over the evening’s events in my mind, trying to remember as much as I could.

  Jeremy.

  He’d seen me in a state of disarray and he’d also seen Alistair leave my home. Apparently, he put two and two together and had come up with what he’d thought was a solid four.

  Tears welled in my eyes and I began to feel sick again and rushed to the bathroom.

  After vomiting up my coffee, I brushed my teeth, took something to calm my stomach, and went back to the kitchen. I knew I needed to eat and get more liquids into my system.

  I warmed some chicken broth in the microwave and made myself a couple slices of toast. Adding another bottle of water to my meal, I sat back down at the table and forced myself to eat.

  After a while, I began to feel better, my despair being rapidly replaced by anger. I looked at the clock. It was going on two p.m. Alistair, my father, and Seth would probably be at Stormview with Hettie and Raoul.

  Putting my dirty dishes in the sink to soak, I knew what I had to do.

  When I arrived at the manor house, everyone was, once again, lounging on the porch. Hettie and my dad were seated on the wicker sofa, talking. Raoul was lying on one of the lounges, in animated conversation with Alistair, who was leaning against the railing, his usual glass of chardonnay in hand. Seth was absent, probably inside. No one took notice of me when I stepped onto the porch.

  “Dad,” I said as I approached.

  “Hi, honey,” he replied. “I didn’t think you were coming by today. You just missed lunch. Sorry I was such a party-pooper last night. Hope you had a good time.”

  I didn’t answer, but, instead, turned my gaze to Alistair, who was now very aware of my presence. I glared at him.

  My Aunt Hettie was about to speak, but I put up my hand, stopping her. My dad looked puzzled.

  “What is it, Katherine?” he asked. “Is something wrong?”

  “Yes, Dad,” I replied, still staring at Alistair. “Something is very wrong and I think someone should be held accountable.”

  No one spoke.

  Alistair frowned and Raoul turned his head toward me, looking confused.

  “Accountable?” he repeated. “Why? Has someone wronged you in some way?”

  I took a step toward the rail where Alistair stood.

  “Yes, Raoul, someone has. Ask Dr. Redbone. He knows what I’m talking about.”

  All eyes turned to Alistair who began to grin as he sipped his wine.

  “Alistair?” asked Hettie. “What’s this all about?”

  “I haven’t the foggiest,” he replied. “Perhaps Kate will be so kind as to enlighten us.”

  “Don’t act so innocent. You know what I’m talking about. You drugged me last night. Gave me Rohypnol or something like it.”

  Raoul frowned. “Rohypnol? What is this?”

  “It’s better known as a roofie,” I replied. “The date-rape drug.”

  All eyes shot back to Alistair who sipped his wine, then shook his head.

  “No,” he finally said. “I didn’t slip you a roofie, Kate. Why would I? And, anyway, I wasn’t anywhere near you last night until, unfortunately, I played the gentleman and escorted you home.”

  “Well, someone slipped me something. I was fine, only a little high, until that last drink.”

  Raoul laughed. “It was the drink, my dear. Nothing more. I do sometimes go a little over the top when devising my specialties. And, if my, shall we say, creativeness, caused you distress, then please accept my apologies.”

  I shook my head. “No, it wasn’t the drink. My cluster of symptoms came on too fast and were too exaggerated for it to be simply alcohol. Someone drugged me, deliberately. And, the only one here with a motive is Dr. Redbone.”

  My father looked puzzled. “But why, Katherine? Why would he do such a thing?”

  Alistair turned toward my dad. “I’m sorry, Ham. This has all gotten a little out of control. You daughter and I, well, we’ve had, shall we say, a sexual liaison for the past year or so. I rang her up before we flew out here to tell her it was over, but she wouldn’t listen. I’m afraid last night she came on to me. But I was a gentleman. I simply escorted her home. When we got there, she passed out and I left her completely virginal, lying on the sofa. She was, after all, quite drunk. This accusation of hers is just a product of jealousy and whatever mental illness still plagues her mind.”

  My father looked at me, questioningly, a scowl on his face.

  “He’s lying, Dad. He drugged me. And, he’s lying about that phone call, too. It was the other way around … I broke it off with him.”

  “That’s all well and good,” said my aunt. “A regular ‘he said, she said.’ But I have a question for you, Kate. How could he have slipped a roofie into your drink? I remember quite clearly that he didn’t sit near you before dinner or at the table. And, I believe, until he offered to take you home, he was on the opposite side of the room from you, too.”

  I stared at her. She was right. Alistair had made a definite effort to avoid me the night before. It was her husband who made all my drinks.

  “Then it was Raoul,” I said. “…working in cahoots with him. Yes, that’s got to be it. He gave Raoul the drug to put in one of my drinks.”

  Raoul gave me venomous look. “This girl is accusing me? Does her paranoia have no bounds? Hettie, don’t tell me you believe these lies? The girl is insane.”

  “Settle down, darling,” said my aunt. “Katherine is simply confused.”

  “Confused!” he laughed. “She sees corpses hanging from the rafters, broken railings that don’t exist, and, now, has the effrontery to accuse me and my friend, Dr. Redbone, of conspiring to drug her. How absurd.”

  “I was drugged,” I insisted. “And Alistair did come on to me last night, but I stopped him.”

  Raoul laughed. “The fact that you tried to force yourself upon Dr. Redbone does not surprise me. After all, it seems you’ve been on a sexual quest since the day you set foot on Storm. Taking up with that islander.”

  “Don’t bring Jeremy into this,” I warned. “He has nothing to do with what happened last night.”

  Raoul turned to my father. “Can’t you see what’s going on, Ham? The girl is deranged. Walking around with her dead mother’s journals tucked under her arm, wearing that sickly perfume. Like mother, like daughter. Perhaps her next move will be to tie herself to the ceiling fan like Cassandra did!”

  “That’s enough, Raoul,” said my father. “Enough!”

  “No, it’s not enough,” Raoul countered. “I will not stand by and let this unbalanced young woman besmirch my name. Look at her, Ham. See what she wears beneath that sweatshirt. Smell her skin … does she not smell of roses? She’s as insane as her mother before her and, like Cassandra, has all the virtue of a cat in heat.”

  “How dare you!” I cried. “My mother was not insane nor was she of loose moral character.”

  “Tell her, Ham,” laughed Raoul. “Or I will.”

  For a moment, everyone was silent. My father stared down at his hands, saying nothing.

  “Dad?” I questioned, but Raoul interrupted me.

  “Your mother, my dear, was a slut,” he continued. “She had an affair that final year. Yes, under all our noses, she lay with that sculptor, Sloane whatever his name was. He made tha
t necklace … the one you’re wearing. Show it to your father.”

  Hesitantly, I reached under the neck of my sweatshirt and pulled out the gold tree of life. My father blanched when he saw it.

  “Where did you find that?” he asked, his voice shaking with anger.

  “I … I found it in the attic with Mom’s journals. I found her perfume there, too. She wore this necklace always … I had no idea.”

  “Put it back,” my father demanded. “I can’t stand the sight of it.”

  Quickly, I tucked the gold piece under my shirt. I was feeling confused … things had gotten rapidly out of hand and, somehow, Raoul had artfully changed the subject.

  Alistair still leaned against the rail, casually sipping his wine, a slight smirk on his face.

  “All of that changes nothing,” I said, trying to regain their attention. “What my mother did or didn’t do is not relevant. Dr. Redbone drugged me last night.”

  Alistair shook his head. “Now, honestly, I’ve had about as much of this hysteria as I can stand. If anyone needs me, I’ll be inside.”

  “And, I will join you,” added Raoul. “I, too, have had enough melodrama for one day.”

  Nodding, Alistair set his wine glass on the table and, with one last look at me, went inside. Raoul followed. I was left on the porch with Hettie and my dad.

  Hettie sighed. “I’m sorry, Ham,” she said softly. “I guess I made an error in judgment. Kate was, and is, far sicker than I imagined. Perhaps temporary confinement in some progressive institution might help.”

  My father didn’t answer.

  Encouraged by his silence, she continued, “The psychiatrist at Memorial recommended the Riverside Clinic. They rely pretty heavily on pharmaceuticals, but they do get results.”

  I couldn’t believe what I was hearing … my aunt casually discussing committing me to an institution.

  “No,” I cried. “I won’t go. I’m not going anywhere.”

  “What do you mean, Kate?” asked my aunt. “You can’t stay here now.”

  “Why not? I’ll stay at the carriage house. You won’t even need to see me. Or, if I can’t stay here, I’ll get a room.”

  “And how will you pay for that?”

  “I’ll get a job … I can waitress. And, I still have my M.D. I’ll apply for a medical license here in Maine and go into primary care.”

  My aunt was about to reply when my father interrupted. “If Katherine wants to stay here on Storm, then she’ll stay here on Storm and she’ll stay in the carriage house. And, I’m staying, too. I’m owed a great deal of time from Memorial. I’ll simply call them and let them know I’m taking family leave.”

  “But, Ham,” my aunt cajoled. “Can’t you see she needs help? No, she can’t stay here. Especially after what she accused my husband of.”

  “She’ll stay, Hephzibah,” replied my father, a hint of steel in his tone. “Need I remind you that I still own half of this estate. My daughter will stay if she likes. And, as for her state of mind, I’m not fully convinced that she’s as far gone as everyone would like to believe. Yes, she’s under stress. This place … the tower room has terrible memories for her. And, I’m not so sure about Dr. Redbone’s innocence. No, she’ll not be institutionalized, at least not until I see more concrete evidence of instability. And, she’ll remain here for as long as she likes.”

  My mind was reeling. My father owned half of Stormview! That was news to me.

  “Thanks, Dad,” I finally said. “And, I’m glad you’re staying, too.”

  “Enough said,” answered my father, patting my hand. “Now, I’m going to escort my daughter home. I’ll see you at dinner, Hettie.”

  “Of course, Ham,” my aunt replied, meekly. “Whatever you say.”

  We walked in silence. When we arrived at the carriage house, my father took the key from me and opened the door.

  “I’ll leave you here, Katherine,” he said. “I think you need time to gather your thoughts. And, know that, though I sided with you today, I’m still not convinced that you’re completely rational. I think you need help and, perhaps, while staying here, you will allow Hettie to provide that help. If you agree, I’ll speak with her tonight.”

  “I’m sorry, Dad,” I said. “I botched things up terribly. But what I said was true. Someone did drug me and whoever did so should be in jail. And, yes, I know I’m under stress … what you said about the tower room was right. I can’t stand that place. But none of this is Hettie’s fault and, if you like, I’m willing to see her in a professional capacity.”

  My dad nodded. “Good. And, while I have a hard time believing you were drugged, I do believe you had too much to drink and Redbone had no business taking advantage of you. In addition, I’m not convinced that his story about breaking it off with you over the phone is true. You were already involved with the Bradshaw boy at that time and it makes more sense that you would have been the one to give Redbone the boot. And, I suppose, if he lied about one thing, he probably would have no hesitation lying about another. But don’t worry, I’ll make sure someone keeps an eye on him. He’ll slip up again and, when that happens, I’ll see to it that he’s disciplined.”

  I nodded and, standing on my tippy toes, kissed him on the cheek.

  He smiled. “Get some rest. I’ll talk to Hettie tonight and maybe, if you feel up to it, we can take a sail tomorrow afternoon.”

  “I’d like that, Dad.”

  He turned to go, but I stopped him, laying my hand on his arm. “Dad, one more thing, about Mom. I didn’t know. Who was it … the man she…?”

  “Sloane Bradshaw. Your young man’s uncle. He’s a well-known and respected sculptor … works in gold, silver, and bronze. He was once one of my best friends here.”

  There was a sadness in his voice that spoke volumes and, as he talked, I had a faint recollection of a man sitting with my mother on the beach as I played in the water. The same man often appeared when we were walking, shopping, or biking on the island. I remembered how my mother laughed when she was with him.

  “Okay, Kate?” my father asked. “Now, I’m going to go back and try to repair fences, especially with Raoul. He’s leaving with the others on Tuesday … a trip to the Middle East or somewhere. You call up to the house if you need me.”

  I nodded and watched him walk away, suddenly glad that he was my dad.

  I spent the rest of the afternoon resting and reading my mother’s journals. Many of the entries now took on slightly different connotations in light of what I’d learned about her that afternoon. I also spent time thinking about Jeremy and how to approach him. I knew he was angry and hurt by what he’d seen or thought he’d seen. I tried once to reach him on his cell, but the phone went directly to voice mail. Unable to formulate a message, I hung up. I was still too shaky to confront him.

  My father called around six to check on me and let me know that my aunt had agreed to take me on as a patient. She would want to see me on the fifth, around ten. He also reiterated his suggestion that we go sailing afterward … just him and me in Hettie and Raoul’s forty-foot sloop. I agreed to both and, before hanging up, thanked him again for his support.

  I made dinner, a simple meal of soup and salad and once again, settled on the sofa trying to read. But I couldn’t concentrate. I kept thinking about Jeremy and how I’d hurt him.

  Around nine-thirty, I got up to get myself a bottle of spring water and, glancing out the window, noticed a faint light glowing through the trees. I knew it had to be coming from that strange little building with no point of entry. There was nothing else out there.

  As if beckoned, I put down my water, grabbed a sweater and pulled it on over my nightgown. I took a flashlight from of the utility closet, and, without thinking, headed out into the night.

  The ribbons I had left the last time I searched for the building, shone in the beam of my torch and, for once, I found the little silo easily. My step stool still rested where I had left it, folded against the stone façade of the building. An
xiously, I opened it and set it beneath the window.

  Checking first to make sure the stool was steady, I climbed on and, grabbing hold of the window ledge, peered inside.

  It was the same as before. In the middle of the room sat the ornate desk and matching chair with its cushions of red velvet. On the desk were the oil lamp, the quill and inkwell, and the same journal, opened to the first page.

  I stared at it, surprised. There were two lines now written under the title, Poem for Summer … the first couplet!

  I pressed my face against the glass as I read them:

  Cast not your eyes on the stone façade,

  For the treasure that you seek.

  Slowly, I mouthed the words, wondering at their meaning, as I shone my flashlight deeper into the room.

  The beam from the torch revealed the outline of something or someone in the shadows and I strained to identify who or what it was. I almost had it, when, suddenly, the lights from both the oil lamp and my flashlight went out, plunging the room into darkness once more.

  Angry, I shook the flashlight, trying to get the batteries to re-engage, but it was useless.

  Sighing, I hopped off the step stool, re-folded it, and leaned it against the wall.

  If only I could get inside, I thought. Then, the mystery could be solved.

  Frustrated, I looked up toward the window and considered breaking it. But, as I reached for a rock, something stopped me … a strong premonition of danger lurking in the shadows that might surround me and my loved ones should I cause harm to this structure.

  I dropped the rock and once again fiddled with the flashlight, surprised when the light came back on. I thought about trying to look inside again, but decided not to. My flashlight was already shaky and I needed it to get back to the carriage house in one piece.

  When I arrived home, I grabbed the water bottle I’d left on the counter and sat down on the couch, thinking about the words of the first couplet. What did they mean? And, what treasure was I seeking?