18 Deader Homes and Gardens (35 page)

“Afraid of Winston? That’s rubbish. I loved Winston. I grant that there were mixed emotions when he and Terry moved into their house. Charles and Felicia were aghast, of course. Ethan made several attempts to be friendly. Margaret Louise never said much about them, and Pandora may not have even noticed. Why would any of us be afraid of Winston?”

“Because there is something going on,” I said flatly. “Think about it, Nattie. I saw delivery trucks come and go late at night, when only a couple of workmen were around.”

“I assume it’s so the produce can be delivered in the morning. Some of the buyers are hours away. If a driver starts his route at night, he can be in Texarkana by the end of the next day.”

“What about the secret compartments?”

“I don’t have a clue,” she said with a shrug. “Why don’t you ask Ethan?”

“I don’t—” I searched for a word, but it eluded me. I tried again. “I don’t want him to—” To what? My mind was blank. The mountains across the valley were shimmering with an unnatural light. I looked at Nattie, who nodded at me. The last thing I remembered was my face in the cool grass.

*   *   *

I awoke in a dimly lit room. Dark wood beams traversed the ceiling. Sunlight cut through a slit in the heavy drapes. I had no idea where I was, but I did know that my head was reverberating like a gong. My eyes were gritty; my mouth was dry. I licked my lips while I pondered my current dilemma. I was lying on a bed, which meant I was in a bedroom. I congratulated myself for establishing one fact. My mind was sluggish, but I persevered. The beams suggested that I was in the Old Tavern. I clung to the thought as I dozed off.

When I opened my eyes the second time, the beams were still holding up the ceiling but the sunlight was gone. My headache had eased into a dull pain. I forced myself to sit up before I relapsed into sleep. I was pleased to note that my hands and feet were not restrained. The light now emanated from a lamp on a small table across the room. The floor was covered with a braided rug of many colors. I was studying the pattern when Nattie came into the room.

“Thank goodness you’re awake,” she said as she gave me a damp washcloth. “You must have been exhausted. We were talking, and then you got a peculiar look on your face and toppled out of the chair. I nearly had a heart attack. When I knelt down, you kept saying that you were sleepy. I wanted to call for an ambulance, but you insisted that all you needed to do was rest. Your eyes were open and your breathing was normal. I helped you up, and we staggered inside and up the stairs. I’ve been looking in on you every ten minutes.” She clasped my hand. “I’m so glad that you’re okay, Claire. There have been too many tragedies in Hollow Valley.”

“I didn’t pass out?”

“Only for a few seconds. On our way upstairs, you told me all about your handsome husband and your daughter. Some of your stories are really funny.” She gave my hand a squeeze and stood up. “I’ll go downstairs and make you a cup of hot tea, unless you’d prefer something else.”

I had no memory of telling her stories, although I must have. I hoped whatever else I’d told her was worthy of my wit. “What time is it?”

“A bit after eight. Do you like honey in your tea?”

“
Merde
! My husband will be frantic if he gets home and I’m not there. I’d better call him. Did you bring my purse up here?”

“It was the least of my worries. You need to make sure you’re okay before you try to get up. I’ll be back with your tea in a few minutes.” Nattie gave me a worried look, then left on her mission.

My body felt heavy, and it was an effort to swing my legs over the side of the bed. The walls seemed to be trembling, as if there were an earthquake of minor magnitude. The side of my face was sore from the impact, but there was no dried blood or hint of a bump. The flawlessness of my complexion did little to mitigate my embarrassment. I considered the possibility that my blood sugar or blood pressure had plummeted for an unknown reason. I’d sweated like a waterlogged sponge during the hike. Dehydration could have caused the light-headedness.

I decided to find a bathroom and slurp water from the faucet. I rose, waited for my knees to assume their duty, and walked to the door. The knob turned, but the door would not open. Telling myself that it was stuck, I yanked as hard as I could. It failed to yield more than a centimeter. I realized that Nattie had hooked it on the other side. She might have worried that I might stagger out and take a dive down the stairs, I told myself as I sat down on the bed. The dehydration theory seemed less and less probable as I thought over the previous events. I hadn’t faltered during the sprint to the delivery truck, nor had I felt any discomfort afterward. I’d almost finished the glass of iced tea, which should have revived me.
Au contraire,
I thought darkly.

There was no point in pounding on the door of what had been Moses’s bedroom. Presumably Nattie was aware of my predicament, having caused it from the moment she doped my iced tea. I seemed to have recovered with only a headache. I refused to allow myself to think about Terry Kennedy, who hadn’t. I scolded myself for being duped by Nattie, with her wide grin and cinnamon rolls.

I crossed the room and raised the window. I leaned out as far as I dared. No rogue heroes with dimples were waiting in the shadows. Within twenty minutes, it would be dark. I searched the room for a makeshift weapon. The lamp was too cumbersome to assure accuracy. I found galoshes in the closet, along with Moses’s scant wardrobe, but no golf clubs or lacrosse sticks. Clutching a rolled-up newspaper from nineteen forty-five that trumpeted the bombing of Hiroshima, I put my ear to the door. I heard low voices. In that no one was shouting, I ruled out Charles. Felicia would not be there, either, unless she’d stabbed her husband and rolled his body down to the stream. I was ready to eliminate Pandora Butterfly for obvious reasons but caught myself. Dancing naked in the field could have been a ruse to convince everyone that she was harmless. I’d seen her harder side. It had not been an act.

I heard footsteps coming up the stairs. I weighed my chances of overwhelming Nattie with a brittle newspaper and then hurriedly got into the bed and feigned sleep. Peter had once accused me of snoring, which was absurd. I opted to snuffle just a bit. “Claire?” whispered Nattie. “I brought you a cup of tea.”

I breathed slowly and deeply, as if I were entangled in the arms of Hypnos while Morpheus perched on the end of the bed, cheering. Nattie may have missed the aesthetics, but she closed and hooked the door. I waited for a few minutes and then resumed my position at the door. The discussion continued. I had a very bad feeling that I was at the top of the agenda. It did not seem prudent to linger until they arrived at a decision.

The drop from the window was not a viable choice unless I was willing to risk broken ankles. I yanked the sheets off the bed and began to twist them. It was the standard escape technique in fiction, and often successful. I tied the sheets together, tied more knots for my feet to slow me down, and then tossed my makeshift rope out the window. It landed in a jumbled puddle on the grass. “Oops,” I said under my breath. There was clearly more to the scheme than I’d remembered. I was leery of pacing, since the floorboards would creak. I wondered if I’d end up like Angela. My car was not camouflaged with branches, and the car keys were in my purse. My car would be found in some deserted clearing in a nearby county. I hoped my body would not be found in the same area. Being buried in Maxwell County was an insult. Nattie might not believe in ghosts, but I would make her life intolerable. Stealing a piece of pie was child’s play. She would never drink a glass of tea without looking over her shoulder.

I stopped myself from edging into hysteria. I was glib, I was intelligent, and I was much wilier than they could ever expect. Ethan, who had to be one of the perpetrators, had muscles, but he was mellow. Nattie could outbake me, but I was quicker. Whoever else was downstairs would not anticipate my artful feints. I would make it outside and then run like a bat out of hell.

My adrenaline was pumping when the door opened. I grabbed the newspaper and lunged at the door. Jordan neatly stepped out of the way and caught my arm before I crashed into the wall. She closed the door and pushed me back to the bed. “You’d better sit down, Ms. Malloy. You look pretty awful.”

“What are you doing here?” I asked between gulps.

“Letting you out.”

“That’s not what I mean.” I rubbed my face until I felt calmer. “Why are you here?”

She shrugged. “Inez called me and said I should watch out for you. I saw what happened in the backyard. I couldn’t use the front door or the kitchen door, so I opened the window in the storage closet and wiggled inside. I had to wait forever before I had a chance to come upstairs. Why did you throw the sheets on the ground? Was that a signal?”

“Of course,” I said firmly. “It’s a distress signal used by the armed forces. How do we get out of here?”

“Can I spend the night at your house?”

Her bargaining chip was much larger than mine. Once I’d nodded, she said, “There’s a back staircase. Once we get to the ground floor, we can go out the same window.” She assessed my body. “It may be a tight squeeze.”

“I can assure you that it will not be any sort of squeeze,” I said, offended. “Who’s downstairs?”

Jordan shook her head. “I just heard voices. Do you want me to go eavesdrop?”

“Let’s just get out of here, okay?” I gave her a nudge. The back staircase was next to a linen closet. The boards groaned like haunting Hollows as we picked our way cautiously to the bottom. Jordan led the way to a cramped closet and stepped on an upturned bucket. Her body sailed out the window before I could blink. I eyed the bucket. It was plastic and had cracked over the years. The room reeked of ammonia. Unable to take a deep breath, I stepped on the bucket, offered a prayer to Greg Louganis, and propelled myself out the window. My landing was not flawless. Jordan pulled me to my feet and grabbed my hand. I limped as quickly as I could to the edge of the woods.

Once we were safe, I examined my body for protruding bones and copious bleeding. My knee was raw, and my ankle throbbed ominously. I felt more clearheaded, however. “Inez called you?”

“Yeah, she was stoned out of her mind on pain meds. I thought she was joking, but she convinced me that you were here and liable to get yourself in trouble.”

Being rescued by a fourteen-year-old was barely palatable. “You did a good job, and I thank you. I need to stay here for a few more minutes. We can meet at Winston’s house. Don’t turn on any lights.”

“Miss out on the fun? I don’t think so.” Her smile was angelic as she gazed at me, but we both knew that she wasn’t waiting for my permission.

“Will you at least stay right here?” I asked.

She ran across the yard and disappeared into the bushy plants alongside the house. I said something that was unseemly and then limped until I caught up with her. We crawled under the foliage until we reached the kitchen window. Jordan peered inside and then sank down. “Aunt Margaret Louise is drinking whiskey from a flask. Charles and Felicia look like they’ve been stuffed. The taxidermist used yellow glass marbles for their eyes. It’s really funny, Ms. Malloy. Look for yourself.”

I ignored her invitation. “What about Ethan and Nattie?”

“Ethan’s sitting at the table, looking pissed. I didn’t see Nattie.”

She started to rise, but I caught her wrist. “Nattie must be upstairs, wondering what happened to me. I engaged the hook on the door, so she’ll assume I went out the window.”

“Right up until she notices that you’re not sprawled facedown in the grass, whimpering in pain.” Jordan started to giggle, but I clamped my hand across her mouth.

“That’s enough, young lady. This is serious. Go to Winston’s house and call Inez. Tell her that I said to contact Lieutenant Jorgeson immediately. If you don’t, you’ll be sleeping in the mill until the geese migrate for the winter.”

“What about you? I rescued you once. What if they catch you again?”

I poked her chest. “Go, Jordan. I’m going to wait twenty minutes, then go inside for a chat with those people. I’m counting on you.” I gave her a hug and a push. “Stay at Winston’s house.”

Her lower lip was out, but she ran across the grass and into the woods. I leaned against the stone wall and watched my wristwatch. I heard Nattie asking if anyone wanted more tea. If she’d mentioned my absence, I didn’t hear it. Ethan said something that made Charles sputter. His obedient wife said nothing. It was a family council meeting, minus Pandora, who was likely to be twirling in the moonlight or careening down a highway on the back of a motorcycle. I was forced to admit I’d made an egregious error about the power structure—as well as about Danny Delmond. My nearly perfect record was tainted, if not besmeared. I idled away ten minutes trying to come up with bona fide excuses for my minute lapses in detective prowess. The next ten minutes were devoted to putting together the puzzle pieces.

When twenty minutes were up, I crawled out from under the bushes, ran my fingers through my hair, and walked through the kitchen doorway. It was definitely a showstopper. Nattie turned pale and grabbed the counter to steady herself. Charles shot me his customary glare of contempt. Felicia looked down at the floor. Ethan sloshed tea from his cup, splattering his overalls.

Margaret Louise was the only one who seemed delighted to see me. “Oh, hello, my dear,” she trilled. “Back again so soon? You must join our little party. Nattie’s gingersnaps are divine.” She fluttered her fingers at me. “What have you been up to lately, you naughty thing? Nattie told us that you broke into one of the delivery trucks. We’re debating about calling the police. What do you think?”

“I’ve already called the police,” I said.

“Let me fix you some tea,” Nattie said hastily. “You seem very agitated. Tea is so soothing, don’t you think?”

“Especially when it’s laced with an herbal concoction,” I said. “You should have used something lethal, like you did with Terry.”

She approached me. “Claire, you’re not making any sense. It’s possible that you had a stroke earlier this afternoon. I insist on calling an ambulance. Sit right here and try to stay calm.”