Murder in the Mansion (7 page)
“Nadia?
It's Rachael.”
“Thank
you for calling me back,” it was obvious that Nadia had been crying.
“I'm
sorry I couldn't call you sooner,” Rachael said over the sound of sniffling. “I
just got home and got your message. What's the matter?”
“This
is a bit awkward,” Nadia replied. “Sorry. I just hung up with Marianne and she
kind of set me off.”
“It's
all right,” Rachael told her calmly. Behind her she heard Grant step into the
kitchen. The light turned on.
“I
was just calling to tell you that something happened tonight and I thought you
should know.”
Rachael
listened in silence as Nadia explained everything. Her cool gray eyes stayed on
Grant's face as she considered what she was about to say.
“I'll
make my arrangements,” Rachael replied after a moment.
“There's
an investigation, so Dylan and Troy want to deal with that here,” Nadia
explained.
“That's
not why I'm coming,” Rachael said. “I actually want to come to the funeral.”
“Oh,”
Nadia was surprised.
“Can
I stay at the house?” Rachael asked.
“Of
course,” Nadia replied. “The others are as well. Marianne was reluctant but I
told her it would be okay.”
“Well
I'm sure that will be hard for her.”
“She
sounded all right,” Nadia said. “She sounds a lot more stable than she was
before.”
“It's
been a long time,” Rachael replied.
“Yeah,”
Nadia mumbled.
“I'll
make my arrangements,” Rachael repeated and hung up the phone.
“Is
everything okay?” Grant asked when she said nothing.
“No.
My parents are dead.” Rachael ran her hands through her hair. She felt dirty
and tired and numb. How was she supposed to feel? What was she supposed to say?
She hadn't spoken to her parents in years and now they were dead. Now she would
never speak to them again.
“When?
Tonight?”
“Yes,
I have to go home. To Toronto. Tomorrow. Maybe later today.”
“What?
Why? You can't just go.” Grant was startled.
“Of
course I can go. I'm not one of your children,” she turned to look at him.
“We
have some serious problems, Rachael. I don't think you're interested in solving
them.”
“Right
now, no I'm not.” Rachael told him. “Tonight my concern is going home and
dealing with the drama and the upset waiting for me there.”
“So
don't go,” Grant answered. “Stay here and help me fix this.”
Rachael
stared at him. “I have to go home. We were estranged but they were still my
parents. I can't just ignore this.”
She
turned and left the room.
Upstairs
in the shower she let the tears come. She washed her hair thoroughly, massaging
the tension in her neck, remembering the headache she'd had earlier. Her
parents had been dying while she'd been at the hospital saving someone's life.
It was moments like these that you remembered in your life. She would always
remember what she was doing when her parents died.
She
rinsed the shampoo from her shoulder length blonde hair. Since the age of
eighteen she had experimented with hair dye. Her natural color was the same as
her mother, a dark brown that was almost black. She'd shrank from being
anything like her. She'd changed her hair, she'd dressed differently, and she'd
been a doctor, not a socialite.
And
now her mother was dead and all of the things that had gone wrong between them
could not be fixed.
In
the bedroom she found Grant's pillow was gone. There was no apology. There was
no offer of support.
****
Marianne
was still awake at one o'clock in the morning when her doorbell rang. She
dragged herself up off of the floor and shuffled barefoot to the hallway. When
she threw the door open Nick stood there looking angry and worried.
“You
haven't been answering your phone.” He strode into the house not giving her a
chance to shut the door in his face.
“I
have caller I.D,” she retorted.
“And
you don't want to talk to me?” Nick turned to her. “We were fine when I picked
Daniel up.”
“We
were,” Marianne told him. She looked at him with irritation. “I know Daniel is
safe with your parents and I spoke to him earlier. He's having a blast.”
“Something
could have been wrong.”
“Your
mother would have called me.”
“I
didn't mean something had to be wrong with Daniel,” Nick told her. “What if I
needed you?”
“You'd
call me?” Marianne scoffed. “I may be the mother of your son, Nick, but we
aren't a couple.”
“We
were,” Nick replied. “I'd still call you if something was wrong.”
They
stood in silence. The hallway was small, cramped, and badly lit but Nick
studied her face regardless.
“Something
happened,” he said at length. “And you didn't call me.”
“I
didn't know I was supposed to.”
“You
could have,” Nick told her quietly.
“I
don't know what we are, Nick,” Marianne ran a hand through her long red hair.
“But I don't really want to find out tonight.”
“Okay,”
Nick replied carefully. “Will you tell me what's wrong?”
“Sure,”
Marianne answered dismissively.
They
turned into the living room and stopped suddenly. The small room was usually
cozy but Marianne had opened all of the curtains to let in the night. The patio
doors were open letting in a cool breeze. She had lit candles and turned on
lamps which cast an eerie glow. Across the floor were photo albums and loose
pictures. Marianne turned to Nick. Her eyes were over-bright and defiant, as if
she expected to have to justify herself.
“I
needed to see her.”
Nick
swallowed the lump in his throat. “Why did you need to see her?”
“Well,
I've been thinking a lot about her. You know it's been five years.”
“I
know. When I spoke to you two days ago you said you were handling it okay.”
Nick turned to her. He looked concerned.
“I
was. I am. Mostly,” Marianne took a deep breath. “I want wine but I can't have
wine. So let's have tea.”
“Sounds
great,” Nick lied. What he wanted was a shot of whiskey.
“My
younger sister called tonight,” Marianne replied conversationally as she boiled
the kettle. “Nadia. Do you remember when I told you about her?”
“I
remember,” Nick sat at the kitchen table. His stomach was uneasy. He didn't
like the strain he saw on her face or the calmness she was trying for.
“I
haven't spoken to her since I left.”
“But
she called you?” Nick asked softly.
“She
called me,” Marianne prepared the tea cups. “My father's sixtieth birthday was
today. They had a big party. I always thought it was sad that Dani's body was
found on his birthday.”
“It
is sad,” Nick agreed. He watched her move slowly around the kitchen. He noticed
how she kept her hands busy.
“So
they had a party,” Marianne continued. She looked out the window, over her
backyard with its flowerbed and vegetable garden. She had planted them herself,
with her bare hands. She had made something here out of nothing. “Something
went wrong and um,” Marianne turned sharply when the kettle finished boiling.
“And
what?” Nick prompted quietly. He wanted to go to her but knew she wouldn't let
him.
“They're
dead. My parents. Nadia called to tell me. My brother must have given her my
number. Dylan, he's the only one I've spoken to since I left, you know, every
once and a while,” her voice trailed off.
“What
happened, Marianne?” he stood now, slowly, and began to move towards her.
“They
found them in the library. It wasn't really a library, more of a study,” she
babbled. “My father used it as his office. He had a heart attack they think.
They'll know after they do an autopsy. My mother,” she trailed off, closing her
eyes hard to hold the tears back, “my mother was killed.”
“Marianne,”
he put his arms around her, tightened his grip when she resisted.
“I'm
fine, really, I can handle this.”
“I
know you can. But you can take just a few minutes and do this instead.”
“No,
I can't,” she pushed against him. “They expect me to do that. You should have
heard how Nadia side-stepped around the news. She was afraid to tell me. Afraid
of what I'd do.”
“They
don't know the person you've become. They only remember the way you were.”
“I
was twenty!” Marianne exploded. “Twenty!” The tears came in a wave of sobbing.
“It's
okay,” Nick tried to hug her again and was slapped away. “Jesus! It's okay to
be upset, Marianne! Let yourself grieve. They were still your parents. And
today of all days, when you were already worked up about Dani. You're allowed
to be upset!”
“It's
okay to be upset,” she said angrily through her sobs. “But I cannot fall apart
again. You know how much therapy and rehab it took to fix me in the first
place.”
“And
you got better,” now he did grab her arms, digging his fingers in when she
tried to slink away. “Marianne, if you weren't stable, if you weren't a good
mother, I wouldn't share custody with you. I would have taken Daniel away from
you. And I would have been able to prove it in court.”
She
glared at him, her eyes turning into angry blue slits.
“You
know I'm right,” Nick told her before she could speak. “That's a testament as
to how stable I think you are. I wouldn't risk Daniel. You being upset tonight
doesn't mean there's anything wrong with you.”
He
released her and watched as she walked about the kitchen, composing herself.
She blew her nose and wiped her face. Finally, she turned to him.
“I'm
worried it's happening again. And if it happens again I have to be able to
handle it this time.”
“Why
would you assume it's happening again?” Nick was confused.
She
shot him a look that made him feel stupid. “My father's sixtieth birthday. On
the anniversary of when Dani was found. My mother is shot, my father has a
heart attack, and the police don't know if he killed her. They don't know why
he would have if he did. All of this happens in such a way that it may or may
not be connected to Dani. That's convenient.”
“It
might have nothing to do with Dani,” Nick said delicately. “Your father might
have fought with your mother. He might have shot her and then had a heart
attack.”
“On
today of all days?” Marianne shook her head. “I find it a bit odd. It's quite
the coincidence. Dani's killer was never found and now there's been another
murder.”
“Don't
jump to conclusions,” Nick told her. “Leave that for the police.”
“I'm
going to tell them what I think,” Marianne replied bitterly. “Maybe they'll get
it right this time.”
“What
do you mean?”
“When
I go home for the funeral, I'll most likely be asked some questions,” Marianne
was completely calm again. “I'll be able to see my parents one final time. I've
made my peace in therapy that our relationship was beyond repair. I'd still
like to say goodbye.”
“You
would?”
“I
would,” Marianne began to pour the tea. “I can say goodbye to the house. I can
visit Dani in the cemetery. I can put it all behind me, properly, once and for
all.”
“I
don't know if that's a good idea,” Nick told her.
“Why
not?” Marianne passed him his tea. Her hand was steady.
“You
still have nightmares about that house. You still have nightmares about the
woods where Dani was found. Five years later and you still have nightmares.”
“I
know,” Marianne looked into his eyes. “I've accepted that I probably always
will. But I left in such a hurry, Nick. I want to say goodbye.”
“I
hope it is goodbye,” Nick answered.
“It
has to be,” Marianne said.
