Nine Man's Murder (14 page)

Amanda watched Jill as closely as Bennett was watching Amanda.

“That’s very interesting,” Amanda said slowly. “You never mentioned that before …” After a moment, she added, “I think I’d like to be alone for a while … and rest …”

“Mandy, stay with us,” Jill called as Amanda left the room.

“Let her go,” Jonas said.

A mental fog spread to engulf everyone, for their talk led them in circles, rehashing last night’s attack on Amanda and the murder of Reeve. The circle was finally broken by the ghostly reappearance of Amanda in the parlor room doorway.

“The gun I used last night,” she muttered. “It’s gone.”

40

“W
e always seem
to be one step behind,” Gideon observed.

“Haven’t any of you realized yet why the killer is always one step ahead?” Hatter asked. “Why objects keep disappearing before our eyes? Don’t you see why we can’t catch him? Because we can’t see him. We can’t see it. It has to be a ghost.”

“A ghost,” Jonas repeated dryly.

“The spirits of those who meet with violent ends find no rest until they have been avenged.”

“And which ghost is seeking vengeance up here?” Bryan asked.

“That’s a good question. Which of us has been associated with a wrongful death?” Hatter studied Bryan. “We all know how your parents died, Bryan; and Jill was connected with those deaths, since it was her father who helped bring them about.”

“This is ridiculous, Hatter—”

“Is it, Amanda? What about Reeve? He worked for Antonio Capaldi, who torched his own warehouse, killing the foreman. An event you were associated with, too, Amanda.”

“Well, I’m not associated with a wrongful death,” Jonas pointed out.

“Carter was,” Jill whispered.

“Yes, his brother was murdered up here.” Hatter turned to Bennett. “And this morning I heard you and Gideon confess your roles in the theft of Capaldi’s ledger from the police evidence locker.”

“But no one died,” Gideon protested.

“Actually,” Jonas corrected, “when the police chased Bennett into the crowd, they thought he was drawing a weapon on them. One of them fired at him and killed an innocent bystander.”

“You were involved in that death, too, Hatter,” Amanda pointed out. “The crowd had gathered outside the psychic fair, where you were one of the speakers.”

“This is silly,” Gideon said. “Forgive me, Hatter, but I can’t help but feel we should be able to come up with a more rational explanation for what’s happening up here. After all, we were trained as private detectives. Damien gave each of us a thorough knowledge of criminal investigation.”

Bryan added, with unusual emphasis, “As well as a detailed background in all major aspects of criminal and civil law. With our training, we ought to be able to figure this out, without having to resort to supernatural explanations.”

“Like we solved our graduation assignment?” Hatter taunted. “Remember how that ended.”

“With Julian’s death,” Jill muttered.

“Which you didn’t see,” Hatter pointed out. “How is that, Jill? The rest of us saw the accident. Where were you when Julian Hayward fell?”

“I was questioning his brother, William, in the makeup department. It was so easy to get sidetracked watching William work. He could make an actor look like anyone. One time, when an actor didn’t show up, William himself stood in for him. He fooled everyone on the set with his disguise—until he started talking. He could do great faces, but not voices—”

“Where is all of this getting us?” Bennett blurted out impatiently.

“It’s just that I could never really question William,” Jill replied. “So, on the morning of Julian’s death—before it happened, actually—I cornered William while he was working. At that time neither of us knew about Burke’s twisted ankle, his replacement by Julian, or Julian’s fall. After the accident, William broke down.”

“William Hayward was never particularly stable to begin with,” Hatter said. “Even before Julian’s death, he was seeing a psychiatrist, who told him there are no accidents, because unconscious motivations underlie everything we do.”

“There’s a pattern here, you know,” Bryan said. “Don’t you find it interesting that the sabotaged stunts involving Julian Hayward—like the disabled stunt car and railing—were all harmless? None of them were ever really dangerous. While the one sabotaged stunt that was to have involved Adam Burke turned out to be fatal.”

“Aren’t you forgetting that it wasn’t Adam Burke who was killed in that stunt?” Jonas pointed out.

“I see what you’re getting at,” Gideon said. “Maybe it was only meant to look like the sabotage had been intended for Burke.”

“You mean Burke knew the stunt had been rigged,” Hatter asked, “because he had rigged it? And faked the injury to his leg, so that Hayward would be the one to perform it?”

“And so, by making it look like he was the intended victim,” Gideon concluded, “Burke would go unsuspected, apparently blameless.”

“Except for one thing,” Amanda pointed out. “Killing is a crime.”

“Murder is a sin,” Bennett amended darkly.

Jonas sewed together their argument. “So Burke sabotages his own stunt, then fakes an injury to his leg. Julian Hayward—the real victim—is substituted for Burke. Burke’s rival is thus eliminated, and Burke is made to look like the intended victim, rather than the perpetrator.” Jonas looked at Bryan. “Reeve was right all along.”

Bryan looked as convinced as an atheist at a revival meeting. “Except for one thing. That’s not the way it happened.”

Jonas’ objection was more academic than antagonistic. “And how do you know that?”

“Because I just now realized the truth. Let’s put together what we know. First, Adam Burke had been out drinking late the night before. The next day he slept in until early afternoon, stepped out of the door of his trailer—which was three feet above the ground—fell, and twisted his ankle.

“Now, we also know that earlier that same morning Bennett had been snooping around Adam Burke’s trailer, searching for a peg missing from a sabotaged railing, which had broken under Julian’s weight a day or two before. Bennett even searched under the trailer—a fact we haven’t exactly allowed him to live down.

“Now think about how those trailers were constructed. The bottoms were barricaded by large wooden planks. The only way for Bennett to have gotten under the trailer was to have moved aside the wooden steps below the entrance and entered through the crawlspace behind them.”

Bryan turned to Bennett. “You moved those steps away from the door—but you forgot to move them back. When Burke emerged from his trailer that afternoon—dazed from a hangover—there were no steps there. That’s why he fell three feet and twisted his ankle. It was because of you that Hayward was substituted for Burke during that fatal stunt. In a way, you were responsible for Julian Hayward’s death.”

“Oh no,” Bennett fumed. “You can’t blame this on me. I won’t be your scape … I had nothing to do with it.” Eyeing each guest in turn, he added cryptically, “But I know who killed Julian.”

Fury swept him from the room like a feather in a hurricane.

“Perhaps we should give tempers a chance to cool,” Bryan suggested. “Separately.”

Jill disagreed. “I think we should stick together, especially now.”

“Look what happens when we’re together,” Jonas pointed out. “Tempers flare. It happened yesterday with Reeve, remember? And now he’s dead.”

“Maybe that’s what the murderer is counting on,” Gideon agreed. “Turning us against one another. Perhaps to use us, like he used Amanda to kill Reeve last night.”

“But splitting up will make us more vulnerable,” Hatter protested.

“We split up last night,” Amanda said. “And we all survived.”

“Except Reeve.”

“He left his room.”

“But what about safety in numbers?”

“We were all together at dinner last night when Carter was killed,” Jonas argued. “Being together doesn’t make us safe.”

It was decided that a short break might clear everyone’s head. It was daytime, and the murderer seemed to prefer striking at night.

And so the group disintegrated, scattering like dust in a storm.

41

T
o her surprise,
Jill actually felt relieved to be alone, with no one to keep an eye on—and no one keeping an eye on her—as she emerged from the kitchen, a sealed water bottle in hand. She entered the empty parlor room, en route to her bedroom.

The sound of footsteps in the entry hall brought her to a halt. Through the doorway Jill saw Bennett pass by. He approached the front door, clad in the same tan-colored down jacket he had worn the previous morning when—after pocketing the cigarette lighter—he had slipped discreetly from the inn. In fact, his attire was the same as yesterday’s, item for item: the same white overalls, blue work shirt, and brown hiking boots he had been wearing since their arrival at Moon’s End.

Bennett opened the front door and stole outside. Jill wondered what business could possibly be taking him out there into the snow—the second time in less than twenty-four hours she had asked herself that question. She went to the broad picture window and peered outside, but Bennett was already gone.

She felt lonely. Like when Daddy left. She had always wanted to be a detective, like Daddy, and truly earn his trademark praise of “Good girl, Jill.” But she wanted to succeed on her own merits, not ride on his coattails. So she used her mom’s maiden name of Constable rather than Templar.

To have stayed with Bryan would have meant betraying Daddy But then, five years later, she learned that Bryan had been right about Daddy all along. And when Mom found out, her health eroded further. No wonder Jill had ended up in Lakeview.

Jonas had visited her there during those two years. And then, when she was finally released, finding Jonas still waiting … She had lost Bryan and Daddy, and Mom’s health was slipping away. It was a mistake, getting involved with Jonas, but she had needed comfort. At least for a while. Mom never met Jonas, but she knew Jill was seeing someone. She called him Jill’s “young man.”

When Jill had time to sort things out, she regretted her decisions. She decided to go to Bryan and try to make amends. Imagine her surprise to learn from the sign on the office door that Bryan and Jonas were partners. Jonas had never mentioned that. If Bryan found out about her and Jonas—his best friend … Well, she could not let that happen. She knew Jonas would keep their secret. But she also knew that Jonas was adamant about Bryan’s unsuitability for her, and if she tried to resume a relationship with Bryan, Jonas would sabotage it to “protect” her, by telling Bryan about them.

So they had to stay apart.

As things worked out, she found a way—thanks to Imogen—to manage with Bryan out of her life. If only he had stayed out.

* * *

T
he snow felt
cold beneath his feet. He could feel it penetrate his leather boots. But he had business to attend to.

Jill had seen him leave the inn, dressed in his white overalls, work shirt, and hiking boots. Of that he was certain. Would she say anything? Probably not. There would be no reason to. No one would come looking for him. For the time being, he was safe.

Except for the gun. That was a problem. How had it disappeared from Amanda’s room? And who had it now?

Trying to upset him like that, when it had all been their doing: his fellow “guests.” They were responsible. They thought they were all so smart, flaunting their wits at every opportunity, thinking, “Don’t mind Bennett, the harmless fool.” Little did they suspect …

One by one they were being destroyed, and where were their wits to save them now? He enjoyed watching their humiliating defeat.

He would be glad when they all were dead.

42

N
one of the
guests were anxious to reassemble, preferring their own protected space defended by vigilance. For the rest of the morning and part of the afternoon the former classmates followed their own orbits, lost in a timeless world of heightened awareness. It was already midday when Bryan entered the billiard room, encountering Jonas at the pool table. A game of Eight Ball helped pass the time.

“I passed Amanda on my way in here.” Bryan peered over his pool cue. “She seemed kind of moody.”

“Well, it’s not every day you kill someone unintentionally. That surprise visit by Reeve—”

“If it was a surprise.” A third voice had uttered the remark. Neither man had noticed Hatter standing in the billiard room doorway. “If she hadn’t been expecting it, that is.”

Jonas missed his shot.

“Someone wanted Reeve to think the note he had received was an invitation from Amanda,” Hatter continued. “How do we know it wasn’t?”

“Awfully careless of her, don’t you think,” Bryan said, “not to have retrieved the note from Reeve’s pocket before we arrived in her room?”

“Was it?” Hatter’s spider-leg eyebrows contracted. “After all, what did you yourself conclude? That somebody else had sent it.”

“Then how do you explain the attack on Amanda earlier?” Jonas asked.

“How do we know there was an attack? We have only Amanda’s word for that. Did anyone actually see it happen?”