Secrets (22 page)

Thomas was silent for a moment. “And we think that today has all the scandals in it. As far as I can make out, that weekend, everyone was sleeping with everyone else, and an innocent young girl got killed.”

“Maybe she was legally innocent, but not morally. But, yes, she was stabbed to death.”

“Wasn't it something awful? Like thirty stab wounds?”

“Thereabouts. I don't remember the exact number.”

Thomas leaned toward Althea. “Do you know who killed her?”

“No, I honestly don't.”

“It really was amazing that Hinton would sit there through that whole, long trial and not tell anyone that you were his alibi.”

“That's how he was. He was a kind and generous man, but, still, it's always been my belief that he took the blame for the murder to protect someone. I think he knew he'd be freed, but if the other person was brought to trial, he or she wouldn't get off.”

“Do you think he was protecting his wife?”

“That's my guess, but I don't know. Charles re-creates the weekend and challenges his guests to find out the truth of what happened. But no one has found out anything new, so they can't come up with a new solution.”

“But then, they don't know what Hinton's wife buried under the floorboards, do they?”

“That's right,” Althea said, smiling.

“So what are you up to? Really up to?”

“Matchmaking,” Althea said. “I'm sending Cassie to a costumer in Fort Lauderdale, and I'm sending her a dossier of facts that I know that no one else knows. And I'm giving your son some secret knowledge also.”

“He will be Hinton,” Thomas said quietly. “The man you loved. The man who was tried for murder.”

“And acquitted,” Althea added.

“But who ended up dead anyway,” Thomas said, and Althea nodded.

“After he was acquitted, did you ever think of getting together again? But wait! Didn't you get married about then? To a soldier? Wasn't he—?”

“Killed in action in World War Two,” Althea said softly. “Poor man. My first husband. The studio arranged it.”

“But…,” Thomas began, then his eyes widened. “Your daughter.”

“Yes, my daughter was born nine months after the afternoon I spent with Hinton. He was taken to jail, and a few weeks later I married a young man I hardly knew, and he thought the child was his.”

“The things we used to have to do,” Thomas said sadly.

“Yes, but Hinton kept my name out of the whole murder trial.”

“A true gentleman,” Thomas said.

“The last one,” Althea said, then looked at Thomas. “Until I met you, that is.”

Thomas laughed. “You never lose your touch. Have you written those dossiers yet? The ones with facts to tell Cassie and Jeff?”

Althea grimaced. “You know how much I love to write.”

Thomas smiled politely. “I wonder if I could be so bold as to ask if I might help you with the fact sheets? Maybe we could draw a timeline and tell them where they're to be when.”

“I see,” Althea said, smiling. “Such as when they're to be snuggled together under a bed?”

“Anything to get Cassie and Jeff together,” Thomas said as he got up to get pen and paper. “And maybe I might persuade you to tell Faulkener a few facts that he hasn't known.”

“Gladly,” Althea said. “I owe Cassie a lot. I owe her my daughter, my grandchildren, and my dear, loud, great-grandchildren.”

“Does your daughter know who her real father is?”

“Funny you should mention that. I thought I'd tell her just as soon as Jeff and Cassie prove he's not a murderer.”

“What a good idea.”

They smiled at each other.

C
ASSIE LOOKED DOWN
at her luggage on the marble floor of Charles Faulkener's mansion just outside Palm Beach, and shook her head. She was still dizzy from all that she'd been through in the last few days. Althea had sent her the box she'd seen in the attic that was full of files about the 1941 murder. It had taken Cassie several minutes before she realized that the mystery weekend was based on a real murder. And the reenactment was to take place in the same house where it had happened. Plus, the participants were to wear period clothes.

In an instant, what had seemed like fun turned into something serious. Actors might now be involved, but at one time a real person had been found stabbed to death.

On top of the file box was a large sealed envelope on which Althea had written
SECRETS
. Inside were typed pages of information that Althea said no one but she knew. There was an hour-by-hour schedule of where Cassie was to be when, and with whom. When she got to the part that said she was to have sex with Hinton Landau for four and a half hours, Cassie's eyebrows nearly disappeared into her hairline. Okay, so she and the man playing Hinton could stay in his room for that time and she'd read a book.

The only troubling part of the instructions was that she was to sneak into Charles Faulkener's bedroom and steal some letters from inside a clock. Cassie thought back to the last time she'd gone sneaking and she dreaded trying to get the letters.

Also in the box was a packet of glossy colored photos and instructions printed by the Charles Faulkener Foundation. Cassie read through them in disbelief. The man's breezy style made the murder of a 1940s starlet sound like a nightclub act. He talked of past re-creations and spoke of the “fun” they'd had. One photo showed the victim's character taking a bow while wearing her bloodstained dress.

There were pages of instructions, such as manners and slang, and what were the hottest crazes of the moment.

“Preparing for a world war,” Cassie said under her breath. “That's what took up people's minds in 1941.” She was disgusted by the tone of the pages.

She read every word sent to her, and tried to memorize her part.

She'd spent all day Thursday at a vintage dress shop in Fort Lauderdale. Althea had sent detailed instructions to the owner of the store, and she'd even had someone in Hollywood send some period clothes that would fit Cassie.

Whereas Cassie didn't like the premise of re-creating a ghastly murder, she loved the clothes. Althea hadn't just had any old, worn-out vintage items sent to her, but there were gowns by Adrian in Cassie's matching period luggage. There was something about bias-cut silk sliding across a woman's skin that could change her mind about almost anything.

In between reading about the murder, and reading Althea's notes about secrets in the Faulkener mansion, she rented movies from 1941. She was astonished at how many fabulous movies had come out that year:
Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde
,
The Lady Eve
, the original
Mr. & Mrs. Smith
, and
Here Comes Mr. Jordan
. And of course Althea's movie
The Best of Tomorrow
, which many people believed was her best.

Now Cassie had on a form-fitting, lightweight wool suit with a matching hat that tipped down over her left eye. Her shoes had thick soles and a strap around her ankle. Now that she was leaner and more fit, the clothes looked better on her than they would have before, and she loved wearing them. Tonight she was to dress in a clingy pink silk gown with earrings that looked like real diamonds.

“You must be Althea,” said a man from behind her.

Cassie turned to see a man who was probably over eighty years old, but the skin on his face was stretched so tight there wasn't a wrinkle in it. His eyebrows were “enhanced” with too much dark powder, and they were so high on his face from the skin having been pulled upward so many times, that he had a constant look of being surprised. His nose was tiny, his lips were slightly pouty, and his teeth were so white the sun caught on them and flashed.

He had on a burgundy velvet jacket and a silk cravat. He was quite overweight, but she felt sure he had on a corset to hold in his big stomach. His skin was as white as porcelain.

It was all Cassie could do to keep from laughing, but she just smiled graciously and held out her hand to him. “That I am,” she said and did her best to hold herself upright in the way Althea did. Even when she was in bed with no makeup on, Althea's posture was perfect. Of course it didn't hurt that for the last six months Cassie had done several thousand lat pulldowns with ever-increasing weight. Her back was now so tight that her muscles hurt if she slumped.

“I'm Charles Faulkener,” he said, “and do call me Charles.”

Cassie laughed in a way she'd heard Althea laugh. It was sexy, provocative, and humble at the same time. “How modest you are,” she said. “As if the world hasn't seen you in
The Last Man.
”

“Well,” Charles said, lowering his eyes to the floor for a few seconds, “not many people your age have seen such an old, worthless movie.”

“Not many people my age have seen
Citizen Kane
, but that doesn't stop it from being great, does it?” Cassie wanted to kick herself even as she said it, but Charles didn't protest her comparing his worthless cowboy picture to one of the greats. What an ego! she thought. He was just as Althea had described him. She'd said that Cassie could tell Charles he was the best actor ever to have lived and the man would agree.

“You aren't like Althea at all,” Charles said, taking her arm in his. “She had such a sharp tongue on her. Always ready to say the nastiest thing possible to everyone. I could never keep employees when Althea lived with me. You did know, didn't you, that she and I were lovers?”

“Of course I did,” Cassie said, smiling as though to say she understood why. But inside she was thinking that she was going to ask Althea how she could abide this awful man. Cassie managed to keep her smile plastered on as they started up the wide marble stairs. Behind them two young men in uniform carried Cassie's four matching suitcases.

“You'll have to tell me everything,” Cassie said, leaning against the man in a familiar way.

“There's so much to tell! Althea loves to tell people that I asked her to marry me and live in this…” He swept his arm out to indicate the magnificence of the house.

Cassie glanced about her. The house was like a time warp. Movies from the 1930s could be shot in the house and no set dressing would have to be done. There were several huge palms in big Chinese pots, and Art Deco ornaments graced the gilded tables. She wanted to ask him if he'd bought anything in the last fifty years. “I can see why anyone would want to be mistress of this house. It must be one of the last great centers of true taste and refinement.”

“Oh, my goodness, you are a dear, aren't you?” He leaned toward her and lowered his voice. “Maybe you and I could have a drink together later. Just the two of us. You and me. Alone.”

Cassie swallowed. His fat white hands were moving up her arm, feeling her, moving closer to her breast. Again she had to work to keep from squirming.

“Ah! Hinton! Here you are,” Charles said. “I don't think the two of you have met.”

“Yes, we have,” said a voice that made Cassie's heart nearly stop.

She stopped trying to get away from Charles's grasp and looked up into Jeff's eyes. He had on a suit from the 1940s, the wide lapels and the wide tie suiting him well.

“You forget that Althea and I have been in three movies together,” Jeff said calmly.

“Oh, yes, of course you have. But then Althea does so much with so many men that it's difficult for me to keep all of them straight. Did you and your wife find your room all right?”

“Yes, thank you. Ruth is quite happy with the room, but she asks if she might have a few more towels.”

“Of course,” Charles said, and his voice oozed sympathy. He knew that within twenty-four hours this man was going to be arrested for murder.

All Cassie could do was stare at Jeff, but he wouldn't meet her eyes no matter how hard she glared at him. Whose trick was this? Cassie wondered. Was it Althea's or Jeff's? Which of them had set it up?

“There you are, darling,” came another voice that Cassie knew well. She looked up at Skylar, wearing a bright blue dress that clung to her tiny waist and skimmed over the rest of her body in a flattering way. She slipped her arm through Jeff's possessively.

“So who's this?” Skylar asked, holding on tightly to Jeff.

“What a funny creature you are,” Charles said. “As if you didn't know this was Althea Fairmont.” Charles's voice told that he wasn't displeased by Skylar's dismissal of Althea.

“Of course. She was in one of your movies, wasn't she, darling?” she said to Jeff.

Jeff finally looked into Cassie's eyes. “Yes. She was in my movies. She was in my life,” he said softly.

“Yes, I was,” Cassie said as breezily as she could manage. “I was in your life for a very long time. Oh, how you must have been amused by me! I hate to think of all the laughter I caused you.” She looked at Charles and squeezed his arm. “Show me to my room, darling. I'm dying to freshen up…for you,” she added.

Charles patted her hand and they turned down the hall to the right. He opened the door to a lovely room that was straight out of a 1930s movie. It was all champagne satin, with blond cabinets with gold handles—just as Althea had described it.

“Charles, darling,” Cassie said. “It hasn't changed a bit since I last saw it. You are a dear for keeping it for me.”

For a moment Charles frowned, then gave a false smile. “I stand corrected. You are very like her,” he said quietly. “And you're making me remember things too well.”

Cassie stepped back from him. “Oh, dear, but that sounds ominous.”

“I apologize,” he said, smiling genuinely. “It's just that these weekends are cathartic for me, but they are difficult as well. There's something about you that takes me back in time. I could swear that I once saw Althea in that very same suit. You don't, by chance, know the woman, do you?”

“Me?” Cassie asked, her hand to her throat as she tried to look innocent. “I'm just a struggling actress like everyone else here is. I thought I was to be in character so I've spent weeks studying Miss Fairmont's movies. And I bought the clothes in a vintage shop. Maybe I'm too good of an actress.”

“No, you did right,” Charles said, then brightened. “I do believe that I am in the company of a great actress. Perhaps when you receive an Academy Award you'll thank me for giving you your first serious role.”

“Of course I will,” Cassie said. “So you won't mind if I'm quite like Althea?”

“No, of course not. That's the whole idea.”

Cassie looked about her. “Was I right and this is the room where Althea stayed? I can almost see her in here.”

“Yes,” Charles said. “She always stayed in this room. She wanted to be near her lover.”

There was an underlying anger in his tone that made her want to step away from him, but she held her ground. “But I thought you and she…”

“Althea was an adulteress,” he said.

Cassie gave him a weak smile. Obviously, time had not made him forgive her, but how could it be adultery? Althea was never married to Charles. Cassie cleared her throat.

Charles reached out to pat Cassie's hand. “Now don't you worry your pretty little self about that. At the time, no one outside my intimate circle knew that Althea and Hinton were lovers, but here in this house we play that weekend the way it
really
happened.”

“What does that mean?” Cassie asked quietly.

“You must sit and moon over Hinton, of course. Flirt with him. Make a fool of yourself over him, just as Althea did that weekend. Then when he is arrested for murder, you must abandon him completely, just as she did.” He gave her a little smile. “Now I must see to my other guests. Florence will be here shortly.”

“Florence?” Cassie asked. “Florence Myers? The…”

“Yes, the…” He smiled at her, then turned to the door. “We have tea in the conservatory at four, then dinner at eight. I do hope you can join us for both. Unless you're too busy with Hinton, that is.” With that, he left the room.

Cassie sat down on the foot of the bed and took a few deep breaths. She felt as though the wind had been knocked out of her. What the hell was Althea up to? she thought. This slimy, awful man gave her the creeps. But that was nothing compared to seeing Jeff in the hallway. With Skylar.

Her first thoughts were to take her bags and leave the house. She had been played for a fool by both Jeff and Althea, and probably Thomas. They all thought that if Cassie and Jeff would just get together…

Her thoughts trailed off. No, she wasn't going to leave. She wasn't going to make them all think she was a coward. She was going to stay and play out this awful drama, get the letters from the clock for Althea, then go back to her own life. Maybe she'd take her mother up on opening a nursery in Seattle.

She couldn't help a snort of derision. Jeff was here with Skylar. She hadn't heard any news from them for months, so maybe Jeff was now a married man.

“So much for his great love for
me
,” Cassie muttered as she began to unpack her bags. Every article of clothing had a label on it telling her what she was to wear when. When she'd first seen the clothes, she'd thought it was kind of Althea to do that, but now she had an idea that these clothes were replicas—if not the originals—of the garments Althea had worn the weekend of the murder. Was this for the sake of authenticity? Or was Althea's little game meant to drive poor old Charles over the edge?