Shadows At Sunset (23 page)

Like a sleepwalker she pulled herself out of Coltrane's grasp, moving away from them, up the stairs. Jilly watched her in numb despair until she disappeared into the shadows, and when she turned back Meyer was holding a small but undoubtedly effective gun on them.

“I'm going to have to kill you both,” he said in a conversational tone of voice. “I really thought it was going to be easier than this, but you brought it on yourself. I never even guessed. You're good, Coltrane. Almost as good as I am. Who would have thought that snot-nosed little toddler would grow up to be you?”

“I'm nothing like you,” Coltrane said.

“Of course you are. Much as you hate to admit it, we're the same, under the skin. Amoral, greedy, wanting what we want. Like your bitch of a mother. She was trying to blackmail me, you know. She'd left you and your father the year before and showed up here with the baby, demanding that I divorce Edith and marry her. Either that or she'd go to the police about the things that had gone on around here. It was a wild time—no one was to blame. Hell, I didn't even remember half the things I did.”

“So you killed her.”

“I'm afraid so,” he said with unconvincing remorse. “I drowned her in the swimming pool. She put up a hell of a struggle, but she was no match for me. Things would have been a lot simpler if I'd just carried through and gotten rid of the baby, too. I've always been the kind of man who does what needs to be done. But I took one look at Rachel-Ann's eyes and I fell in love.”

“Touching,” Coltrane said.

“I thought so,” Meyer said, unruffled. “She was only a newborn, but I knew she'd grow up to be just like her mother. I'd loved Ananda, you know. Before she turned on me. And even though she had to die, she brought me a second chance. Rachel-Ann.”

“You are so sick,” Jilly said in disgust.

Her father smiled at her with complete sweetness. “I do what I have to do. You're going to die. I can't leave the two of you behind. I made a mistake with Rachel-Ann, and I've never regretted it. But I won't make the same mistake with the two of you.”

“I don't give a shit what you do with me, Meyer,” said Coltrane, “but let Jilly go. You don't want to kill your own daughter.”

“But Coltrane,” Meyer said with the utmost reasonableness, “if I can plan to sleep with one daughter I can certainly kill the other one. Don't underestimate me. I have no morals whatsoever. No decent paternal feelings, no sense of right and wrong. I'm doing it.”

“No.”

Rachel-Ann had reappeared on the stairs, but she didn't have a suitcase in her hand. Instead she held the collar of a growling Roofus. And Dean was beside her, languid, unruffled, almost amused at the trauma in front of him.

Meyer had turned pale. “I can shoot him,” he said. “I can shoot that damned dog before he gets anywhere near me.”

“Give it up, Father,” Dean said. “You're turning this into a bad soap opera. The jig is up. You've lost. Rachel-Ann knows. Jilly knows. We all know.”

“It's lies….”

“And even better, I have proof,” Dean said in a silken voice, coming down the stairs, leaving Rachel-Ann standing there, still gripping Roofus's collar like a lifeline. “I've had most of the pieces for months now, but I finally got the final bit of evidence today. The autopsy report on a young homeless woman named Ananda Coltrane. They found her body in the Pacific, battered almost beyond recognition by the rocks. But not so battered that they couldn't tell she had chlorinated pool water in her lungs, not seawater.”

“I don't know what you're talking about.”

“There's already proof that ties you to her, Father. And I think a simple paternity test, maybe combined with a DNA test, would prove all sorts of interesting things. I'm sure Coltrane will be glad to offer some of his DNA for testing.”

“You're my son….” Meyer said hoarsely.

“And you don't give a damn,” Dean said smoothly. “And neither do I. You have your chance. Go away. Disappear. Leave the country and enjoy what time you have left. I'm sure you've stashed away a comfortable amount in various foreign countries. As long as you go now then you can get away with it. I'll be more than happy to take over Meyer Enterprises, to pick up the pieces of the mess you made. You can get away with murder, Jackson.”

Coltrane jerked, then stilled. Saying nothing, his face like ice.

Meyer turned to Rachel-Ann, holding out his hand. “Rachel-Ann?” he said, pleading.

“Go away while you can, Jackson,” she said, her voice cool and dismissing. “Save your sorry ass and save us all embarrassment.”

She couldn't have destroyed him any more effectively. He stared up at her with shock and hatred in his face. And then before anyone could realize what he was doing he raised the gun.

Jilly screamed and Coltrane hit Jackson at the same time, slamming him against the wall. The gun went off, the shot going wild overhead, and Roofus leapt from the stairs with a furious growl, looking like a particularly shaggy hound of hell.

Meyer's scream was pure panic, high-pitched and girlish, and before anyone could stop him he ran out of the house, Roofus bounding after him, baying like a blood-crazed wolf.

“Roofus!” Jilly called, but the frenzied dog didn't hear her. Someone caught her arm, probably Coltrane, but she shook him off, running outside, after her dog.

Meyer was disappearing down the path toward the tangled rose garden, with Roofus close on his heels. She had no idea how dangerous Roofus could be, but she couldn't trust that he wouldn't rip Meyer's throat out if he got him down. Meyer deserved far worse, but she couldn't let Roofus get a taste for blood.

She ran after them, mindless of the branches that pulled at her long hair, scratched at her arms. The others were behind her, she could hear them, but she didn't care. They were heading toward the abandoned pool, and she didn't even hesitate, crashing after them.

She reached the clearing only a moment after they did. Meyer was teetering on the edge of the pool, his eyes wide and staring, and Roofus was stalking him, growling deep in his throat.

“Roofus!” she called him again, her voice urgent.

The dog turned, whipping his huge head around. And Meyer stumbled, backward, into the dank pool.

She heard the sound as his head smacked against the cement. The sickening splat of bone and blood, the splash as his body tumbled into the few feet of murky water. And then all was silent.

She hadn't moved when the others reached the clearing; she was simply standing there, holding Roofus's collar. Coltrane got to her first.

“Don't let them see him,” she said with quiet urgency.

He glanced into the pool, then turned to look at her. Keeping his distance. “Still protecting them?” he asked in his cool voice, as if they'd never shared a bed, their mouths, their bodies.

“Yes.”

“And who's going to protect you?”

“No one,” she said. “No one at all.”

B
renda buried her head against Ted's shoulder, shivering. He held her tightly, comforting, until they were left alone at the poolside. Alone with the body still floating facedown in the shallow waters.

“We couldn't stop him then, honeybunch,” he murmured. “We can't help him now.”

“Good,” she said, her voice muffled. She didn't want to look. Too much death in this old house. Too much evil and hatred, when all she'd ever wanted was love.

“Look at me, Brenda,” Ted said, putting a hand under her chin to lift her face to his. “At least it's over now.”

“Is it? Who's to say he won't join us here. Forever? I don't think I could stand it, Ted, I just couldn't—”

“Hush, love. The woman he murdered didn't come back. I don't think he will, either. If he does, we'll get rid of him.”

“How? We're stuck here, helpless….”

“Are we, love?”

The sound of his voice, tender and understanding, broke the last remnants of her formidable will. “No,” she said finally. “You aren't. You could go.”

“Go where?”

“Toward the light. If you wanted it would come to you. It wasn't your fault. You were just a victim, and you could move on if you wanted. To heaven, to paradise, whatever it is. You'd just have to go without me.”

“Then I wouldn't want to go,” he said simply.

Now that it was out in the open she couldn't stop. “But I lied to you, Ted. I never told you what really happened, and you didn't remember. You thought we had a suicide pact, and we were trapped on earth as punishment. But that wasn't what happened.”

“I know.”

“You see, I—You know?” She stared at him in astonishment.

“For all your efforts at trying to distract me, there have been enough people over the years talking about it for me to figure it out, honeybunch. You killed me, and then yourself. I don't know why you did it, but you must have had a good reason….”

“No,” she said.

“You didn't have a good reason?” He smiled wryly. “It was a whim?”

“How can you joke about this?” she demanded tearfully. “We're talking about murder. Death.”

“It was a long time ago, sweetness. But if confessing will make you feel better, go right ahead. I'll love you no matter what.”

“I didn't kill you.”

She'd managed to startle him. “You didn't? Who did?”

“You were sound asleep, and it was a hot night,” she said, remembering that night so long ago. “I went for a swim. To this same, goddamn pool.”

“You used to like midnight swims,” he said gently. “Did you wear a bathing suit?”

She smacked him in the chest. “Of course not. But I had my robe. When I came back to the house my robe was trailing in something, and I thought I'd dipped it into the pool. But it wasn't water, it was blood. Your blood. On the terrace, on the stairs, in our bedroom.”

He was no longer amused. “Poor angel,” he murmured. “How awful for you.”

“How awful for you! You were dead. I ran the rest of the way, and found you lying in bed. The back of your head…” Her voice broke at the memory.

“The back of my head is very nice right now, sweetheart. Don't distress yourself. What happened then?”

“I ran to the window. We'd given the servants the night off, and no one was there. I looked out and I saw her, covered in blood as she ran for the car.”

“I can guess,” he said. “Adele. My ex-wife.”

“She didn't consider herself ex.”

“She never would. And no one ever suspected her. They thought you did it? What happened, love? Did she see you and come back?”

“No. She drove away. She'd left the gun on the bed. I think she probably knew me better than I knew myself. I took the gun, crawled into the bed, and—”

“Oh, love!” he said tenderly.

“So, you see, you can go. You didn't do anything. But I did. I've had fifty years with you, love, and it's more than I deserve. You need a chance—”

“I don't need anything but you,” he said calmly. “But what makes you think we can't go together?”

“Because I killed myself.”

“Your God is a lot more unforgiving than mine,” he said gently. “Are you ready to leave this place?”

She stared up at him in disbelief. “I can't.”

“You can. Give me your hand, honeybunch.”

He held his out, and without thinking she placed her small, perfectly manicured hand in his big, strong one. His fingers closed around hers, and a moment later they were enveloped in a blinding white light.

“Ted,” she whispered, afraid.

He pulled her into his arms, and the light filled them, buoying them up. “Eternity, honeybunch,” he whispered. “It will be fine.”

And it was.

 

Rachel-Ann drove blindly through the busy streets. They'd tried to stop her, make her stay, but she pulled away, eerily calm, and in the end they'd let her go before the police got there to fish out the body.

She had no idea where she was going until she ended up there. The Unitarian church was brightly lit, and several smokers congregated on the sidewalk outside the entrance. People she recognized.

She gave them a tentative smile as she walked past them, into the meeting room. It was crowded, and instead of taking her usual seat in a far corner, away from prying eyes, she sat in the front, still, silent, waiting as the seats filled up behind and around her.

“Does anyone here have something they need to talk about tonight?” the leader asked after the opening rituals had been conducted.

It was Rachel-Ann's cue to avert her gaze, to pull inside herself so that she almost disappeared. But not tonight. She raised her hand, and the leader nodded.

“Hi,” she said. “My name is Rachel-Ann, and I'm—” Her voice cracked, and the room was silent. “And I'm an alcoholic,” she finished in a raw voice.

“Hi, Rachel-Ann,” the voices came back at her, welcoming.

“Hi, Rachel-Ann,” came Rico's soft voice, directly behind her. She reached out, blindly, and he caught her hand, holding it tightly.

“My father died tonight….” she began.

 

“Where's Coltrane?” Dean asked. Jilly was sitting at the table in the kitchen, staring silently into a cup of cold coffee. It was after midnight, the police had left, along with the coroner and the ambulance, and they were alone in the house.

She roused herself to look at her brother. “He's gone,” she said simply. “I don't think he wanted to answer questions for the police.”

“No, I imagine not. Our friend Coltrane had a lot of secrets.”

“Don't most people?” she asked wearily.

“I think he had more than his share. You didn't make the mistake of falling in love with him, did you?”

She jerked her head up. “You think I'm that stupid?”

“Yes. Or let's say, I think you're that vulnerable. You aren't always the strong one, Jilly.”

“I don't really have any choice right now, do I?” She stirred the coffee.

“Is he coming back?”

“Coltrane? I doubt it. He got what he wanted. Jackson's dead.”

“Are you sure that's all he wanted?”

“Positive,” she said. “What else?”

“You, big sister?”

She shook her head. “In that case he'd still be here. He wouldn't have taken off without a word. Now would he?”

“Maybe. Maybe not.”

“Besides, it's Rachel-Ann I'm worried about. Where do you think she is?”

“Stop it, Jilly! Stop fussing about everyone else and start thinking about yourself. Rachel-Ann will be fine. She's a lot tougher than we give her credit for.”

“And what about you?”

“You just can't stop it, can you? I'm fine, too. I haven't had any illusions about Jackson for years. You're the one who thought I still needed his approval. I just wanted the old bastard to get the hell out of here and leave me the company. Which he's done. A little more violently than I expected, but it's for the best.”

“Dean!” She stared at him, horrified, but he seemed completely unruffled.

“Rachel-Ann and I can take care of ourselves. It's past time for you to start concentrating on Jilly. You need a life, sweets. Beyond this old house, beyond your foolish siblings. You need a new project to renovate, a new soul to save. I was hoping it was going to be Coltrane, but if it's not, so be it. Time for all of us to stand on our own two feet, sis.”

“Yes,” she said, not wanting to hear it.

“And time to get rid of this old place. You know it as well as I do.”

She looked up at the cavernous ceiling, the stained sink, the cracked dishes behind the tall, glass-fronted cupboards.

“Yes,” she said. And she started to cry.