Shooting Star (10 page)
Authors: Cynthia Riggs
“Where are you taking me?”
“To the jail,” said Eldredge, sighing. “Déjà vu all over again.”
Victoria awoke before dawn, dressed quickly, and slipped out of her room, shutting the door softly behind her. She crossed the study, avoiding the floorboards that creaked, and tiptoed to the door of the attic. Elizabeth’s room was nearby, and she could hear her granddaughter snoring lightly.
She held her hand against the door to keep the old hinges from squealing and gently tugged the knob. She went up the steep stairs slowly, one step at a time.
She was halfway up when she heard a low moan. She smiled. Last spring during play readings, she had shown the house, including the attic, to the players. Ghosts, indeed, she thought. When she reached the top, she stepped carefully onto the wide floorboards.
A wooden wall with an open doorway divided the attic into two large rooms. Victoria rapped on the side of the opening.
“Teddy?” she whispered.
She heard the moan again.
“Teddy?” She turned on the light, and saw a small, filthy dog curled up on one of her old quilts.
A small figure with tousled red hair, dressed in jeans and T-shirt, sat up in the bed, blinking. He tossed back the covers, slid off the high bed, and landed on the floor facing her.
Victoria went toward him. Teddy backed against the wall, eyes wide.
“It’s all right, Teddy,” Victoria whispered. “No one else knows you’re here.”
“What are you going to do?”
“May I sit down?”
Teddy moved the chair that had been under the window, brushed off the seat, and held it for Victoria. She sat.
“Sandy … ?” said Teddy.
“Peg’s dog?” Victoria nodded to the dog on her quilt.
“The bad guy hurt him, and I found him in the woods. We have to get him to a doctor. Peg doesn’t know where Sandy is, and she’ll be worried.”
Victoria folded her earth-stained hands in her lap, examined them minutely, and decided to wait before telling him Peg was dead. “I suppose you don’t want anyone to know where you are?”
“The bad guy was after me.”
“Could you tell who he was?”
Teddy shook his head. “I couldn’t see all of him. Everything he had on was black and floppy. He talked in a funny high voice like a girl.”
Sandy lifted his head, and dropped it down again.
Victoria looked over at the shivering mutt. “We need to talk. First, I’ll see that Sandy gets to the doctor, and soon.”
Teddy knelt by Sandy. The dog was panting. Teddy moved the water bowl closer. The dog opened his eyes and shut them again.
“I’m scared, Mrs. Trumbull. Suppose Sandy dies?”
“We’ll make sure he doesn’t.” Victoria twisted her thin wedding band on her finger. It would never slide off over her swollen joint. “Your mother’s here, Teddy,” she said.
“Here? In this house? She came back from California?” He stopped. “Why? Does she know I’m here?”
“Not yet.”
“Please, Mrs. Trumbull. Please don’t let her know I’m here.”
“Why, Teddy? She’s your mother. She needs to know you’re safe.”
Teddy lifted his shoulders. “She’s got this creepy boyfriend.”
“He won’t hurt you, Teddy.”
“He wants the money. He’ll make me go to California.”
Victoria stopped twisting her ring. “Don’t you want to go?”
“No.” Teddy shook his head vigorously.
“You’re a wonderful actor.”
“I don’t want to be an actor. I want to be a fisherman.”
“Well,” said Victoria, “You did the right thing to come here. When your mother couldn’t reach you last night, she flew back from Los Angeles. She has to be told you’re safe. All the police forces on the Island are looking for you. They need to be told, too.”
“I could write a note saying ‘Don’t worry. I got away from the burglar.’”
“That would be a good idea,” said Victoria. “But your mother and the police need more than just a note saying you’re safe. You could add that you’re staying with a friend and that you’ll call your mother. Today is Saturday. Tell her you’ll call on Monday. That should give us enough time.”
Teddy squirmed.
“You mustn’t allow your mother to worry …”
“She’s only worried about the TV show and the money and her boyfriend.”
Victoria shook her head. “No, Teddy. She needs to know you’re all right. The police do, too. It’s not right to let them think you’ve been kidnapped. Or worse.”
“I’ll write the note,” said Teddy, looking down at the dog.
“I’ll make sure your mother gets it.” Victoria rose to her feet and looked out of the window. “First, we’ll take care of Sandy, but we have to wait until everyone leaves. Your mother is going to your house this morning to help the police.”
“The police!” Teddy scrambled to his feet. “Because of me?”
Victoria said nothing.
“Is Peg all right? Did the burglar hurt her?”
“I’m afraid so.”
“She screamed for me to run, and I ran.”
“She wanted you to run,” said Victoria.
“How bad did he hurt her?”
“She’s dead, Teddy.”
Teddy closed his eyes. “Poor Sandy.”
Victoria gave him a few moments of silence before she said, “After everyone leaves, carry Sandy downstairs.”
Teddy nodded. “What will Sandy do without Peg?”
“We’ll think of something. I’ll call Joanie, the animal control officer, and tell her I found a sick dog …”
“That’s true, isn’t it?”
“Yes. I’ll ask her to take Sandy and me to the doctor. You’ll find notepaper and envelopes in that desk.” Victoria pointed to the rickety old desk under the eaves.
Teddy wrote the note and Victoria read it. “Good. Address the envelope to your mother, and I’ll leave it on the kitchen table where she’ll see it.”
Teddy sighed. “I’m not really scared of my mother.”
“Of course not.”
“You won’t give me away, will you?”
“Not until we talk.”
“I’m not scared of my mother,” he said again. “But I don’t want her to tell him where I am.”
“Him?” said Victoria. “The boyfriend?”
Teddy nodded.
“Why don’t you like him?”
“He makes me eat awful stuff.”
“What kind of awful stuff?” Victoria asked, concerned.
“Snails and octopus.” Teddy shuddered. “Slimy black stuff. He pretends to be so lovey-dovey to my mother, but he’s only after her money. He says she’s going to be rich because of my television show.”
“What’s his name?”
“She calls him ‘honey’ or ‘darling’ mostly.” Teddy put his hands to his throat and stuck his tongue out. “Yuck!”
“Don’t you know his real name?”
“I think it’s Reilly.”
Victoria got up slowly. “I have to go now. When everyone leaves, carry Sandy downstairs to the kitchen.”
“The cat doesn’t like Sandy.”
“I’ll take care of McCavity,” said Victoria.
Victoria was still talking with Teddy in the attic when Elizabeth came downstairs to make breakfast. Alison and Amanda joined her, and they talked together quietly so they wouldn’t awaken Victoria. Alison measured coffee grounds and water into the coffeemaker and turned it on.
“What do you like for breakfast, Amanda?” Elizabeth asked.
“Just coffee, thanks,” said Amanda. “I’m going to my house, see if I can help the police.”
The last drip of coffee sputtered into the glass pot, and Alison poured some into a mug. “Pretty hot. Why don’t you take this with you.”
“Thanks. I’ll bring the mug back.”
After Amanda had gone, Elizabeth said, “She doesn’t seem as broken up about her son as you’d expect.”
“She may be in shock,” said Alison. “Or denial. People handle awful situations differently.”
“It’s as if she’s only pretending she’s worried sick.”
“She doesn’t want to admit to herself that something might have happened …” Alison turned away and didn’t finish her sentence.
“My grandmother’s sleeping awfully late,” Elizabeth said. “She must have been exhausted. She didn’t get to bed until well after midnight. How about you, did you sleep okay?”
“Eventually.” Alison wrapped her hands around her coffee mug. “Before Victoria comes down, let me ask you something.”
“Sure.”
“Howland was teasing her about ghosts. I know she doesn’t believe in them. But I heard some strange noises last night.”
“Where were the noises coming from?”
“The attic.”
“You’re not the only one to hear ghosts up there. But the explanation is simple.” Elizabeth poured bacon fat from the pan into a can marked “Grease for Kyle.”
“Who’s Kyle?” said Alison.
“A green friend of Victoria’s. An environmental type who runs his car on grease. Ask Victoria about him.” She put a lid on the can and stowed it in the freezer. “About noises in the attic, there are generations of mice up there who have eluded McCavity. Occasionally a squirrel gets in. We had a raccoon in the chimney last year.”
“It sounded a bit like scratching, but it also sounded like something moaning.”
Elizabeth glanced at Alison. “Do
you
believe in ghosts?”
you
believe in ghosts?”
Alison set her coffee down. “I’m a scientist. People have been seeing, hearing, and feeling spirits for centuries. I’m not about to disregard all those sightings. What about you?”
Elizabeth shrugged. “My grandmother has programmed me into being sensible, which means, according to her, there’s no such thing as a haunted house. Everything has a logical explanation. Want to go up to the attic and look around?”
“Not now.” Alison checked her watch. “Sergeant Smalley is picking me up any minute. By the way, thanks for lending me your jeans. They fit perfectly.”
“You’re welcome to borrow whatever you need.”
“I hope we find Amanda’s boy soon.” Alison paused and looked at the distant spire of the church. “Do you know Teddy?”
“Not well. He seems like a bright kid. My grandmother and he became close pals during rehearsals. The oldest and the youngest players. She’s terribly fond of him. And worried.”
“We all are.” Alison turned away. “In a past life, I had a son. He was Teddy’s age …” she stopped.
Smalley drove up at that point, and Alison hurried out of the door before Elizabeth had time to react.
Elizabeth tried to absorb Alison’s remark about a son. She had assumed the forensic scientist was divorced, but hadn’t thought beyond that. What had happened to her son?
She looked at her watch. Time enough to drive to Alley’s and pick up the off-Island dailies.
When she returned with the newspapers, ten minutes later, Victoria was in the kitchen, pouring herself a mug of coffee.
“Morning, Gram.”
Victoria turned guiltily.
Elizabeth studied her. “Are you okay?”
“Of course. Why do you ask?”
“You seem sort of flushed.”
“A sign of good health.”
Elizabeth looked at her grandmother again and shrugged. “I bought the newspapers. Let’s see what they say about your play.”
Victoria carried her coffee into the cookroom, and they both sat. Elizabeth laid the papers on the table in front of her grandmother. “After the way Dearborn has tried to undermine Ruth …” She corrected herself. “The way he and Ruth’s own sister have worked against her, I wouldn’t blame you for hoping everything will go wrong with the play.” Elizabeth looked around. “I haven’t met the two hitchhikers yet. They must be asleep still.”
“They left early.” Victoria had seen them from the attic window, standing at the end of the drive, waiting for the bus.
Elizabeth noted the flush return to her grandmother’s cheeks. “What time did you get up?”
“I’ve been awake for a while.” Victoria turned her attention to her cereal.
Elizabeth smiled. “Alison heard noises in the attic. I’m afraid we may have mice again.”
“Why, did she hear them scrabbling around?”
“She asked me if we had a ghost …”
“Oh for heaven’s sake,” said Victoria. “Howland thinks it’s so comical to go on and on about ghosts in our house, and now everyone who stays here thinks the house is haunted.” She shoved her cereal bowl away from her.
“We should probably set mouse traps up there.” Elizabeth grinned. She, too, thought about the missing boy. Now there were noises in the attic and her grandmother was being secretive. “I’ll set some mouse traps in the attic right after breakfast.”
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