Tea and Primroses (36 page)

“But they found faulty wiring,” said Sutton. “It wasn’t set by anyone, according to the authorities.”

“Faulty wiring could’ve been arranged by someone coming into the house. They were traveling for a year. Surely there was someone hired to look after things. Could that person be bought off to let someone inside to mess with the wiring? Very easily. Again, I checked the dates. Sigourney was out of the institution and staying with her parents for a month that same summer they were killed. Miller’s death appears to have been an unfortunate accident, but your mother, Dec, was clearly murdered. In the book, Constance quotes her as saying the man ‘fell out of the clear blue sky.’ How likely is this, really? Unless it’s a killer hired to make it look like a grifter who has a car accident? Constance’s death was after Maurice Templeton was dead. I made a call to the institution this morning. Her mother had let Sigourney come home for a period of time before sending her back, the exact same month Declan’s mother was killed.”

“This doesn’t seem possible,” said Sutton. “Why would she go to such lengths? The Templetons got what they wanted, which was for my parents to be parted.”

“I thought about this all morning. But what’s the ultimate revenge?” asked Peter. “Kill everyone you love. Make you suffer loss after loss.”

“It that’s true, though, why didn’t she kill me?” asked Sutton. “Or Declan?”

“Or my mother?” asked Peter. “I can’t figure that part out. Because it would seem she’d want the three of you dead before she killed Constance. My only thought is that she planned on it but couldn’t figure out how to do it without getting caught. She’s extremely crafty. And she was rich, with family ties to organized crime, so it was easy for her to arrange things as long as she wasn’t locked up.”

“Oh my God.” Patrick looked gray. He held onto the counter with both hands, taking in deep breaths.

Alarmed, Sutton got up from the table and went to her father, leading him back to the table and helping him into a chair. Declan brought him a glass of water.

“If this is true, what have I done?” Patrick said, no louder than a whisper.

“This isn’t your fault,” said Sutton. “The woman’s sick.”

“How does a person devote their life to something like this?” said Declan.

“I ask myself that question every day of my career,” said Peter. “There are no answers.” Peter began to pace the room again. “As of now, Sigourney Templeton is nowhere to be found. The police in New York went to the family home and none of the sisters claim to know where she is. The oldest one, responsible for her care, said she disappeared several days after she came home last month. Everyone, including her doctors, were convinced she was well enough to return to normal life. However, they thought that once before and it proved to be wrong. Here’s the thing. None of you are safe until I figure out where she is. You must stay here. No walks on the beach. Don’t go into town. Just stay here behind the gate.”

“How will you find her?” asked Declan.

“I’m going to fly across the country tomorrow. Pay a visit to her oldest sister. If she’s responsible for her care, perhaps she’ll know where she is.”

It came to Sutton then. Louise. She wasn’t safe either. “What about your mother, Peter?” asked Sutton.

“I have police guarding her house in Portland, don’t worry,” said Peter. “I told them the same thing I’m telling you. No one sets one foot out of this house until I locate Sigourney.”

***

Both Declan and Patrick were asleep upstairs, napping in the late afternoon. Sutton, although she would have loved nothing more than the release of sleep, was restless and jittery. She wandered downstairs and sat at her mother’s desk, looking out to the ocean, her heart aching.
Mommy
. She’d lost almost everyone she ever loved.

The phone rang. It was Gigi.

“Sutton?” Her voice was faint and breathless.

“What’s the matter? You sound weird.”

“I’m sick. Really sick. I think I ate a bad egg. It’s been coming out both ends for almost twenty-four hours.”

“Have you been able to keep any water down?”

“No. I feel like I’m dying.”

“You need to go to the hospital.” She heard the sounds of Gigi’s retching. What if she’d been poisoned? What if Sigourney had decided to kill her as well? “Hang in there. I’ll come get you.”

Sutton hung up and ran to the kitchen, remembering seeing Declan’s knife on the counter. Just to be on the safe side, she thought, as she jotted down a quick note to Declan. She hated to wake him, knowing how little sleep he’d gotten recently.

“Gigi’s really sick. I’m headed to take her the emergency room. Will call you from the hospital.”

She put the knife in her jeans pocket, then grabbed her purse and headed for the front door. Peter had said not to go out of the house, but this was an emergency. She’d never heard anyone sound as sick as Gigi had on the phone just now. With shaking hands, she punched in Peter’s number on her phone while running to her car. He didn’t answer. She left a message. “Peter, it’s Sutton. Gigi’s really sick. I’m scared out of my mind she’s been poisoned. Can you meet me at my house? Just to be on the safe side?”

It took her ten minutes to get to her house. She parked around back, knowing Gigi’s car was most likely in the garage. Using her key for the back door, she entered the mudroom and called out Gigi’s name, but there was no answer. The poor thing was probably in the bathroom. How was she going to get Gigi to the hospital? She sprinted up the stairs to the main floor, calling out to her once again. At the top of the stairs, she scanned the room, almost breathless from fear and the sudden sprint, but then her heart thudded and seemed to stop. Gigi sat on the couch, bound and gagged. Behind her, pointing a pistol directly at Sutton was a woman with long, white hair and icy, almost translucent eyes. Sigourney Templeton.

Sigourney was old and ugly now, with no hint of the beauty she’d once possessed. Ugly made its way to the outside eventually, Sutton thought as she gripped the railing.

“Sutton Mansfield in the flesh,” said Sigourney. “Come on in. We’ve been waiting for you.” She came around the back of the couch, pointing the gun at Gigi’s head. “Come, sit by your friend here. We have a lot to discuss.”

Sutton crossed the room on liquid legs. She sat close to Gigi; their shoulders touched. Through the fabric of Gigi’s blouse she felt the cold fear on her friend’s skin.

“Do you know who I am?” Sigourney stood in front of her, pointing the gun at Sutton’s chest.

Sutton nodded.

“I had to take care of your mother myself. When I found out that Patrick, after all these years, was with her again while I wasted away in that place, well, I knew I had to come finish her off once and for all. It wasn’t enough, suddenly, to have destroyed her life like she did mine. I wanted her dead. And you know why? Because it would make Patrick suffer. So that outweighed my desire to kill you and make Patrick’s slut suffer.” She sat in the chair opposite the couch and stared at Sutton. “But then, I figured something else out. You see, I’d never seen you before. But when I did, I knew. You were Patrick’s child. You look just like his mother. Did you know that? I know that because her photograph used to sit on
my
bureau in
my
house I shared with
my
husband. Mine. He was mine and then your mother took him away. God, how I’ve hated her. All those years they had me locked up I spent thinking of how to make her suffer. When I found out about you, I knew exactly what my final revenge would be. I had to kill you to give Patrick one final blow before he dies the painful death that awaits him. Not only is his slut dead, but so is his daughter. Those are the thoughts that will be in his mind as he dies in some lonely room. Oh, I can only imagine the happy meeting between you two. There must have been tears and hugs and vows of undying love. It makes me sick. They wrecked my life.” She stood, pacing back and forth in front of the couch. “So then the only question was how? They had you good and locked up in that hideous house of your mother’s.” She pointed at Gigi with the gun. “But then this one presented herself and, boom, I knew what to do.”

Sigourney sat again. “How to do it though? This is the question. I’ve been able to cover my tracks all this time, except for my father. He figured out what I was doing and locked me up. As if he hadn’t threatened to do the same thing.” She shook her head. “My father was smarter than anyone I ever met. Even smarter than Patrick. Or do you call him Daddy now?”

I want to call him Dad,
she thought, silently,
but now I probably won’t have the chance
. She felt Gigi shift. Sutton glanced at her; Gigi’s eyes were wide and frightened.
Think
, she ordered herself. How could they get out of this? Be brave. The lion was brave in the end. She must be brave now. She couldn’t let either of them go out this way. Her mother wanted her to live.

Declan’s face came to her then. All those years he spent chasing demons, obsessed over his mother’s killer. And here she was. Sutton must buy time, get her to talk. Sigourney was the type of woman who liked to brag. Peter would come once he got her message. Maybe he would call Declan and Patrick. Someone would come.

She needed to get Sigourney to stop moving. “Sigourney.” She swallowed, trying to control the shaking in her voice. “A reporter followed me here. I saw their car pull up and park across the street. He knows I’m in here.”

Sigourney stood and went to the window, pulling back the curtain just slightly. Sutton was up. She reached into her pocket and pulled out the knife, removing its sheath. She pitched it, aiming for the target, the spinal cord, between the old woman’s shoulder blades. The knife moved swift and smooth and fast, entering the woman’s body like a dart to the board. Sigourney screamed and dropped the gun. It went off; the boom was deafening. There was the smell of gunpowder. Sutton raced across the room, scooping the gun up with her strong baker’s fingers.

The gunshot noise was replaced by the sound of footsteps running up her stairs. Men’s heavy steps. Sutton pointed the gun at Sigourney, who writhed on the floor, moaning in pain.

Sigourney was curled into a ball, making the noise of a trapped animal, her flowing dress all around her scrawny, decaying body like she might melt into the floor.
Just like the wicked witch
, thought Sutton.

The men were there now. Peter had his gun drawn. Declan’s face looked near panic until he saw her, standing there with the gun pointed.

She turned her gaze toward them but kept the gun pointed at Sigourney.

Sigourney moved her cold eyes to Sutton. “I’d do it all again.”

“Shut up,” Sutton whispered. “Peter, make her shut up.”

“I’ll make sure she pays for what she’s done,” said Peter. “Justice comes to those who wait.”

“Baby, give me the gun.” Declan peeled Sutton’s tight grip from around the handle of the gun and brought her close. “You all right?”

“I think so.”

Peter put his gun away and took out a pair of handcuffs, tightening them around Sigourney’s wrists.

Sirens sounded in the distance. Peter released Gigi from the gag and ropes around her ankles and wrists. She collapsed in his arms. All this happened around Sutton but she was in a haze, like the pea soup fog that came so often to the coast. Her legs weakened; there were black spots in front of her eyes; the smell of the gunpowder seemed to have crept deeply into her nostrils. She felt as if she might faint. “Dec,” she whispered. “I don’t feel so well.”

“I’ve got you. It’s all over now.” He picked her up and carried her into the bedroom, where he held her on his lap.

THAT NIGHT SUTTON SAT IN HER MOTHER’S OFFICE
with Patrick, watching the sun setting over the ocean.

She pointed to the beach. “Do you think she’s out there somewhere, watching us?”

“Absolutely. I know it, as a matter of fact,” said Patrick.

“How’s that?”

“I dream of her every night. We agree we did good work when we made you. Our perfect collaboration.” He smiled, his eyes soft. “I saw the doctor today.”

“What did he say?”

“He said it’s miraculous the cancer hasn’t spread. I told him I have a lot to live for. The cancer hasn’t grown since the day I came to Legley Bay and found your mother. Doc says I have a while longer.” He squeezed her hand. “
We
have a while longer.”

“I’m so happy, Dad.” She smiled, self-conscious. “Dad. Saying it might take a bit to get used to.”

“Keep practicing, then.”

Sutton picked up the clock from Constance’s desk and held it, caressing the smooth wood with her fingers, thinking of her father’s hands that built it so long ago. What had he thought of as he chose and sanded the wood? What was the first time ever set on it? It was then she noticed it had stopped. No one had thought to wind it since her mother’s death. “Will you wind it?” she asked Patrick.

He did so and then set it on the desk where it had lived for so many years. Then he reached into his pocket. “I have something for you.” It was her mother’s necklace. “I promised her I’d give it to you.” Turning her toward the window, he clasped it around her neck.