Winds of terror (15 page)

Her hand went to the knob, and she turned it slowly, certain that it would not open.

There was a sound from inside the room! Melanie jumped away from the door, her whole body trembling in fright, her brain on iBbre as it tried to identify exactly what kind of noise it had beeni

Gaining some composure, she moved back to the door, pressing her ear against the stained oak panel. There was no sound now. What kind of sound had she heard earlier? A stirring, perhaps? But what kind of stirring —rats? Was that what Butch had been after all along— rats?

All was silence on the other side of the door now. She stood there for perhaps fifteen minutes, waiting, listening ... but no sound was heard.

"Just what do you think you're doing?"

She jumped, turning abruptly to find Mark standing a few feet away from her. She was so stunned by his sudden appearance that she could only move her lips, unable to speak.

He walked closer. "I asked you a question, Melanie. What do you think you're doing? Eleanor told me you've been prowling all over the house all afternoon.'*

That statement brought her voice back to her, as anger washed over her. "You did hire that woman to spy on me, didn't you? Why, Mark? What is it that you're afraid I'll discover?"

He shrugged, smirking. "Not anything, Melanie. You see, I know why you insist on staying when you know that you're not wanted. You think you can talk my aunt into leaving her estate to you instead of me. I've put up with that old woman's mean, hateful tongue for years, and I deserve some compensation. That compensation will be the bulk of her estate, and I will not have you or anyone else cheat me out of it, do you hear?"

His eyes were tight slits and his whole body trembled 113

with fury. "Do you hear me, Melanie? You would be wise to leave right away."

"I'm not going anywhere,'* she snapped. "Not until I find out what's going on« Maybe you can come up with an alibi for yesterday, but Tve got a feeling you're responsible for my being knocked out and put in that mausoleum. And I'm sure you know what happened to Butch, too."

They faced each other—enemies ready for the kilL A door opened. Cale rolled himself out into the hall.

"Will you two cut it out?" he cried angrily. "I'm tired of listening to your bickering."

Melanie pushed by Mark and headed for the stairs. 'Tm going to call Mr. Garrett right now to come out here tonight Addie can change her will, and I hope she leaves everybody out and gives the whole fortune to charity!**

She was almost sobbing by the time she got to the phone, and she gulped before lifting the receiver and telling Flossie to get the lawyer's office for her, and quickly.

Mr. Garrett answered the phone himself, and Melanie fought to keep the hysteria out of her voice as she told him of her aunt's request that he come out to the house as soon as possible.

He was silent for a moment, then said, "All right, but I can't make it tonight. I'll be out first thing in the morning, though, and I'll bring Margie with me to take notes. Wm that be all rightr

Melanie said, "If you can't make it tonight, it will have to be all right. We will see you tomorrow, then." She put down the receiver and turned to see Mark standing in the doorway behind her. "Did you hear all you wanted to?" she asked.

He glared at her with hatred. "Cale's and your scheme won't work. My brother won't stand for it." And then he turned and walked quickly away.

Eleanor prepared dinner and then left for her home in Talladega, saying she would not be back for two days. That suited Melanie fine. She hoped she would never come back.

Eleanor sensed her hostility and said, "As soon as you leave. Miss Melanie, I'm going to make arrangements to move in and stay."

Melanie simply looked at her and said quietly, "I'm not leaving."

Addie reacted furiously when she found out that Mr. Garrett was not coming that night, but she was soothed somewhat when Melanie made her see that he wouldn't actually be able to change her will right then, anyway.

"Chances are that he can get it typed up and prepared for execution tomorrow, since he's bringing his secretary when he comes out in the morning. Then perhaps he can return late tomorrow and have it properly signed and executed."

'That's the way I want it," Addie said firmly. "Done as soon as possible. And by the way, did you call SherifE Dixon to come out?"

Melanie had to admit that she had forgotten, but, that she thought it might be best for Mr. Garrett to handle that. "Maybe he could explain your feelings to Mark in such a way that Mark would understand and not be hurt too badly. He is going to be upset, you know."

Addie nodded, as though she might be willing to consider handling it the way Melanie suggested.

Melanie was fluflSng her pillow and tucking her in for the night "After all, Mark should understand that it's only natural for you to want to leave your estate to your grandson, rather than to a nephew," she continued.

Addie laughed, and it was such an unusual happening that Melanie paused to stare at her.

"I'm not leaving my estate to Cale, dear. He would only squander it on foolishness. FU still leave him a trust fund, because he is my grandson, and he will be looked after for the rest of his life." She paused to smile. "I'm leaving the bulk of my estate to you, my dear."

Melanie felt herself swaying. No, she didn't want it this, way. Mark would say she'd planned it, and she never had, not for a single minute. She opened her mouth to speak, but Addie cut her off.

"Now don't try to talk me out of it, Melanie," Addie said. "There's no one else I'd rather leave my money to, and it is, after all, my money to do with as I please. Don't you agree with me?"

Melanie struggled to find her voice, and, when she did, the words came out in a rush: "Aunt Addie, it's your money, all right, but I'm not really even kin to you.

It's Cale who should get your estate, and if you don't want him to have it, then leave the money to charity."

"Nonsense!" She waved her hand in dismissal and settled herself among the pillows. "I don't want to discuss it any further. My mind is made up, and youVe probably called me a stubborn old fool behind my back enough times that you should know when my mind is made up, I don't change it. Now get out of here and let an old woman try to sleep."

Melanie knew better than to argue. She only hoped that somehow she could change Addie's mind before Mr. Garrett arrived in the morning. It was not the way she wanted things at all. She did not want Mark to accuse her of scheming and conniving to get her aunt to change her will—and Mark might actually succeed in making everyone believe that she had done just that

... And Cale would believe that, too.

Melanie was so lost in thought, as she finished arranging the covers, that she did not hear the footsteps stealing away from the door. Someone had been listening. Someone in the house knew the way Addie Beecher wanted to set up her will.

Addie Beecher had heard the footsteps, however. She knew someone had been listening, and she had no doubt in her mind that it was Mark, and she was glad. Now that he knew, it would not come as such a shock to him later.

Addie closed her eyes, deciding that she would say nothing to Melanie. The girl seemed restless, nervous. It would serve no good purpose to upset her further.

Chapter 15

Melandb sat in the window seat, fingering the brocade cushion absently as she stared out the bedroom window into the night. A warm breeze touched her face, and the sweet fragrance of honeysuckle drifted past her face. There was a half moon, veiled momentarily by silvery clouds drifting across its face. Stars twinkled in the heavens, and she smiled sadly as one went skittering across the sky.

Stars falling in Alabama . . , She had seen many of them. She had always made a wish, just as her mother had told her she should do. Now she wished for peace and contentment . . • for everyone at Beecher House. Was that too much to wish for, she wondered.

Melanie was a veritable portrait of a deeply troubled young woman. So much had happened of late to turn her world upside down. And to climax the day, Cale had come to her, talking amicably, but still trying to persuade her to leave the plantation.

Once during his visit, Melanie had almost confronted him with the fact that she had seen red clay caked on his shoes, but she had decided not to, believing it best she just keep silent. If there were no logical explanation, then Cale would be prepared against such a slip in the future. Still, though, she found it diflScult to warm to Cale, and he sensed her coldness and did not prolong his visit

Now she sat, and, though it was quite late, she was not sleepy. Melanie was filled with apprehension, because she knew that the appearance of Attorney Garrett in the morning would provoke alarm and even more hostility in Mark—maybe even in Cale, should he learn that his

grandmother intended to will her estate to his step-cousin!

Leaning her head against the windowpane, she thought of Robert and the brief happiness they had known. They were only memories now . . . and memories fade. One day, she would find it difficult to remember much of anything about their life together.

Footsteps! Melanie stiffened and slowly turned her head towards the door. It was locked, of course; no matter how much she had on her mind, she would never forget to lock that door. Now she watched, her eyes widening, as the knob slowly turned, slowly...

"Get out!" It was a man's voice, harsh and raspy, and Melanie shrank in terror against the window. Who was there? She did not recognize the voice, and it sounded so evil, so deadly ...

"Get out before I have to kill you. • •**

She gasped, her hands flying to her throat as the knob jiggled one more time and then stopped abruptly. The footsteps retreated, quickly. She sat frozen with terror, her nerves strained.

Quietly, ever so quietly, Melanie slid her legs out from under her. Her brain was pounding with fear, every fiber of her being was tense with terror and fright She had to go to that door. She had to find out what was going on . . . and who had dared to threaten to kill her if she did not leave

After crossing the floor on stiff, wooden legs, Melanie turned the lock on the door and reached for the knob. With a slight squeak, the door opened. Cautiously, she poked her head outside and into the darkened hallway.

She could not see anything. She could not hear a soimd....

She stepped back inside her room, trying to decide what to do next. Under no circumstances did she want to go out into the dark hallway without a light of some sort, but a big flashlight beam would be too obvious; it might awaken someone.

Then she remembered the little purse-sized flashlight attached to her key chain. It was small, pencil-thin, and it would produce only a thin shaft of light. She hurried to her purse, and got the flashlight Clicking it on, she tiptoed out into the hall.

A quick trip to one end of the hall assured her that 118

whoever had been outside her door was now nowhere to be found.

Anger began to replace fear. Melanie decided that she would go to Mark and let him know that she would not be frightened away, and that his childish pranks were only a waste of time.

Pausing outside his door, Melanie was astonished to hear the sounds of his gentle snoring. Was it a deceptive ploy? She did not know. She turned the knob silently and opened the door. Then, because she had reached the point where she did not care if she made her cousin angry, she flashed the beam of light around the room, pausing to illuminate his form, bundled beneath the covers, sleeping quite soundly.

It could not have been Mark, she reasoned. Even if now he were only pretending to be asleep, he would never be able to tolerate her intruding upon his privacy this way. No, she told herself, the man at her door had not been Mark.

Stepping back into the hall and closing the door behind her, Melanie knew that there was only one other alternative—Calel He was walking . . . and pretending that he could not. Why he would do such a thing she did not know, but she intended to find out.

She hurried to Gale's room and turned the doorknob. It was lockedl Why would he lock his door at night, she wondered angrily. If he were crippled and helpless, it only stood to reason that he would leave his door im-locked so that, should he need help during the night, someone could get to him without difficulty.

She listened outside the door. She could hear his light snoring. Was he pretending? She rattled the doorknob.

"Cale, I have to talk to you. It's important," she whispered.

There was no answer, only the continued light snoring.

"Cale, I want to talk to you about my leaving," she whispered, assuming that would rouse him if he were faking.

Still there was no response.

Her hand fell away from the door. She felt defeated.

A fine detective she had made, she admonished herself. Melanie moved down the hall, deciding to check on Aunt Addie as long as she was up and about. Something made her stop in front of Hartley Beecher's room. What

was in there that made her flesh tmgle? Had there been a noise or had she only imagined there had been a slight sound, as though something—or someone—^were moving behind that closed door?

Running the thin beam of light up and down the panels, Melanie wondered why Mark was so adamant that the door remain locked. And as always, she wondered why Butch had been so determined to go into that room. What was the mystery there?

Melanie had always been curious, but never had she felt more justified in following her inquisitiveness. Many cruel events had marred her life lately; it there were even the remotest chance that the answers to these happenings lay behind that locked door, then she felt she had every right to open it.

As she moved toward her aimt's room, Melanie reasoned that she could open the door and look around, and that no one need ever know she had been in there. All she had to do was sneak into Addie's room and find the key, tucked inside the old woman's jewelry box. She remembered hearing her mother talk about what a big ceremony Addie made of putting the key there so many years ago. Melanie would get the key, unlock the door, look around the room with the aid of her flashlight, and lock up again, returning the key to its resting place. No one need ever know.