Death Waits in the Dark

by Julia Buckley

  Camilla smiled. She knew of Allison’s strong persuasive skills. “I look forward to meeting her.”

  “I assume we should also invite Adam?”

  She nodded. “Yes, my poor Adam. I canceled my lunch with him, and he’s probably feeling neglected.”

  “Great. Let me call Allison first.” I picked up the phone again and dialed my friend’s familiar number. During our brief conversation, even Camilla could hear Allison’s enthusiasm. She would love to host a game night. She would be happy to have everyone at her house, and John would be happy, too! She had plenty of snacks to pass around if people were hungry. I laughed. “I’ll call Sam and Cliff and Adam if you’ll call Doug and Belinda.”

  “Perfect!” she almost yelled into my ear.

  “Let’s say eight o’clock,” I said.

  “See you then!” said Allison.

  * * *

  • • •

  WHEN WE BEGAN our journey to the more suburban area of Blue Lake where Allison’s subdivision was located, Camilla was in a much happier mood and newly enamored of pizza. “I had a fair amount of it when James and I were first married, but then we started cooking our own meals, and then we had a cook to do it for us. We never did much casual dining.”

  “I highly recommend it,” I said. “Although Adam is probably always offering you more elegant food.”

  “Still. Everyone likes cheese,” Camilla said, and I laughed.

  I turned on Sabre Street and headed toward Green Glass Highway. We stopped at a light and I glanced at the front lawn of Darrow Middle School. I gasped. “Oh, Camilla! Look what someone has done.” A statue of Clarence Darrow graced the center of the lawn; it was one of the few public sculptures in Blue Lake, and now it was marred by a jagged yellow line of spray paint.

  “My goodness,” Camilla said with a clucking sound. “I suppose I had fooled myself into thinking that sort of thing didn’t happen in our little town.”

  “It doesn’t, usually!” I said. “Oh, it’s so ugly. Do you think they can remove that paint? It’s such a beautiful statue.”

  “I’m sure they’ll find a way. A shame, really. That anyone would desecrate a work of art. The work of someone else’s hands!”

  The light turned green, and I drove on, feeling sad. With a mildly mischievous expression Camilla tapped my arm. “Don’t forget you’re on cheering-me-up duty,” she said.

  I laughed. “So, pointing out graffiti would not qualify as something cheerful?”

  “Probably not,” she agreed. “Go back to that story about your first date. Did he really bring you flowers from your own yard?”

  “I kid you not. And not nice ones—weeds, Camilla. Dandelions and such. I think he thought it was romantic.”

  “They must have looked dreadful.”

  “They died almost immediately,” I said, laughing.

  Camilla was giggling in a very un-Camilla-like way. “Oh my. And what was his name again?”

  I sighed. “Hugo Le Jardin.”

  “A name like that, and yet weeds were all he could summon.” Her eyes twinkled in the dim car.

  “We were both fifteen. I don’t think he had any money. But still.”

  “Perhaps you should contact him and say that you judged him too harshly.”

  “Stop. It’s still painful in retrospect, but I’m glad it has amused you.”

  “Oh, it has—immeasurably!” She patted my arm, still chuckling.

  “I did find him on Facebook a few years ago.”

  “No! And what is Hugo doing these days? Is he a florist?”

  “Don’t laugh. No, but that would be perfect. You won’t believe what he’s doing these days.”

  “I must know.” She leaned toward me, expectant. I kept my eyes on the road.

  “He runs an online matchmaking company.”

  Camilla giggled again, and my stomach twisted pleasantly with a feeling that I recognized as love.

  * * *

  • • •

  WE CROSSED THE dry grass of Allison’s lawn just before eight o’clock, and Allison met us at the door, where she practically dragged us across the threshold into her cool, cozy living room. “Oh, I’m so glad you’re here! I dug out all our games, and John is ready to take your drink orders.”

  Her husband, John, waved to us from the kitchen, smiling wryly. He knew to stay in the background when Allison was in hostess mode.

  “Thank you so much, my dear Allison,” Camilla said. “I am more than ready for a nice evening with friends.”

  Allison gave Camilla one of her intense hugs and then pointed at John. “This lady needs a cocktail.” Then, to Camilla, “He is so talented—he knows how to make just about every drink, and he can sort of read your mood and know what you’d like. Go see Dr. John, Camilla!”

  Intrigued, Camilla walked over to John, who led her to his little bar. The doorbell rang and Allison lunged forward to admit Adam, Doug, and Belinda, who had apparently met on the doorstep. Adam was sent toward Camilla while the other two came to find me and Allison darted outside to see if Cliff or Sam were coming.

  “She’s a bit manic. She loves people,” I said. “She and I were the yin-yang of our high school. She wanted parties and loud voices, and I wanted quiet rooms and books.”

  Belinda smiled. “You complement each other nicely.” As always, she was beautifully dressed in a cool mint green romper and some beaded sandals. Doug’s hand was in her blonde hair, which, despite the heat, was loose and hanging on her shoulders.

  “As do the two of you,” I said. They turned to look at each other; judging by what I saw in their eyes, things were more serious now between them than they had been a few months ago.

  “I agree with Lena,” Doug said.

  I took out my phone and snapped a picture of Doug and Belinda. “I don’t know if I have a good one of you two together,” I said. “Something for my album.” Then, to Doug, “I know you don’t talk business at parties, but did you know someone vandalized the Clarence Darrow statue?”

  He frowned. “Vandalized how?”

  “Yellow spray paint.”

  Doug’s eyebrows rose. “Could you two excuse me for a minute? I need to make a call.”

  He squeezed Belinda’s shoulder and then walked briskly into Allison’s kitchen.

  I smiled at her. “On a scale of one to ten, how sexy do you find it when he goes into cop mode?”

  She grinned back at me. “Ten.”

  “Perfect. I have a feeling he’ll be doing it often.” She laughed and followed me toward Allison’s table, which my friend had managed to fill with a festive array of party food in about half an hour. We each took a tiny plate and sampled some of Allison’s treats.

  Camilla, clutching a drink, returned with Adam at her elbow.

  I pointed at her glass, which contained a creamy-looking beverage. “So, what did John prescribe as your healing cocktail?”

  She held it up. “A White Russian. I don’t think I’ve ever had one, but I find it delightful. I think I will keep John on retainer.”

  I smiled at Adam, who stood at her side like a courtly admirer. “It looks like John thought you wanted a beer.”

  Adam’s smile was charming. “He was absolutely right.”

  Allison burst back in, leading an amused Sam and Cliff. In that instant they looked more than ever like brothers; it amazed me to think that at one point none of us had known of the familial link between the men.

  Sam wandered toward me while Cliff spied Doug in the kitchen and walked toward him after a general wave to the room. Allison clapped her hands and said, “Everyone, John is taking drink orders and there are snacks on the table. The board games are on this coffee table—let me know your vote for what we should play, or if you’d like to divide into groups.”

  “She is hilarious,” Sam whispered
in my ear.

  “Her energy is infectious,” I said, sliding my hand into his.

  Within twenty minutes Allison had supplied us all with food and beverages and we had agreed to play Pictionary. Doug and Cliff appointed themselves captains, laughingly claiming the authority of the police. Doug chose the teammates of Belinda, Adam, and John, while Cliff chose me, Sam, and Camilla. Allison had appointed herself scorekeeper so that she could occasionally run away to update refreshments.

  The game was revealing in many ways. It was no surprise that we were almost all quite competitive, even the more reserved Adam and John, but what I had not known was that we had two truly good artists in our midst: Cliff and Sam. Sam’s first word was “mystery,” which had amused Camilla no end (possibly because she was on her second White Russian). Sam thought for a moment, then drew, with just a few lines, a very realistic-looking book with a question mark above it. Camilla had guessed it on the first try. Cliff was given the word “fanatic,” and had sketched a sports fan with a screaming, distorted face. I, like Camilla, had guessed it instantly.

  “No fair,” John said. “You boys clearly have some sort of artistic gene in the family.”

  Cliff and Sam exchanged a pleased glance, then shrugged. “Can’t hide this light under a bushel,” Cliff said, and we laughed.

  When Allison put out desserts we all took a break from the game, which was a relief to Adam, who had really sweated over how to draw the word “patriotism.” He had sketched a circle, for some reason, and then pointed to it with various arrows, to the great frustration of his team.

  Now I saw him handing a cup of coffee to Camilla, who looked downright sleepy after her experiment with cocktails, and tucking a strand of hair behind her right ear. It was a tender gesture and somehow a private one; I turned away and found myself facing Cliff, who was holding a plate full of treats.

  “Hey, pal,” I said. Cliff smiled at me. For the last month he’d worked on building a relationship with his half brother, but in the process he and I had become friends. “What looks good at the dessert table?”

  He groaned. “What doesn’t? Your friend should open a bakery.”

  “She really should.”

  “I guess I’m partial to this blueberry pie. I’d give you a bite, except I want it. Didn’t you say this was a spur-of-the-moment party? How did she make all this food?”

  I nodded. “Good question. The answer is that she’s always baking. She likes to bring stuff to her colleagues at work, so we might have cheated them out of their fix tomorrow.”

  “Huh. Try the pie, but also those chunky little chocolate squares—those are amazing. I’m going to have to log about ten miles tomorrow. You want to go with?”

  Sometimes Cliff and I ran together; Sam didn’t enjoy that particular form of exercise.

  “Not really. Not until the weather cools down. I’ll be all over that offer when fall comes.”

  He grinned. I scanned the room while Cliff chatted to me; near the kitchen I saw Belinda. She had grabbed a bottle of water out of Allison’s fridge and was chatting with Allison herself: my two pretty blonde friends, enjoying a festive occasion. Belinda laughed at something Allison said and pushed her glasses up on her nose.

  Then Doug, who had taken a call in another room, was at her shoulder and whispering something in her ear. “Uh-oh,” I said, and Cliff’s head came up.

  A moment later Doug was moving toward us. “Yeah, I think the party’s over,” Cliff murmured.

  Doug joined us and pointed at Cliff. “Finish your pie,” he said. “We’ve got to go.”

  Cliff nodded and started wolfing down the last of his food. Then he gave me a quick hug and said, “Tell Allison thanks for the invitation, and sorry.”

  “I talked to her,” Doug said. “She understands.”

  “What’s going on?” I asked Doug.

  He shook his head. “I can’t say anything just now. We’ll know more soon.”

  He and Cliff moved swiftly to the door and out into the warm night.

  I turned to check on Allison, who did deflate slightly at the sight of two people leaving, but who was still in hostess mode for the five who remained. I gave her a thumbs-up and started perusing the desserts.

  Sam appeared at my side. “Is my brother trying to steal you away from me?”

  “Yes. He finds me irresistible.”

  “You are. What’s that? A brownie?”

  “No. Allison calls it a rocky road fudge bar. It has a ridiculous amount of chocolate in it.”

  “Put one on a plate for me,” he said. I grinned and did as he asked, then handed him the treat.

  I waited until his blue eyes met mine. “Any idea why the police had to go rushing out of here?”

  Sam’s face was solemn. “Just that Doug got a call from the station and apparently the chief wanted both of them. Since Doug and Cliff are essentially the entire Blue Lake homicide department, I’m guessing it’s something bad.”

  “Not another body,” I breathed. “This place has had enough of those in the past year. I hope it’s just about this vandal.”

  “What vandal?”

  I told him what Camilla and I had seen, and he frowned. “Strange. Doesn’t sound like the Blue Lake we know, does it?”

  “No, you’re right. It seems—foreign, like something that would happen somewhere else. But crime has no boundaries. I get that.”

  Sam took a bite of the fudge bar. “Oh wow. Why would a nurse make something that will so clearly fill my veins with sugar?”

  “She’s a paradox. Do you want me to get rid of it?”

  He held his plate out of reach. “I didn’t say that.”

  I laughed, and we found our way back into the living room. The rest of the evening passed very pleasantly, but a part of me had been on alert ever since I had seen the look on Doug’s face across the room.

  * * *

  • • •

  CAMILLA AND I finally prepared to leave, and Adam volunteered to drive Belinda home. Sam still had his car because Doug and Cliff had left in Doug’s vehicle. Allison packed us all goodie bags and Camilla gave her a hug and thanked her for brightening her day.

  Sam appeared at my shoulder to say good-bye. “Want to come by later?”

  I wrapped my arms around him and pondered for a moment. “Camilla was really fragile today, so I’ll wait to see if she needs me, or if Adam is staying over, or what. I’ll text you.”

  “Okay. I’m going to head home and do some work, but I’m there if you miss me.” He gave me a quick kiss, waved to everyone, and left.

  In the car with Camilla, I listened while she praised everything about the evening: Allison’s kindness and her sweet relationship with John, the loveliness of their home, the great connection between Doug and Belinda, the wonderful resemblance between Sam and Cliff. “And, of course, my dear Lena, who arranged the whole thing. You looked lovely in that white blouse, and Sam couldn’t stop looking at you, as always,” she said.

  “I would say the same thing about Adam and you. We are alluring women.”

  Camilla laughed. “Remind me to try a White Russian again someday. But definitely not two of them.” She leaned back on the headrest and closed her eyes.

  I put my left hand out the window and let the air hit it. “It’s nice out now. There’s even a tiny cool breeze. Maybe it will be more bearable tomorrow.”

  Camilla yawned. “One can hope.”

  I dreamily gazed out the windshield and breathed deeply . . . Blue Lake looked beautiful at night. It was far enough from any city that the stars were visible in large glittering clusters, a promise of beauty beyond human dreams, and realities beyond human comprehension.

  “I can read your mind,” Camilla said. Her eyes were open again.

  “Yes? What am I thinking?”

  “That the stars are beautiful and p
eople are fools.”

  “Wow! That is unbelievably accurate.”

  She shrugged. “I think the same when I look at a night sky in Blue Lake.”

  A moment went by in which we heard only the occasional hum of traffic and the rushing of the air as the car sped toward home. “Camilla?”

  “Yes, dear.”

  “I’m so glad you’re my friend.”

  She absorbed this quietly, in her way. She was looking out her window, up at the sky, when she said, “That feeling is mutual, Lena.”

  3

  I miss you the most on days like this, when the Blue Lake wind blows cold, wintry as the wind on the night I met you. Do you remember? A gentle snow was falling, and through the window I saw you climbing the stairs, your dark hair loose on the shoulders of your silver-white coat, your hands deep in your pockets as you listened to your chatting companion.

  I realized that I was leaning forward, hoping you would look up and see me through the glass. In that silent snow, you were a world away from me.

  That’s why my face was the first you saw when you entered the room, Camilla. Because I lunged out of my chair and raced to the door to be sure it was so. And when you smiled at me, I remembered a line from my high school Shakespeare—what Romeo says when he sees Juliet:

  “Did my heart love till now? Forswear it, sight, for I ne’er saw true beauty till this night.”

  —From the correspondence of James Graham and Camilla Easton, 1971

  THE FOLLOWING MORNING Camilla smiled at me across the breakfast table. “Would you like any more tea?”

  “No, thank you. I am content. That was a delicious sweet roll, too. Now I’d better walk a couple of miles.”

  Camilla was wearing her determined face. “I wonder if you’d accompany me on an errand.”

  “Of course! Where did you want to go? If we’re going into town, I—”

  “No, not into town. I’d like to drive to the Bayside Cottages. They’re about a mile past the library, on that little inlet. You’ve probably seen them.”