Cryptic, but what should I have expected? I started to get up, but he pointed to my chair. “Sit. Do yourself a favor and pay attention to me. If you never listen to me again, listen to me now. Be very careful around Joshua; he bites. I’m a cold bastard and proud of it, it’s made me a successful businessman, but I’m not nearly as nasty as my dear stepbrother, so watch your step.”
The evidence was damning, but something in his demeanor told me Walter was telling the truth. I digested what he said, reading between the lines. “Are you saying Joshua might have had something to do with Diana’s death?”
He framed his words carefully. “I’m saying that Joshua has a history of violence. He’s battled with insanity all his hie and never should have been let loose. From day one, Josh was up to no good. Never turn your back on a wounded animal. They’ll rip out your throat.”
As I contemplated his unwavering stare, I realized that I believed Walter. He hadn’t killed Diana. Feeling a perverse need to reassure him, I blurted out, “I don’t think you murdered her. I believe you.”
He held my gaze for a moment. I didn’t look away. Then, slowly, he eased the chair back down on all four legs and pulled back. “If you’ll excuse me now, I need to speak to my lawyer. We’ve got a lot of ground to cover before my arraignment tomorrow.” He stood up, indicating the interview was over. As the waiting cop led him to the door, Walter paused and turned back to face me. “Watch your step, Emerald O’Brien. Insanity and strength are a dangerous combination. I would hate to see such a pretty lady as yourself get mixed up in a world built on the love of pain.”
I gratefully accepted my purse and hurried out of the building. On my way back to the shop, I thought over the strange interview. He never should have been let loose. Let loose from what? Jail? The military?
Walter had inherited the money that would have gone to Joshua. Joshua hated Walter. Just how far would either of them go to get revenge? With these and other questions whirling in my mind, I drove back to the store.
“DAMN, IT’S COLD out there. The sky is so clear that the stars almost blinded me.” Andrew shook off the snow as I let him in. Murray had volunteered to take the kids out to get the Christmas tree. I wanted to go along, but I was so tired that all I could do was lean back in the recliner and rest. With the promise that tomorrow night we’d decorate the house, they were more than willing to let Murray lead the expedition. Randa still wasn’t speaking to me, and I still hadn’t figured out what to do about it.
I tried to find the words to ease into the subject, but it wasn’t easy. Finally I opted for my usual: blunt honesty. “I talked to Walter today.”
Andrew looked at me as if I’d just grown another head. “Excuse me? You went to the jail, alone?” He rubbed his forehead and let out an exasperated sigh. “I can’t believe you. Do you like putting yourself in danger?”
I glared. “I wasn’t in danger. There were cops everywhere. Don’t exaggerate.”
“And I suppose he told you he didn’t do it?”
Just what I needed to help me think clearer, sarcasm on the half shell. I gave him a stony look. “Of course he did. The damn thing is, I believe him.” I flipped on the television. It’s a Wonderful Life was on, and I settled back in the chair and sipped at my tea, waiting for the blowup.
Andrew stood up and began to pace. “You went to the jail to visit a man accused of murdering his daughter, who you also think murdered his wife, and all of a sudden you believe him? What happened to ‘Susan needs me’? Is it his money? His suave sophistication? Did he promise to fund your shop if you switch sides?”
“What? What are you talking about?” I’d expected a protest, but he was totally off base, so much so that I had no idea what he was talking about.
“He obviously got to you. You waiting for him to get out now?”
“You think that I’m interested in Walter? You really think that?” I stared at him, aghast. How could he believe that I’d get involved with someone like that?
“I can’t believe that you’re standing up for a scumball who beat his wife and molested his daughter.” He turned to me, eyes blazing.
“You’re jealous.” I could see it in his look, his stance. “You think that I want Walter? Thanks a lot for your confidence in me—I truly don’t think he did it. We had an interesting talk, but I dunk I’ll keep that to myself, since you’re being such an ass.”
“Well, you certainly haven’t been giving me much attention lately. What do you expect me to a think?”
“I expect you to think with the head on top of your neck. As to giving you attention, don’t you remember that I told you that once the kids were home, we were going to have to adjust our relationship?”
“I know!” His eyes flashed, then he leaned back and said more softly, “I know. I’m just… how long do you think it will take? How can I prove that I’m worthy so you’ll let me stand up and tell the world you’re my lover, my girlfriend?”
I shook my head. How could I make him understand? I had to be sure, had to know that this was more than a dalliance, more than a simple liaison. Ten days or so of ghost-hunting together wasn’t enough to prove anything. The excitement alone was enough to make some guys hang around to see what came next.
“Can’t you understand? It’s not a matter of you proving that you’re worthy. I wouldn’t be with you if I thought you were a jerk. All I’m asking is that we go slow for a while. I have to keep the kids from getting their hopes up too high. If you sleep in my bed, they’re going to think that you’ve become a permanent addition to the family. What happens if you change your mind in a month? They’re the ones who get hurt, because right now they cling to any adult who shows them the affection their father withholds. I’m sorry if this stings your ego. If I could change it, I would.”
“So where does that leave us? Holding hands like schoolkids?”
I didn’t like the sneer in his voice. “If that’s what it takes, yes. If casual dating isn’t enough, then maybe I’m not the right woman for you. I’m not saying that we have to be celibate, but you can’t sleep in my bed when the kids are here. Not yet.”
I could tell he was angry, but there was no way he could argue—he knew I was right about this. “Damn it, I need to think. I’m going home.”
“Should I tell the kids good-bye for you?”
“That’s not fair!”
Tired of the argument, I lost my temper. “No, it isn’t fair. And it wouldn’t be fair for them to think you’re going to be a part of the family and then have you walk away because you decide you aren’t ready for the commitment this family requires. They come first, until they walk out that door to lead their own lives. Got it?”
As he slipped his coat on, the kids came trudging in. They were helping Murray carry a huge blue spruce. As soon as they set it in the corner, Kip ran over to Andrew. “You’re leaving already? Aww… we just got back with the tree and were going to have hot cocoa!”
To his credit, Andrew gave Kip a smile. “Yeah, got to, kiddo, I’ve got work to do tonight.”
Kip threw his arm around Andrew’s waist. “Bye! Don’t forget, you promised to challenge me to a Mario Brothers marathon.” I wanted to call my son back, tell him to leave Andrew alone, but that would have triggered off too many questions. Instead, I waited to see what Andrew had to say.
“I won’t forget. Tell you what: Maybe this weekend, before I have to leave for Christmas, we can get together and have that game?”
“Yeah!” Kip jumped up and down. He missed Sly, I could tell that already, and was trying to fill the gap any way he could.
Tentatively, I gave Andrew a smile and mouthed the word “Thanks” to him. He stared back at me, then shrugged and ducked out into the snowstorm. If I’d been alone, I might have called him up, ranted about how he was being a butthead, but it wouldn’t do any good. Andrew was as stubborn as I was.
I backtracked to the kitchen. Kip wandered in and pulled out the cat food. He was being good about remembering his ch
ores. “Mom, what’s Randa gonna do? She’s really upset.”
I gave him a long look. “I don’t know just yet. I’ll think of something.”
He nodded, head down. “You can take my Christmas presents back and use the money to send Miranda to camp—I don’t mind. It means a lot to her, and I messed up things bad by using Nanna’s book.” Through his mumbling, I could sense his fear that I might take him up on it, but still, he had made the offer.
I wanted to laugh and cry at the same time. I settled for ruffling his hair. “Don’t you worry about it, hon. Listen, that was a very noble offer and I’ll remember you made it. Don’t fret. I’ll figure something out.”
After he fed the cats and returned to the living room, I settled down at the counter, thinking. Kip had made a gesture directly from his heart. He had been willing to give up something of his own to ensure the happiness of his sister. Even if I’d been heartless enough to take him up on it, his presents wouldn’t have covered more than the cost of a couple of days’ tuition. There had to be something I could do… and then, then I knew. I knew what I could do to raise the money for the tuition.
I dug out my phone book and thumbed through the “‘T’s.” Bette Thompson had asked me to sell her a piece from my private collection last year—the Waterford globe. I’d said no at the time, but now, maybe it was time to let go.
I punched in a number and waited. “Bette? This is Emerald O’Brien. Are you still interested in my Waterford globe that you asked me about last year? I’ve decided that I’m willing to sell. My asking price is a firm $1,500, half the retail cost. You are? Why don’t I drop over tomorrow morning, then? It will be early, though… No, everything is fine… I just realized that holding on to old memories isn’t always as important as creating new ones.”
The Waterford globe was the one really gorgeous gift Roy had given me. I knew without a doubt it had come from his heart, out of love. I’d carried the treasure as a beacon through both rough times and good. He’d brought it home to me the day after I told him I was pregnant with Randa, and I’d kept it as a tribute to the existence of love. Now it would fund her dreams. It seemed so ironic, and so perfectly right.
EARLY NEXT MORNING, I woke up the kids and told them I had errands to run. “I want both of you to meet me at the store after school. Have cereal for breakfast and don’t forget to feed the cats.”
On my way out, I unlocked the étagère in the living room and retrieved the crystal globe. I turned it over in my hands, feeling the familiar weight that had journeyed with me through the maze of anger and worry and pain. Time to let go, time to say good-bye to the past. Resolutely, I slipped it into a box and packed it carefully so it wouldn’t break on the ride across town. Twenty minutes later, Bette Thompson wrote me a check for $1,500.
I gave her a quick hug. “Thanks, Bette. This will go to good use.”
“Is your shop having problems?” Her eyes darted quickly, and I knew if I didn’t squash the rumor, by tomorrow it would be all over town that I was destitute.
“Nope, business is brisk. I just want to make Christmas extra special for my kids this year.” She nodded, smiling. I could tell she was thinking I spoiled them. But what did I care? I had the money, she had the globe, and Miranda was going to Space Camp.
Still a good hour before I had to be at the shop. Time to talk to Joshua. Walter had warned me that Josh was dangerous, so I hunted around the back of the car and found the hatchet I kept in the back. It wouldn’t fit in my purse, but it was small enough to slip through my belt. I set it in the front seat next to me. Probably an overreaction, but hey, I’d rather look like an idiot than make a deadly mistake. The address Harl had given me for the old Addison house said it was on Plum Street. I knew where the street was, but little more about that area of town. The neighborhood was old and run down; few people lived there anymore. I slipped the key in the ignition. Time to rumble, as Murray would say.
* * *
Chapter Twenty-three
AS I TURNED onto Plum, a flash of sunlight broke through the clouds and glistened on the mounds of snow that covered everything in sight. Finally, a break in the gloom. I rounded the bend and parked behind a row of hydrangea bushes.
I sat in the car for a moment, staring up at the old Addison house.
“Mausoleum” would have been a better word—or “monstrosity.” The house was set up on a hill. Retro Norman Bates or The Munsters; 1313 Mockingbird Lane had found a final resting place in Chiqetaw. Three stories high, the Addison house was a tribute to a designer’s nightmare. The weathered paint peeled off in gray flakes, and broken windows let both rain and sunlight in. No wonder Walter’s mother had vamoosed as soon as the old man died. Sprawled across the acre lot, it nestled behind a double row of oak trees. They were sparse, black, and bare against the backdrop of winter.
After slipping the hatchet through my belt, I cautiously ascended the steep stone steps that led to the path. As I caught a glimpse of someone standing by the front door, I stopped, cold in my tracks. Joshua? Squinting, I tried to make out who it was. Susan! Susan Mitchell was standing near the front door. Another flash of light beamed down from the unusually bright day, and in the glare, I saw her waving frantically. Yep—I was on the right track, all right. As I hurried to the bottom of the steps leading up to the house itself, she disappeared.
The snow had been trampled in several areas. Someone had been here recently, someone corporeal. I took hold of the railing and, cautiously watching for rotten boards, made my way up to the front porch. A squeak made me jump, but it was just the screen door, twisted half off the hinges and blowing in the wind. I gingerly opened it, wincing at the muffled creaks.
The front door seemed to be intact. I steeled myself and knocked… once, twice, a third time. Nobody answered. I tried the knob. Unlocked. Maybe Joshua wasn’t home. If he was staying here, then he must not be too worried about burglars. Should I go in?
Trespassing wasn’t high on my list of to-do-before-I-die activities, but if I didn’t stay long, didn’t touch anything…
I kept telling myself that Nancy Drew would have charged in without fear, but then again, Nancy had been a teenager who probably thought she was invulnerable, and more important—she wasn’t real. I wasn’t a teenager anymore and I knew I could get hurt. I weighed my options and then grabbed the knob. I had come this far, I might as well go a little farther. More importantly, Susan had given me the go-ahead. Maybe the secrets hidden within these walls would help her spirit find peace. With no cars on the street, no neighbors peeking out their windows whom I could see, I poked my head through the front door into the musty hallway.
The hallway was old, with faded pictures still hanging on the walls. There were none of Walter or his mother, but there were pictures of an older man, probably Bernard. In one photograph he was standing with Joshua. I could see the resemblance between the two, but there was a queer glint behind Joshua’s gaze that was missing from Bernard’s stern, ice-blue eyes.
A cabbage rose paper ran the length of the hall, under which paneling took hold—scratched and chipped in a number of places. A series of doors lined either side, broken by an archway leading into what I assumed would be the main living room. I took a deep breath and decided to start there. I quietly slid along the wall, then inched my head around the archway to peek in.
The room was grand, or had been at one time. Huge, lovely, filled with dusty antiques. Why had Walter’s mother left all this to rot? Even at this distance, I could tell the furnishings were worth a great deal. So far the weather hadn’t found its way into this room, but it was only a matter of time before the cracks in the windows let in the rain and snow. Other than a handful of icky-looking spiders, the only signs of life were a couple of take-out boxes from Teriyaki’s Take-Home, and an empty pizza box. The dust on one sofa had been disturbed, but nothing else seemed out of place.
Back in the hall, I listened for a long time at the next door before I gathered the courage to push it open. The hing
es protested with a tiny squeak but then swung open, and I found myself in the formal dining room. A thin layer of mold covered everything. A broken window had let the outdoors creep through; dormant ivy vines were trailing around the edges of the ceiling along with the rot and mildew.
The table could seat at least sixteen, if not more. The more I poked around, the more perplexed I became. When Walter’s mother left, she hadn’t taken anything. Not the silver, not the china, not even the knickknacks. Why would she leave such expensive items here? Why wouldn’t she renovate the house and at least rent it out, if she didn’t want to stay here herself? Thousands of dollars of antiques sat there, bounty for any thief who had the mind to come get them. So far, Walter’s mother had been lucky, but her luck couldn’t hold forever.
With a nervous glance behind me, I pushed through the swinging doors into the kitchen. As ancient and clunky as the rest of the house, the room was a mess, but at least it told me somebody had made himself at home.
Dirty plates filled the sink. The garbage bin was packed with take-out boxes and half-empty booze bottles. A pile of soot-covered rags sat on the counter next to the stove, a big old gas model.
A quick search led to a utility room and a back porch. I leaned over the railing but pulled back sharply as the rail began to teeter. As I brushed the snow away, I saw that the wood was rotten all the way through. That nixed any idea I had of taking a walk down into the backyard. The snow on the steps hadn’t been disturbed, and I was reasonably sure that Joshua came and went through the front door, unless there was some side entrance I didn’t know about.
I cautiously peeked back over the edge, holding myself away from the railing. Directly below the balcony, a rusted iron gate—one of those old-fashioned ones with spiked railings that looked like minarets—opened into a series of gardens. The snow covering the lawn was undisturbed as well.
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