Look Both Ways

by Carol J. Perry

  I bought a whole flat of pansies in an assortment of happy colors, along with a small trowel for planting the purple one I’d selected especially for Helena’s grandmother. Then I made a copy of Helena’s map and put it in my purse.

  Aunt Ibby and I spent some of the afternoon planting a row of pansies along the path leading to the house, while a couple of O’Ryan’s cat friends sat on top of the fence, watching us.

  “Are there more cats in the neighborhood than usual,” my aunt asked, “or am I imagining it?”

  “I think they’ve always been around,” I said, “but our handsome boy seems to have acquired a fan club of sorts.” I told her about how O’Ryan liked to stretch out on my kitchen windowsill and watch them. I didn’t mention the black and gray cats who’d been at the attic window, though. Too creepy.

  Sunday dawned bright and clear, a perfect day for a boat ride and a picnic. Aunt Ibby and I rode with Mr. Pennington in the Lincoln, and Pete met us at the Willows Park Pier, where we joined a dozen or so fellow adventurers. The ocean was calm, sunlight sparkled on deep blue water, and the waves made a pleasant slap-slap sound on the twin hulls of the shuttle boat. On the way to the island, I showed the map to Pete.

  “It’s a pretty rough drawing,” he said, “but if you want to see if we can find the place where that cabin was, I’m game.”

  I couldn’t tell him about the metal coffin in Helena’s arms, though, so I kept silent about that. And how on earth could I explain about the two diamonds? He smiled about my sneaking a purple pansy aboard in the picnic basket, and as soon as we’d docked, and my aunt and Mr. Pennington had selected an appropriate place to picnic, Pete and I set out to follow a trail to where we thought the site of the cabin might be. It was easier to find than we’d thought. Pete simply showed the map to one of the island guides.

  “You see where your map has a picture of a house with a chimney?” the man asked, pointing at Helena’s drawing. “Well, the house is long gone, of course, but some of the chimney is still there. Can’t miss it.” He nodded toward the pansy in its little peat pot, which I had tried unsuccessfully to hide behind my back. “Another lady used to come out here once in a while to plant those behind that chimney. Long time ago. Haven’t seen her in years. You folks have a nice day now.”

  Pete and I followed the guide’s directions and found ourselves alone on a high bluff overlooking a long stretch of beach. I pointed to a tree-covered, much smaller island a short distance away. “What’s over there?” I asked.

  “Nothing, really,” he said. “They call that ‘Little Misery Island.’ At low tide you can walk to it.”

  “No thanks,” I said. “Let’s just concentrate on this one.” A crumbling, but still recognizable, brick chimney stood at the edge of a grassy area, and clumps of wild rosebushes bordered what must have once been the grandfather’s yard. I stopped to look at a low granite step marking what could have been the doorway where I’d first seen the old man in my dream. But naturally, I couldn’t tell Pete about that, either.

  It will be such a relief to be able to tell him everything—if that day ever comes.

  Pete walked to a spot behind the chimney, stooped down, and pushed the long grass aside with his hands. “Hey, Lee. Come here. Look at this.”

  I knelt beside him and looked at where he pointed. An oblong piece of granite, much smaller than the step I’d just discovered, was embedded in the dirt. “What is it?” I asked.

  “Look closer,” he said. “There’s a name scratched into it.”

  We spoke the name in unison. “Nicky.”

  “She buried her dog here,” Pete said. “The dog whose license we found in your bureau.”

  “Yes,” I said. “She loved this place. And she loved that little dog.”

  “Want to plant the flower here? Where Nicky is?”

  “I think that’s where Helena used to plant them,” I said, handing him the trowel.

  Afterward, we walked slowly hand in hand along the trail leading back to the shore where Aunt Ibby and Mr. Pennington waited.

  “So there you two are,” Mr. Pennington called as we approached. “Ready for some lunch?”

  Aunt Ibby had spread a red-and white-checked tablecloth on the sand and had placed the wicker picnic basket at its center. My aunt was protecting her fair skin from the noonday sun with a wide-brimmed white picture hat, and Mr. Pennington wore a classic straw boater. The scene was worthy of a Renoir painting. So was all the rest of that beautiful afternoon.

  By the time the shuttle came back to pick us up, our tummies were full, our skin was a little bit sunburned, and best of all, our curiosity about Helena’s map was somewhat satisfied. We’d found her island; we’d found her childhood summer home. We’d even found her dog. But we hadn’t found her diamond, and if Tommy Trent was telling the truth, we hadn’t found her killer yet, either.

  At the dock Pete and I said a reluctant good-bye as I climbed into the Lincoln with my aunt and my boss, while Pete headed to the police station to work the night shift. The rest of the day stretched before me. Aunt Ibby and Mr. Pennington planned a drive to Marblehead to visit friends. They’d invited me to come along, but I’d declined, saying something polite, if not exactly truthful, about catching up with my laundry.

  Alone in the big house, I was restless. I read the Sunday Globe, took a bath, and washed my hair. I even threw a small load of clothes into the washer. I heated up a can of soup for dinner, rearranged the books in my bookcase, watched TV for a while, and finally fell asleep on the couch.

  It was dark when I woke up. I knew it must be late, because the regular programming was over and an infomercial about an exercise bike was on. I went into the bedroom, knowing I should get undressed and go to bed, but by then I was wide awake. I picked up Helena’s notebook and opened it to the bookmarked page—the one with the picture of happy Helena and Nicky in matching sailor hats. I read again the little nonsense verse.

  Picky little Nicky, Mommy’s pretty pet

  Dress him up with ribbon bows, costumes, hats, and yet

  He’d rather dress like Mommy as he runs to meet his dad

  Picky little Nicky, truest friend I ever had.

  I looked at the photo again. Helena wore the diamond pendant, and Nicky wore an ordinary collar. The pose was exactly like the one in the vision I’d seen in my mirror, except in the vision Nicky wore a diamond, too.

  All right, Helena. I think I know now what you’re trying to tell me.

  I looked at my watch. One thirty in the morning. Could I be right about this? Was the missing diamond around the neck of a dog long buried on Misery Island? I looked at the page in Helena’s notebook again. No mistake. Helena was a trickster. Tripp had told me so. Loved puzzles, games, mysteries. The little rhyme, the drawing on the page added to what the vision had shown me. . . . I knew I was right.

  I paced back and forth between the bedroom and the kitchen.

  I didn’t want to wake Aunt Ibby at this hour, and I couldn’t very well tell Pete about what I’d seen in the mirror. But River was at the TV station tonight. She’d be wide awake, just winding up her show. I put Helena’s notebook on the table and sat in one of the Lucite chairs, reached for my phone and speed-dialed my witch friend.

  Please answer, River. I have to tell someone about this. Voice mail. Damn!

  “River, I know exactly where Helena’s diamond is, but I can’t tell Pete yet, because . . . you know why . . . but it’s all here in Helena’s journal. Come over as soon as you get out of there. Don’t ring the doorbell, though. I’ll turn off the alarm and unlock the back door. Come on up, but be quiet. I don’t want to frighten Aunt Ibby so late at night.”

  I hung up, then leaned back in my chair. I peered out the window. It had become kind of a habit to look for the cats on the fence. They weren’t there. Maybe they showed up only when O’Ryan was on the windowsill. Where was O’Ryan, anyway?

  I was sure River would be on her way over the minute she got my message. At two o’clock I ti
ptoed down the back stairs, disarmed the alarm, and unlocked the door. I’d just turned to climb the stairs when the door swung open behind me. I started to turn as an arm went around my throat and something pressed against my face. Rough. A towel? That smell. I remembered it from high school chemistry class. Ether? Chloroform ?

  Then I drifted, floated, slid into soft, soft blackness.

  Awareness came back slowly, so slowly. Throat burning, head throbbing. I squeezed my eyes shut tight, trying to think, to reason.

  There’s motion. I’m moving. I’m lying down, but I know I’m not in my bed.

  I opened my eyes, trying to focus, trying to understand what was happening. A car. I was lying in the backseat of a car. Why? Where was I going? I tried to speak, but only a weak croaking sound came out. The car jolted to a stop, and the towel thing was on my face again. The smell was back, too. A voice then, with a faraway sound. “Coming around, eh? Back to la-la land for you, my snoopy little friend.” I welcomed the soft blackness.

  When I awoke again, there was no softness, no darkness. Bright light made me blink. Water casaded down my face. I wanted to wipe it away, but my hands wouldn’t move. I sat upright in a chair, hands tightly bound behind me, as Tripp Hampton lifted another bucket of water from the pool and dumped it over my head.

  “Tell me where it is, Lee, and I might let you go.”

  Still groggy, I struggled to speak. “What do you want? Why are you doing this?”

  “You know what I want. The goddamned diamond. The real one. Not this piece of crap.” The pink gem sparkled under the lights. He held it toward me, and it swayed back and forth hypnotically on its fine gold chain before he whirled and threw it into the far end of the pool.

  “But . . . but . . . Shea had that one. She found it in Helena’s bureau. You mean you . . . the candlestick . . . It was you!”

  “Of course it was me. You mean, you hadn’t figured that out, too? I gave you too much credit. I knew you’d pegged me for dear old Mom’s tragic passing. I saw it in your face when Daph made that crack about the tuxedos. Then I heard you talking to the cop about it.” He smiled, but it wasn’t the charming toothpaste ad smile I’d seen so many times before. It was a mean, self-satisfied, evil smirk, and it, more than the cold water soaking into my clothes, made me shiver.

  He went on. “It was so easy. I swiped Daphne’s keys to the Mercedes, ran down to the carriage house. I knew Tommy always kept his gun locked in the glove box, so I put on my gloves and took it. Just walked right into Helena’s room, aimed the gun at her, and told her to hand over the diamond.” The smile disappeared. “She laughed out loud. Called me a silly boy and turned her back. I don’t like it when a woman turns her back on me. Remember that, Lee.”

  He moved close to me then, bending so that his face was close to mine. His breath was fetid; the blue eyes were mere slits. “So I shot her.” He shrugged. “Didn’t have time to search thoroughly, but I was positive the diamond was in her room someplace. I went back to the carriage house, put the gun right where I’d found it, and ran back to the party. Slipped Daph’s keys back into her purse and danced the rest of the night away before Daph and I drove home.” His laugh was high pitched and eerie.

  “Slept like a baby till noon the next day. Why not? I knew Helena was dead and Tommy would get blamed for it. Perfect. And I could take my time searching the house.” He stood, grinning down at me. “Oh, well, enough conversation. You told the witch you know where my diamond is. I need it now. Where is it? Where did Helena, that conniving trickster, hide it? I know she put the answer somewhere in that bureau of yours. There’s no other place it could be.”

  “You heard me talking to River? How?”

  He laughed. “Simple. I bugged your phone. An ingenious device. Anyone can do it. Is your daughter dating a no-good jerk? Is your spouse cheating? Are your kids buying drugs? Bug the phones. My phone buzzes every time yours rings.” He stood up straight. “I haven’t got time to wait any longer for an invitation from you to see what’s in those secret compartments. I need that diamond. I need that money, and I need it now. I’m not like Tommy Trent. Prison would kill me.”

  “Prison? So it’s true? You’ve been stealing from your investors?”

  “Huh! Bernie Madoff is a two-bit piker compared to me. I need money. Lots of it. I have appearances to keep up. I’m John David Hampton the Third. But I have to put it all back, or the bastards are going to turn me in. I’ve been trying to pay it. Selling my things. Humiliating! But it’s not enough. Tell me where my diamond is.”

  Keep him talking. Stall. Someone will come. Someone has to.

  “What about Shea?” I asked. “Did you think she had it?”

  “Oh, she had what looked like a pink diamond on a chain, all right. Showed it to me. Then she laughed. Said she’d bought the bureau fair and square and everything in it was hers.” His lips stretched in an ugly sneer. “Then she turned her back on me. Big mistake.”

  “Tell me something, Tripp,” I said, trying to keep my voice from quivering. “Why did you take the index card with my name on it? And how did you get it into Tommy Trent’s bureau?”

  “Pretty smart, huh? I’m no dummy, Lee. I had top marks in school, you know. I was pretty sure that the card had the name of whoever bought Helena’s bureau.” He laughed again. “Lucky you, Lee!”

  “I know you’re smart,” I said. “But I don’t understand about the card and the work order winding up with Tommy. Was he helping you?”

  His face grew red. “Tommy? Helping me? That moron? Of course not. I put the card under the drawer liner when I went to check out the apartment, to be sure darling Daphne would be safe there. Then I picked the very simple lock at Bob’s and grabbed the folder I wanted. Planted it in the Mercedes. Easy stuff. You can learn more at private school than calculus and Western civilization, you know.”

  “You wanted Tommy to go back to jail. Why?”

  “That simpleminded oaf would undo all the progress I’ve made with Daphne. She’s almost ready for polite society. She’s my creation. All my doing!” He leaned down again, his face close to mine. “And I intend to keep her. Now, tell me where my diamond is, Lee. Right now.”

  “Why should I? Are you planning to kill me?”

  “Of course not. What kind of gentleman would do a thing like that? No. But if you don’t tell me, I’m going to kill your cat. See?” He reached behind the chair and lifted a cat carrier so that I could see the limp form of O’Ryan, his eyes closed, lying inside. “Oh, don’t worr y,” Tripp said, shaking the carrier. “He’s not dead . . . yet. It took only a little whiff of chloroform to knock him out. But the pool water will revive him, just before he drowns.” Tripp giggled. A hideous sound. “I know you’ll do anything for the stupid animal, won’t you? Just like Helena. She cared more for that stupid dog than she ever did for me.”

  I strained at whatever was binding my hands. It felt sticky. Duct tape, I guessed, and the water Tripp had poured on me was beginning to loosen it. Stall him, I thought. River will know something’s wrong when I’m not there. She’ll call Pete.

  “Well?” He held the carrier over his head. “Shall I throw it in? Or are you going to tell me where my diamond is?”

  “Wait! Don’t hurt O’Ryan,” I yelled. “I’ll tell you.”

  Again the sick smile. “Hollering like that won’t do you any good. Daphne can’t hear you. She’s sleeping with good old Tommy tonight. No one can hear you.” Again Tripp lifted the carrier, shaking it back and forth. I saw O’Ryan’s legs move. The big cat was waking up. “Where’s my diamond?”

  “Okay. I know where it is, but I don’t know how you’re going to get to it.”

  Might as well tell him the truth. What harm can it do now?

  I kept straining at the duct tape and spoke slowly. “Do you know where Helena’s grandfather’s summer place was, Tripp?”

  “Yes. Yes, of course I do. It was on that godforsaken island. Misery. Well named.”

  The tape was loosening.
I kept talking. “That was a very special place to Helena. She used to go out there every summer to plant pansies. Do you remember that?”

  “She tried to make me go with her. I hated that boat of hers. I was glad when Tommy sold it.” He laughed out loud, and it was then that I heard the tinkling sound of glass breaking.

  I spoke louder then, and more rapidly, to cover the cracking noise, hoping he hadn’t heard it, too. It had to mean someone else was there. I talked about Nicky dying and about Helena buying a metal coffin for him.

  Tripp put the carrier down beside the chair and leaned closer to me. “Get to the point, damn it.”

  I’d worked one hand loose. “She put the real diamond in the casket with the dog. That’s where it is now. In Nicky’s metal casket.” Behind my back, I picked at the remaining tape with my free hand. It was then that I saw the first cat. It was black, and it came silently through a small jagged opening in the glass wall. Then came another. And another. I kept talking, and the cats kept coming. “The casket is buried on the island,” I said. “You’ll see a chimney.”

  Tripp’s eyes were focused on me now. I described the granite step, the wild rosebushes, everything I could think of, to hold his interest, to tell him exactly how to locate the grave. I felt the last of the tape give. Both hands were free, but I kept them behind my back. I tried not to look at the parade of cats, tried to keep Tripp’s attention on me.

  O’Ryan’s yowl was long and loud. The cats silently surged forward, and Tripp saw them then. His eyes widened, and his mouth formed a silent O. He backed away from me, from the carrier, making a whimpering noise. I reached down and released the latch on the carrier door, and Tripp made no move to stop me. Through the opening in the glass wall, they kept coming. Gray cats, tabby cats, Siamese cats, white cats, bobtail cats. There must have been hundreds of them. O’Ryan stepped out of the carrier and joined them as they crept soundlessly, eyes glowing, ever closer to the man, yet not touching him. I heard a splash when he fell in the water. I looked back as I ran for the door leading to the ice cream parlor. Rows of cats surrounded the huge pool on every side, mutely watching the screaming man as he flailed about. A black cat wearing a red collar separated from the rest and raced ahead of me through the pink and white room and out into the maze of hallways.