Belinda Blake and the Snake in the Grass

by Heather Day Gilbert

  After dropping a light kiss on my cheek, Stone the fifth wheeled around and strode out. Ava’s comforting hand returned to my own. “I’m happy to stay as long as you like,” she said. “But do you want me to call your parents?”

  I hadn’t even thought about that. Mom would be beyond horrified if she saw me in this state. She’d likely pack up my carriage house and move me home on the spot.

  As I pictured my carriage house, I remembered Rasputin. What had Jacques said about the snake?

  And today was Sunday! I had to get Rasputin into the city!

  “Phone,” I said, blinking to try to clear the spastic lights in my vision.

  Ava leaned over. “You’re white as a sheet. You’re not well,” she said. “I’m getting the nurse.” She grabbed for the call button and I conked out again.

  * * * *

  The next time I roused, I felt much better. My neck was less stiff and I was more alert. I even felt hungry.

  I tried to recall what I’d last been thinking about. It was something urgent, it seemed. Something to do with my carriage house...

  Reginald!

  A male voice said, “She’s awake.” It drew closer, and Detective Hugh Watson leaned in. “You okay?”

  “I think so,” I said. “I’m feeling better.”

  “Well, to be honest, you’re looking far from bright eyed and bushy tailed, but hang in there. The doctors say you should get out tomorrow.”

  “I need to make a call today. I’ve been pet-sitting this snake and the owner will be getting back and he’s—”

  “Snake’s okay,” the detective said brusquely. “We checked over your house. I’ll need your full story of what happened last night.”

  “But the snake?” I pressed.

  “Right as rain. One of my men had experience with ball pythons—apparently he was quite the reptile enthusiast as a teen—so he slipped your snake back in its cage, slicker than a greased pig.”

  My stomach clenched. “What? The snake wasn’t already in the cage?”

  “Oh, no. It had broken out, I guess—the top wasn’t fully closed.”

  I tried to remember the last time I’d messed with the cage. I’d woken in the middle of the night to turn up the heat, and I’d also turned up Rasputin’s heat pad. Then the second time I’d woken, there’d been a crash of some kind.

  I must’ve left the top lid slightly ajar, and maybe Jacques had bumped it on his way in? It wouldn’t have taken Rasputin long to slide out, especially since he’d been more active lately.

  “Where was the snake?” I asked.

  “We found it in your bed, actually. The thing had been stunned.”

  I sucked in my breath. “But he’s okay? The snake, I mean?”

  “Yes, he started squirming the minute my officer picked him up. Jacques admitted the snake had blocked his path last night, like a fat log. He tripped on it on his way to grab you, which gave you the opportunity to jump out the window. Jacques said he grabbed the snake and tossed it against the wall before running after you.”

  I let that sink in. Rasputin had inadvertently saved my life. Then he’d been slammed into a wall, and left in state of shock all night.

  Reginald would die when he heard this.

  “I have to get home. I have to take care of the snake,” I said.

  “We have a veterinarian on the scene,” Detective Watson said. “In fact, he wants to see you, too. It’s your dad.”

  Chapter 34

  In no time at all, my dad and mom descended on the hospital. It turned out that the last time I’d blacked out, Ava Fenton had told Detective Watson to call my parents. They’d made record time driving down.

  Mom took one look at my neck, broke into sobs, then began to pull an arsenal of oils from her purse. She rubbed one on my neck, then demanded the nurses mix one in with hot water. As I tried to survive her ministrations, Dad leaned in, brushing curls from my forehead.

  “The snake is going to be fine, sweetie. It was just stunned, that’s all. Give me the owner’s number and I’ll explain everything to him.”

  Dad would be the best one to quell Reginald’s fears, I had no doubt. He had a bedside manner that would make the most experienced doctors jealous. Detective Tucker had left my cell phone by my bed, so I was able to give Dad the number and leave things in his hands for now.

  As expected, Mom had already formulated a plan. “Honey, I’ve talked with Mrs. Fenton, the nice friend who has been sitting with you. When I got here, she filled me in on things, then I asked her to go on home and get some rest. Anyway, she said she’d be more than happy to let you stay with her a little while, just to get your feet back under you. Then Dad and I could rent a truck and come down and move you.” Her blue-green eyes urged me to take the path of least resistance, and it was hard not to.

  Why would I want to stay in a place I’d hardly felt safe in? I could go stay with Adam and Ava for a while. Maybe they’d even have a room I could rent. I didn’t have to stay at the Carringtons’ estate one more day.

  But I thought of Red, how kind he always was. And Val, who finally did show up in a pinch. And Stone the fourth, who had been surprisingly protective last night. And finally, Stone the fifth, who seemed so genuinely upset about the trauma I’d experienced.

  “No, Mom. I’ve told you, I’m building my pet-sitting business, and carriage houses are hard to come by in Greenwich. I’ll be safe now.”

  Mom nodded, although I know that wouldn’t be the end of it. She’d probably rope Dad in and make one more attempt to cajole me to leave.

  I’d be ready, though. I only had one life to live, and it had taken me years to realize that variety was the key to my happiness. Who knew what other exotic pets would cross my path in months to come? And at the end of a hard day’s work, I would have my little carriage house cave to return to. All I had to do was unpack all my boxes, and I was sure it would feel as much like home as Larches Corner.

  * * * *

  Before I was released on Monday, Ava Fenton dropped off a box of expensive chocolates and made me promise to call her every week. Mom nodded her approval of the plan, then she and Ava chitchatted while I told Adam goodbye.

  Dad drove us back to the carriage house, where he and Mom had hung up a “Welcome Home” banner and decorated with a few balloons. Mom had also unpacked the rest of my boxes, perfectly positioning all my favorite things throughout the house. She’d changed the blanket and sheets on my bed, no doubt knowing I’d be picturing poor, prone Rasputin lying on it.

  Mom fixed me a cup of tea and spooned some of Jonas’s honey into it as Dad settled on the couch with a local newspaper. “How’s your throat doing? It looks like the swelling’s gone down.”

  “I can swallow just fine, and I think my voice is back to normal. No more lightheadedness, either.”

  Dad shot me a quick look, aware I was glossing over things. But Mom gave a sigh of relief. “We were so worried. Your sister said she’d come down for a week, if you want.”

  I was thankful for my family, which never hesitated to jump to the rescue, but too many people had been hovering over me for too long. I needed time alone to wind down from my recent ordeal.

  “I’ll be fine,” I said, taking a slow sip of tea. “She’ll be using her vacation time for Christmas, anyway. I’ll see her soon enough.”

  “Okay. When are you planning to come home?” Mom was obviously having a hard time letting go.

  “I’m going to try to fit in a pet-sitting job or two first, but I’ll shoot for a day or two before Christmas.”

  “That would be wonderful. Oh, and Jonas called, asking if you’d be in that Wednesday. Something about a book club breakfast? I figured you’d know what he was talking about.”

  I didn’t. Maybe he was asking me to a book club meeting? But I hadn’t even read the book. I made a mental note to give him a call
.

  As Mom bustled around, loading the dishwasher, my gaze fixated on the empty wall where Rasputin’s cage had so recently sat. I felt a twinge of sadness that I hadn’t gotten to say goodbye to the valiant snake, but Dad had assured me that there had been a joyous reunion when he’d dropped Rasputin off at Reginald’s on Sunday.

  “He’s most unusual,” Dad had declared, and I knew he hadn’t been talking about the snake.

  Yes, my entire snake-sitting experience had been one of a kind. I’d gone from loathing everything about the snake to owing it my life. I figured the least I could do was to swing by a pet store, pick up some frozen rats, and pay a little tribute to Rasputin someday this week.

  * * * *

  I stood on the porch as Dad and Mom pulled out. They drove slowly, as if tethered by some kind of magnetic force. I supposed it was the power of parental love.

  I turned to go inside, and someone shouted my name. I whirled around and saw Stone the fifth, wearing his tennis gear and loping up to my house, just like he’d done the first time we met.

  “Kind of cold to be playing tennis,” I said.

  “Burning off steam,” he explained.

  I could understand that. “How’s your dad?”

  Stone flipped his tennis racket around. “Good. He’s actually surprisingly good. We went out to eat last night and he told me all kinds of stuff; really opened up. Apparently, he’s known for years that Mom didn’t love him. But he’d never strayed until just recently, when Margo came on to him in a big way.”

  He noted my raised eyebrows. “Yes, you heard me right. Margo came onto Dad. You know, the sad thing is that she was probably just like my mom—only interested in his money.” He kicked at a pebble.

  “How are you doing with all this?” I asked. “I mean, with your mom and everything.”

  “I don’t know,” he said. “I feel like I need to get away, you know? Do some soul-searching. I mean, who is Stone Carrington the fifth? I’m not my father. I’m not my mother. But I have to be someone in this life, and it can’t be who I was before.”

  I knew what he was trying to say, but I didn’t like where it was leading. Something told me Stone was ready to fly the nest, just when I’d begun to feather mine.

  “I’m here for you,” I said.

  He looked at me, his beautiful eyes clouded by sadness and uncertainty. “I know you are, Belinda. Hey—Dietrich wanted to do billiards tonight, for old times’ sakes. Get everyone caught up on things and sort of brush aside the shadow of death that’s settled on us. We wanted you to come, if you could.”

  I appreciated his tacit acknowledgement that I might not want to ever step foot in the Carrington manor house again. But I was no coward.

  “Sure. What time should I be up there?”

  Chapter 35

  I actually called Dietrich before attending the billiards party, unsure of what to wear. All too well, I could remember Margo’s miniskirt and Louboutins.

  Dietrich squealed when I said hello. “Darling! You’re okay! Good heavens, what did they do to you? I heard Stone’s mother went all crazy Baby Jane and the gardener turned out to be a homicidal Frenchman? And something about a boa constrictor on the lam in your house?”

  I filled Dietrich in on all the details Stone must’ve skimmed over. He whistled. “You need a break like nobody’s business. This billiards party is only the tip of the iceberg. I recommend you book a facial and a massage as soon as possible.”

  I laughed. “I’m feeling mostly recovered, thanks. I’m looking forward to kicking back tonight. But what should I wear?”

  After I described my outfit choices, Dietrich agreed that boho-chic should be the look of the evening. I laid out my tiered skirt and ruffled blouse, then decided to putter the rest of the day away. I hit the library first, picking up a copy of Tess of the d’Urbervilles on a whim. After all, if Jonas Hawthorne, dairy farmer and all-around Renaissance man, could make time to read this classic, why couldn’t I? Wasn’t I just as worldly-wise?

  I also stopped in at the Episcopal church. Father Jesse was adjusting a silk flower arrangement just inside the door. He barely managed to hide his irritation once he spotted me.

  “Miss Blake, wasn’t it?”

  Sadly, he would probably remember my name for years to come. Stone was right. I had been a bit savage with the poor man.

  “Father Jesse.” I took a step forward, and he stepped back. “I dropped in to apologize for my rudeness the other day. It was utterly uncalled-for.”

  A hesitant smile crossed his lips. “I appreciate that. Now, if you don’t mind, I need to—”

  “Of course. I won’t take any more of your time,” I said, turning to leave. I hadn’t so much as gotten down the first step when the church doors slammed behind me, and I could’ve sworn I heard them lock.

  I knew he hadn’t killed Margo, but there was still something I didn’t quite trust about Father Jesse Woods.

  * * * *

  Stone’s billiards room felt like a warm embrace. From the Italianesque color scheme—all terra-cottas and warm ochres—to the foods Lani had piled on the wet bar for us, I felt I’d snuggled into some kind of burrow. Greenwich didn’t seem quite as foreign tonight.

  Sophie and Jet looked exactly like what I’d imagined—both had long hair, multiple piercings, and seemed to exist on nothing but constant physical contact with each other. Only fifteen minutes into things, and Stone, Dietrich, and I decided to play cards and leave Sophie and Jet in their own restaurant-style booth in the corner.

  As Stone cut the deck and dealt, I scanned the room. “She was here...the night she died.” My voice was barely above a whisper.

  “And Frannie too,” Dietrich said. “Beautiful girls, gone too soon.”

  Stone sipped his soda, and I was thankful it wasn’t alcohol tonight. “Have you remembered anything about that night?” I asked.

  Stone shook his head. “I think I might have argued with Margo,” he said. “Then maybe I followed her outside to apologize. I remember feeling cold.”

  Dietrich sighed, flipping over a Jack of Spades. “You’re a buffoon, Stone. Of course you followed her.”

  We both stared at Dietrich. He took a long drag on his cigarette.

  “What do you mean?” Stone asked.

  “That night. I saw Frannie out, then I stayed in my car to take a quick smoke, just to calm myself down. I was still ripped about Margo’s pregnancy. Anyway, Margo came out the front door. Stone, you were right behind her, trying to catch up, I think. I figured she’d told you about her pregnancy, too.”

  Stone groaned, smacking his palm to his forehead. “And I was too out of it to remember something as important as that. I am a buffoon! Why didn’t you tell me this, Dietrich?”

  “Because I saw what else happened.” Dietrich flicked ashes into a vintage seventies-era ashtray. “I knew you didn’t kill her.”

  “And you didn’t tell me?” I asked, upset. Dietrich had allowed me to question Stone’s innocence.

  “I couldn’t say anything, because that might place me at the scene of the crime, wouldn’t it? I didn’t feel the need to tell anyone what I saw, because it didn’t incriminate our friendly neighborhood buffoon. After Margo and Stone stopped to argue—right in front of the house, mind you—someone pulled out of the side parking lot. I think it was Mrs. Lewis. By the time her car moved out of the way, Stone was stomping into his front door, and Margo was stumbling off into the yard.”

  “And you let her go?” I demanded.

  “No. I drove up and rolled down my window.” Dietrich stopped short, running a hand through his hair. “I called her name and she wouldn’t turn around. I figured she was heading toward the Security booth, or maybe she’d parked near the tennis courts. At that point, I didn’t care. If she wanted to throw her life over for some jerk, that was her prerogative.”

 
Silence fell over the green felt table. We each clenched a hand of cards like our lives depended on it.

  Dietrich had been the last to see Margo alive, I was sure of it. Jacques must have strangled her soon after Dietrich drove off—maybe next to her car, or maybe in the dark lawn. My hand unintentionally flew to my neck, and I could almost feel Jacques’s fingers squeezing.

  Stone gave my back a comforting rub, and Dietrich grabbed my other hand. They didn’t have to say sorry. Jacques had left his mark on all of us, forever.

  Sophie and Jet danced our way, a welcome relief in our grief-stricken moment. Jet leaned over Stone’s shoulder. “Dude, we don’t want to interrupt your game, but Sophie wanted some more of those cheese puff things of Lani’s. Can you call her up or something?”

  Stone’s eyes caught mine and he winked before standing. “Sure thing. Let me find Lani.”

  * * * *

  The billiards party ended soon after Lani’s snacks petered out. Dietrich reluctantly agreed to drive Jet and Sophie back to their apartment. Stone flipped on every light in the yard, then walked me back to my house.

  I slipped the key into the lock, realizing how easy it had been for Jacques to get in. He’d simply borrowed Melly’s copy of my key.

  I whirled back to Stone. “Would you be okay if I had my locks changed and didn’t give you a copy? I know you’re my landlord—I mean, your dad is—but I just can’t quite stomach letting someone else have the key right now.”

  “No problem,” Stone said. “And would you hate it if I walked in with you tonight, just to check things over? I’ll be fast.”

  I gave a short laugh. “Look at us. We’re both paranoid now. Jacques isn’t going anywhere, if Detective Watson has any say in it. Last I spoke to him, he was kicking himself for arresting you.”

  “He was just doing his job.” He shoved his hands in his pockets, trying to fight the chilly wind. I needed to decide.

  “You can come in,” I said.

  True to his word, Stone came in and made a quick check of all the rooms and windows. Before I could even heat water for hot chocolate, he was striding back to the front door.