“You know I can’t do that,” Derek said.
“And you can’t leave me alone!” Gary snapped. “What happened to the guy who was going to teach me racquet ball?”
What was wrong with him? Why did he argue with Derek, when only moments ago he was looking for reasons to get rid of him?
Gary sighed deeply. “It’s your life. You do what you want.”
“I’m sorry,” Derek said. His voice took on a louder, more authoritative tone when he said, “Let’s try the stairs a few more times.”
Gary obeyed, not knowing what to think. Well, maybe it would be better to just concentrate on his routine. Their troubles would soon be over, once Alicen was gone. Gary hated that child, not just for tormenting his family, but for taking his best friend away from him.
Melanie had gone to visit some art galleries that morning, needing to do something to forget her fears. On the way home, she glanced at her watch. It was about time now for Nancy to be getting out of kindergarten. Melanie, wishing she could have all her children with her now, decided to drive her youngest home. She pulled the car up alongside the play yard and waited. Minutes later, the lunch bell rang, and hordes of children ran from the brick building. She was surprised to see Alicen coming from the building with Jamie Hutchinson.
“Well, that’s a surprise,” she thought aloud. Puppy love had claimed Alicen Miller at last. And Gary thought she was abnormal.
Melanie spotted Nancy, walking in a line of children. She got out of the car and called to her. The little girl waved, spoke to her teacher, then ran on chubby legs to her mother. Melanie caught her in her arms and kissed her.
“Mommy, stop!” Nancy giggled. “Everybody’s looking!”
“How’s my girl?” Melanie asked, opening the door for her.
“Fine,” Nancy said. “How come you’re here today?”
“I was on my way home,” Melanie explained. “And I thought you might like a ride.”
“Are you coming back for the other kids?”
Melanie thought for a moment: it wouldn’t be such a bad idea. Then she told herself to stop being ridiculous.
“No,” she said. “They’ll come home on the bus.”
She started the car. Nancy bounced up and down on the seat a few times, then moved closer to her mother.
“Why do you have such dark circles under your eyes?” she asked.
“I didn’t sleep very well last night,” Melanie admitted.
“Why?”
“I don’t know.”
Nancy was silent for a moment. Then: “Mommy, that mean man isn’t coming back, is he?”
“Mean man?”
“The man who hurt daddy last year,” Nancy cried. “Gina had a dream about him—is he back?”
Melanie was glad she had reached a red light so that she could take the child in her arms. “What makes you say that?”
“Because you’re so sad all the time,” Nancy said. “And you wanted to know if Kyle and Gina and me wanted to talk about daddy’s accident.”
“That was just in case you were thinking of it, honey,” Melanie said, feeling uneasy.
“He isn’t back, is he?”
“No, honey,” Melanie insisted, her voice carrying more conviction than her thoughts. “I’m just tired. That’s why my eyes have dark circles. You know how busy mommy is with all her work.”
“It’s okay?”
“Sure it is,” Melanie said, kissing her. She drove down the road. She could tell the child was frightened.
“How about painting with me today? You could sit at the little table in my studio.”
“Sure!” Nancy cried, delighted to share something with her mother.
Melanie was glad Nancy had agreed so readily. She wanted to keep the child in her sight as much as possible. That way, no one could get to her. Nancy would be safe.
After lunch Melanie and Nancy painted and talked until they heard the other children approaching the house. Melanie felt apprehensive; she knew she would have to tell them about Lad without further delay. So she gathered them together in the kitchen, fixing lemonade for everyone.
“There’s something I have to tell you,” she said as she filled a glass.
“It’s about Lad, isn’t it?” Kyle asked. “I bet he didn’t come home.”
“No, he didn’t,” Melanie said.
“Did you look for him?” Gina asked.
“Yes,” Melanie said. It hurt her to lie like this, but what else could she do? “We searched the woodlands, and even Mrs. Jeaning’s property down the road. I think he wandered off somewhere.”
“Maybe you’ll never find him,” Alicen said darkly.
“Shut up!” Kyle cried angrily. He was more hurt by Lad’s disappearance than the others. “Don’t talk that way!”
“I’m sure well find him,” Melanie said, returning Alicen’s gaze. When she stared like that, it was almost easy to see why Gary accused her.
Kyle went across the kitchen and opened one of the drawers. He pulled out a colored marker, then fished around a little more.
“What’re you doing?” Nancy asked.
“Looking for paper,” Kyle replied. “I’m going to make posters and put them all around. Someone will find Lad.”
“I’ll help,” Gina said.
“Me, too!” Nancy cried.
Only Alicen declined. While Melanie was marveling at her optimistic children, Alicen was wondering how they could be so foolish as to think their dog was still alive.
Melanie bent over her sleeping son and gently put his arm under his covers. Kyle had been so excited just a few hours earlier, making the signs for Lad. It seemed impossible that he was so quiet right now. Melanie smiled at his curled-up figure, hidden under a light coverlet. Then she frowned. How could anyone dare to hurt such a beautiful child? Gina and Kyle and Nancy were so precious to her. She had already stopped in the girls’ rooms. She didn’t want to tell herself it was because she wanted to be certain they were safe. Earlier, she had been tempted to let them sleep in her room, but she knew that was a ridiculous idea. Gary would never allow it, and besides, it would needlessly frighten the children.
But she had to do something to stop her fears. She was terrified of the night. Though the entire day had been peaceful, Melanie recalled tactics used the last time her house was stalked by an unseen predator. Jacob would let a few days go by, then he’d attack when least expected. Melanie knew her family was being tormented that way again. But if this was Jacob Armand’s doing, why hadn’t he made contact with her?
Melanie yawned and realized exhaustion was muddling her thoughts. She left Kyle’s room, closing the door quietly behind her. When she turned into the dark hallway, she bumped into something.
“What—?”
“Shh,” a voice said. “It’s Gary. What’re you doing up?”
Melanie took a deep breath. “You scared the hell out of me.”
“Sorry,” Gary said. They walked to their room together. “You don’t have to watch them every minute, you know.”
“I think I do,” Melanie protested.
“It’s too late in the night for an argument,” Gary said. “So if it makes you feel better, it’s all right”
“Of course it’s all right,” Melanie grumbled. “I don’t need your permission to safeguard my children.”
“You’re really serious, aren’t you?”
“You go ahead and make fun of me,” Melanie said, “but I’ll be the one laughing when you find out I’m right.”
“You’re wrong,” Gary said. “And I have something to prove it. Melanie, Derek gave me his notice today.”
“You didn’t tell me that before,” Melanie said.
“I didn’t want to say anything in front of the children. But Derek told me today he and Alicen would be moving as soon as he finds other work.”
“That’s strange.”
“No, it isn’t,” Gary said. “Not when you consider that he might be running away from something. Melanie, Dere
k is a top-notch therapist. He just isn’t the type to leave so abruptly. Unless he knows something we don’t. He knows about Alicen. He knows she’s responsible for Lad’s death.”
“Gary—”
“Melanie, your mother instinct is blinding you,” Gary said. “Look at the facts, will you? Why would he be running away if he wasn’t afraid we’d learn the truth about Alicen?”
“The truth about Alicen?” Melanie echoed. “It sounds like a cheap porno flick!”
“Derek told me once he had to leave a job because of his daughter,” Gary said. “So why not now? Melanie, why would he be leaving so suddenly unless he wants to do so before I fire him?”
Melanie couldn’t help but see the logic in Gary’s argument. It all fit together, didn’t it? Alicen was a strange child. But a murderess? That Melanie found hard to swallow. Still, it was late, and she was tired. It was so much easier to believe in a disturbed little girl than a ghost.
“Maybe you’re right,” she said. “But I prefer to keep an eye on my children.”
Bryan Davis hung up his telephone and started to bounce his pencil nervously. He had just received a call from the county coroner. They had identified the driver; the body was that of one Nora Browne, an eighteen-year-old girl who had run away from home. Her parents had positively identified her and had admitted she was heavily into drugs.
“That’s what I thought,” Bryan said, “considering how she drove that bus. But eighteen? I can’t believe an eighteen-year-old passed for a bus driver!”
The coroner said, “Captain Davis, there’s just one problem. According to my autopsy, this can’t possibly be your driver.”
“What do you mean?” Bryan asked, closing his eyes. He wanted to be through with this.
“We checked her body for traces of drugs,” the coroner said, “before we spoke to her parents, that is. We wanted to have something to report in reference to her behavior at the time of the accident. Granted, it was difficult, considering the condition of the deceased. But we found something we weren’t looking for—sand and seaweed. It was in her teeth, her throat, and a small piece was found in her hair.”
“So?”
“So this woman didn’t die of a fall from a bus,” the coroner said. “She drowned—probably accidentally.”
Bryan thought a moment.
“Maybe she had been swimming before the accident,” he said. “It’s a long shot, but I’m willing to go for it. Why don’t you tell me what she was wearing? Then I’ll know for certain if it’s our driver.”
“Jeans, a white shirt,” the coroner said. “And sandals. That’s about all. Oh, yes—there was a tortoise-shell comb in her hair.”
“What color hair?”
“Blond,” the coroner said. “I understand your bus driver had blond hair.”
Bryan nodded, as if the coroner could see him. When he hung up a moment later, his mind started to fill with questions. He bounced his pencil more quickly and tried to fit the pieces together. The coroner had just described the Jane Doe missing from the funeral parlor. Was it possible someone had stolen the body, driven it all the way to the site of the accident, and dumped it there? It was obviously done to get the police off a trail. But by whom? It was impossible to think the bus driver was still alive.
Bryan got up and went to the file cabinet near his windows. He found the folder on the bus accident and scrawled across it:
CASE REOPENED.
22
Monday night Owen Crewe returned to an empty apartment. His note was still propped up against the vase on the kitchen table. Owen removed its dead flowers and threw the murky water into the sink. He remembered how much his sister loved plants. It was unusual for her to leave them neglected like this. He filled a pitcher and watered the plants around the apartment.
Water spilled over one of the plantholders in the living room and dripped onto a chrome-and-glass end table. Owen mopped it up, then straightened a pile of mail Liza had left there. On the bottom was a greeting card. A giraffe dressed in a tutu was on the front, and in the blank inside, someone had written: For my favorite racquet-ball-playing ballerina.
It was signed “Derek.” Owen wondered why his sister had never mentioned anyone by that name in her letters. The date on the card made it two weeks old. Owen wished there was an envelope with it. Maybe this Derek would know where to find his sister. Of course, he shouldn’t worry so about her. She was twenty-eight, for heaven’s sake. She didn’t have to answer to him for everything she did. But Owen was one of those eternal big brothers, and he wouldn’t rest until he was sure his sister was all right.
The next day he resolved to try her dance school. It was housed in an ancient brownstone. Owen entered a small, dimly lit hallway. There were no elevators, so he had to walk up three flights. Madame Martin’s Dance Studio was written in gold across a black door. Hearing piano music, Owen entered without knocking.
“May I help you, sir?” a young woman asked from behind a desk.
“Yes,” Owen said. “I’m looking for my sister. Her name is Liza Crewe—she’s a student here.”
“Yes, I know Liza,” the woman said. “Please sit down until class is over. Madame Martin will speak with you.”
“Thank you,” Owen said, finding a seat across the room.
He heard French being spoken in the other room, in a lilting rhythm with the music. Finally the music stopped, and there was a shuffle of feet as women headed for the locker room. Madame Martin came out into the lobby for her mail, wiping her neck with a towel. When the receptionist told her of Owen, she turned to him.
“Mr. Crewe? You’ve come to ask about your sister?”
Owen smiled to hear that she didn’t have the slightest accent. Her manner of speech was pure New Yorker.
“Yes,” he said, extending his hand. “I came up from Florida for a convention, with the hopes of also seeing my sister. But I’ve been here since Saturday and haven’t heard a word from her.”
“I’m afraid I haven’t, either,” Madame Martin said. “Liza has missed three classes in a row—and it’s so unlike her. She may be one of my older students, but she has always been as bright-eyed and dedicated as a young girl.”
“You don’t have any idea where she might have gone, do you?”
“None whatsoever. I have been expecting her to call me.”
“But she hasn’t.”
“No,” said Madame Martin. “I’m sorry, Mr. Crewe. Perhaps you’d like to speak with my other students? Liza had friends in this class.”
Owen said he would appreciate that. But as it turned out, none of the other women had any answers, either. After a half hour or so of questioning them, Owen said his thanks and left the building. Now he was determined to find his sister—something was very wrong. When he arrived home, he made a long-distance call to his hospital in Fort Lauderdale. His boss wasn’t very happy about his taking a leave of absence so abruptly. But at the moment, Owen didn’t care what his boss thought. There was only one more day of the convention, and if Liza didn’t show, it wasn’t enough time to find her. Still, Owen went to bed that night hoping he would wake to find her home.
Somehow, he wasn’t surprised when morning came and Liza wasn’t there. This time he didn’t bother to write her a note. He dressed and ate breakfast, then left for the Manhattan hotel. Dedicated to his profession, he was able to take notes, look at slides, and listen to speeches without thinking too often of Liza. But as soon as he could, Owen hurried home. Even as he sped along the highway, he knew he’d find nothing there.
He entered the apartment, tossed his briefcase on the couch, and left again. In the foyer downstairs, he knocked on a red door. He could hear an Italian opera playing and someone speaking the language over the music. Moments later, the door was opened by a thin, doe-eyed little girl.
“Is your mother home?”
The child, who couldn’t have been more than five, nodded.
“Carmella, who is it?” a woman called.
“Owen
from upstairs,” he said.
“Owen from upstairs, momma!”
The landlady appeared with a wooden spoon in her hand. She smiled at Owen.
“Hi,” he said. “I was wondering if I could talk to you.”
“Of course,” the woman said. “Has your sister come home yet? I don’t see her car.”
“No, I’m afraid she hasn’t. That’s what I want to talk about.”
He was led into the apartment and further into the kitchen. Sitting on a barstool, he breathed in the smell of sauce.
“I’ll bet you cook all day,” he said.
“Company tonight,” was the reply.
“By the way, I didn’t get your name,” Owen said now.
“Mrs. Verdino,” the woman said. “What can I do for you?”
“I was hoping you could help me find my sister,” Owen said, tugging at his mustache.
“Is there trouble?”
“I don’t know,” Owen answered. “But she hasn’t been home since Saturday, and I’m worried. If I knew where she was, I could go home. But I can’t leave without being certain she’s safe.”
“You’re a good brother,” Mrs. Verdini said. “You have a large family?”
“There are only four of us,” Owen said.
“I have three children,” Mrs. Verdini said. “Such angels. But we were talking about Liza. Let me think.”
She lifted the lid from a pot, stirred her sauce a little, tasted it, and added more spices before speaking again.
“I know she has a new boyfriend,” she said. “He was here a few times. I didn’t see him very well, but he looked nice and neat. He drives a Volvo.”
“I think his name is Derek.”
“That’s it,” Mrs. Verdini said. “They played tennis together. I know because I saw them carrying bags with rackets.”
Owen recalled the card he had found the day before, and corrected her.
“Racquet ball,” he said. “Do you happen to know where they play?”
“Not really,” Mrs. Verdini said. “I don’t go in much for sports. But I do know there’s a local health club in town. The Hercules Inn. If you want, you can ask my husband how to get there. He gets home at six.”
Ghost House Revenge Page 21
