Through the glass doors of my room I watched sunlight vanish from the fishpond grotto outside and the shadows of the trees above grow long. Nona had set seven o’clock for dinner tonight and I was glad when time enough had passed and I could get ready. I put on a long white silk dress, strewn with red poppies—to give me courage—and clasped a little strand of pearls about my throat. David had given them to me on our first anniversary—one more reminder. There would be reminders everywhere for a long time—few of them pleasant. Even those early years together had gone quickly awry. Strange that a strand of pearls was all that remained of whatever feeling we had once had for each other.
As I went upstairs Maggie came drifting through the front door with her tall husband beside her, and Giff just behind. Strange to think of Maggie gracefully drifting, but apparently there were occasions when she could pull herself together and present an illusion of elegance that was astonishing. She wore a sheath of black jersey, with a chiffon cape over it, edged in narrow bands of blue and green and red. The cape floated when she moved and she no longer seemed pudgy and ungraceful. Even her lipstick was unsmudged, and there was a penciled line of silver on her eyelids.
At the sight of my expression of surprise, she laughed. “Aren’t I gorgeous? You didn’t know I could turn myself out like this, did you? Nona said to dress up—so I did. We’re supposed to counteract gloom.” Yet her eyes moved quickly from meeting mine, and I knew her haunting was not yet over.
The men were dressed more casually, yet with a bit of plumage, Giff in a white turtleneck and well-cut navy blazer, Eric in a gray business suit, neat and conventional, with a striking red vest.
“We’re sorry you’re leaving, Karen,” Eric said. “You’ve added something bright and young to our mountains.”
Nona waited for us in the living room, ensconced on a sofa, her crutches beside her. The robe she had chosen for tonight was long and saffron-colored, with a wide boat neck, and she wore a dozen long strands of orange and brown beads that clattered when she moved. Lori and Trevor came in the from the deck as we entered, her arm linked confidently in his, and she was more beautiful than I’d ever seen her—in pale green, with a slender chain of golden links at her throat. Trevor looked distinguished in a white jacket, but there was no joy in him when his eyes met mine.
We were all there, obediently dressed up and festive, because Nona had so commanded. We were to forget mourning and all that was sad, and move on—that was what she intended. Yet I knew that not one of us would ever forget the sight of flames against a darkening sky.
Chris was not present. Lori said he had gone off to dinner at a friend’s house, having announced that parties bored him. I could feel only relief. Tomorrow Chris and I would face whatever must be faced, but I didn’t want to watch his torment tonight.
To this day I can’t remember what we ate that night, though I’m sure Nona outdid herself, and even Lu-Ellen was sufficiently impressed by our handsome company so that she tried hard not to be too cheery and informal.
For a time, I suppose, the conversation was bright and on the light side, though like the food I remember none of it. All through the meal I waited for Nona to speak or act, but she said nothing startling until our fruit compote had been served, and she was pouring coffee from the silver pot. I know something was coming by the subtle change in her voice as she handed Eric his cup.
“You’ve never told me,” she said, “how you came to be acquainted with Joe Bruen.”
The silence around the table had a stunned quality. I looked quickly at Maggie and saw that her eyes were almost like the tortured eyes in her painting. Trevor was very still, waiting and alert, while Eric, undisturbed, poured cream in his coffee and sugared it generously. It was Giff who broke the silence.
“What do you mean, Nona? How could Dad know this Bruen fellow?”
“That’s what I’m asking him. Don’t you think you might tell us, Eric?”
He stirred his coffee attentively, but while his faintly sensual lips smiled, there was something watchful about his eyes. “There’s no great secret about it. I’d have told you sooner, Nona, if you’d asked. There was a building Vinnie owned with a partner in Atlanta that burned down some years ago. With suspicion of arson. Suspicion, in fact, of a professional job that might have involved Vinnie’s partner in that deal. A man who was losing money in other ventures. I went down to look into the matter and found that Bruen happened to be vacationing there at the time. He was great on fortuitous vacations. I knew about him, and the police picked him up for questioning. He was in the clear, however, and nothing was ever proved. But I talked with him a few times on that occasion.”
“And then you met again in Gatlinburg,” Nona said.
Maggie started to protest, but Giff put his hand on her arm. “Wait, Maggie. Let Dad tell us. This is all pretty interesting.”
Once before I’d had the sense that Gifford Caton was not as fond of his father as a loving son might be. Now I heard veiled derision in his voice.
Eric nodded affectionately at Nona, ignoring his son. “My dear and respected friend—you continue to astonish me! But I’m afraid the meeting you and Maggie happened upon that day in Gatlinburg was completely accidental. I didn’t know that Bruen was in town, and I doubt that he knew I lived here. Certainly I didn’t feel good about discovering him in the vicinity after our fires, but I couldn’t very well have him arrested because he was present. I did tell him that he’d be better off out of town if he wanted to stay clear of trouble. And I haven’t seen him since.”
“Because he went underground?” Giff said.
“We don’t know that, do we?” Eric continued blandly. “Anyway, it was no secret that he was here. David was pretty sure that this man had a hand in the early fires, but I believe he told Trevor he wasn’t ready to act as yet. Isn’t that right, Trevor?”
“What he told me,” Trevor said, “was that he didn’t care nearly as much about whoever was setting the fires as he did about who had hired him. He didn’t mention Bruen by name at the time, but I think he expected him to lead to the real cause of the fires. And that’s about where everything still stands. We’re no nearer than before to finding out who is behind what has happened here.”
“Perhaps we are,” Nona said lightly. “Lori, what’s the matter?”
For the first time since Nona had launched her rocket, I glanced at Lori and saw how white she looked.
Trevor saw it too. “You’d better tell us, Lori—whatever it is.”
“I don’t want to talk about it. It’s just that all this is so—so horrible. It makes me feel ill. I can’t bear it when everyone goes on like this. With David dead!” She flung a look of defiance around the table, and let it linger on me.
Eric sat next to his niece, and he put a hand on her arm. “We don’t want to upset you, honey. I agree that we’d better talk about something else.”
“I don’t agree,” Nona went on calmly. “You’ve been wandering around the island, Lori. What do you know that you haven’t told us?”
She pulled her arm from Eric’s touch. “I can’t tell you—I can’t! I don’t know anything to tell. I’ve only gone down to the island to fix up Cecily’s dressing room. So just leave me alone!” She jumped up and ran away from the table, and no one made any move to stop her or go after her.
Giff said, “I’ll talk to her when she quiets down. I know what’s the matter. She has a crazy idea that she’s going to be next on Joe Bruen’s list. She’s always been scared of shadows. You know that, Trev. She trots along the edge of the cliff as though she had nine lives, and worries all the time about being pushed. Lori likes to flirt with danger, it’s true—but that doesn’t mean that she’s very brave. Just hypnotized.”
Perhaps her cousin understood her better than Trevor did, I thought—perhaps better than anyone else ever had. They’d grown up together and they knew each other like brother and sister.
“Why should she have this notion about Bruen?” Trevor asked. “H
as she ever seen him?”
“She hasn’t said so. But she believes what Chris says—that he’s hiding on the island.”
“Impossible!” Eric put in. “The police have searched the place thoroughly, and so have Trevor and I.”
“I have too,” Giff said. “But perhaps there’s still something we’re missing.”
I thought uneasily of tomorrow morning and my promise to go with Chris to the island. To see something he had told no one else about. Once more I was thankful I’d told Trevor and that he would be following us all the way.
“Let’s take our coffee out on the deck,” Nona said. “If someone will carry mine for me—”
Eric hurried to help her, and as I picked up my own cup and walked outside with the others I thought how pleased with herself Nona looked. She had promised an explosion, and she must be more than gratified over the reaction she’d managed to evoke. Yet I wondered what had really come to light, and I wondered too why I should feel more sorry for Lori now than I’d felt before. If I hadn’t known I would be rebuffed, I might have tried to find her, talk to her, but I knew that was best left in her cousin Giff’s hands.
Dusk was moving into the valleys, though the high mountains still stood with their backs in bright sunlight. The lake at Belle Isle still caught a tinting of blue from the sky, a shading of rose, but there were no fire colors.
All was quiet on the island. For a little while longer all was quiet.
Ten
It was time to leave for Belle Isle with Chris. No one was around when I went outside, but I found him waiting for me, ducked down in the front seat of my car. Trevor’s car wasn’t out on the apron, but I knew he wouldn’t be far behind us.
“Let’s go,” Chris said the moment I got in, and as we turned out of the driveway he looked about anxiously. “I don’t want anybody to know what we’re doing,” he added.
The sky was cloudy this morning, and the mountains smoky with mists. Only the pinkish-red sourwood trees wore color today. Sky and mountains were gray or misty white, and all the fading summer greens had turned drab. The air smelled like rain.
As I drove I was sharply aware of the boy sitting straight and tense on the seat beside me.
“Hadn’t you better explain what it is you’re going to show me?” I asked. “It might be better for me to be prepared, so I can understand.”
He shook his fair head and stared straight ahead through the windshield. “I have to show you. Or else you won’t believe me. Karen—” He turned his head to look at me. “Karen, you like my father a lot, don’t you?”
“Of course,” I said. “I’ve liked him for a long time.”
“I know. That’s why I can tell you about this—show you. Maybe you’ll know what to do.”
I reached out and touched his arm gently. “Whatever it is, Chris, we’ll try to work it out together.”
He seemed to relax just a little in the seat beside me. Now and then I glanced in the rearview mirror as a matter of course, but so far I’d caught no glimpse of Trevor’s car. Which was just as well, since Chris too looked around through the rear window at times. It was just as well that his father was staying out of sight. He could catch up with us quickly enough when he wanted to, since he knew where we were going.
The guard at the entrance to Belle Isle knew me by now and waved us through. Everything was quiet and no workmen seemed to be around.
“Where is everybody?” I asked.
“Didn’t you know?” Chris asked. “Dad has ordered things stopped since that last fire. I don’t know if he’ll try again, or if he’ll just turn the whole project back to Uncle Eric.”
“I’m sure he won’t do that until his time is up,” I said. But now I wondered whether Trevor’s own courage had faltered at last, or if this was only a temporary pause while the police did their work.
“We can leave the car here,” Chris said when we reached the causeway. “You don’t care if we walk across, do you?”
I’d worn a raincoat against possible showers, so I didn’t mind, and we followed the causeway over on foot—a narrow road with gray water on either side. Now it was Chris who went ahead. He ignored the uneven driveway to the house and chose the path that led in the direction of the theater.
“I just want to check something first,” he said.
I still hadn’t seen anything of Trevor and I hoped he would be able to track us. If we needed him there wouldn’t be time to hunt for us on the island.
When we reached the area that was being taken over by kudzu, Chris paused for a moment. I had the feeling that something about the vines disturbed him, but he turned away and hurried on.
As we neared the place where carriages had once been drawn up for the theater entrance, Chris pointed. “There—there it is! I knew she’d come here.”
Ahead of us, parked carelessly across the way, was Lori’s red Ferrari.
“I saw her go out a while before we did. I thought she might be coming here. My mother comes here a lot, you know. And I’ll bet I know what she’s doing.”
We walked around the car and over to the side entrance, where Trevor had brought me that day when I had first seen the theater. As we stepped through the door he touched my arm.
“Look!” he said softly.
She was there—his mother. Dreamily, Lori moved about the big stage that dwarfed her small figure in its green jumpsuit, her arms outstretched as though she followed the steps of some slow-motion dance.
“What’s she doing?” I whispered.
“She likes to pretend that she’s Cecily. Sometimes she lets me watch. Sometimes she brings a costume and puts it on in Cecily’s dressing room. Then she does a show for me. She used to dance and sing a little, you know, and she’s pretty good.”
As I watched the woman on the stage, she began to sing, and I felt again a surge of alarm. There was something wrong about this. Something unnatural and weird about her dancing alone on the empty stage. She wore no costume today, but moved gracefully, freely in her jumpsuit. Her voice had no great carrying quality, but the acoustics of the theater brought it to us as we listened—a recent song about being left alone, about all lost loves.
At my side Chris nudged me gently. When I looked in the direction he indicated, I saw something that made my heart thud into my throat. Below us, but far to one side, a man slumped on a concrete step near the outer aisle. His gray-white curly hair grew long over the collar of his green plaid shirt, and he sat bent over, unmoving, his full attention upon the stage.
I took a step into the theater, meaning to call an impulsive warning to Lori, but Chris jerked me back with one strong young hand and almost pushed me out the door.
“Come away,” he whispered, and grasped my hand. “Now’s the time—while they’re busy in there.”
I looked frantically around, hoping to see Trevor, and managed to pull Chris to a stop. “Wait—we mustn’t run away. Your mother may need us. She may not know that man’s in there watching.”
“She knows,” Chris said. “She’s come here to talk to him before. I don’t know what about because I can’t go close enough to listen and watch. But I think she wants him to burn Dad’s houses.”
A spatter of rain struck my face, and I still held back, not really believing or absorbing his words.
“Chris, Giff said your mother was afraid she might be the next one to be—harmed by Bruen. After all, he’s already killed once.”
Chris jerked away from me and walked purposefully ahead on the path. “You don’t know if he’s killed anybody,” he told me over his shoulder. “You don’t know anything. So maybe he hasn’t. Anyway, I don’t think he’s going to hurt her. But he might try to hurt us if he knew we were watching. I stay a long way off, but now I have to show you something while we have the chance.”
I was torn between uncertainty about Lori and the need to see whatever Chris wanted to show me. If only Trevor would come!
Chris paused on the path, waiting. “She knows, Karen. My mother knows
everything, and she’s all right.”
This was too new and devastating an idea for me to accept at once, but I made my choice and followed Chris back toward the octagonal house. Where was Trevor? Had he been so clever about hiding himself that not even I, who expected him, had caught a single glimpse of him? More and more I was beginning to feel that he hadn’t come. But what could have happened to stop him? I was beginning to feel that he really hadn’t followed us after all. And if that was true, all I wanted was to get away from this frightening place as quickly as possible, and take Chris with me. If he was right and Lori was in no danger from someone she knew, we might only hurt her and ourselves if I tried to intrude.
Once more we came opposite the thriving expanse of kudzu and this time Chris stopped.
“We have to go in there, Karen.”
My sense of alarm increased. “What do you mean—in? There’s no way into those vines.”
But Chris seemed to know a way. He plunged through a patch that grew ankle deep not far from the path and stopped before a large green mound. Then, tugging, he lifted the corner of a heavy blanket of kudzu. It came up with a whoosh and he disappeared under it. His voice came back to me, muffled by the monstrous green foliage that had swallowed him.
“Come under the leaves, Karen. Come in here. It’s all right.”
I took hold of the thick covering of vines with both hands and lifted. Dust stirred in the air, and the leaves were heavy and resistant in my grasp. Yet they lay like a loose covering, attached to nothing at this point—as though they had been pulled up often. Now I could drop to my knees and crawl beneath the green coverlet into a tunnel formed by small bushes that kept the vine off the ground. The smell of wild vegetation was pungent and stifling, and I had a horrid feeling that the vines might press down to smother me at any moment.
Ahead, Chris had risen and was standing upright. Beneath my hands I felt something like a doorsill, and when I crawled over it I found I was in the small, square room of a log cabin. Kudzu had hidden it completely from view, covering the roof, shrouding the two glass windows, turning interior darkness to an eerie green. I stood beside Chris and looked about fearfully.
The Glass Flame Page 19
