A Whisper of Bones
Page 24
“So what did happen?” asked Butch.
“Oh,” groaned Eleanor, dropping her head in her hand.
“You’ve come this far,” said Jane. “Tell us the rest.”
Eleanor sank lower in her chair. “I suppose it doesn’t matter anymore. It will all have to come out. I asked Lena to wait in the house, just in case the boys needed her. As usual, she was more than willing to let me clean up her mess. When I got out to the garage, Stew was on his hands and knees, wailing like a banshee, struggling to remove the ax from his back. It was deep inside him, but I wasn’t sure it was a mortal blow. His handgun was on the floor next to him. I rushed over and kicked it away. When he realized I was there, he reared up. It was grotesque. He was like a Frankenstein monster. I looked around, saw our old baseball bat, and grabbed it. As he came for me, I swung it and hit him square in forehead. He went down. I hit him again. And again. And,” she said, her eyes searching the air around her, “again. When what I’d just done finally penetrated, I sank down on my knees and pleaded with God to forgive me. I had to do it, don’t you see?” She looked imploringly at Britt. “If he’d lived, Frank would surely have been arrested and charged with attempted murder. He was only thirteen, but he was big for his age. I was scared to death. And what would have happened to Timmy?”
“You did it?” whispered Britt.
Jane sat up straight, appalled by the revelation. She knew Eleanor was a liar, but this was far more twisted than Jane had ever considered possible.
As Eleanor smoothed her apron and gazed around the room, Butch stood up and crouched down next to her. “Eleanor, you need to finish the story now. I need to know about Lena. Did she really commit suicide?”
Eleanor’s eyelids fluttered. “Oh,” she said, lowering her head. “God forgive me.”
“What? Tell me.”
“I … I crushed half a bottle of Tylenol and put it in her liquor bottle, sat with her late into the night and encouraged her to drink her fill. It wasn’t hard. You have to understand, I was in constant fear that she’d tell you or Rich Novak the truth. I couldn’t have that. I wasn’t going to jail for something that was her fault.”
With that one admission, Jane watched a change come over Eleanor. The piece of herself she’d kept hidden all these years—a core of pure hate—finally emerged for everyone in the room to see.
“There it is,” said Eleanor, scowling at Butch, then up at Britt. “Eleanor is a monster just like Stew. Just like Lena. We’re all monsters. Every last human being.”
“No we’re not,” said Jane.
“I think it’s time to call the police.” Britt moved off the bed.
In response, Eleanor held up the cordless. “Already did. You can leave now knowing the wicked old lady is headed for prison. Are you happy?”
“No,” said Butch. “Not even a little.” Turning to Britt, he held out his hand. “Let’s get out of here.”
Britt stood for a moment, looking down at Eleanor, who gazed back at her with undisguised defiance. And then, without saying another word, she took her brother’s hand.
After they were gone, Jane climbed to her feet. “Did … did you really call the police? They’re actually coming?”
Eleanor glanced up at her. “You don’t believe me?”
“Any reason I should?”
With a faint smile, she said, “They’re coming, Jane.” She paused, then added, “You hate me, don’t you? Go ahead. Say it.”
Jane was disgusted, repulsed. She imagined Eleanor could read it in her face. “You let your son think he’d killed a man, when in reality, you’d done it. Do you have any idea what that must have cost him?”
Tipping her head back, she said, “Of course I do. We’ve all paid a price for Lena’s sins. You know, I’ve been thinking about the night that Lena and I drove out into the country to burn Stew’s car. You see, I had this idea that if I looked back to watch the fire, I’d turn to a pillar of salt. Are you familiar with the Old Testament?”
“Lot’s wife.”
“That’s right. I wanted to look, but I wouldn’t let myself. And from that moment on, I steadfastly lived my life that way, refusing to look back, unwilling to dwell on what had happened. I kept my eyes on my son. On his future. He was everything to me. Still is. I’m turning myself in because it’s what I need to do to protect him.”
If Jane had learned anything in her life, it was how evil became lodged in the human heart. It almost always started with a story, a fiction that was created out of need and then the individual worked to believe it. Over time, that fiction replaced reality. The moral center collapsed. And ultimately, in the worst instances, anything in the service of that story was permitted.
“I’ll say it again,” said Eleanor, her mouth set in a grim line. “Everything bad that’s happened to this family was because of Lena.”
Jane gazed down at the plump, sweet-looking old woman, watching her rearrange her face, tuck the hate back inside.
“I should probably take off my apron before the police get here,” said Eleanor, touching the pearls at her neck.
“I don’t think it matters,” said Jane.
“No?” she asked, closing her eyes and folding her hands in her lap. “I suppose you’re right.”
41
Jane made it to the hospital just after six that evening. As soon as she walked into the room, she knew something was wrong.
“Bad news,” said Julia, turning the sound down on the TV.
“What?” said Jane, not wanting to waste a minute on small talk.
“Come and kiss me first.”
Jane sat down on the bed, leaned in, and gave her the kiss she’d been dreaming about all day.
“Not bad,” said Julia. “But there’s still room for improvement. What, no flowers this time?”
“Tell me what’s going on.”
She released an exasperated breath. “I won’t be going home tonight. It’s my blood pressure. Reid thought he had it handled, but apparently he doesn’t. The experimental drug I’m on … they don’t understand all the side effects yet. One, at least for me, appears to be very high blood pressure. They’re worried I might have another stroke.”
“No,” said Jane.
“They’re trying a couple different blood pressure medications. Maybe it will work, or maybe not. It’s possible he’ll have to lower the dose of the experimental drug. It does seem to be helping me, so I hope I don’t have to go off it. If I do, it could be curtains for old Julia.”
She was dealing with her mortality by being flip. In the same situation, Jane wondered if she might handle it the same way. “How do you feel?”
“Now that you’re here, I’m much better.” She cupped Jane’s chin in her hand. “Why are you always so earnest?”
“Don’t make fun of me.”
“What have we here?” said Julia, glancing at Jane’s hand. “You’re wearing the ring I gave you eons ago.”
It was an Egyptian blue scarab set in gold. Jane had always loved it, but didn’t feel she should wear it after the breakup. She’d taken it out of her jewelry box last night and tried it on. As she was about to take it off, she stopped—and spent the rest of the night thinking.
“Does it mean we’re going steady?”
Jane had mulled this moment over in her mind all night. Now that it was here, was she really going to say it? “Julia?”
“Yes?”
“I’ve been thinking.”
“That can be good or bad.”
“I don’t just care about you.”
“I know. You admire me. On occasion, you respect me. You’re fond of me and you lust after me. All good. I’m not complaining.”
“Shut up.”
Julia seemed startled.
“Not like a friend,” said Jane, knitting her fingers together with Julia’s. “Like a lover. Like the woman I want to share my life with.”
Julia’s face flushed. “Am I hearing voices? Did you just say what I think you said?”
“I want that, too. More than you know.”
Jane let it fill her now, all the emotions she’d kept clenched behind a wall in her mind. She was breaking all the rules she’d so carefully made for herself. Life was too short. Love was rare.
“I’ve had this dream before,” said Julia, taking both of Jane’s hands in hers. “Many times. And in my dream, when you tell me you love me, I always say the same thing. It’s a quote. Samuel Beckett. ‘Ever tried. Ever failed. No matter. Try again. Fail again. Fail better.’”
“Maybe this time,” said Jane, bringing her lips close to Julia’s, “we won’t fail.”
ALSO BY ELLEN HART
Fever in the Dark
The Grave Soul
The Old Deep and Dark
Taken by the Wind
Rest for the Wicked
The Lost Women of Lost Lake
The Cruel Ever After
The Mirror and the Mask
Sweet Poison
The Mortal Groove
Night Vision
The Iron Girl
An Intimate Ghost
Immaculate Midnight
No Reservations Required
Death on a Silver Platter
The Merchant of Venus
Slice and Dice
Hunting the Witch
Wicked Games
Murder in the Air
Robber’s Wine
The Oldest Sin
Faint Praise
A Small Sacrifice
For Every Evil
The Little Piggy Went to Murder
A Killing Cure
Stage Fright
Vital Lies
Hallowed Murder
About the Author
ELLEN HART is an MWA Grandmaster, “a top novelist in the cultishly popular gay mystery genre” (Entertainment Weekly), and a Lambda and Minnesota Book Award winner. The author of more than twenty previous mysteries featuring Jane Lawless, she lives in Minneapolis, Minnesota. You can sign up for email updates here.
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Contents
Title Page
Copyright Notice
Dedication
Cast of Characters
Epigraph
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Also by Ellen Hart
About the Author
Copyright
This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
A WHISPER OF BONES. Copyright © 2018 by Ellen Hart. All rights reserved. For information, address St. Martin’s Press, 175 Fifth Avenue, New York, N.Y. 10010.
www.minotaurbooks.com
Cover illustration by Teresa Fasolino/The Newborn Group
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Names: Hart, Ellen, author.
Title: A whisper of bones / Ellen Hart.
Description: First edition. | New York: Minotaur Books, 2018.
Identifiers: LCCN 2017053460 | ISBN 9781250088659 (hardcover) | ISBN 9781250088666 (ebook)
Subjects: | GSAFD: Mystery fiction. | Detective and mystery stories.
Classification: LCC PS3558.A6775 W45 2018 | DDC 813/.54—dc23
LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2017053460
e-ISBN 9781250088666
Our ebooks may be purchased in bulk for promotional, educational, or business use. Please contact the Macmillan Corporate and Premium Sales Department at 1-800-221-7945, extension 5442, or by email at MacmillanSpecialMarkets@macmillan.com.
First Edition: February 2018