My fears were unfounded. There wasn't one similarity that linked the room to the one I remembered from so long ago. The bed, matching armoire, and posters of Bon Jovi and Nirvana that had adorned the walls were gone now. In their place was a roll-top desk, two velvet armchairs, and a gas fireplace. A small bookcase behind the desk held various binders and law books. I'd obviously stumbled upon Ben's private study.
I felt a hand on my shoulder and jumped about ten feet in the air. Ben stood behind me with a large cardboard box in his hand.
"Michelle and I redecorated after my parents' died. They'd been keeping his room a museum of sorts for years. We thought that wasn't healthy and decided it was time to make a fresh start."
I nodded without comment. It was ridiculous to think the room would be the same after all these years, but disappointment tugged at my heart strings. I was strangely possessive of Paul's personal space, and part of me was outraged that they'd dare disturb his things. I knew I was being irrational but couldn't help myself.
Ben patted the cardboard box. "Come on. I'm going to gather everyone in the drawing room for the main event."
Confused, I stared at the box. "What are you talking about?"
With a smile, he lifted a large steel tube out. Remnants of dirt clung to the outside. "Don't you remember what this is? My class had one too."
My jaw dropped as recognition set in. "Holy cow, it's our time capsule."
He smiled. "Your class buried it behind the school. Wasn't Mr. Remsen the English teacher?"
"History," I replied.
"Whatever. He was also your class advisor because Michelle received a phone call from him last week, reminding her about the capsule. She was excited when he offered to dig it up and bring the contents over today."
"How come Mr. Remsen's not here tonight? I would have loved to have seen him."
"He had plans of some sort, I guess. Anyhow, he asked us to take pictures and post them on Facebook so he could view them."
A chill swept over me as I stared at the tube. We'd buried that the day before Paul died. I found myself wondering if he'd already decided to take his life at that point. Why hadn't he talked to me about it first? Tonya was right. I should have had some clue. If I'd known, I would have tried to get him help or at least talk him out of it.
"Cindy, are you coming?"
Ben stood in the hallway, watching me with a puzzled expression. I cast one last look around the room and then followed him.
Jacques was waiting in the drawing room downstairs, his face pinched tight with worry. "There you are. I tried to catch up to you, but Michelle started asking me questions about the house. Everything okay?'
I smiled and linked my arm through his. "Just saying good-bye to some old ghosts."
He nodded in understanding as we followed Ben's tall figure back to the dining room. "I thought it was something like that. And don't pay any attention to nurse of the year in there. That chick has some serious issues, in my opinion."
Ben stood in the doorway but moved slightly to let us pass. Most of the crowd appeared to have finished eating, although some still milled around the buffet table, and I could have sworn I saw a woman stuffing shrimp into her purse.
Ben cleared his throat. "Attention, everyone. If you'll follow me into the drawing room, we have an event planned that I think you will all enjoy."
"But I haven't finished my lobster yet," Tonya protested with her mouth full.
"The food will remain out if anyone would like to come back for a second helping," Ben said. "And my waitstaff will be bringing out dessert trays soon. Please help yourselves."
Melanie raised her beer in mock salute. "The jerk does put on a good spread."
Jacques pressed his lips together tightly in an annoyed manner. "If you ladies detest the man so much, why in God's name did you bother to come?"
Melanie laughed. "I wouldn't have missed this for the world. No one puts on free high school reunions these days."
"It was very generous of Ben and Michelle to cover all the costs." I couldn't believe the gall of these women.
Tonya snorted. "Why shouldn't they? They have more money than God." She pushed back her chair and stood. Without another word to me or Jacques, she followed Melanie and the others out of the room.
Jacques watched their retreating figures in disgust. "The nerve of some people. Are you sure you're okay, love?"
I nodded. "I'm fine. Come on. The time capsule my class buried just before graduation is about to be opened, and I'm dying to see my contribution. Then we'll have a quick chat with Ben and Michelle about the house and hopefully take off."
"Sounds like a plan," Jacques agreed. "But I have to confess I'm not impressed with many of your friends here."
"For the record, they were never my friends. I had Paul, and that was about it. I didn't need anyone else."
He placed a comforting arm around my shoulders as we walked down the hall together. "Was there anything romantic brewing between the two of you?"
I laughed. "Not in the least." Then I hesitated. "Well, there was this one time—of course it didn't mean anything—"
"Oh, do tell," Jacques pleaded. We were standing in the back of the room, marveling at the Oriental rugs that covered the polished wood floors and the Queen Anne leather sofas and wing chairs that were set up throughout the room. Ben placed the box on a small antique table situated in the middle of the room.
"It was just one of those crazy things. We snuck a bottle from his parents' wine cellar. We were there alone and supposed to be studying. For the first time in my life, I was certifiably drunk. Then—Paul kissed me."
"And?" Jacques prodded.
"And that was all. Ben came home and found us, so I hightailed it out of there pretty fast."
Jacques arched his fine eyebrows. "What do you think would have happened if Ben hadn't come home?"
I laughed again, but a weird sensation of heat spread through my body as I remembered that night and how Paul had been staring at me in a strange way. The next day, things returned to normal, and we'd never mentioned that evening again. Then, two weeks later, he'd picked up a gun and…
"Nothing," I assured him. "We were friends. That's all."
"Excuse me, Mr. Steadman." The elderly man who had answered the door earlier approached Ben and waved his hand in an attempt to get his attention. "Your client, Mr. Adelson, is on the phone. He said it's urgent and can't wait."
Ben sighed and glanced around the room. "Thank you, Wesley. Where did Mrs. Steadman wander off to?"
"I believe she's on a call herself. Miss Paula was in the room with her," Wesley said.
"Who's Paula?" Jacques whispered.
"Their daughter," I replied. "She was named after Paul and born a few months after he died."
Ben excused himself and started to walk past us, then stopped. "Cindy, could you do the honors in my absence? I may be a while. Would you mind passing out the envelopes to everyone?"
"I'd be glad to." I approached the table with Jacques at my side and stared down in wonder at the envelopes that had been stuffed inside the capsule. I remembered how much fun it had been filling out my sheet. Listing my best friend, what I wanted to do after graduation, places I wanted to travel, etc. I couldn't remember half of the answers now, but it would be a happy diversion I looked forward to.
There had been two hundred people in our graduating class, but only about sixty were present tonight. Not everyone had chosen to fill out a sheet, but still, I was momentarily overwhelmed by the pile of envelopes in front of me. I tried to sort through them, matching them with the people I knew were here, but the crowd was growing impatient already. I spotted Melanie's right away and called her to retrieve it. She sauntered over to us, a bored expression on her face.
"I have a sudden urge to smack her across the head," Jacques whispered. "Do you think anyone would notice?"
"Yes, but they might not care," I murmured in response.
A few envelopes were left over as some cla
ssmates were not here to receive them. People started looking at the responses and were laughing to themselves and with other classmates. Some chose to return to the dining room for dessert while others made themselves at home on the sofas with espresso that the butler served in demitasse cups.
I tore my envelope open while Jacques watched. He leaned over my shoulder to read my written responses. "You wanted six kids? Wow, you must have been high."
"Okay, if you're going to make fun of my answers, I'm won't share them with you."
He chuckled and removed the paper from my hand despite my protests. He read aloud in a halting manner. "Who will you marry? Richard Gere? Really?"
"Oh, give me a break. I'd just seen Pretty Woman."
He clucked his tongue in disdain as he read further. "What I want to do after graduation. Go to Hollywood and become an actress." He laughed so hard I feared he might hurt himself. Or maybe I secretly hoped he would.
I snatched the paper away from him and stuffed it into my dress pocket. "That does it. You've had enough of a laugh at my expense."
"Now listen Cin, I—"
I glanced down at the remaining envelopes and started to stuff them back into the capsule. One had stuck to the back of another, and as I separated them, my body froze. I raised the envelope in my trembling hand.
"What's wrong?"
I raised the envelope higher so that he could see the name Paul Steadman written in large, block letters on the front.
Jacques flinched. "Oh boy."
My mouth resembled sawdust as I struggled to speak. "We buried these the day before—he… I wasn't with him when he brought his over. I didn't know he… He said it was silly." I knew I wasn't making any sense but couldn't stop myself from rambling.
Jacques took my hand in his. "Come on, dear. We'll go read this in private."
"I don't know." I followed him down the hall while tightly clutching the envelope in my hand. "Shouldn't Ben be the one to open it?"
"If he asks, I'll say it's my fault. That I opened it by mistake. Go ahead, dear. Maybe it will give you some kind of peace. Lord knows you need some. Perhaps the note will help you to understand why he did what he did."
That's what I hoped for, or rather, was afraid of.
We entered the billiard room. Jacques shut the door behind us, and I turned the envelope over. Beads of sweat gathered on my forehead. "I want to see what's in it, but I'm scared, Jacques."
Jacques nodded, a somber expression on his face. "Do you want me to read it first?"
I shook my head. "No, I should do it."
I slid my fingernail along the edge of the flap and opened it. To my surprise, there was another envelope inside, with my name printed on it.
My blood ran cold. "Oh my God. He wrote this to me." Could I deal with a personalized suicide note now? I didn't think so.
I struggled to breathe normally as I opened the second envelope and found the designated sheet classmates had been given. Instead of filing out the responses, Paul had written, "See Other Side" across the page. I turned it over to find his handwritten note.
Hey Cin,
You know I'm not much for these things. I wasn't even going to do this but thought it might be fun to leave a message for you instead. I can hardly wait to see your face when you open this in 25 years. Hopefully I'll be standing beside you.
I guess you must know by now how I feel about you. That kiss two weeks ago was no accident. I've loved you since the second grade but never had the courage to tell you before. There're only two things I want out of life—to be the best damn doctor I can and spend the rest of my time with you.
I've already decided tomorrow is when I'll tell you the truth, when we get together to study. If you don't feel the same, well, at least I tried. But I'm so confident it won't affect our friendship that I'm sure we can laugh about it someday. I think you feel the same way about me, but maybe you just don't know it yet. Tomorrow I will find out, and nothing will stop me from telling you.
I love you,
Paul
I was aware of Jacques' gasp as he read the letter over my shoulder. I continued to stare at the page, unable to move.
"Are you all right?"
The paper slowly fluttered through the air, and the blood roared in my ears. Words failed me, and my legs resembled heavy blocks of cement. I turned to Jacques, his face blurred by my tears. I felt myself starting to fall and reached out my hand to him. He was quick to grab me before my body hit the floor.
I blinked and saw Jacques' worried face come into focus above mine. I was lying on the floor of the billiard room. Jacques was on his knees beside me, his arm behind the back of my head, supporting it.
"Thank God," he breathed. "I was just about to call 9-1-1. Are you okay, love?"
I nodded and tried to sit up, but Jacques' firm grip held me in place.
"No. You stay here and rest for a few minutes. I'm going to find the butler and ask him to bring you some tea."
"I can't believe it," I whispered.
He patted my cheek. "It had to be quite a shock for you to read about his feelings for you after all this time. You never had any idea?"
I shook my head. "None. But that's not what I…I'm talking about." I shut my eyes tight as a bout of nausea swept over me. I tried to blink away tears but knew they'd continue to fall anyway.
When I opened my eyes again, Jacques' confused gaze met mine. "You're not making any sense."
"I have my answer, after all these years."
Recognition slowly dawned on my best friend's face. "You mean you know why he killed himself?"
Despite Jacques' protests, I forced myself into an upright position. He remained sitting beside me on the floor, patiently waiting for me to answer his question.
I took several deep, cleansing breaths and clasped his hand tightly between mine. "No. It all makes perfect sense now. And I was stupid for not realizing this years ago."
"Okay, love, now you're really confusing me. Out with it."
I flicked my eyes toward his face. "Paul didn't commit suicide, Jacques. He was murdered."
CHAPTER FOUR
The room was silent, except for the ticking sound emanating from the impressive oak grandfather clock. Jacques and I remained sitting on the floor, and he had one hand on the small of my back as he continued to support me. I was vaguely aware of laughter coming from down the hall. I started to shiver, and Jacques quickly removed his suit coat and placed it around my shoulders.
"How can you be so sure?"
I waved the letter in the air. "This is more than enough proof for me. He never would have written something like this if he was going to kill himself. Now I understand why his suicide never made sense to me."
"Did you love him too?"
I hesitated for a moment. I hadn't been expecting that question and tried to collect my thoughts. "I—I don't know. In my own way, I guess."
Jacques face was sympathetic. "What would you have done if he'd spilled his guts to you the next day?"
We winced simultaneously. "Ouch. Damn. Bad choice of words. I'm sorry, Cin. That came out wrong."
I shut my eyes, seeing the blood splattered on the bed once again and Paul's lifeless body in a fetal position. I remembered how I'd rushed over and felt for his pulse. There had been a very faint one, but even though the EMT had arrived quickly after my call, he'd been pronounced dead shortly after arriving at the hospital.
"Are you going to faint again?"
I shook my head and, with Jacques' assistance, slowly rose to my feet. I clutched his jacket around me for warmth. In short, I felt awful. My head was spinning, and my stomach was grumbling in a manner that did not depict hunger. "I don't think I'll be able to discuss the details of the house tonight. Would you mind if we rescheduled with Ben? Maybe for tomorrow?"
He smiled sympathetically. "Of course. Let me go and see if I can find him before we leave, and I'll explain everything. You wait here."
I clutched his arm. "Let me tell him about t
he letter, please."
"Whatever you say, darling. Don't move. I shall return."
I grabbed the side of the pool table for support. Yes, it all made sense to me now. Why hadn't I figured this out years ago? I was convinced this was the reason I'd had the recurring nightmares and never made peace with the situation. Deep down, I knew Paul would never do something like that.
Nothing will stop me from telling you tomorrow.
Those were not the words of someone who planned to commit suicide. Those were the words of someone determined, who knew his own mind, and went after what he wanted. I should have trusted my friend more.
What would I have said if he'd confessed his love to me? I would have been shocked, but would I have given him a chance? We'd gone to the prom the week before but only as friends. I'd loved everything about Paul but never thought about him in a romantic way. And for years, he'd been in love with me. He could have had any girl he wanted, but instead he'd been in love with shoestring Cindy. Me.
Before I could analyze the situation any further, Jacques returned with Ben. He opened his mouth in shock as he took in my appearance. "Cindy, you look awful. Jacques said you'd like to postpone the tour and contract signing because you're not feeling well. Are you sure you're okay? Can I bring you anything?"
I shook my head. "No, thank you. It'll pass. We'd like to come by tomorrow, if that's okay with you and Michelle."
"Since it's Sunday, that will work out well for us. How about one o'clock? You could both come for brunch."
The mention of food wasn't sitting well with my stomach. "That sounds great, thank you."
"I left a copy of the contract on your desk and some comps to browse," Jacques said to Ben. "This way you can look it over ahead of time, and let us know if you have questions."
"Perfect," Ben said. He escorted us down the hall to the front door while Jacques handed me my purse that he'd retrieved from the drawing room.
Ben leaned over and bussed me on the cheek. "I know how difficult this must have been for you. Not a day goes by that I don't think about him too."
Priced to Kill (Cindy York Mysteries Book 2) Page 3
