by Jo Gibson
Julie had to write down the rest of the message. She picked up the pen again and forced herself to continue. Don’t do what your wicked cousin did or you’ll wind up dead, too. The words were ominous, and she stared down at them as if they could somehow magically explain themselves. “Wicked” was a strange word to use, almost old-fashioned, the type of word you’d hear in a fairy tale. How had Vicki been wicked? What had she done?
Julie pushed that part of the sentence out of her mind and concentrated on the rest. As she read the words, she felt her panic rise to the surface again. At first she’d thought that Vicki’s death was accidental. That was horrible enough, but then Donna had told her that Vicki had committed suicide, something Julie found even more dreadful. This message hinted at something even more frightening, something so gruesome Julie didn’t even want to think about it. Vicki had been wicked, and now she was dead. What if Vicki hadn’t committed suicide? What if she’d been murdered?
Julie shuddered as she remembered that chilling laugh. And the creepy feeling of being watched. If the man on the phone had murdered Vicki, would he try to kill her, too?
Five
After an hour of nothing but routine calls, Julie began to relax again. She was grateful she hadn’t given way to her fear and gone screaming into the dining room. There was no one out there, watching her. She’d just overreacted to a prank call.
“Here’s your dinner, Julie.” Uncle Bob was frowning as he walked in with a covered platter and set it on the desk in front of her.
“But, Uncle Bob . . . I thought you didn’t want anyone to eat while they were working the switchboard. Donna said that was one of your rules.”
“That’s true, but Caro overruled me tonight.”
Julie looked up in surprise, but Uncle Bob seemed to be avoiding her eyes. “Thank you, Uncle Bob. I’ll be careful not to spill anything.”
“Good. I have to talk to you, Julie. It’s about that sweater of yours.”
Julie tried not to look surprised. What was wrong with her sweater? “Yes, Uncle Bob?”
“It’s much too tight. And that color just calls attention to . . . well, you’re a bright girl. You know what I mean.”
Julie was so shocked, she almost objected. Her sweater wasn’t tight at all. But one look at Uncle Bob’s glowering face and she decided to back down.
“I’m sorry, Uncle Bob. I won’t wear it again, if you object. Would you like me to go upstairs and change?”
“It’s too late for that. Just try to be more modest in the future. If you need some larger clothes, just ask Caro or me, and we’ll see that you get them.”
“Thank you, Uncle Bob.” Julie did her best to smile. She could tell that Uncle Bob was very crabby tonight, and she could smell alcohol on his breath. If Donna was right and he was starting in on another bender, she didn’t want to do anything to anger him.
“All right, then. Enjoy your dinner.” Uncle Bob started for the door, but then turned and came back. “Here’s your paycheck.”
“My paycheck?” Julie stared down at the envelope he handed her. “But Uncle Bob . . . I never expected you and Aunt Caroline to pay me.”
Uncle Bob frowned. “Of course we’re paying you. You’re working for us, aren’t you?”
“Well . . . yes.” Julie was clearly embarrassed. “But you and Aunt Caroline are my family. You’re already giving me room and board, and it wouldn’t be fair if you paid me, too.”
“Why not? We paid Vicki when she worked at the switchboard.”
“You did?”
“Of course. If she hadn’t done it, we’d have had to hire someone else for the job.”
Julie could see his point, but she still shook her head. “I can’t let you pay me, Uncle Bob. It just wouldn’t be right. You’ve both done so much for me.”
“Well . . .” Uncle Bob seemed at a loss for words. He looked down at the envelope, and then he shrugged. “All right. If you’re sure . . .”
“I’m sure.”
“Maybe I’ve misjudged you, Julie.” Uncle Bob looked flustered as he took back the envelope. “I’m sorry if I gave you a rough time.”
“It’s all right, Uncle Bob. I understand. And please tell me if you think I’m wearing something inappropriate. I certainly wouldn’t want to embarrass you or Aunt Caroline.”
“Well . . . I may have been overreacting a bit.” Uncle Bob sighed deeply. “It’s just that Vicki used to wear things that were totally unsuitable. Too tight. Too short. It was like she was advertising herself to the staff and the guests. And I was afraid you might be starting to do the same thing. I guess I was afraid that you’d end up like . . . like my poor little Vicki.”
Suddenly it struck Julie. Uncle Bob was talking about Vicki, the first time he’d really mentioned her. Would it be wrong to ask a few questions? She’d never know unless she tried. Julie took a deep breath and plunged into unknown waters.
“I’m sorry about Vicki, Uncle Bob. And I wish I could have helped her. One of the kids at school said she was very depressed.”
“She was.” Uncle Bob didn’t look angry anymore. He just looked sad. “We tried to help, but she didn’t seem to want to talk about what was bothering her. It got so bad, we even sent her to see a psychiatrist, but she wouldn’t talk to him, either. And now we’ll never know what was wrong.”
Julie sighed. It was now or never. She’ simply had to ask. “Uncle Bob?”
“Yes!!”
“I don’t want to bring up anything that might hurt you, but something’s been bothering me. My mother told me Vicki died in a car accident. Is that true?”
An expression of pain flickered across Uncle Bob’s face. “Not entirely. It’s true that her car went off the cliff, but . . . Caro and I are afraid she committed suicide.”
“Oh, Uncle Bob!” Julie reached out and patted his hand. “I’m so sorry. But are you sure?”
Uncle Bob nodded. “We’re sure. She left a note for Caro. She said she couldn’t stand it here anymore. She didn’t want to hurt us, but there was no other way out.”
“But maybe it wasn’t suicide. Maybe she was . . . uh . . . running away from home.”
Uncle Bob shook his head. “I really wish we could believe that. It would be a real comfort.”
“Did she have clothes in her car? Anything that might help you to believe that she was just running away?”
“Well . . . that’s part of the problem, Julie.” Uncle Bob pulled up a chair and sat down. “Vicki’s car burned before Sheriff Nelson could get to it. We’ll never know what was inside.”
“That’s too bad. Wasn’t anything saved?”
“Just a few personal items she’d picked up at the drugstore that night. A new lipstick, a bottle of perfume, and a pair of designer sunglasses.”
“Designer sunglasses?” Julie looked puzzled. “Why would anyone buy a new pair of sunglasses at night, if they were planning to commit suicide before morning?”
Uncle Bob blinked. And then he stared at Julie. “I never thought of that! The note didn’t really say she was planning to kill herself.”
Julie didn’t say a word. She just let the theory take root and grow in Uncle Bob’s mind. It took a few moments, but then he turned to her again.
“But why would she run away? We gave Vicki everything she wanted.”
“Maybe she was just going off on her own to think things over. You said she was depressed. She could have planned to come back home when she’d worked out her problems.”
“I suppose that’s possible.” Uncle Bob looked thoughtful. “Thank you, Julie. I’ll mention this to Caro tonight. It might make her feel better. It’s been a rough year for us, searching our memories, trying to figure out what made Vicki decide to kill herself.”
Julie nodded. “I’m sorry, Uncle Bob. It must have been awful for both of you.”
Uncle Bob got up. He walked toward the door, and then he turned again. “Julie? Please don’t mention this to anyone else. It would only hurt Caro. There’s been t
oo much gossip and speculation around here, and I don’t want to upset her again.”
“Don’t worry, Uncle Bob. I won’t say a word.”
“Good.” Uncle Bob nodded. “And if you ever want to talk about Vicki again, come to me. Don’t talk to Caro. She’s still . . . well . . . I really thought she was going to have a nervous breakdown, and she’s still very close to the edge. I don’t think she could bear it if you tried to talk about Vicki.”
“I understand.” Julie gave him a sympathetic smile, but she was puzzled as she watched him leave. Aunt Caroline had talked about Vicki that first night when she’d given her the sweaters and skirts. And she certainly hadn’t seemed close to a nervous breakdown.
Three calls came in before Julie had a chance to lift the cover on the platter, but when she did, she smiled happily. Mrs. Robinson had sent her a plate of prime rib, and it looked delicious. There was a Caesar salad, a baked potato with sour cream and chives, and even Yorkshire pudding. It was a feast.
Julie lifted the cover on the last dish. Mrs. Robinson’s pineapple custard. Then she noticed that an envelope was tucked under the dish. she opened it, and a tiny pair of gold, heart-shaped earrings fell out. There was a note, and Julie read it quickly.
These belonged to Vicki. I hope you don’t mind. They were her favorite earrings when she worked the switchboard because they were so tiny. I just thought you might like to have them.
Aunt Caroline.
The earrings were beautiful, and Julie slipped them on. Then she thought about what Uncle Bob had told her and frowned. He’d said it disturbed Aunt Caroline to talk about Vicki. But she’d mentioned Vicki in the note!
Was Uncle Bob lying? Or was he simply being overprotective of his wife? Julie wasn’t sure. But she’d promised not to talk about Vicki with Aunt Caroline, and she wouldn’t. Perhaps Uncle Bob was right. After all, he knew Aunt Caroline a lot better than she did.
“Julie! Nice sweater!” Ryan Stratford strode across the lobby and leaned over the desk. “Where’s the old man? I’ve got a message for him.”
Could Uncle Bob have been right? Was her sweater too tight? Julie felt a blush rise to her cheeks and hoped she wasn’t turning the same color as her sweater. “Your father’s in the private dining room. Through the restaurant and . . .”
“Never mind.” Ryan interrupted her. “I know the way. You know, I think you look even better than Vicki did in a sweater. She wore them so tight, it left absolutely nothing to the imagination . . . not that anybody could have imagined anything better than what she had, but I like your understated look better.”
Julie just nodded. She didn’t want to discuss her sweater with Ryan, but he had brought up Vicki, and there were some questions she wanted to ask. “You knew Vicki pretty well, didn’t you, Ryan?”
“I guess so.” Ryan shrugged. “Why?”
“I . . . well . . . I was just wondering if you knew why she was so depressed.”
“Why do you care?” Ryan shrugged again. “She’s dead.”
Suddenly Julie’s temper flared. It was clear Ryan hadn’t cared a bit for Vicki. If he had, he couldn’t be so callous. “I care because she was my cousin! And I’m living here with her mother and father, practically in her shadow. I need to know what happened to her!”
“Hey . . . take it easy!” Ryan grinned. “I can see where you’re coming from. Everybody says you’re just like Vicki, and you don’t want to make the same mistakes and wind up like she did, right?”
Julie nodded, even though that particular reason had never occurred to her. “So are you going to tell me about her?”
“Sure.” Ryan hoisted himself up on the desk and gazed down into Julie’s eyes. He was so close, she could see the amber flecks in his deep gray eyes. “The rumor is, your cousin slept around . . . a lot. Maybe she inherited her wild streak from your uncle.”
Julie winced. She didn’t like gossip, but she had to ask. “What do you mean?”
“Your uncle had a mistress for years. Everybody knew about it except your aunt.”
“I don’t believe it!”
Ryan shrugged. “I’m just telling you what I heard. You asked, remember?”
“All right. I did ask. But you’re just repeating gossip.”
“Maybe. And maybe not.” Ryan gave her a lazy grin. “What time do you get off work?”
“Nine o’clock. Why?”
“Meet me by the stone archway at nine-thirty, and I’ll tell you everything I know.” Ryan tipped her chin up and touched her upper lip with his finger. “And believe me, Julie . . . I know plenty about your cousin.”
“I’m sure you do. And what you don’t know, you’ll make up. Forget it, Ryan—I’m not interested in your kind of dirt.”
Ryan laughed as Julie glared at him. Then he hopped off the desk and started for the door. When he got there, he turned and grinned that lazy grin again.
“Goodbye, Julie. It’s really too bad you don’t take after your cousin. We could have had a really good time.”
It was almost eleven by the time Julie was ready to go up to her room. She’d finished her shift on the switchboard at nine, spent some time talking to Dave and Gina, and helped Mrs. Robinson carry trays of leftovers to the walk-in refrigerator in the kitchen.
Julie stepped into the elevator and pressed the button for the fourth floor. The doors were just closing when she spotted Ross hurrying down the hall, and she reached out to hold the doors for him.
“Thanks.” Ross stepped in, but his smile turned into a frown as he glanced at Julie.
Julie sighed. “It’s perfectly safe, Ross. I don’t bite.”
“Sorry.” Ross grinned, and looked a little sheepish. “I wasn’t frowning at you, Julie. I just . . . uh . . . it’s those earrings. Vicki had a pair just like them.”
“These are Vicki’s earrings. Aunt Caroline gave them to me tonight. You’re the only one who noticed.”
Ross sighed. “That’s because I gave them to Vicki.”
“You did?” Now it was Julie’s turn to look embarrassed. She reached up, took off the earrings, and handed them to him. “Here. You’d better take them back. I didn’t realize Aunt Caroline had given me someone else’s gift.”
Ross waved her hand away. “No, you keep them. It’s okay, Julie. And your aunt didn’t know I bought them for her. I didn’t put my name on the tag. It just said, From Santa.”
“They were a Christmas present?”
Ross nodded. “It was my first Christmas with the Hudsons and I bought presents for all of them. The earrings for Vicki, gloves for Mr. Hudson, and a scarf for Mrs. Hudson. I was so grateful to be included. It was almost like having a family again.”
“You don’t have a family?”
“No. Not anymore. My Dad died in ’Nam. I never even knew him. And my mother . . .” Ross cleared his throat and frowned. “She died when I was a senior in high school.”
Julie felt tears gather in her eyes. She knew exactly how Ross had felt, because she had felt the same way. Her parents had been there, loving and supporting, and suddenly they were gone. It had taken her weeks to get over that horrible abandoned feeling. “I’m really sorry, Ross. It must have been awful for you.”
“It wasn’t the best time in my life.” Ross tried to grin, but it came out lopsided. “I don’t know what I would have done if your aunt and uncle hadn’t taken me in. They gave me a job so I could save up the money for college.”
“When are you going?”
“Next September. I’ll come back here in the summers to work at the lodge. Your uncle promised me a job, anytime I need it. He’s been just like a father to me. And your aunt has been great, too.”
Julie nodded. No wonder Ross had been so upset when she’d told him that her parents had died! He’d been through the same thing himself.
The elevator stopped and Julie got out. But she stumbled slightly, and the books she was carrying toppled to the rug.
“Here. Let me.” Ross scooped up the books and stuck them
under his arm. “Homework?”
“Not really. I just wanted something to read in case it got slow.”
Ross smiled as he walked down the hallway with her. “Your uncle says you’re very good at the switchboard. Do you like it?”
“Most of the time.” Julie thought about the frightening phone call and winced. She certainly wouldn’t mention that! “I had eleven calls for reservations tonight. One woman even asked if we could do her daughter’s wedding.”
“What did you say?”
“I took her number and told her someone would return the call tomorrow. Her daughter’s a skier, and she wanted a winter wedding on the slopes.”
“That might be fun.” Ross looked interested. “And we might even get some press coverage. Do you have her number with you? I’ll call her first thing in the morning.”
Julie reached into the side pocket of her purse and pulled out a pink message memo. “Here it is.”
“Thanks.” Ross stared down at the message for a moment and then he frowned. “Julie . . . what’s this?”
Julie stared down at the memo and winced again. It was the transcript of the prank phone call! She’d forgotten that she’d stuffed it into the pocket of her purse.
“Oh. Uh . . . it was just a crank phone call I wrote down, that’s all. It’s nothing to get upset about.”
Julie tried to grab the paper, but Ross pulled it back. “Do you have any idea who made this call?”
“No. I didn’t recognize his voice. It . . . it scared me, until I realized that it had to be a joke.”
“Some joke!” There was anger in Ross’s voice. “Do you mind if I keep this?”
“You can have it. I’d just as soon forget it ever happened. But please don’t show it to Uncle Bob or Aunt Caroline. It would only upset them.”
“I won’t.” When they reached the double doors, Ross handed Julie her books. “Julie?”
“Yes?”
“Yesterday at the skating rink . . . you said you thought you heard someone in the trees?”
