Kathryn wasn’t sure whether to be glad or sorry. The stuff’s staying meant she could continue going through it, if she wanted, but it also meant the house would hold troublesome reminders of its ghosts.
They went downstairs, and Brandy headed for the door. Halfway there, she stopped and gazed out the window at the pond and the woods beyond. “Poor Gordon,” she said with a sigh. “First Diana, now him. Never dreamed he’d be killed, too. And by Emily of all people.” She shook her head. “But speaking of that, if anyone asks, I’m going to say they died in a car accident, miles from here. Otherwise, prospective buyers might think the place is jinxed. I’m telling you this now, so you won’t be surprised if you happen to be around when I’m showing the house. Okay?”
Kathryn nodded. Brandy had lied when she’d shown her the house, so it didn’t surprise her that Brandy was planning to lie again. Now, though, she understood why Brandy hadn’t told her the truth. She’d wanted to spare herself the pain of revealing and perhaps even reliving what could well have been the worst night of her life. The night her son had shot Diana and died himself.
But was that really what had happened? Gordon’s words came back to her: “My wife had so many enemies that any one of them could have wrecked her wedding picture, just as any one of them could have killed her.”
“Brandy, have you ever . . .?” She left the question unfinished, reluctant to re-open the wound.
“What?” Brandy prodded.
“I know it’s hard for you to talk about this and I probably shouldn’t ask, but have you ever wondered if someone other than Brian did the shooting that night?”
Brandy bit her lip and looked away. Then, meeting Kathryn’s eyes, she said in a voice choked with emotion, “’Course I have! I didn’t want to believe Brian was capable of what the cops think he did. I still have trouble accepting it. Sure, he had issues, lots of teenagers do, but it’s hard for me to imagine him shooting Diana in cold blood then killing himself. And I gotta tell you, my life’s been hell since that night. The way people around here sometimes look at me, I might as well be wearing a sign, ‘Mom of the Murderer.’”
Kathryn’s heart went out to her. “I’m sorry,” she said softly.
“Thanks . . . But what’s behind your question?”
“A remark Gordon made. He said he wondered if Brian was in the wrong place at the wrong time, if he got in someone else’s way.”
“Did he say who he thought this ‘someone’ was?”
“Garth or Earl.”
“He would. No love lost between him and either of them. Earl especially. You were there when a fight broke out between those two.”
“Yes, but aside from what you’ve just told me, is there anything else that makes you think the shooter could have been another person?”
“Actually, there is. Joey Babcock, the kid who was with Brian in the beginning, insisted they didn’t swipe Garth’s gun, that Brian was unarmed when Joey left him.”
The news gave Kathryn a jolt. “Really? What did the police make of that?”
“Nothing. They decided Joey was lying to protect his ass, so he wouldn’t be accused of gun theft or of being involved in the murder in any way. And as a kid who’d had his share of run-ins with the authorities, Joey didn’t have a whole lot of credibility with them.”
“Whose prints were on the gun?”
“Garth’s and Brian’s. But Garth had an alibi and so did his brother. Gordon, too. Still, if I was gonna put money on one of them, alibi notwithstanding, it would be Garth. He was mean enough to shoot both Diana and Brian. But he’s dead and so are they. And dead people can’t tell tales.”
Hank Lapsley had said much the same thing about Gordon. Yet there was one suspect left standing. He loomed before them like the proverbial elephant in the room. She and Brandy had each mentioned his name, but then they’d let it drop. Brandy because she knew he and Kathryn were lovers and didn’t want to upset her by suggesting he could have been the shooter? Or as a woman who’d had an affair with him herself, maybe Brandy didn’t think Earl was the kind of man who could make love to her after killing her son. Kathryn wasn’t ready to believe that of him either, but at the same time, she wanted to know more.
“What else can you tell me about that night?”
Brandy looked stricken, started to shake her head. “If I’m gonna talk about it, I need a drink. You wouldn’t happen to have any bourbon in the house, would you?”
“Only wine. Will that do?”
“I guess.”
Kathryn got the wine and brought it into the living room, where they both sat down. Brandy took a long drink and began, “I got home from work between five-thirty and six. Brian wasn’t there, but that wasn’t unusual. He and Joey often hung out together after school. I didn’t like it, but there wasn’t much I could do. We had this deal that if he made it home by seven, I wouldn’t give him a hard time. He stuck to it for awhile, but that night, he didn’t.” She paused to gulp wine, finishing the glass. “Sure, you don’t have any bourbon?”
“No, but how about another glass of wine?”
“Thanks. Mind if I smoke?”
Normally Kathryn did mind, but she sensed Brandy needed the crutch of a cigarette. She refilled Brandy’s wine glass, found an ashtray, and put it on a table next to the realtor.
“Where were we?” Brandy asked after she’d taken a deep drag.
“Your son didn’t come home when he was supposed to.”
“Right. When eight p.m. rolled around, I started getting worried. I called the Babcocks. Mrs. Babcock said Joey was at home, that he’d returned around seven, in time for dinner, but that he’d been with Brian beforehand. Of course, I wanted to know where. Mrs. Babcock went to ask Joey. I heard arguing in the background. Apparently, Joey didn’t want to rat on his friend, because both parents had to twist his arm to get an answer. Mr. Babcock got on the phone and said the boys had gone back to their old hideout in the woods, and that Joey had left by himself, because Brian wanted to stay awhile longer. He tried to reassure me that Brian had probably lost track of time or fallen asleep, and would come home soon. But I was worried. As the minutes ticked away with no sign of Brian, I got even more worried. I’d never been in those woods, but I knew they were big enough for someone to get lost.”
Brandy made a sweeping motion with her cigarette as if to indicate the extent of the forest. Ash landed on her lap. Brushing it off, she continued, “I also figured it was a place where someone could get hurt. Especially if that person were drunk or stoned, as I suspected Brian was. When I couldn’t take it anymore, I called Diana.”
“Diana? Wouldn’t she be angry to learn Brian was in her woods despite her orders to keep out?”
“Maybe it wasn’t my best idea. But I was reluctant to involve the police, and I thought if I reached out to her as a frantic mom with a missing son, she’d help me find him. Besides, she knew those woods like the back of her hand.”
“So you were the one who alerted her to Brian’s presence there?”
“Uh-uh. When I called the house, Cheryl Barker answered the phone.”
“What was she doing there?”
“Beats me. Anyway, Cheryl told me Diana wasn’t home, but must have gone out for a walk because her car was parked in the driveway. She promised to let Diana know I’d called when she returned. I waited some more, and when I didn’t hear from Diana, I broke down and called the police. I reached Hank Lapsley at the White Stag. He told me not to worry, that Brian would show up eventually. I must’ve sounded pretty desperate, because he finally agreed to organize a search party. I heard him ask the men at the bar if anyone wanted to go with him. Earl was the only one who volunteered. ‘Earl knows those woods better ’n anyone,’ he said, ‘so if your boy’s in there, we’ll find ’im.’
“I waited by the phone for over an hour. I hated sitting there, not knowing what was going on.
I got in my car and drove up Rattlesnake Hill. When I turned in the Farley driveway, I saw flashing lights. There was an ambulance and a couple of cop cars. A trooper got out of one. He said two people had been killed in the woods, and they were bringing the bodies out. He ordered me not to go any farther, but I had to see for myself. One of those bodies could be my son, for chrissake! I started running. He grabbed and held me until we saw them coming out.”
Kathryn’s mind flashed to another scene of men emerging from the woods. They were hunters, not police. They lugged a buck instead of two human bodies. One of the men was her lover.
“I broke away from the trooper and ran toward them.” Brandy’s voice was ragged with emotion. “Earl caught me in his arms. I hardly recognized him, he looked so wild, like a crazy person. He told me how sorry he was about Brian, that he’d lost a loved one, too: Diana. I asked what happened. He said the police weren’t sure yet, just that they’d probably been shot by the same gun. I cried so hard, I was shaking all over, thought I’d never stop. He held me until I was calmer. Then he drove me home and stayed the night.”
Yes, that was something Earl would do. He’d offered to spend the night with her after Gordon had been killed.
Brandy’s face assumed a dreamy expression, like someone in a trance. When she spoke again, the agitation was gone from her voice. “Came back the next night and the night after that for about a week. We made love a few times, but mostly we just held each other.”
Just held each other. She knew what that was like, too. Except that afternoon when she’d broken down in his trailer, he hadn’t held her, but had managed to comfort her merely with his nearness.
“She came, too, but separate from him,” Brandy said.
“Who?”
“Millie. Brought me meals and sat with me while I ate.”
How like Millie to bring food.
“Don’t know what I would’ve done without ’em,” Brandy said. “Then one night he told me he wouldn’t be coming back, that it was time for us to grieve and, he hoped, heal on our own. But if I needed anything to let him know. She brought meals awhile longer, until she found this grief group for me, and I went to it and . . .” Brandy’s voice trailed off. She shook herself, as if rousing herself from a trance. “I’ve told you more than you asked for. Time for me to go anyway ’cuz you’ve got company.” She motioned to the picture window with the view of the driveway, where Earl’s red truck had just become visible. “I’ll be in touch about the painters.”
Chapter 51
When the phone rang the next morning, Kathryn tensed. What if it was Alan? They’d spoken a few times since that awful, aborted call the day of the Spitzers’ visit. He was wounded, angry and unwilling to let go without a plausible explanation of what had made her dump him for Earl on such short notice. But how could she put into words the powerful feelings that had drawn her, against all reason, to Earl. She let the machine pick up.
“Kathryn, are you there?” Emily demanded in her scratchy-record voice. “Why haven’t you been to see me lately?”
Reluctantly, Kathryn picked up the handset. “I’ve been busy,” she fibbed. The truth was she’d stayed away on purpose. Whenever she thought of Emily these days, she saw Gordon’s dead body sprawled at the old woman’s feet, heard Jerry Spitzer’s charge, “She set him up,” and felt a stab of guilt at her own role in the possible set-up.
“Fiddlesticks! You get over here this afternoon. I’ve got something for you.”
“Oh? Did you find more tapes of your recollections?”
“You’ll see when you come.”
Kathryn felt mystified and more than a little apprehensive. The last time Emily had given her something it had led to trouble. Big trouble.
*****
Emily sat in the wing chair in the parlor, eyes closed, head drooped on her chest, apparently napping. Kathryn noticed that the braided rug where Gordon had lain only a week ago had been replaced by another, smaller rug from the bedroom. Instead of a smoking gun, a small red box rested on the table. She tiptoed to Emily, wondering whether to wake her.
Emily’s head jerked up and her eyes popped open. “Leonora?”
“It’s Kathryn.”
Emily squinted at her. “Oh, so it is.”
“Who’s Leonora?”
“Marguerite’s daughter. Don’t you remember anything?”
Kathryn sighed. “I guess not. You said you had something for me?”
“Yes. It was supposed to be Leonora’s. But Aurelia never—oh, why won’t she leave me alone?” Emily’s voice shook with distress.
“What’s the matter?”
“Here, take it!” Emily thrust the small red box at her. “Well, open it, for heaven’s sake!” Emily snapped when Kathryn hesitated.
She obeyed. Inside was one of the most beautiful rings she’d ever seen—rose-cut diamonds and rubies on a delicate gold band. “Why are you giving me this?”
“It was her engagement ring. Now it’s your ring.”
“Whose?”
“Marguerite’s.”
“How did you get it?”
“Quit pestering me with questions and put it on.”
Kathryn removed the ring from the box and examined it. “The band’s too small. It’s not going to fit.”
“You don’t know until you’ve tried.” Emily seized the ring and tried to force it onto her left finger. It wouldn’t clear the knuckle. Emily pushed harder.
“Ouch!”
“Stop being such a ninny,” Emily scolded. “Go into the bathroom and put soap on your finger.”
“But—”
“Do it!”
Again, Kathryn obeyed. Emily seemed so agitated she felt she had to humor the old woman. Even with soap easing the way, Emily still had to yank hard before the ring made it over her knuckle. “A perfect fit!” Emily crowed, holding up Kathryn’s red, swollen finger with triumph.
Hardly. Kathryn doubted she’d get the ring off without a similar struggle.
“Aren’t you going to thank me?” Emily demanded.
“Thank you, it’s a beautiful ring. But I’d still like to know how you got it, and why you’re giving it to be me.”
“Aurelia told me to.”
Aurelia? Kathryn was about to ask how Emily’s long-dead great-grandmother could have told her to do anything, but stopped. She knew all too well how people from the past could become so ingrained in your memory that you actually heard their voices speaking to you, telling you what to do, or not do, like her grandmother. Still, she didn’t understand why Emily thought Aurelia wanted her to have the ring.
Yet when she asked, Emily gave her the brush-off: “Go now. I need to take a nap. Between Aurelia and you, I haven’t been getting any rest.”
Chapter 52
After the door shut behind Kathryn, Emily smiled and sank back in her chair. She closed her eyes. She was ready for them to come for her now. She waited and waited, but no one appeared. What was the matter? Didn’t they know her time had come? “Aurelia,” she called finally, “I did what you wanted. Now will you let me die in peace?”
Silence, then Aurelia slowly swam into view. “You must give her the letters,” she said.
“Letters?”
“The ones he wrote me. I gave them to you before I died, along with the ring.”
“But there were no letters with the ring.”
“Then you must have put them somewhere else.”
“I don’t remember where. Isn’t it enough that she has the ring?”
“No. She needs to see the letters.”
“What if I can’t find them?”
“You must.”
“I’m too worn-out. I just want to die now.”
“Not until you’ve done this.”
“Please, I’m begging you!”
Aurelia�
�s shadowy figure did not smile or hold out her hands to Emily, as she had earlier. Instead, her arms barricaded her chest, and her expression was stern and implacable.
Emily glanced wildly around. Perhaps one of the other spirits who’d come with Aurelia before could be persuaded to intercede with her great-grandmother. But no one else was there.
“Diana?” Emily called.
“I’m here,” Diana replied in her girlish voice. A moment later, Diana’s lovely face materialized before Emily’s eyes.
“Talk to Aurelia. Tell her that when I killed Gordon and gave Kathryn the ring, my work on earth was finished. She’ll listen to you. It was your death I avenged.”
“Avenged my death? No, Emily, you did no such thing.” Diana shook her head sadly and drifted away, vanishing into the ether. Emily turned back to her great-grandmother only to discover that Aurelia, too, had vanished, leaving her frightened and alone.
Chapter 53
Back at the Farley house, Kathryn debated what to do about the ring. Her first impulse was to remove it. She wasn’t accustomed to wearing jewelry, and the ring felt uncomfortable. But her finger was still red and swollen. She’d best wait until the swelling went down. In the meantime, the ring was lovely to look at. She spread her fingers out in the lamplight. The diamonds and rubies winked at her. She gazed at them, mesmerized.
“Star?” Earl walked into the living room. Kathryn whisked her hand behind her back. “How come you’re not ready?” he asked.
“Ready?”
“We’re going to a family party, remember? Uncle Fred and Aunt Marsha, Hank’s parents, are celebrating their fortieth anniversary.”
“Oh right, sorry. I’ll just be a minute.” She went upstairs to change.
In the pickup on the way to the Grange Hall, Earl spoke about Hank’s parents and other relatives Kathryn would be meeting for the first time. Distracted by the ring, she barely listened. She turned it around and around on her finger, imagining she was turning back time, that each revolution was bringing her closer to the moment when Jared Cutter had placed this very ring on Marguerite’s finger. It must have been a happy moment for both of them. Yet tragedy had followed. A tremor of fear shot through her. She shook it off. Silly to imagine that just because she was wearing the ring of a murdered woman, she was in danger. But how had Emily gotten it and why did she want Kathryn to have it?
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