Moonshadows

by Mary Ann Artrip

  When they left the theatre Janet felt like a new person. Seeing the film with Sebastian had revitalized her.

  “Want to come by for a while?” she asked as they walked through the parking lot. “You could play the piano for me.” She glanced over at him, slightly perturbed at his frown. “Or not. We could just talk, maybe watch a little television and then I’ll fix supper—stir-fry over wild rice and a pretty fair wine.”

  “Sorry,” he said. “Other plans.”

  “I’m sorry, too.”

  “There’ll be other get-togethers. You’ll see.”

  Janet laughed. “Okay then, you’re forgiven—this time. But I’ll hold you to your promise and I’m looking forward to it.”

  “Me too,” he said and gave her cheek a light peck.

  Janet hummed on the drive home. She parked the car, automatically looking for the Mustang, and felt a little sad when it wasn’t in its space. As she walked up the sidewalk she glanced across the courtyard. Stephen’s apartment looked deserted.

  She pushed the door inward and flipped the wall switch against the twilight gloom. There was an uneasiness about the room and just the slightest alteration in the odor of the air. Then Janet saw the destruction. Her menagerie—the wee creatures she had just washed and polished, were now little piles of jagged reflecting light. Broken and smashed, they lay upon the mirrored shelves, each one crumpled into its own glittering heap. It was as if they had, in some way, been offensive.

  Using a cardboard circular from the newspaper, Janet brushed the pieces onto a navy satin pillow, carried the pillow to the coffee table, and gently laid it down. She sat on the sofa and looked at the prisms of red and green and blue, a rainbow of color—a rainbow that had been destroyed.

  She sat engulfed in sadness, until a light tap at the door interrupted her mourning for the little crystal family she had spent years putting together.

  “Janet,” Chelsea called out. “It’s me.”

  Janet opened the door and Chelsea took one look at her face and seemed to know that something else had gone terribly wrong. Another tragedy. Janet led her to the table.

  “Oh, no. Unnie?”

  “All of them.”

  Chelsea’s eyes widened. “How can you be so calm? Janet, you’ve got to call the police.”

  Janet shrugged. “It’s almost like I was expecting it to happen.” She gestured to the mound of crushed crystal. “Maybe not exactly this, but something.” She looked at Chelsea, her eyes dulled with pain. “You know, Chelsea, it’s astounding when bizarre actions become commonplace in your life.”

  Chelsea picked through the broken pieces and found the golden horn and tiny body that went with it. “Can I have him?”

  “It’s hard to imagine what kind of evil witchery would do such a thing—especially to a unicorn.”

  “They’re magical, you know,” Chelsea said as tears glazed her eyes. “So, can I have him?”

  “He can’t be repaired.”

  “I know. I just want to keep him to remind me how easily a thing of beauty can be broken.”

  “Maybe you can heal his pain,” Janet said. “Oh, I know he’s not real, but I’ve had him so long, he seems real to me.” She gave a weak smile. “Take him. Let beauty heal beauty—or something like that.”

  Chelsea frowned. “Are you okay?”

  “If you mean am I cracking up—the answer is ‘no.’ I’m just saddened by all this. God, I wish Grandmother hadn’t died.”

  “It does seem like that’s when your life took a turn into the unpredictable.”

  “Speaking of unpredictable,” Janet said, “what are you doing here? I thought you had a date with Ethan.”

  “I did. We went to an early dinner then he had to leave for a business meeting.” Chelsea’s rosy face glowed with an inner radiance. “I had news that couldn’t wait. But now doesn’t seem to be a good time.”

  “Now’s the perfect time. If I ever needed to hear anything, it’s good news that simply can’t wait.”

  Chelsea held out her left hand and twisted to the top of her finger what she had been hiding.

  “Wow! Would you look at the size of that rock,” Janet said.

  “Ethan asked me to marry him.”

  “And you said: no but I’ll just take this pretty little bauble and run along. Was that the way it went?”

  “I said ‘yes,’”

  “Come here, you.” Janet grabbed her hand and pulled her into a hug. “Tell me all about it and don’t you dare leave anything out—not even a comma.” She turned Chelsea loose and frowned at her. “Do you love him, Chels? Do you love him with all your heart?”

  Chelsea blushed. “He’s what I’ve waited for all my life.”

  Janet laughed. “You’re right for each other. He’s the only man I know who’s good enough for you—but just barely.”

  “Will you be my maid of honor?”

  “Will I? Just try stopping me.”

  Chelsea kissed Janet on the cheek. “Oh, I do love you so.”

  “I love you, too,” Janet said. “When’s the wedding?”

  “In the spring. Around Easter, I think.”

  “There’ll be gobs of stuff to do. But not to worry, I’ll help. You need something old, something new, and so forth and so on.” She snapped her fingers. “And you can have part of it tonight—the something old part, anyway. I know just the thing.”

  Janet took Chelsea’s arm and pulled her up from the sofa and down the hall.

  “Grandmother’s diamond and emerald brooch. I know exactly where it is, and I want you to have it.” She laughed. “I never could seem to find the right occasion to wear it. But for you—perfect.”

  In the bedroom, Janet reached for the leather and brass jewelry case sitting on top of the lingerie chest. She slid out the top drawer and felt along the underside for the key.

  Chelsea laughed. “How original.”

  Janet sat down on the bed and placed the case on the spread beside her. She patted for Chelsea to sit.

  She fit the key into the tiny lock. “Wait ’til you see this.”

  The hinged lid lifted to show rows of satin-lined compartments. She picked up an antique pin and the old gold glistened in her hand. A filigreed platinum rose formed the center of the pin and held a round diamond. The petals were pear-cut emeralds that swept out to form the leaves on the stem. She held it out to Chelsea.

  Chelsea took it in her fingers. “It’s exquisite.”

  “Just like you.”

  “It must mean the world to you. Are you sure?”

  “I’m sure.” Janet closed the lid on the chest and held it on her lap. “You’re going to make a killer bride—” Suddenly she stopped and turned the chest around and looked at a small button stuck to the back. “What’s this?”

  “What?”

  “This thing stuck on the back of my jewelry box.” Janet tugged the button off and held it in her hand. She turned it over. “Chelsea, do you know what this is?”

  “If I didn’t know all the stuff that’s been going on, I’d not have a clue. But since I’ve started looking at everything with a certain amount of suspicion, I’d say it’s an electronic listening device?”

  “A bug,” Janet spat.

  Chelsea nodded. “I do believe it is.”

  Janet dropped the metal button as if it had scalded her fingers. “Some unbalanced human knows everything that’s gone on in this apartment.”

  “Someone who wanted to keep tabs on you pretty badly.”

  “Why would they creep around and go to the trouble of planting bugs when they can just waltz in and out of my apartment on a whim? They can leave dead roses and crush innocent little animals and anything else that may cross their evil minds.”

  “They?”

  “They. He. It.” Janet gritted her teeth. “The nerve of it all.”

  “What a hateful, hateful thing,” Chelsea said. She laid a hand on Janet’s arm. “Do you think there’s more bugs around?”

  “More? It�
��d probably take Terminix to get rid of them all.”

  “Janet, your phone may be tapped too?”

  “Hell’s bells. You know it is.” Janet frowned. “And you’re right—it is time to bring in the police.” She picked up the bug, tossed it into the air, and snatched it back again. “I think they’ll be interested in seeing this little baby.”

  “Are you going to call them right now? Do it now Janet, while I’m here and can tell them exactly how it was you found it. I can tell them about all the other stuff too.”

  “Huh-uh. I’m going to wait until morning; tell them in the daylight in case they want to check around outside—you know, for footprints and such. After all, he did jimmy the back door and lord knows what else.” She took Chelsea’s hand. “Will you come back and be here with me when they come?”

  “Why don’t I just stay the night? You have the guest room.”

  “No.

  “You need me.”

  “But Chels, you can’t protect me. I appreciate your offer but I can’t weigh you down with my problems.”

  “Okay then,” Chelsea said. “I’ll go. But I’ll be back by, say, eight o’clock.”

  Janet nodded and walked with her to the door. “Thank you,” she said.

  “I’m so sorry about your wonderful little friends. But we’re going to find out who’s doing these awful things.”

  “Damn straight,” Janet said.

  Chelsea smiled. “Thank you for the brooch.”

  “You’re welcome, in more ways than one.”

  After Chelsea left, Janet went to bed. She expected not to sleep, but she did. Then the phone woke her.

  “Janet, I have to see you right away.” The voice was clipped and urgent.

  “Stephen, is that you?” She shoved back the halo of hair. “You don’t sound like yourself.”

  “I’m at Heather Down.”

  “You’re what!” Janet rubbed her brow. “What time is it?”

  “Just after midnight.”

  “And you’re where—Heather Down? Just what the crap you doing up there?”

  “I told you I had to come back. When you wouldn’t come with me, I came alone. Janet, you need to get up here now. I mean tonight.”

  “Get up there!” She held the receiver at arm’s length. “What do you think I am, crazy?”

  “Calm down. You’re letting your emotions get the best of you. I know about everything that’s been going on—I know it all.”

  “And just what has been going on? Tell me. And while you’re at it, tell me your part in the whole scheme of things?”

  “Don’t ask for explanations over the phone. It’s a long and complicated story. Sheriff Wiley’s on his way out here. He can help explain it all. Just get up here and we’ll straighten this whole mess out.”

  “Don’t take me for a fool, Stephen.”

  “That’s just it, I don’t. I know you for the brave and honest person you are.”

  “I’m not brave. I’m a full-blown coward with a marshmallow backbone.” She shook her head. “Oh God, I don’t know what to believe.”

  “The truth Janet, that’s all. The truth.” The voice was angry. “All this stuff’s been happening to you for a reason. You had to be removed because you’re in the way.” He paused as if desperately searching for words. “Do you trust me enough to come up here and find out for yourself?”

  “Stephen, I want to believe you, but I’m scared.”

  “Janet, if you’ve never listened to me before, listen now.” He spoke slowly, as if giving weight and measure to his argument. “Things are not at all what they seem. Until all this is straightened out there can be no future for you—for us.”

  Janet was beyond hearing the words. She could only hear the pleading in his voice. But he did say that Lije was on his way, so that would make it all right. Yet she remained cautious.

  “Please. Can’t it wait until tomorrow?”

  “Tomorrow will be too late.” His voice contained a sharp edge of intensity. “Come now, Janet. Come now or you’ll never know the absolute truth.”

  She thought about Hilda and the speeding car in the dark alley, about the skid on the mountain, so much danger.

  “I’m not so sure the truth is all that important anymore.”

  “The sheriff just drove up.” He paused for the space of a breath. “I’ve never told you Janet, but I love you.” He chuckled. “Yeah, I know it surprised me too. Our future’s what’s important to me, but we can’t have a life together until all the knots are untangled. I won’t ask too much of you tonight, I know I caught you off guard. So come up here if you can—I know you’ll do what you think is best.”

  Then the phone line went dead.

  Without giving herself time to think Janet was out of bed and dressed in a matter of minutes. She found a sticky pad and scribbled a note:

  Chelsea,

  I probably won’t be here when you

  come back in the morning. I’ve gone

  to the mansion to meet Stephen.

  At last I’m going to know the truth.

  J.

  As she went out the front door, she slapped the note against the glass panel and headed for her car.

  SEVENTEEN

  Janet peered through the heavy mist at Stephen’s apartment across the courtyard from hers. It was dark. At the parking lot the familiar white Mustang was also missing.

  “Of course he’s not home,” she told herself. “He just called from the mountain.”

  Then why did she feel so wary? Why did it seem as if all the pieces of the puzzle were a hopeless jumble, with no hope of ever getting the picture put together in some sort of coherent fashion.

  “It’s okay,” she kept reassuring herself. “It’s going to be okay.” Somehow Stephen had uncovered the truth and now her life would be set to some kind of reasonable order. But still she had doubts and couldn’t shake the feeling that danger was lurking on the mountain.

  The headlights picked through the ice-laden fog that rolled across the highway in front of the car and Janet had to swipe the clouded windshield with the sleeve of her coat. At long last she could see the faint outline of the mansion in the murky distance. It looked dark and dangerous, a threatening fortress. How had the very place that held such wonderful childhood memories turned into a destination now filled with dread? Frigid air penetrated the car and she shivered and switched the heater to a higher setting. It did no good. The cold was coming from the marrow of her bones.

  She parked the car in front of the carriage house and cut the engine. Frowning, she cast her eyes around the empty parking area and wondered where the heck all the other cars were. She didn’t even see the sheriff’s official vehicle. Unconsciously she picked up the denim bag from the seat and slung it over her shoulder. Her movements were by rote. She opened the door and stepped out into the mist. In the distance, the crash of the sea roared in its fury.

  Tugging the hood of her coat over her head, she turned and looked toward the house: Heather Down, her beloved family home, now looked dark and ominous and she wanted to run away. The sound of her footsteps faded when she stepped from the paved drive to the overgrown lawn. She could feel the tall grass brush against her legs and grapple around her ankles. Janet glanced skyward. A rare blue moon lighted her path; such an occurrence was marked by a second full moon in a single month and was said to predict danger and even death. She shivered.

  She juggled the clutch of keys as she moved across the porch. When she touched the knob, the door opened on its own. Musky odors of a room too long closed enveloped her as she stepped over the threshold. She reached for the lights and then remembered that the power was off.

  “Stephen,” she called out. “I’m here.” Silence was the only response. Nerves tightened and she fought against the urge to flee. “Is anyone here?”

  She closed the door behind herself, cutting off all outside light. In the darkness, she made her way to the library table situated at the foot of the stairs. Feeling for the
pulls of the center drawer she slid it open and reached inside. Her hand closed around a long, slender candle and beside it she felt the square matchbox. The scratching of the match against the sandpaper side of the box grated in the silent room and she touched the flame to the wick. Turning slowly she looked around and took a step in the direction of the study.

  “Stephen,” she called a second time. “Are you there?”

  A slight rustling, a movement ever so faint, sounded above her. She took a tentative step to the foot of the stairs.

  “Is someone up there?”

  Again, something stirred.

  Determined to put an end to the maddening events of the last few months and take back control of her life, Janet’s resolve hardened against any adversary she might encounter, especially in the home she knew so well and where she had always felt so safe. Gripping the candle in her right hand, she clutched the banister with her left and began to climb. The flickering wick danced shadows on the wall to her right as she placed one foot above the other. She continued upward. Halfway to the first landing she felt something brush across her foot and scurry away. Settle down, she scolded herself, it’s only a mouse.

  Janet climbed with a forceful purpose. After what seemed an eternity she reached the first landing. To her right was Elizabeth Lancaster’s bedroom. The door was closed. Was this where the sound had come from? As if in answer to her question, she heard a mewling from behind the door.

  “Who’s there?” she demanded and tried to steady her shaky voice. “What do you want?”

  Another muffled sound penetrated the door.

  Someone was inside the room. Goosebumps dotted Janet’s arms and prickled along her spine. Her breathing, ragged and shallow, made her lightheaded. She stepped backward, ready to escape down the stairs when a drop of hot wax fell from the candle and dripped onto her hand. Reality returned with a clarity that told her leaving would provide no answers. She had to find out once and for all who was pulling the strings that had turned her into a mindless puppet.