Now You See Him

by Stella Cameron

  They were going to be married.

  She was grateful to have brought a cotton jacket to go over the blouse she wore with jeans. If she had to guess, she’d say the hurricane was curling its way past the area and its vicious tail was battering them, but although the humidity had to be a hundred per cent, the mugginess had a chilly edge.

  The faster she joined Joe, the better, and maybe Wazoo had come back with Daisy and Zipper. Ellie left her room. There was no need to lock the door. She hurried down the first flight of stairs and collided with Paul when he strolled into her path.

  “You okay?” he said, steadying her. “Sorry if I shocked you.”

  “I’m fine,” she told him awkwardly. “I wasn’t looking where I was going.”

  “That’s okay, then,” he said, looking as if he didn’t know what to do or say next.

  Ellie put her hands in her pockets. “How are you doing?”

  Paul pulled up his shoulders. “Not so good,” he said. “Everything that’s happened is my own fault and I’d change it if I could. It was too late for that the first time I cheated on Jilly.”

  There didn’t seem to be a right answer. “You love Jilly, don’t you?”

  “More than anything.” Paul looked away. “I’m a fool.”

  Ellie crossed her arms and waited.

  He looked at her again. “Look, would you do something for me? Would you read something I wrote recently and tell me if you think it’s any good?”

  She almost asked why he thought her opinion would be worth anything. “Of course. Drop it by the shop when things are back to normal.”

  “No, no.” He put a hand on her arm. “It’s only a couple of pages—part of a longer piece. I was hoping…What am I thinking of? Forget I mentioned it, Ellie, I’m not myself.”

  “Nothing of the kind,” Ellie told him at once. “I didn’t realize what you had in mind. You want me to look at it now?”

  “Later will do. You’re probably hungry.”

  She was too excited about Joe to be hungry. “Show me your work now. I’ll enjoy it.”

  He laughed. “Don’t say that until you’ve read it. I would be grateful for your input—my confidence is shot.”

  Ellie followed him along the second-floor hallway and into his rooms.

  “Sorry about the mess,” he said. “Take a seat while I find the right bit.”

  She chose a straight-backed chair with a cane seat and sat down. “This is a great room,” she said. “Very Asian and mysterious.”

  “I like it. Charlotte and Vivian let me pick out what I wanted from all over the house. This place is better than a museum.” He hefted a manuscript onto his desk and riffled through the pages. His blond hair looked wet.

  “Did you go outside?” she asked, and wished she’d held her tongue.

  Paul stared at her. “No, I took a shower.”

  Her face felt hot. She wondered if there could be a sitting room. The one door she saw stood partially open on a bedroom.

  “Here.” Paul handed over several sheets. “Look, don’t hold back. Say exactly what you think.”

  Ellie started reading.

  “C’mon, c’mon. Don’t lose your nerve now, pretty lady. Trust me, it won’t take long. That’s right, come right on in. Hold my hand and I’ll make sure you don’t have a thing to worry about.”

  I wish I could really talk to her like that, but women make me tongue-tied. Anyway, our business isn’t personal, not in that way.

  She’s got a great body. Big breasts turn me on. If I asked, would she take her clothes off? I could put her down right here on the white stone and show her what she’s been missing.

  This place wasn’t my first choice. Maybe it would have been if I’d known about it. I don’t have to hurry here because no one will come. Why not enjoy myself first? If she screams I’m the only one who will hear. I’ll enjoy hearing her scream.

  Forcing a smile, Ellie looked at Paul and said, “This is really something. I didn’t know you wrote fiction.” She set the papers on her lap and slipped off her jacket. The room felt like a sauna.

  “No one knows I write fiction—except you.”

  Ellie glanced at the closed door to the hall and took deep breaths through her mouth to control waves of nausea. “You’re good,” she managed to say.

  Buy time.

  She read on.

  “Rub yourself against me, pretty lady. That’s right, spread your legs so I don’t have to spread them for you. Pull my face to your breasts and warm me there, suckle me there.”

  This was sick. What kind of man would ask a woman to read his sexual fantasies while he watched her?

  “You don’t like it when I bite you? But it’s payback time. Get up and run—I want to see you run naked, and hear you scream. But I’m so much faster than you are. You won’t get away.”

  Whoops, she tripped. Just like that. Into the water she goes and I shall just have to make sure she stays there.

  I’ll let her breathe a little longer. Yes, I’ll enjoy that. “See, you can trust me just like I told you. Stop coughing, that’s the way. Put your arms around my neck. Oh, yeah, that’s perfect. Now, wrap your legs around my waist. If you’ve never fucked in a pool, you’ve never fucked.”

  Yes, yes, yes, yes—yes!

  It’s got to be now. Back she goes. Under she goes. She’s strong. She fights hard. Squeeze her neck just so and her eyes pop wide. Down some more. What she sees now is darkness. What she hears is an explosion in her head.

  Damn, she kicks. But she’s weaker—and weaker. She’s going away into the blackness.

  Gone. Tow her. Where is the rope? There it is. It’s short and the noose slips easily around her neck. The concrete block hits the water and sinks.

  Down she goes. Down, down.

  I’m free. There’s no one left to spoil things.

  It was all her fault. I didn’t ask her to be where she shouldn’t have been, or see what she was never meant to see. As long as she lived I could never feel safe.

  40

  Where was Ellie?

  She’d made the bed. The robe she’d worn was folded on top of her bag. And she’d left without locking the door.

  But she hadn’t shown up downstairs and it was almost seven o’clock.

  Joe’s head pounded and sweat stuck his shirt to his back. Walking backward, he left her room. He was a cool man, cool and controlled and too focused to let fear into his life. So why was he falling apart and scared out of his mind?

  Find her.

  “Joe.”

  He spun around in time for Daisy to rear up and slap her front paws on his chest. Instead of her favored old cell phone, the battered one Ellie had relinquished to keep her quiet, Daisy carried a fancy red number. Over her head he saw Wazoo hurrying toward him.

  Distracted, Joe rubbed the dog’s head and pushed her down. “Have you seen Ellie?” he asked Wazoo.

  “Not me. I come to bring her Daisy. Oh-la-la, I got so many people mad at me. That Spike, he can have a mean tongue.”

  Joe hurried forward. “How many ways are there to get out of this wing—other than going down the main stairs to the front door?”

  “Just fire escapes up here,” Wazoo said.

  “You’re sure she wasn’t downstairs with the others?” How she could be when he would have seen her on the way, he didn’t know. Joe broke into a run and passed Wazoo with Daisy at his heels.

  “No, sir, she wasn’t there.” Wazoo caught up. “You afraid. I feel it. How could something happen to Ellie here?”

  “I don’t know.” He stopped running and stood with his fists on his hips, taking sharp breaths. “She’s probably exploring the house.”

  “On her own? Ellie, she don’t know this place.” Wazoo wrapped thin fingers around his forearm. “Something doesn’t feel good,” she said. “Something bad happened here.”

  “Not now.” Joe pulled his arm away but couldn’t avoid looking into her huge, black eyes. “What is it?” He felt drawn to her by the
terror in those eyes. He didn’t put any stock in Wazoo’s “intuition,” but she been right about her premonitions before.

  “I go down get Spike and that Guy, me,” she said. “Maybe I should bring the God Man, too. What harm can he do?”

  Joe watched her sprint toward the stairs with her black lace skirts flying. Daisy followed her. He couldn’t even smile about Wazoo’s distrust of Cyrus.

  He hadn’t checked Ellie’s shower.

  Running again, he slammed into her room and straight into the bathroom. She wasn’t there. Back he went, throwing open doors as he went along the corridor and checking inside. Rosebank had to have dozens of ways to the outside, but why would Ellie go out in a storm? And leave her things behind? And go when she knew he was waiting for her—and that Wazoo would be bringing Daisy and Zipper here?

  She wouldn’t leave, dammit.

  On the second floor he went forward, going into room after room, calling Ellie’s name, until he reached Paul’s door and knocked. “Paul,” he called out. One good thing you could say about Nelson was that he was always willing to help out.

  Heavy footsteps and a rumble of voices distracted him. Spike and Guy jogged toward him. Cyrus was close behind. Daisy passed all three.

  “What was Wazoo babbling about?” Spike asked. “You said Ellie was sleeping.”

  Joe explained the situation. He held up his palms and said, “Let’s slow down. The first step is to see if Vivian or Madge—or Charlotte are showing her the house.”

  “No,” Cyrus said. “They’re together waiting to find out what’s going on.”

  “She wouldn’t poke around someone else’s place without being invited.” Joe heard his voice rise with each word. “There’s something wrong.”

  “Hey, hey,” Spike said. “Take a breath and simmer down.”

  Daisy nosed at Paul Nelson’s door and it slid open. The dog snuffled her way inside.

  “It’s time someone taught that one some manners,” Joe said, and Guy laughed at him.

  “You there, Paul?” Spike called. Daisy had disappeared.

  A light shone on the cluttered desk but there was no sign of the resident travel writer.

  “I came to try to see him earlier,” Joe said, “but he wasn’t here. The man’s a fool, but I hope he’s okay.”

  The dark jacket was missing from the back of the chair by Paul’s desk. Joe took a few steps into the room and saw that the coffee mug had been removed from its heater and the equipment turned off.

  “He’s been back since I was last here,” Joe muttered. “I came in. I had some stupid notion he might have been despondent.”

  “Maybe he is,” Cyrus said.

  Joe approached the computer. “This is off. It was on before. Did you ever see so many books in one small place?”

  “Nope.” Guy inclined his head to look at something on the desk. “Is there anyone in this town who isn’t a Sonja Elliot fan now?”

  Joe felt irritated. “I’d have thought Paul had better things to do.” He felt hot. “We all know he keeps himself pretty busy.”

  The others had the sense not to laugh.

  “I’m calling in the local force,” Spike said. Although Rosebank was only minutes from Toussaint, it fell just over the line and into Iberia Parish, and out of Spike’s jurisdiction. “We need bodies. The place is too big to cover fast enough. They’ll probably curse me out for wasting their time but that’s just dandy.”

  “My God.” Joe had gone to stand beside Guy at the desk. “Oh, my God. I didn’t notice.” He grabbed up an open copy of Death of a Witness by Sonja Elliott. “This is coming out early, but not for a week or so if I remember right.”

  “Looks pretty out to me,” Guy said in a monotone.

  Joe checked the copyright, which told him nothing except Ms. Elliott had a corporation. The shiny cover showed a body under water, tethered by the neck to a block. The spine gave title, author name, and had a picture of a little gray house. He looked at Paul’s travel books and back at the novel. There might not be a yellow chevron on the cover of Elliot’s book, but the trademark was the same.

  So what, the publisher must put out hundreds of books.

  “Don’t you feel we’re wasting time?” Cyrus asked.

  “Yes,” Joe said, “but we can’t run off in all directions with no plan.”

  Guy glanced toward the hall where Spike could be heard on the phone. “That would be better than doing nothing.”

  “Yeah.” Joe looked down into the box of books under the desk. More books with the same watery cover were stacked inside. He pulled the box all the way out. “I don’t get this,” he said, and took an invoice from inside.

  “We’d better be careful about interfering with things without a search warrant,” Guy said.

  “These books,” Joe said. “The invoice says they’re author’s copies. What does that mean?”

  “It means just that,” Cyrus said, heading for the door. “The publisher sends the author copies of a book that’s about to come out.”

  “But—”

  “Wait a minute.” Joe had picked the book up again and he cut Guy off. He scanned lines quickly. “Look at this.” He put the open volume into Cyrus’s hands.

  “What is it?” Guy returned and read over Cyrus’s shoulder.

  “They’re on their way,” Spike said, stepping back inside. “I suggest we enlist the women. Have them stick together and start a search indoors. We’ll go outside. Dog, you’re going to get it!” He snatched a piece of clothing from Daisy, who had it between her front paws while she chewed on it.

  “This is sick,” Guy said.

  “Sad,” Cyrus added.

  Spike snatched away Daisy’s prize and a creased sheet of paper fell to the ground.

  “That’s Ellie’s jacket,” Joe said, and strode to take it from Spike. “What’s it doing…Ellie’s been in here.” He swept up the paper and only glanced before he said, “Let me see that book.

  “The same,” he said, and felt his throat closing. “Except for the bit about the white floor. That isn’t in the book.”

  “No,” Cyrus agreed, comparing the manuscript page with the book. “In the book this takes place in the afternoon, not the evening, and it’s in a creek.”

  “Shit.” Spike dialed his cell again. “Vivian, I want the four of you to start looking through the house for Ellie. The Iberia folks will be along any minute and we’re going outside to start looking. I’ll try to keep you informed of where we are.” He put the phone back on his belt.

  Cyrus made a sound and pushed Joe out of the way to get to the door. He dashed along the hall, but in the direction that led away from the stairs.

  “Where are you going?” Joe shouted, running after him.

  “Side exit,” Spike said. He had Daisy beside him. “There’s an outside terrace on this floor. It overlooks the new restaurant in the conservatory building.”

  “Paul went into Toussaint with you the night Jason Clark broke Ellie’s shop window,” Cyrus called over his shoulder. “Did he go back with you?” They emerged onto the terrace where broken pots and spilled plants littered the floor. Wind beat at them, made their progress slow. Occasionally they heard thunder far in the distance.

  “He didn’t come with me—not either way,” Spike shouted. “He was there, though.”

  “I know,” Cyrus said, cupping his mouth with his hands. “He’s a hard worker. Went too carelessly at it and cut his wrist. He slapped something over it and went right back to workin’ on that window.”

  A wide flight of steps led down to a courtyard.

  “I’m not wrong, am I, Spike?” Cyrus said, staggering forward. “Morgan Link’s pool house is made of white marble?”

  “What pool house?” Guy bellowed.

  “Next door at Serenity House,” Spike said. “It used to be a private clinic of some kind. There’s a white marble pool house behind the main building. The owners aren’t here much.”

  Energy—and wild rage—propelled Jo
e forward. “Did you see Nelson cut himself on the window?” he asked Cyrus as he passed him. They had cleared the courtyard and the north wing.

  “No. We were all busy.”

  “Couldn’t he have cut himself on a bottle in Ellie’s backyard then lied about it?”

  “I guess so.”

  “I want him.” Guy kept up with Joe. “He’s our man.”

  “He doesn’t look like Sonja Elliot to me,” Spike said. “D’you think that’s all a sham and she’s just a front? Maybe he writes the books.”

  “It doesn’t matter,” Guy said.

  “No.” Joe slapped his way through undergrowth and into the grounds of Serenity House. “Now, keep the noise down.” Not that they’d be easy to hear over the racket made by thrashing rain and breaking tree limbs.

  He saw the pool house and sprinted, smacked obstacles from his path. And he pulled up short. Daisy loped ahead and Joe barely managed to catch and restrain her. Bending, going as fast as he could with one hand on the dog’s collar, he approached the marble building.

  “Looks like a mausoleum,” Guy said in his ear.

  Joe grimaced and shook his head. “There’s a light on. The doors slide. One’s open.”

  “Don’t let Daisy go until we’re sure she won’t do more harm than good,” Spike said.

  Cyrus put a hand on Joe’s shoulder. “Ellie doesn’t have to be in here. She could just as well be with the others by now.”

  “Yeah.” Joe knew better. He motioned for the other men to hold back and had Cyrus restrain Daisy. At least she’d been trained not to bark if given the command.

  He got to the door, lay flat in inches of seeping mud and peered inside. The more time he could buy without being seen, the better.

  Spike and Guy stood behind the closed door opposite, watching him for any reaction.

  He heard Ellie before he saw her and almost cried out to her. His heart rose, but not for long. On the left side, almost at the far end of the too-white interior wall, a shiny steel ladder rose vertically to a catwalk. Ellie huddled up there, pressed to the wall but repeatedly peering down at Paul Nelson.

  Nelson held a gun.

  The catwalk stretched no more than three feet in either direction from the top of the ladder and gave access to a series of valves.