“You mean as soon as he got rid of Vasily?”
“Oh, Gretchen would have got around him on that. Ross really adored her, you know. However, there’s something else I’ve wanted to consult you about. My daughter can be obstinate at times. Her current attitude is to pretend that you don’t exist, no matter what Ross’s will may say. She needs to accept reality more gracefully.”
Brett paused to take a cigarette from her bag, lighting it with an initialed gold cylinder. Her every move was one of calm and graceful assurance. Or, as I had thought before—arrogance. She was far more suited to being mistress of Poinciana than either Gretchen or I, and I resented her with all my heart, knowing that Ross’s wishes would be on my side in this at least. Nevertheless, I felt ineffectual in the face of such poise and self-confidence. I’d once been able to assume just such a manner of aplomb, but with me it had always been a screen, hiding the uncertainty that lurked underneath. With Brett, it was the real thing, grown from years of nurturing, and it intimidated me more than a little, much as I wanted to stand up to her.
When she had taken a puff or two, she went on, still unconcerned by my rigid silence. “Gretchen has invited me to live here again. My apartment in town has become rather much to keep up when I must give my time to my work. Also she rather depends on me in a number of ways. Vasily is charming and loving, but his advice isn’t always wise. I hope you will have no objection. I can be of some help to my daughter.”
I made a slight movement of indecision, but before I could speak, she went on quickly. For the first time I wondered if her self-confidence, too, might be partly bluff. Was everyone fooling everyone else?
“Gretchen, of course, had no business issuing such an invitation to me. You and I both know that, but I hope you’ll forgive her.” Brett’s smile suggested that she and I were women of the world, and could solve our differences amicably. “I can only do this with your permission, naturally. My rooms would be in Gretchen’s wing of the house, and she’ll want, in any case, to open up one of the downstairs rooms for our dining. Your path and mine would hardly need to cross, and you would have all the solitary time you wish in which to decide what you’d really like to do with your life. The world is your oyster now.” A slight acerbity crept into the last words, belying the cordiality.
I reminded myself that the world was no longer Brett Inness’s oyster, and that she wouldn’t be human if resentments against me didn’t go deep. I remembered Ross’s letter to Ysobel concerning the note he held for Brett, and which he’d hinted he might use against her. I thought, too, of how she must have come to hate him. Had she hated him enough to forge a letter from her daughter in order to shock him into taking some move that she wanted him to take? Such as returning her note?
She was waiting for my answer, batting away cigarette smoke with a gesture not entirely controlled. There were perhaps chinks in an armor I’d thought altogether attack-proof.
“I don’t know if this would work out well,” I said a bit stiffly. “I’d like to discuss it with Gretchen first. Of course, she may decide that she wants to live elsewhere.”
“You’d better not count on that.” The slightly acid smile appeared again. “Anyway, there’s no need for hostility between us, is there? We’re not likely to be chums, but we can behave in a civilized manner.”
Implying that if I gave her a negative answer, I was hardly civilized? How badly did she need money? I wondered, and thought of the letter again, folded in my bag. I took it out and handed it to her.
She read the words with no show of emotion and gave it back. “You mean this was sent to Ross?”
“I don’t know how it came to him, but it must have been one of the last things he read before he died. Gretchen says she didn’t write it and never would have tried to hurt him that way.”
“It does seem rather pointless, doesn’t it? Something that happened more than two years ago. Whoever wrote it must have been naïve to think it could upset Ross at this late date. The fact of his affair with Pam Nichols would come as a surprise to no one. Not even Jarrett, I’m sure. And there are always those around whose job it is to protect the reputation of a man like Ross Logan.”
She seemed entirely open and casual, unimpressed by the note, yet I sensed an inner stiffening. As though something that she kept from the surface disturbed her. Perhaps even frightened her. Why I received this sudden flash of insight, I didn’t know, but something—for just an instant—told me that Brett Inness might indeed be far less calm and assured than she was pretending to be.
In the face of this sudden strong awareness, my own assurance began to revive. “Did you see Ross the night he died?” I asked.
Her hand with the cigarette moved nervously. “See him? Why should I see him? When I came to Poinciana I always tried to avoid running into Ross. I’d hardly be likely to seek him out.”
There was no way in which I could put pressure upon her to tell the truth—if she wasn’t telling it—and this unpleasant interview had continued long enough. I went to the bedroom door and looked in. Allegra lay sleeping peacefully. Perhaps this bed would seem familiar to her when she awakened, and she would have a feeling of belonging again in Poinciana. If she decided to remain at the house, I would talk to Jarrett about having a stair seat installed that could take her up and down stairs easily.
Brett stood up as I returned to the room. “I must run. There’s so much I need to do now. My shop has been neglected and I haven’t worked at my designing board for days. Thank you, Sharon, for being so generous and understanding.”
I had been neither, and I merely nodded. We left Allegra’s suite together, to find Albert coming along the hall carrying a suitcase in each hand. Miss Cox trotted after him, her plump face tinged with pink in an effort to keep up. She didn’t look in the least pleased with this move, which would probably interfere with her own authority, but she gave us each a careful smile, clearly uncertain as to where the source of real power lay.
I stopped to speak to her. “Mrs. Logan is asleep. She was very tired. When she wakes up, tell her we can solve the stair problem for her so she can get outside when she wishes.”
The nurse nodded, directed a questioning look at Brett, and followed Albert down the hall. Brett hurried away from me, presumably to look for Gretchen. I would not be surprised if she moved into the house immediately, whether I granted permission or not. And without an ugly confrontation, there didn’t seem to be much I could do about it.
I went on toward the branching corridor that led to my room, no longer certain of anything. That nothing was what it seemed to be was a recurring theme in this house, and I hated the confusion and uncertainty. I wanted only to believe and trust, yet such simple virtues seemed to have disappeared from my life.
Beside me, the wall appeared to move, and Keith Nichols popped out of the very woodwork. We stared at each other in surprise, as we had done that other time when I’d been with Ross and trompe l’oeil had deceived me.
“Hello,” I said. “One of these days you must introduce me to some of Allegra’s secret passages.”
The apprehension in his eyes faded. “You mean you don’t care if I come inside the house sometimes?”
“It’s all right,” I said, “if your father approves, and providing you don’t touch anything you’re not supposed to.”
“Like the netsuke? I wouldn’t do that. Not ever.”
“Why did you think of the netsuke?”
“I don’t know. I guess somebody said there were some more missing. Only Mrs. Allegra doesn’t take them. I know she doesn’t, because she’s told me not to. They’re awfully valuable, aren’t they?”
“I believe they are. Is there someone you’re looking for now?”
“Her. Mrs. Allegra. Albert said they’d moved her up to the house, and I wanted to visit her and see if she’s all right.”
His young face looked up at me with such open candor that I felt a certain relief. Keith, at least, could be taken exactly as he was—a small b
oy with an attachment for an old lady that was refreshing.
“She’s asleep now,” I said. “But perhaps you can come back later and talk to her. Only you can use the stairs nearest her room and not startle people by coming out of the wall.”
“I was in there looking for something. Something Mrs. Allegra wants me to find. Only she doesn’t remember exactly what it is, or where she put it. She thinks that she hid it somewhere in the house a long time ago. She said it was important. I was looking the other day too, when Mr. Logan brought you into the art gallery.”
“You mean it was you who watched us through the door at the far end that day?”
“Sure. I know how to turn off the alarm. And I didn’t let him catch me that time. But I didn’t find anything there either.”
I let the matter go. “Come back later,” I repeated. “I know Mrs. Logan will like to see you. And will you do something for me when you come, Keith? Will you try to find out whether she really wants to stay here in this house, as Gretchen thinks she should?”
“She’ll want to,” Keith said with confidence. “After she moves things around in her head, she’ll want to. She’s always telling me about how wonderful the house is, and about those rooms she fixed for herself when she got pretty old.”
I put a hand on his shoulder. “Thank you, Keith. You’ve just said something more sensible than anything the rest of us have come up with. I may want to use you as a counselor again sometime.”
“Or a detective? There are a lot of mysteries around here, aren’t there?”
“Indeed there are.”
“Like how that alarm went off the night Mr. Logan had a heart attack?”
I answered carefully, suppressing any eagerness that might stop him. “Do you know anything about that?”
He looked pleased with himself. “That’s not really a mystery, is it? Because Miss Inness turned it on. Didn’t you know about that?”
I could only stare at him in astonishment. “Keith, why do you believe she turned it on?”
He wasn’t ready to tell me that, however, and his gaze shifted to a point far down the hall. “Oh, I guess I just knew,” he said, and ran off toward the stairs.
What was it I’d been thinking? That Keith, at least, was exactly the small boy he seemed? Ingenuous and believable? Only now it appeared that he had his secrets too. This would bear looking into, when I found a way to do it. Why would Brett, of all people, have turned on the alarm?
When I reached my room, the phone was ringing, and I picked it up, to hear Jarrett’s voice.
“Are you all right?” he asked.
“I’m fine. But I have a lot of things to tell you.”
“I thought you might. Would you care to come down to our cottage tonight and have dinner with Keith and me? We dine early, so six-thirty would be fine.”
“I’d love to,” I said, and when I put down the phone I felt better than I had all morning. Perhaps Jarrett Nichols was the one person in this house to whom I could talk openly. But what was I to do with my day that would be useful until it was time for dinner?
The answer came readily. I could look for Ross’s missing manuscript and the photographs Gretchen had taken for his book. The obvious place to start was in his office, even though Gretchen claimed to have searched it thoroughly.
I went downstairs and found Myra working at her desk. Ross’s door was closed, but Jarrett’s office stood open and empty.
Myra caught the direction of my look. “Mr. Nichols has just gone out.” Again she had discarded her casual slacks for a neat cotton dress—perhaps still being respectful to a proper atmosphere of mourning? Her smile was one of sympathy. “You look tired, Mrs. Logan.”
I went directly to my purpose. “Mrs. Karl hasn’t been able to find the manuscript my husband was working on, and I thought I might look through his office. It isn’t locked, is it?”
“Nothing’s locked except the safe.” She left her desk and went to open the door for me. “Mrs. Karl was here earlier, but she wasn’t able to find that manuscript herself.”
“Then I probably won’t find it either.”
As she stepped aside, I went past her with a sense of apprehension and stood looking around the big, handsome room. Nothing had changed about its impressive air of luxury, from black leather chairs and walnut desk to the Chinese carpet, bordered by polished parquetry. The last time I had stepped into Ross’s office had been on that terrible night when I’d found him slumped across his desk, with Jarrett beside him. The memory was vivid in my mind, and I could almost hear the shrilling of that dreadful alarm.
Myra was still at my elbow. “I don’t know if it’s any help, Mrs. Logan, but on the same day that it happened, Mr. Logan brought his manuscript and those photos Mrs. Karl took, into his office and was working on them here. So perhaps he never put them back where he usually kept them.”
“Did you tell Mrs. Karl that?”
“She didn’t give me much chance,” Myra said ruefully. “And probably it’s no help anyway, since I don’t know where he put them after that.”
I hardly knew where to begin my search. The obvious starting place was Ross’s desk, but I was sure it had been gone through carefully by this time, and not only by Gretchen. In any case, I was reluctant to touch Ross’s desk at all. Memory was too vivid.
“Do you mind if I speak out of turn?” Myra asked.
“You don’t usually wait for permission,” I said, and she grinned.
“We’re in the same boat, in a way, aren’t we? Oh, I know you’re the top lady of all this now, and I’m hardly a speck on the horizon. Just the same, we’re both outsiders, aren’t we? And I don’t know what to do now, any more than you do.”
As usual, she had penetrated through all the subterfuge. Perhaps it would be more useful to talk with Myra Ritter than to start what was sure to be a futile search.
“Why don’t you sit down,” she said, “and I’ll fix us some coffee.”
I sat in one of the big leather chairs and let her minister to me, feeling oddly grateful. She remembered that I took my coffee black, and when she’d put a mug in my hands, she pulled another chair around and curled herself up in it, rather like a small cat.
“I suppose the main thing we have to remember,” she said, “is not to let them railroad us into doing what we don’t want to do.”
“I don’t feel that I’m being railroaded,” I said. “I’m making my own choices, such as they are.”
“That’s what you think. But aren’t you letting them make you stay at Poinciana, when all you want, really, is to get away?”
“How can you possibly think that?”
“Because it makes sense. I can put myself in your place. And if I were there, I’d get out so fast you wouldn’t see me for smoke.”
I sipped coffee and smiled at her. “That is what I want, and you’re perfectly right. But it’s not what I can do. There are responsibilities.”
“For instance?” She was openly curious.
“My husband’s will. He wanted me to stay here. He must have thought that it would be best for Poinciana in the long run.”
“It’s only a house.”
“Nevertheless, it should be preserved. Perhaps turned into a museum, or a trust eventually. That is, if Mrs. Karl and her husband should decide not to live here. Or when Allegra Logan dies.”
“So you’ll hang on and be miserable here, when all that would probably come about anyway?”
I couldn’t confide my uneasiness concerning Vasily Karl. I couldn’t talk to her about the note that had been sent to Ross. I couldn’t say, “Perhaps someone frightened my husband to death and I want to know who and why.”
“I can understand,” she said. “I know it must be hard to decide. I feel the same way. I mean, Mr. Nichols isn’t going to stay here after everything’s settled. His work is in New York and Washington. He only came here regularly because Mr. Logan insisted. But it’s not very convenient to run everything from Florida. So I expect he’l
l take his little boy and leave before long.”
The sinking feeling at the pit of my stomach was not wholly unexpected. I had felt this way when Jarrett spoke of resigning. The very thought of Poinciana without Jarrett Nichols here to depend upon gave me a shivery feeling, as though I’d suddenly stepped into a cold wind.
“Of course, I suppose you’re his boss now,” Myra went on, watching me shrewdly. “I suppose you could order him to stay, if you want.”
“I couldn’t do that.”
She sighed. “I didn’t think you would, but I had to find out. You see, what he does affects me. Oh, I think he’d take me along. I’ve worked for him pretty well. I like it here in Florida. I like my little apartment, and I don’t want to leave. I suppose I can get another job here, but it won’t be the same. I’ve enjoyed working for Mr. Nichols. Being at Poinciana has been like living in a play. So you see I have a dilemma too. Though it’s not on the same level as yours.”
I remembered her mentioning earlier that I might need a social secretary. But that time hadn’t come as yet, and I wasn’t prepared to make a decision now.
“Anyway,” I said, “I expect everything will run along as usual for a while. At least until the will is probated.”
I’d finished my coffee, and she got up to take my empty mug. “I suppose that’s true. Then there will be the litigation while Mrs. Karl tries to get Poinciana back.”
Such a thought appalled me. The last thing I wanted was to be embroiled in an unpleasant contesting of Ross’s will.
“Surely that won’t happen,” I said.
“Maybe not. Especially if you wind up leaving. They’ll try to get you out between them—Mrs. Karl and her mother. And I think if you’re smart and like your freedom, you’ll go.”
I might want to go, but I didn’t mean to be forced out by Gretchen and Brett Inness. Where did Vasily stand in all this? I wondered. What did he really want? But I knew I couldn’t count on anything Vasily Karl said, even if I asked him straight out.
“I’m not sure what I’ll do,” I told Myra. “Except that now I had better see if I can find my husband’s manuscript. Can you think of any place where she might not have searched?”
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