“This is Pam—signing off.”
The tape recorder clicked to a stop, and I sat for a long while in the dim library. All about me on the shelves were a storing of words. Millions of words, ready to come to life whenever anyone opened a book. But only Pam Nichols’s words echoed terribly through my mind with all their ramifications—their power to affect the lives of those who lived after her.
The evil I had sensed in this house had stemmed from Ross. Rather than see the man he depended upon turn against him, he had destroyed Jarrett’s wife. First, he had satisfied his own need for power by seducing her, to spite the man he envied, but he could not risk Jarrett’s permanent loss, so he had rid himself of the danger she had threatened. Brett had been wise to get away. Perhaps I would have escaped eventually myself. Allegra knew her son. What she had never seen was the hand she had taken in forming him. Not that she could be blamed either. This wasn’t a game of find-the-blame. Everyone was guilty—including those of us alive now. Allegra must have guessed. Ross had destroyed her too. Even though she had never played the tape herself, she had known, and when Pam died, she had become ill with the knowing, never again to be her old self.
What was I to do? What was the right thing, the wise thing, to do? Jarrett had every right to hear this tape. Yet how dreadful it would be for him to listen to Pam’s voice, and learn all these things now, when he had at last begun to heal a little, and when Ross was gone and no longer could be held answerable. Jarrett had the right to hear it and Pam had the right to be heard. But I would wait a little while. I mustn’t rush foolishly into damaging him further.
“May I come in?” a voice asked from the doorway.
I looked around in something of a daze, to see Brett Inness, bright in a frock printed with flame-colored blossoms. Poinciana blossoms? At once the present swept back.
“Gretchen?” I said with the painful question in my voice.
She walked into the room, turning on a lamp as she came down its length. She looked no less elegant than usual, and the gold bangles on her arms glittered in the light. When she reached my chair, she stood quite still, staring at me, her face devoid of emotion.
“Gretchen is gone,” she said. “From the first there was no hope. The fall smashed her too badly. She was never conscious again, and she didn’t suffer.”
Even though I’d feared and expected this, my breath caught, and I leaned back, closing my eyes. Brett pulled over another chair and sat beside me.
“I went up to see Allegra just now. She will care most about this, you know. Her one grandchild—her only hope for immortality.”
Words which might have carried sympathy were only scornful, and I shrank away from her. At once she sensed my rejection.
“You can’t expect me to mourn as a mother would,” she said. “I think you know the truth—that I never had a child of my own. I took Gretchen because she was forced upon me. The child of one of Ross’s infidelities. How could I love her?”
I ached for Gretchen. “She needed your love.”
“Need? Don’t we all need? But I didn’t have it to give. Though perhaps I made it up to her a little in recent years, when we became reasonably good friends.”
They’d become friends because Brett wanted the power, the influence that close association with Gretchen could give her. Perhaps even the means of revenging herself upon Ross.
“Have you told Allegra?” I asked.
“No. She’s slipping in and out of her fog. Coxie didn’t know what to do, so I suggested that she say nothing for now. Though Allegra can sense things sometimes that the rest of us don’t even know are happening. So she’s uneasy now. She told me she’d found Pam’s tape that she’s been searching for all this time, and that she gave it to you to play. I thought you might come directly here.” She glanced at the recorder beside me. “You’ve listened to it?”
I left my chair and removed the tape from the machine, slipped it into the case, and started from the room. “Yes, I’ve listened to it.”
She came after me, caught me by the arm. “Wait! There are things we need to talk about, you and I. Sit down for a minute. Don’t worry—I won’t ask you to let me listen to it. I’ve been pretty sure all along what that tape contained. Ross managed Pam’s death, didn’t he? He fixed that car?”
Near the door were two massive Spanish chairs, and I sat down on a cracked leather seat. I had better listen to anything she had to say, whether I liked her or not.
She took the opposite chair. “I’m sure you’re all mixed up with feelings of loyalty toward your dear departed husband. Or had you already come to hate him as much as I did?”
I held to my silence. I would listen, but I wouldn’t talk. I would tell her nothing.
“He deserved what came to him,” she said, and I heard the anger in her voice. “I’m glad I was able to have a hand in his punishment.”
In spite of myself, she had surprised me into words. “What are you talking about?”
“You might as well know. There’s nothing that can be done to me now, and I’m sure you won’t open things up with the police again. Or the press. I was there that night. I was with Ross when he died. Oh, don’t look so shocked. Gretchen was the only one in this house who had mourned him at all, and even her feelings were mixed—because of Vasily. At least you can take some satisfaction in knowing that poor, silly Pam has been avenged. And so have the rest of us.”
“You’d better explain.”
“All right, I will. As long as Gretchen was alive, I meant to keep this to myself. Now it doesn’t matter. I knew he was working late and alone that night. So I went to see him. He was planning to call in that note of mine he held—out of sheer spite. So I decided to fabricate a little. Every now and then Allegra has talked about the tape she’d misplaced. From bits and pieces I knew Pam had given it to her, and I couldn’t guess why. So I told Ross that the tape existed and that it would incriminate him in Pam’s death. I told him I would use it if he acted against me—and that perhaps I might use it anyway.”
“And he had a heart attack?”
“Exactly. It all went better than I’d hoped. So you see it wasn’t that silly note signed with one of Gretchen’s little faces that set him off. That must have been one of Vasily’s futile efforts. That young man can be pretty juvenile at times. It was what I told Ross about the tape and how I meant to use it that did it. Perhaps he’d have tried to attack me physically right then, he was so angry. But instead he turned purple and fell over on his desk. I knew he was dead and there was nothing to be done. Of course, I didn’t want to rush out screaming and admit to my own presence in his office, but neither did I want him to lie there unattended. I have some sensibilities. And of course I didn’t know then that he’d already phoned Jarrett.”
Her words had left me stunned. “So you set off the alarm to waken the house and cause someone to come and find him?”
“That’s right. I turned it on at the far end of the gallery, where the guard couldn’t see me. And before he could get there, I went down to Allegra’s cottage and stayed there for the rest of the night. Keith saw me coming out of the house right after the alarm went off, and he may have guessed that I’d turned it on, but he didn’t give me away.”
So much was being explained. Yet I knew that it was as she said and none of this would be told against her now. Of what use would it be?
“It must have been cozy at the cottage, with Vasily hiding out there too,” I said.
She smiled vaguely.
“Why have you told me this now?” I asked.
“Because you have Pam’s tape. Because Ross has already been punished for what he did, and there’s nothing further you can do by letting anyone else hear it.”
“I haven’t decided about that. Why are you interested in seeing it kept quiet?”
“If it should become public, there would be a huge scandal. And when one scandal comes out, others follow. The ripple effects could be devastating.”
“To whom?”
“To the entire Logan empire, of course. I suggest that you destroy this tape as quickly as you can. Otherwise, we may all be damaged.”
“Jarrett has a right to hear it. And Pam has a right to be heard. Jarrett wouldn’t use it in any way that might hurt Keith.”
“Ah? I see. I had an idea the wind was blowing that way. You and Jarrett—well! Lovely possibilities for both of you there.”
I’d endured enough, and this time when I stood up, I walked out the door. Nevertheless, she came with me, so I asked one more question.
“How is Vasily taking his wife’s death?”
For the first time, Brett seemed puzzled. “I’m not sure. He rushed away from the hospital looking wild-eyed, and left all the complications in Jarrett’s lap.”
“Complications?”
“The police, of course. There’ll still be all the questioning to go through again, before they decide it was suicide. I suggest that you say nothing to anyone about Allegra being in the tower today. Oh, of course she admitted it to me just now. But an insane grandmother who was present when her granddaughter fell to her death would give the media a field day. To say nothing of poor Allegra being driven further out of her head with questioning. Best to say nothing at all, Sharon my dear—just in case it wasn’t suicide, after all.”
She went her way then, bangles jingling, wafting behind her a trace of Givenchy perfume. I had always believed that every human being had some redeeming traits. Now I wondered in Brett’s case. But I really knew nothing about her, knew nothing of what had formed her into the way she was. In any case, I could hardly feel generous toward her.
Chapter 19
Brett had been right in her forecasting. With Gretchen’s death, all the police inquiries opened up again, and we were once more in a state of siege from the outside world, which was clamoring to know what had really happened at Poinciana. Even the small, unimportant interview I’d given the day I saw Gretchen at the library was blown out of all sensible proportion, with implications that had little to do with reality.
The official conclusion was one I didn’t believe in, even though my own testimony seemed to support it. Unfortunately, there were too many witnesses to the last quarrel between Gretchen and her husband, and this couldn’t be evaded. Brett and Myra and I had all heard Vasily angrily threatening divorce, and everyone knew how impulsive and emotional Gretchen could be. No one could claim that she had been in a calm and rational state when she rushed off to her grandmother’s tower and climbed those stairs for the last time.
At least nothing ever came out to hint that Allegra Logan had been in the tower that day. Allegra herself still didn’t seem to know exactly what had happened while she was taking out her gowns and Gretchen must have rushed past her on the stairs. It was Mrs. Broderick who saw to putting the gowns away before the police came.
I had told Jarrett of finding the mermaid netsuke, and we’d agreed that nothing could be gained by discussing this with anyone. Whatever had happened, Allegra must not be brought into this.
It was Jarrett, finally, who told Allegra of Gretchen’s death. I was with him when he sat beside her in the silver-gray parlor and held her hands gently. Perhaps some of his own strength flowed into her frail person, for she took it better than he might have expected. In fact, she took it so calmly that I wondered if she already knew that Gretchen was dead. What had she seen in the tower? Perhaps we would never know, and perhaps it was better that way.
This time, Allegra did not come to the funeral. We all thought it would be too great a strain, and she herself escaped the day in her own happy manner, slipping back to a time when her husband and her son were with her at Poinciana, and there was not yet a Gretchen to think about.
When the funeral was over, she seemed to know, and came back to us quite sensibly, and to our surprise was even able to talk a little about what had happened.
“Gretchen would never have committed suicide,” she insisted. “She was much too self-centered a girl. I can imagine her being violent against someone else, but never toward herself. She was like her father in that. Self-preservation came first. The harm she sometimes did herself could be serious and damaging, but that was because she never thought one minute ahead. To kill herself, however—no!”
I leaned toward Allegra and spoke to her quietly. “Mrs. Logan, was anyone else in the tower that day? Did anyone go up there to join Gretchen?”
She drew away from me at once, and I was to learn that any pressure of questions about that time in the tower was sure to send her into one of her “fogs.” As quickly as though she closed a door, she shut out reality and escaped from any probing. When this happened, there was no calling her back until she chose to come of her own free will. Gretchen’s death was something terrible for her to live with consciously for very long, and when she went into her retreat she might talk about her granddaughter happily, as though she were alive.
Strangely enough, in the days that had followed the funeral, Allegra never once asked what I had done with Pam’s tape, and I didn’t remind her of it. The tape seemed to matter less, when so much else that was agonizing in the present crushed in upon us.
When we left Allegra that day she had spoken of suicide being impossible for Gretchen, Jarrett and I went down the hall and sat in my cozy living room. I had unpacked a few things of my own that I’d brought with me to Poinciana and never used until now. It was good to have my own books and a few pictures and ornaments that I’d collected around me. For the first time, I could feel reasonably at home—even though I knew the feeling wasn’t permanent. I couldn’t stay here forever now.
“I like this room,” Jarrett said, settling himself into an armchair that had belonged to my father, and which Ian had insisted on carting with him wherever he went.
“Do you think Allegra is right?” I asked. “Could it have been an accident?”
“She didn’t say that, did she? She only insisted that it wasn’t suicide. The railing was firm enough, as the police found out. Only if Gretchen had flung herself against it deliberately could she have broken through.”
We didn’t speak further of the third possibility that was in both our minds. After all, the evil at Poinciana had died with Ross, and no one would have tried to kill Gretchen. Surely no one would have?
Jarrett left his chair and came to sit beside me on the sofa. “You’re not taking care of yourself, Sharon. You’ve been losing weight and you’re growing frown lines between your eyes.”
I liked his concern. I wanted it. Gradually in these weeks, as I watched him taking on most of an impossible burden, I began to know myself a little. And to know him. Everything between us was too fresh and recent for expression, and we were both learning caution. Or perhaps I was. He already knew. Nevertheless, he showed me in small ways that he was watching over me when he could, and I tried to let him know that I was grateful.
Because of our closeness at that moment, I could at last do what I had been postponing, and which I knew must be done. I had no right to keep Pam’s tape from him because of the pain I would feel over his pain. I went to the drawer where I’d put it and took out the cassette. Just beneath it was a folded sheet of Poinciana notepaper, and I took that out as well, not thinking much about it, because I was intent upon the explanation I must give Jarrett of how I’d come by the tape.
He listened without emotion except for a tightening of the muscles around his mouth. When I put the case into his hand, he closed his fingers about it reluctantly, and I knew that he sensed what lay ahead.
“Perhaps you’ll destroy it without listening to it,” I said. “I only wish I could have thrown it away myself. I’ve given up trying to decide what’s wise, or right or wrong. This was meant for you and you must have it.”
He sat very still with the cassette in his hands, and I longed to say something that would comfort him. Only I could find nothing comforting to say in this bleak moment.
For the first time I really looked at the sheet of notepaper I
still held, and then I sat down abruptly in the nearest chair, completely horrified.
This note was very much like the one that had purported to be from Gretchen—the note that had been on Ross’s desk when he died, signed with one of Gretchen’s signature faces. This time the face was grinning and the words were different:
Be careful, Sharon. Don’t be as foolish
as I was. Stay away from high places.
Words from Gretchen—when Gretchen was dead?
My hand shook as I gave it to Jarrett. “Now we know the first note was never written by Gretchen.”
Jarrett scowled, reading it, and shook his head wearily. “Perhaps this is the time to move you out of Poinciana.”
“How can I go? There’s too much that I’m responsible for.”
“I know,” he said. “At least when you’re in here, lock your door.”
He slipped the cassette into a pocket and stood up. I wanted to touch him, feel his physical presence, but I knew this was not the time. First he must listen to Pam’s tape and fight his own demons, find his own peace. There were depths of emotion in Jarrett that frightened me a little when I glimpsed them. I remembered what Gretchen had said one time—that he held too much in. A release might come in words, if only we could talk, but at that moment we were poles apart, and Ross and Pam stood between us.
In the coming days he seemed unchanged. He was always grave, and now he became more seriously busy and more remote than ever. If there was a deepening of the lines in his face, I could very well guess the cause, but there was no opening for me to say anything. Not once did he mention the tape, or admit that he had listened to Pam’s words. I bled a little, knowing his pain and unable to offer him comfort.
I wanted to tear up the note I’d found and burn the pieces, but I kept it in the drawer where I’d discovered it. Now and then I took it out and read it again, willing the words to tell me something that would betray the writer. But the grinning little face mocked me, hiding its identity, and I knew that evil was still alive at Poinciana.
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