by Morgana Best
Now what to do? Should I call the police? And tell them what? That my aunt, whose death was officially recorded as ‘No Suspicious Circumstances’, had been murdered with a selenium overdose by her elderly neighbor? The police would surely just laugh at me. Yet I had to do something.
I hurried back inside the house and sat at the kitchen table, still wondering what to do. I poured a glass of wine, and had a gulp or two. It tasted quite strange, but that was the last thing on my mind. I had just decided to call the police, when to my horror, the doorbell rang. What if it was Cassandra? What would I do? How could I act as if nothing was wrong? Surely she would see it on my face. Perhaps I wouldn’t answer the door. She would surely know something was wrong then.
The doorbell rang again, so I walked to answer it, my heart in my stomach.
I opened the door. It was Cassandra.
“Misty, have you had dinner yet?”
I shook my head and tried to act normal. My heart was thumping so loudly that I wondered if she could hear it. “No, I feel a migraine coming on. I was about to go to bed.”
Cassandra narrowed her eyes at me, and I was dreadfully afraid that she had perceived the difference in my manner. “I’ve come to say I’ve made us dinner. Would you like to come over?”
“Sorry, Cassandra, but I don’t feel well enough to come over for dinner. Thanks, anyway.”
Cassandra was clearly determined. “Well, I did make you dinner, so come over and get it. You can eat it later. Or I could just bring a plate back over for you now?”
I had no idea what to do. If I continued to refuse, Cassandra would be suspicious. I figured there was no harm in following her into her house. After all, she was a frail, elderly lady, and I certainly had no intention of eating or drinking anything she gave me, or for that matter, turning my back on her. I told myself that I would be in no danger. “Thanks, Cassandra. I’ll come over and get it now, and then I’ll go straight to bed.”
Cassandra smiled politely. “Good, dear.”
I picked up the door keys from the hallstand and followed Cassandra next door to her house. My pulse was racing and my legs were weak.
Even in my fearful state, I noted that Cassandra’s decor was not what I expected, not at all. I had expected an interior to match the dirty mud room, but Cassandra’s living room was completely trendy and minimalist chic. Not a lace doily in sight.
Cassandra beamed at me. “Have a seat, dear, while I find something to put your dinner in. I’ll give you a bottle of wine too. Red or white wine?”
“Um, red, please.” I had absolutely no intention of eating or drinking anything Cassandra gave me. Any food was going into the trash as soon as I got home, and I intended to pour the wine down the sink.
Cassandra soon returned and handed me the bottle of red and a container. “I hope you like tomato pasta.”
I plastered a false smile on my face and tried to stop my knees from trembling. “Thanks, Cassandra. I love tomato pasta.” I stood up and turned to leave.
Cassandra’s voice came from behind. “Was that Beth’s lawyer who came earlier?”
I turned back reluctantly, anxious to get away from Cassandra as soon as possible. “Yes, do you know him?”
Cassandra took a step closer to me and I steeled myself not to take a step back. “I met him at Beth’s once. I hope you have done well out of the will?”
I nearly blurted out what had actually happened, but remembered in time. “Sad to say, he simply came to tell me that he couldn’t tell me anything yet, except for the fact that I didn’t get anything except for Diva the cat.”
Cassandra laughed. She must have thought that really funny, for her laugh got higher and higher. Her face got longer. I felt very tired all of a sudden. Suddenly Cassandra was bending over me. I hadn’t seen her move. “Misty, where’s the page?”
“What?”
Cassandra grabbed my face and squeezed my cheeks hard. “Don’t make it worse for yourself! Tell me now.”
I tried to walk away but my head swum. I felt horribly sick. Nothing made sense. As I staggered, the chain fell forward.
“Ah!” Cassandra seized the chain. “Have you found the page?”
My mouth felt dry. “Cassandra, what’s going on?”
“Tell me where the page is!” She slapped me hard across my face.
That was the last thing I remembered.
I woke up on a bed, my hands and feet tied to the bedposts. I felt sick and groggy. My only coherent thought was that Cassandra was stronger than she looked, to carry me up the stairs. Cassandra was no sweet old lady.
Just when I thought things couldn’t get any worse, the presence returned. I felt its hot breath in my ear. The page, the page. I screamed, or more like, croaked, as my mouth was dry and my throat constricted.
I opened my eyes for a moment, but my head hurt. Cassandra was standing by the bed, but she did nothing to acknowledge my presence. I noticed her pale hands hanging limply by her sides. Her fingers were long, as were her fingernails, which were painted red. Her skin was very pale and her face difficult to look at. It seemed to shimmer in overlapping planes. Her age was impossible to tell; she seemed ageless. If I had to sum her up in one word I would say ‘cruel’, but cruelty implies emotion, and this woman, this creature, had none. She was the most terrifying thing I had even seen.
She did not speak to me, but when she at last turned her gaze on me, goose bumps broke out all over my body and my hair felt like it was standing on end. A chill ran through my very depths. I faded back into oblivion, and stayed in a foggy state until I heard someone call my name.
“Misty?”
“Douglas! Douglas, help! Where are you?”
“Over here. Misty, are you all right? I’ve been so worried!”
I wondered why Douglas wasn’t coming to me, and gingerly lifted my head. There, in a large chair, was Douglas. His feet and hands were tied, and a length of rope was wrapped around his chest.
I wanted to ask what had happened, but I felt too sick and weak, so just lay there.
“Misty, are you hurt?” he asked me.
“I feel sick. What happened? You okay?” It was quite an effort to say the words.
“Misty, I’ve been so worried,” he said again. His voice was full of concern. “I came over here looking for you and found Cassandra there. She pulled a gun on me and made me carry you upstairs. She tied me up and then tied you up. She wanted to know if I knew where the page was.”
I managed to speak again. “Yes, she asked me, too.”
Cassandra walked into the room. “Sorry to break up this happy little reunion, but I’m running out of patience.” She walked over to me and waved a big gun in my face. “Do you know what this is?”
“A gun.” I didn’t want to sound like I was being smart to a gun toting maniac, but didn’t know what else to say.
“Yes, and this bit here is the silencer.” She tapped the end of the gun. “Tell me where the page is.”
“If you kill me, you’ll never find it.”
“Obviously. That’s why I’m going to shoot this man.” I heard Douglas’s sharp intake of breath as she aimed the gun at him. “This is not a game, Misty. I will shoot him. Why do you care about the page? It’s nothing to you. I don’t want to kill either of you. If you give me the page, you can both go free. If you tell the police, they won’t believe you.”
“You killed Aunt Beth!” My voice sounded hysterical. I tried to calm my breathing, and focus. Everything was swimming and I was afraid I would be sick.
Cassandra snorted rudely. “No, she killed herself with a selenium overdose. The Keeper always uses selenium for such purposes. Cyanide’s only for movies. After the cavern collapsed, she knew I was going to make her tell me where the page was.”
Aunt Beth killed herself? Surely not. Aloud I said, “Weren’t you in the same society?”
“Yes, and she was the Keeper of the Dashwood Trust. When she found out that I was also in the Black Lodge and wanted to us
e the ritual, she would have destroyed the paper, but didn’t have time.”
“Didn’t have time for what?” As drugged as I was, I tried to put the pieces together. Cassandra said that Aunt Beth had killed herself, but also that she didn’t have time to destroy the page. Surely she would have destroyed the page before killing herself?
That was when the penny dropped. I had finally figured out the motive for murder. Cassandra had been unable to find the page, and must have believed that Aunt Beth was about to destroy it. Cassandra must have figured she would murder Aunt Beth to prevent her destroying the page, and then continue her search for the page with Aunt Beth out of the way.
Cassandra had walked over to me. “Misty, tell me where the page is. What’s it to you if I get it?” She raised the gun to Douglas.
“All right, I’ll tell you. I put it in Alice in Wonderland on the bookshelf, bottom shelf next to the sofa.”
Cassandra left hurriedly.
Douglas spoke as soon as we heard the front door shut. “Misty, is that true?”
I nodded, but that made my heart hurt and my vision cloud even more. “Yes. I couldn’t have her shooting you, Douglas, and really, who cares if she rejuvenates? Do you think she’ll let us go?”
“I’m not too sure what she’ll do.”
“Can you try to get out of the ropes?” I asked him. “Just in case?”
“I’ve been doing my best.”
Cassandra was back fairly soon, waving the page triumphantly. Luckily the gun was not in sight. She ran over to Douglas and untied him. In my groggy state it took me a while to realize that something was wrong with this picture.
It got worse. It seemed as if Douglas and Cassandra then kissed passionately. I found the sight disgusting, but then I wasn’t sure if they actually had kissed. I kept slipping in and out of consciousness, so wasn’t sure what was real and what was a dream. I was still too drugged to be fully in my senses, but the fog was lifting, if only slightly. I just lay there and tried to figure things out.
Douglas was speaking. “Cassandra, you didn’t need to drug her. She would have told me where the page was, and there would’ve been no need for all this.”
“I doubt it. I know you think you’re quite the ladies’ man, but there was that interfering fool, Jamie Smith. Besides, I couldn’t wait another few days. I’m sick of looking like this.” Cassandra gestured to herself. “Now that I have the page, I can go back home. I’ve been living in this dump for too long.”
At that point it dawned on me that Cassandra was not Aunt Beth’s long-term next door neighbor after all, and I wondered what had happened to the actual neighbor. I could guess. The situation was rapidly looking worse.
Cassandra was still speaking. “And now we have to get rid of her.”
I spoke up. “Cassandra, I won’t tell anyone. I mean, like you said, the police would have me locked up if I said that you could get younger. They would never believe me. You and your boyfriend take off, and I won’t say a word.”
“Boyfriend?” Cassandra laughed, a horrible, nasal laugh tinged with madness.
Douglas walked over and stood in front of me. “She’s right, Cassandra. The police will never believe her. We can just leave her here.”
“No, she knows too much. She’s seen the page. She knows about the keys. Sure, the police won’t believe her, but she knows too much about what happened to her aunt. This evening I found that someone, obviously Misty, the meddlesome girl, had forced a window, and the selenium bottle had been moved from its place. She knows too much,” she said yet again. “We can’t risk it.”
I was waiting for Douglas to argue, but he didn’t speak. Finally he turned and looked at me and shrugged. “Sorry, Misty, she has a point. Nothing personal.”
Cassandra put her hand on his arm. “Not here, Douglas. There will be too many questions. We can’t draw attention to ourselves. I’ll make a call and have them take her to London near a club. They’ll fix it.”
While Cassandra was making the call, Douglas untied me from the bedposts and threw me over his shoulder. I was too weak and sick to struggle, but did the best I could to scratch and bite him. We were at the bottom of the stairs when Jamie burst through the door. Douglas tossed me at Jamie and knocked him down. Despite being under my full weight and me being too feeble to help, Jamie rolled me off him quite fast. I looked up to the top of the stairs, half expecting to be looking down the barrel of a gun, but there was no sign of Douglas or Cassandra.
As Jamie was scrabbling to his feet I warned him, “Gun, Jamie, Cassandra has a gun.”
Jamie hesitated for moment. “I’d better not leave you here and go after them, then.” He dropped to one knee, concern all over his face. “Are you okay?”
“She drugged me and tied me up. They were going to kill me.” To my extreme embarrassment, I burst out crying, and not just polite weeping, but loud racking sobs. Jamie at once picked me up and carried me to his car, and then he stood outside the car and made a call.
“I don’t want to go to the hospital!” I said as soon as he got into the car. I’ve had a fear of hospitals since I was a child.
“Don’t worry. I’m taking you home and calling the doctor.”
“No, I don’t want a doctor!” I was afraid of doctors, too.
Jamie turned to me and smiled. “I don’t like doctors, either, but you’ll like her. She’s a nice, elderly lady with a great sense of humor.”
“Like Cassandra?” I said sarcastically. I thought about Cassandra. I had thought her a nice old lady. I had thought Douglas a friend, too.
Jamie called the doctor while I tried to process the night’s events. It was all too much, and I had a nasty headache. I closed my eyes and tried to ignore the pounding in my head. “How did I near where I was?”
“How did you near?” He sounded puzzled.
I shook my head carefully and tried to find the right words. “No, I mean, how did you hear where I was? In Cassandra’s house?”
When he didn’t answer for moment, I looked across at him. “Oh, you have Cassandra’s house bugged?”
“Something like that.” Jamie looked straight ahead, at the road.
Jamie drove out on the M40 and headed in the direction of London, as far as I could tell. I wondered where Jamie lived, and that jolted my memory. “Jamie! I know where Douglas lives.”
“So do I, Misty, but nothing can be done. We can hardly go to the police and say that Douglas and Cassandra have Paul Whitehead’s urn and heart casket, and that now they have a page with alchemical symbols on it that allows people to restore their youth, and that they attempted to murder you as a result.”
That made sense, even in my drugged up state. “If Cassandra and Douglas have the urn with the symbols, then why did they need the page?” Talking was an effort, but I needed to know.
“The urn didn’t have all the symbols. It was a decoy. Do you know the story of Paul Whitehead burning all his records three days before his death?”
I nodded, but that hurt my head horribly, so I said, “Yes.”
“Paul Whitehead destroyed all evidence of the symbols, and also put false symbols on his urn as a decoy. He couldn’t have known about the cavern which was already in use at that time by the Black Lodge. We can only assume that he found out someone was about to use the symbols, so did his best to destroy anything that could be used, including himself, so no one would be able to torture him to get what they wanted. He was Keeper of the Dashwood Trust, just as your Aunt was Keeper.”
I still didn’t know how Jamie knew all this and what his part in it all was. I was still wondering whether to ask him, we arrived at the end of a quiet lane and stopped at a set of tall metal gates, not unlike the gates outside Douglas’s house. The gates opened. As we drove along the impressive brick-paved drive and parking area in front of the house and garages, several security cameras swung around to track us. What was Jamie, high up in MI6? This looked like a house for James Bond.
Jamie’s house was every
bit as impressive as Douglas’s, but whereas Douglas’s looked Georgian, Jamie’s house appeared to be newly built in a traditional style. It was sleek and expensive. The white brick house was symmetrical, with the four huge windows on each side flanked by decorative dark blue shutters. A balcony with a balustrade overlooked the front garden.
The Audi pulled up in front of the huge double doors, and before I could protest, Jamie picked me up. I was awfully embarrassed, but I wasn’t sure I could walk, and felt slightly nauseous.
Jamie carried me through the generously proportioned reception room with ornate ceiling cornices, up the stairs and to the rear of the house into what I presumed was the master bedroom.
My attention was drawn immediately to the magnificent Louis XV Fleur de Peche cheminee – an antique, marble fireplace with black granite slips and hearth. Even the bedroom afforded a great feeling of space. The huge windows allowed natural light to flood in. The wide bay and double doors led to a Juliet balcony which no doubt provided views over the garden.
Jamie lowered me onto the bed, but I objected. “No, don’t put me down here. I’ll get blood all over it.”
“There is no blood.” Jamie gently showed me my wrists. They were grazed from the ropes all right, but no blood. I had felt dirty and bleeding, but now I realized I’d had a bath just before Cassandra had drugged me. It must have been the wine. After all, it had tasted funny. I was clean after all, so no need to feel so guilty on the pristine bed. Just as well, as Jamie insisted I get in between the covers.
A buzzer sounded and Jamie picked up a device and spoke into it. “The doctor,” he informed me.
The doctor was, after all, a nice, elderly lady who put me at my ease rather quickly. She acted as if it were an everyday occurrence to be abducted by a couple of regenerating criminals. Unfortunately, her advice was that there was no instant cure for the drug I’d been given; it would simply wear off. I had to take things easy for a few days and stay well hydrated. At least she gave me two headache tablets.
Now that I was alone, I surveyed the room. Off to the left was a large dressing room and I guessed that an en suite bathroom was on the other side. From my position, I could see a range of closets, drawers and a central island which appeared to have more drawers. The dressing room seemed as big as my bedroom back home.
