Dark Homecoming

by William Patterson

  “Yes. I put people to sleep.”

  Liz thought this entire dinner party was putting her to sleep.

  Suddenly she felt a hand on her knee. Delacorte was grinning up at her. Even as his wife was speaking, sharing her rich-people’s problems, he was slipping his hand under the table to make a pass at his host’s wife.

  Liz moved her leg sharply, knocking his hand away.

  Horrible people, indeed.

  40

  A couple of maids were carrying the soup—a hot Caribbean blend of fruits and spices—out to the table when Rita noticed a girl she’d never seen before.

  The girl was coming through the back door into the kitchen. She was pretty, but Rita noticed she was a little bit older than the other maids, with blond hair and a tad too much makeup. Mrs. Hoffman would definitely not approve if she got a look at her. Since she wasn’t wearing a maid’s uniform, Rita assumed she’s been hired as extra kitchen help. Variola often requested assistants for big dinner parties like this one.

  But the girl never joined the chef at the stove. After she came through the door, she turned abruptly and headed straight up the back stairs. How very odd, Rita thought. This unknown girl just walked in here like she owned the place, and now she was heading upstairs as if she knew exactly where she was going. Who the heck was she?

  Rita decided to find out.

  Stealing through the kitchen, sidestepping sous chefs and Variola herself, who was busy chopping red and green peppers, Rita made her way to the back stairs.

  She caught a glimpse of the girl turning down the upstairs hallway.

  Who was she? Where was she going?

  Suddenly Rita thought she knew.

  Hurrying up the steps, she reached the top just in time to see the girl enter the last room on the left. Rita knew what that room was. It was an unused servant’s bedroom. Occasionally, when the servants were asked to stay overnight for special events, they would use these small, plainly furnished rooms. And that last room on the left had a special significance for Rita. She’d stayed overnight in that room dozens of times, when the first Mrs. Huntington was alive. That was where David would meet her. How quiet Rita had been when she’d slipped inside that room, waiting for the arms of the man she loved to wrap around her. How quietly David would arrive, after everyone was asleep, after Mrs. Hoffman assumed Rita had left for the evening. How quietly they’d make love. Rita would start to fall asleep, her head on David’s chest, listening to his heartbeat, when he’d nudge her gently and tell her it was time to leave.

  All the while his wife slumbered, unaware, in another part of the house.

  And now another woman waited in that room. Rita noticed how quietly, how carefully, the strange girl had closed the door to the room. Just as she had once done, when she’d wait there for David.

  She could already imagine how the night would go. After their guests would leave, David would tell Liz that he was too wired to sleep; Dr. Delacorte or Mr. Merriwell or Mr. Whoever, he’d say, had gotten him all worked up about business. He was so worried about plunging stock prices or excessive overhead or some bullshit that he needed to make some business calls. That’s what he’d tell his wife. In Europe, he’d point out, they were just getting up. He wanted to call and talk to his associates before they began their day. David would tell Liz that she should go on up to bed on her own, and that he’d be up in a while. He’d go into his study and do a little work. It was the only way, he would tell her, that he’d ever be able to fall asleep.

  He’d do work all right. He’d sneak into the last room on the left and fuck the brains out of that blonde. Then he’d send her away as he used to do with Rita and creep back to his wife.

  Oh, no. Not anymore.

  Rita had wondered just how she was going to have her revenge on David. Just how she’d tell Liz the truth about her beloved, deceitful husband.

  Fate had just given her a wonderful opportunity. How luck she had been to see that floozy slip in the back door.

  David’s fun was over.

  Rita would see to that.

  41

  “Are you certain, Rita?”

  Liz looked into the maid’s deep brown eyes. She had come back into the kitchen to see about coffee—that horrible dinner was nearly over but Liz had nonetheless needed another break from their pretentious conversation, so she’d ducked once more into the kitchen—and while there, she had been approached by Rita, who’d taken her aside and whispered something very strange to her.

  “I’m absolutely certain, ma’am,” Rita told her.

  “Are you sure she’s not a temporary employee?”

  “Very certain, ma’am. I asked Variola if she had hired anyone for this event, and she said she had not. It was only the regular staff on tonight.”

  Liz tried to make sense of it. “So you’re telling me you saw a woman you didn’t recognize come in through the back door, go up the back stairs, and go into one of the servant bedrooms.”

  “Exactly, ma’am. And she hasn’t come out either. I’ve been watching.”

  They were standing near the back stairs. Liz glanced up. It was dark at the top of the stairs.

  “Well, why are you telling me? You should let Mrs. Hoffman know. She’s in charge . . .”

  “I thought you would want to know, ma’am.” A thin smile bloomed on her lips. “After all, you’re mistress of the house. You should know what goes on under your own roof.”

  Liz looked at her strangely. “What are you saying, Rita?”

  “Just that I think you should find out who that woman is.”

  “I . . . I should get David to go . . .”

  Rita gently took her hands again, her dark eyes imploring. “If you send Mr. Huntington up there, I guarantee you that he’ll report back that there was no girl there.”

  Liz held her gaze. “How can you guarantee that, Rita?”

  “Trust me, Mrs. Huntington.”

  For some peculiar reason, Liz did.

  “I’ll go with you, ma’am. Let’s go up and find out who that woman is, why she’s trespassing in this house.”

  “But . . . the guests . . . they expect me back at the table . . .”

  Rita smirked. “Those snobs can wait.”

  Liz looked up the stairs again. Could the woman who was up there be the same she’d seen that day on the estate? But Rita had said nothing about any deformities. Still, David had said they’d had problems in the past with “vagabonds” getting onto the property. Could this be another one?

  But for some reason, Liz didn’t think so. Rita said the woman had seemed to come into this house with a purpose. And she was implying that she knew what that purpose was.

  “I should get Thad . . .” Liz said in a small voice.

  “You need to see for yourself, ma’am,” Rita said. Her voice, though still a whisper, was becoming urgent. “You need to know what’s going on under your own roof!”

  Liz looked at her. She could see the fierceness in Rita’s eyes.

  What was she trying to tell her?

  Without another word, Liz began climbing the stairs.

  42

  As they headed down the hallway to the last door on the left, Rita could barely hide her jubilation. How wonderful this was going to be! Liz would discover that David was cheating on her. If her nervous behavior these last few weeks was any indication, Liz wouldn’t be able to contain her anger, and she’d confront David right in front of all those horrible Delacortes and Merriwells—oh, what a scene she’d made! The dinner party would be ruined! David would be humiliated! Rita couldn’t wait.

  “The door will no doubt be locked from the inside,” she whispered to Liz as they grew close. “But I’ve brought a pin we can use to pop the lock.”

  Liz turned to look at her. “Why do you say, ‘no doubt’?”

  “Because that’s what the instructions always were,” Rita replied.

  “What are you talking about?”

  “I suggest you ask the woman who is waiting i
n that room.”

  Liz looked as if she could strangle Rita. But the maid just smiled, as if to say, Don’t blame the messenger.

  They reached the door. Liz took hold of the knob. As Rita had predicted, it was locked.

  “Who’s in there?” Liz called, rapping on the door.

  There was no answer.

  Rita handed her the pin. “We’re coming in,” Liz announced, sliding the pin into the hole of the knob and moving it around until she heard the pop of the lock.

  The door swung open. The room was dark. Liz switched on a light.

  They looked around.

  A plain twin bed. One small wooden dresser.

  No woman.

  Rita pushed in ahead of Liz. “This can’t be!” she shouted. “I saw her come in here.”

  Liz stood staring into the room, silent.

  “I swear to you, ma’am! I saw someone come in here!” She looked under the bed. Nothing there but dust. “And I’ve been watching! No one came out!”

  She flung herself at the closet, yanking the door open. But nothing in there but a couple of empty wire hangers dangling from the rod.

  “Well,” Liz said. “I’m not sure what this was all about, Rita, but tomorrow I’d like some answers from you.”

  “Mrs. Huntington,” Rita insisted, “I don’t have any answers! I saw a woman come in here! I swear to you!”

  “The answers I’ll be looking for, Rita, concern the insinuations you’ve been making. You clearly know something about this room and I am going to ask you to tell me what that is.”

  Rita stood silently staring at her.

  “But not tonight,” Liz went on. “Tonight I need to get back to my husband and my guests. I’d suggest that if you truly think there is an intruder in the house, you let Thad know. He can do a thorough search of the place.”

  Rita said nothing as Liz walked away.

  She looked around the room again.

  How was it possible? She was certain she saw a woman come in here.

  And the door was locked—from the inside!

  How was that possible?

  Shaking her head, her heart pounding in her ears, Rita returned down the stairs into the kitchen. Mrs. Hoffman was waiting for her.

  “Mrs. Huntington just came down these stairs and she did not look happy,” the housekeeper said, her eyes practically vibrating in her unmoving face. “What has been going on?”

  Variola came into view over Mrs. Hoffman’s shoulder. “I saw them go upstairs together.”

  Rita’s eyes moved back and forth between the two of them.

  “Did you upset Mrs. Huntington in some way?” Mrs. Hoffman wanted to know.

  “It wasn’t I who upset her,” Rita said softly.

  Mrs. Hoffman looked over at Variola. “Will you be needing Rita any more tonight?”

  “No,” the chef said, returning to the stove. “I’m through with her.”

  “As am I,” Mrs. Hoffman echoed. “You may go home, Rita.”

  Rita stood her ground. “I’m scheduled to work until midnight. For cleanup.”

  “I think we are well staffed for that,” Mrs. Hoffman said. “Please get your things and go home, Rita.”

  “Very well,” she said bitterly.

  She knew Mrs. Hoffman intended to fire her. After all, she’d been wanting to do so for some time, and now she’d found her opportunity. Rita fully expected that when she came in tomorrow morning, Mrs. Hoffman would hand her a pink slip. But that was okay. She was prepared for it. Besides, Rita intended that her departure from this house would be memorable. She wouldn’t leave before she told sweet little Liz everything she knew.

  Rita intended to go out with a bang.

  43

  The last of the guests were heading out the front door. Dr. Delacorte winked at her as he stumbled out, having imbibed one Beefeater martini too many. Liz looked away, disgusted.

  “And so, that’s done,” David said, smiling at her as he closed the front door. “You handled yourself marvelously, Liz.”

  “That’s bull, and you know it, David. I was like a deer caught in the headlights.” She shuddered. “They are not very pleasant people.”

  “No, I suppose they’re not. But you don’t give yourself enough credit, darling. You held your own against them.”

  He took her arm and they headed into the parlor. Maids and busboys were busy tidying up the house, carrying empty glasses and plates out to the kitchen. Liz noticed that Rita was not among them.

  “David,” she said. “I’d like to talk to you about one of the servants.”

  He lifted an eyebrow in her direction. “Which one?”

  “Rita.”

  Liz noticed a subtle yet definite change of expression cross David’s face. He dropped her arm and sat down on the couch. “What about her?” he asked.

  “In the middle of the party tonight, she asked me to go upstairs with her.”

  “Upstairs where?”

  “To the servants’ rooms.”

  Liz noticed a definite flush cross David’s cheeks.

  “She said she saw a woman come in through the back door and go up the back stairs.”

  David appeared genuinely perplexed at that. “And where did she say this woman went after she went up the stairs?”

  “To the last room on the left.”

  David stood. He was enraged. “Rita is unstable. I’ve always thought so . . .”

  “She wanted me to go in there so I could find out, in her words, what was going on under my roof.”

  David shot her a look. “Did you go in the room?”

  “Yes.” She paused for just a second. “But no one was there. The door was locked, from the inside, but no one was there.”

  “Of course no one was there,” David said. “I’m telling you, Rita is unstable.”

  “She’s seemed a little strange at times, but never unstable. I’ve never had a problem with her.”

  “Well, I have.”

  Liz stared at him. “How so, David? What kind of problems?”

  “I’ve found her to be insubordinate at times.”

  “You talk as if you’re a military commander and the servants your soldiers.”

  “I just mean—”

  “Never mind, David. Just tell me. Do you have any idea what Rita might have been talking about? Whether or not there really was an intruder in the house, what could she have meant when she said I should know about what’s going on under my roof?”

  “I have no idea. You shouldn’t take anything Rita says seriously. I’m telling you. She’s an unstable girl.”

  Liz sighed. “Well, the idea of intruders does worry me. After all, I still feel certain I saw that woman on the grounds.”

  “Then by all means, let’s have Thad search the place.”

  “He’s gone home for the night.”

  “Then I’ll search, if it makes you feel better.”

  Liz sighed again. “No, it doesn’t matter. I suppose you’re right that I’m being silly.” She tried to smile and take his hand. “Let’s just go to bed. Tonight really wore me out. Those people are quite the crew. I could use your arms around me.”

  But David ignored her outstretched hand as he stood up from the couch. “No, no, no, I’m going to search around the house. Now you have me worried. If something’s going on under our roof, I should find out what it is.”

  Liz frowned. “I thought you just said we shouldn’t take anything Rita says seriously.”

  David kissed her quickly on the forehead. “You go on to bed, darling. I’ll be up in a while. I’ll look around the place just to make sure. I’m too revved up to sleep right away, anyway. Paul Delacorte filled my ear all night with talk about the company’s stocks.”

  Liz wanted to add, while his hand was on my knee, but she refrained.

  “All right, David,” she said. “But don’t be long, okay?”

  “I’ll see you shortly, darling.” He kissed her forehead again.

  Liz watched as he hurr
ied out into the corridor.

  She switched off the lights in the parlor. She could hear the last of the dishes being put away in the kitchen and the pantry. The dining table was completely cleared off and polished. There was no evidence of a dinner party ever having taken place. David’s foot soldiers were an efficient army. They’d all be going home now, Liz knew, except Mrs. Hoffman and Variola, who would retire to their rooms in the back of the house before getting up tomorrow and starting all over again. Liz wondered if she would ever feel like this was her home, and not some hotel she’d wandered into by mistake. Tonight had been difficult all the way around. The interaction with the Delacortes and the Merriwells had been bad enough, but that strange episode with Rita had left Liz with all sorts of questions, questions she couldn’t even quite formulate in her mind. It all left her with a rumbling feeling of unease and distrust. She thought the only thing that might console her would be David’s arms around her as she fell asleep, but now he was out wandering around the house. She hoped he wouldn’t be long.

  She started up the stairs.

  44

  “Have all the servants gone home?” David asked, striding into the kitchen.

  Variola looked up from the last of her tasks for the night, wrapping the remnants of her dessert pudding and placing them in the refrigerator. Across the room, Mrs. Hoffman, standing stiffly like a sentinel, also looked over at their employer.

  “Yes,” Mrs. Hoffman answered. “The last of them just left.”

  “All right,” David said. “I need to speak with you both.”

  “Has your wife gone upstairs?” Variola asked, approaching.

  David nodded. “She can’t hear us.”

  “She is a smart lady,” Variola said. “Smarter than one thinks, upon first meeting her.”

  “Liz is indeed very smart,” David agreed. “That’s why I must know what’s going on here.”

  “Going on?” Mrs. Hoffman asked, in that plastic, robotic way of hers. “What do you mean, sir?”

  “I mean,” David said, his sharp, intense eyes moving between the two women, “I want to be assured that what happened before will not happen again. If the two of you are still playing your silly games . . .”