ShadowsintheMist

by Maureen McMahon

  I suddenly felt an overwhelming need to get away—away from that room, away from the memories, away from Rudy.

  “Well, thanks for the coffee,” I said as I stood up and backed toward the door. “And thanks for the chat.”

  Rudy didn’t move, just nodded, turning to gaze out the window as I fumbled with the doorknob and escaped into the fresh freedom of outdoors. I ran back across the field as fast as I could, certain I could feel his eyes burning into my back all the way.

  At least, something Rudy said made sense—there was no telling what can of worms I might open. I’d opened too many already.

  Chapter Thirteen

  The seal is set. Now welcome, thou dread power!

  Nameless, yet thus omnipotent, which here

  Walk’st in the shadow of the midnight hour

  With a deep awe, yet all distinct from fear;

  Thy haunts are ever where the dead walls rear

  Their ivy mantles and the solemn scene

  Derives from thee a sense so deep and clear

  That we become a part of what has been,

  And grow unto the spot, all-seeing but unseen.

  George Gordon Byron, Childe Harold’s Pilgrimage, canto 4, stanza 145

  When I went to visit Jenny, I was surprised to find her room empty. I was told she was transferred to another hospital but no one could—or would—tell me which one. Her mother was also reticent, unwilling to speak to me at all. When I went to her home to visit her, she left the chain lock fastened and peered out through the crack of the door. She told me Jenny was much improved and was recuperating but couldn’t say when she’d be coming home.

  “I’d like to see her,” I said.

  Mrs. Hampton shook her head. “She can’t have visitors,” she said. “At least, not for a few weeks. Doctor’s orders.” She wouldn’t discuss it further and closed the door with barely a civil goodbye.

  In the car on the way home, I puzzled over the mystery. Perhaps Jenny was transferred for her own protection. After all, whoever shot her was still very much on the loose. I preferred to believe this and not that Mrs. Hampton considered me a threat. Her attitude, however, worried me. It was one of mistrust and something else—something very much like fear.

  * * * * *

  Halloween arrived sooner than I’d hoped. It dawned bright and sunny, despite a pronounced chill in the air. The weather was probably the only aspect of the day Alicia couldn’t organize. She’d buzzed around the house over the past weeks with a vitality that I didn’t think her capable of. She even looked healthier and I wondered if it was because she was in control of her addiction. I knew she now attended therapy sessions at a drug rehabilitation clinic once a week. The hospital was very strict about this. Surprisingly, she didn’t seem to mind. She was now immersed in her role as hostess to what she called “the party of the year” and I had to admire her industry.

  The house took on a very real Halloween atmosphere. Sheaves of cornstalks tied with huge orange ribbons fronted by grinning jack-o’-lanterns graced the corners of the rooms. Crêpe bats dangled from chandeliers and ceilings, while yards of white gauzy material draped makeshift frames to resemble ghostly specters. Black cats with fiery red eyes, witches on broomsticks and ghoulish monsters were painted on the windows and a full-sized skeleton sat on the piano stool wearing an incongruous top hat and tailcoat, as though ready to entertain.

  All the guests had responded and I was surprised to learn most of them were coming. I supposed the recent media hype regarding Dirkston Enterprises and the family had a lot to do with it. I was glad Alicia had found a sense of purpose but I’d be happy when the whole affair was over. I still felt it was too soon after two tragic deaths for this sort of festivity.

  Grant was gone for the past week, this time to Washington DC on business—or so he said. Darla had gone with him—a relief in one way but irksome in another. I didn’t like to think of her having all that time alone with Grant.

  David and Colin were preoccupied with the marina. David flew to Chicago to consult their accountant, while Colin prepared for the onset of winter, poring over new advertising campaigns and making endless lists of repairs, equipment and improvements that were needed. All three men assured Alicia they’d be back in time for the party but I had my doubts.

  I didn’t mind having a few days to myself for a change. I didn’t realize how stifling it was to have either David or Grant hovering at my elbow. I tried to ignore Rudy’s lurking presence at the estate. Since our conversation, I felt I hardly knew him and it made me uneasy.

  The lethargy and tiredness that had plagued me ever since the evening of my spell, as everyone now called it, was easing. For the first time in weeks, I felt my strength returning. I cancelled an appointment I’d made to see a doctor. I was relatively certain it was just some potent viral attack.

  When I came downstairs, Alicia was already on the phone to the caterer. I waved as I passed and she gave a distracted smile. I followed the aroma of fresh-brewed coffee wafting from the kitchen.

  Lottie was standing in the middle of the room, hands on hips, scowling, as she gazed at her domain. Every available surface was covered with food—platters heaped with delicacies sporting colorful toothpicks, crustless sandwich wedges, fruits, vegetables—all perfectly wrapped in cellophane.

  “Now you tell me, Miss Suzanna, how’m I s’posed t’ get anything done in here?”

  I smiled. “Maybe you shouldn’t bother. Why don’t you take the day off? I think Alicia is having fun running the circus.”

  “Well…” Lottie shook her head doubtfully.

  “She’s having a catering firm supply most of the food and drink. This is only the start. I understand it’ll take three trips. By the time they’re set up, no one will be able to fit in here.”

  “Well…” she repeated, her lips pursed. “If you’re sure you won’t need me?”

  I smiled and hugged her. “We’ll always need you, Lottie. But I don’t think you’d be able to stand what they’re going to do to your kitchen. Go home and have a rest.”

  She nodded and smiled. “All right, Miss Suzanna, I might jes’ do that.” She looked around the kitchen once more and sighed. “Never thought I’d see th’ day I couldn’t call this room my own!”

  After Lottie left, I poured my coffee and took it upstairs. It seemed to be the only part of the house that didn’t look like a scene from a horror movie. When I reached the upper hall, I was surprised to see Martha shutting the door to my room. Martha firmly respected our privacy and never entered our bedrooms unless invited.

  “Martha?”

  She whirled, startled and put a hand to her chest.

  “Suzanna, you scared the daylights out of me!”

  “Is there something you’re looking for?” I asked, curious.

  She blinked. “No, dear. No. I was… Well, I did knock and you didn’t answer, so I thought… I know it’s silly but since Alicia’s…um…accident, I’ve been worried.” She dropped her eyes and I could see she was embarrassed.

  I smiled and placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. “Don’t worry, I’m not the overdosing type.”

  “Oh, no! I didn’t mean…” She put a hand on my arm. “It’s just…there’s been so many accidents.”

  I nodded. “Yes, I see what you mean. Thanks for your concern.” I bent down to stroke Kong, who’d appeared from nowhere and was rubbing himself against my shins. “Is there something you wanted me for?”

  “No. Nothing really,” she said. “I just thought since you haven’t been feeling too well these past few weeks, maybe you’d like to sleep in and have breakfast in your room.”

  I smiled. “You really are trying to spoil me! Actually, I feel pretty good today. I must’ve finally shaken whatever it was.”

  “Well, that’s good news, dear. Anyway, I’d best be getting downstairs. Alicia has a list of things a mile long for me to do.”

  “Don’t you let her overwork you,” I called after her.

  K
ong led the way into my room. I put my coffee cup down, went to the wardrobe and took out the altered wedding dress I was compelled to wear that evening. Kong stood outside the closet and meowed.

  “What’s the matter, Kong? Don’t you like it?” I asked, amused.

  He yowled again, then got up and went into the closet. I was intrigued as he stood up on his hind legs and stretched his front paws up the front of the set of drawers on one side of the hanging clothes. I followed the direction of his stretch and suddenly felt a chill of apprehension.

  Pulling over a chair, I climbed up and felt along the shelf at the top of the closet, sighing with relief as my hand touched the box I’d hidden there some days ago. I pulled it out and carried it over to my bed. My mother’s journals were inside. I gazed at them, puzzled. Something wasn’t right. I was sure I put them in order before placing them in the box.

  Now the most recent journal was on top instead of on the bottom. I took it out and thumbed through it. The blank page facing the section where the pages had been ripped out stared up at me. There, scrawled with thick black marker in large childish lettering, were the words, Get out while you still can!

  I sat down on the bed. I felt as though a heavy weight lay on my chest, making it difficult to breathe. Blood pounded in my ears. Reality hit me with the full force of a falling boulder. This was danger—no longer ambiguous, no longer uncertain. This was a direct threat and it was meant for me!

  I put the book down with shaking hands and tried to think. Could Martha have done this? My mind wanted to reject such a ridiculous premise but the facts were there. She was just in my room. But anyone could have been in my room, logic reasoned. There was nothing to show when this message was put in the book. I hadn’t looked at the journals for at least two weeks.

  Questions flooded in. Why was the message scrawled in the journal? Why not left in a note in full view where the perpetrator could be sure I’d see it? Perhaps for the very purpose of veiling the time. Whoever had put it here was willing to take the chance I might never see it—or else that person knew me well enough to know I’d bring the journals out again soon.

  Who had access to my room? I had to admit anyone could’ve done it. As far as I could remember, I spoke to only three people about the journals—David, Martha and Grant. But they could’ve told anyone else.

  I told Grant about them in the car on the way to Leland. I also told him I’d burned them but I wasn’t certain he believed me.

  Martha had always known the journals existed. She was the one who put them in the attic in the first place. I recently spoke to her about them. She could easily deduce I brought them down to my room.

  I also discussed my suspicions regarding my mother’s entries in the journals with David. He listened but didn’t appear to be interested.

  I stood up. I had to face it—anyone or everyone might know about the journals, so I was back where I started. I’d have to take the journal to the police. They’d know what to do. They might even be able to employ a handwriting analyst, though I didn’t hold out much hope there. Whoever wrote the words wouldn’t be doing so in his or her regular hand.

  There was a knock at the door. I thrust the journal into its box and put the box back onto the top shelf, replacing the chair and shutting the wardrobe. Then I opened the door.

  “Suzanna, you’ve got to help me!” It was Alicia. “I’ve just had a call from Madam Valenia. She’s here, Suzanna, right here in Ludington! I’ve told her to come right out. She needs time to absorb the atmosphere of the house, she says. I just don’t know what to do. I’ve got the caterers coming at one o’clock and I’ll have to give them their instructions and help set up the bar.

  “I haven’t even finished my costume yet.” She paused and looked at me curiously. “Are you all right? You look as pale as a ghost!” She laughed. “But I suppose that’ll help you fit right in, eh?”

  I ignored the quip. “I’ll take care of Madam what’s-her-name, Alicia. You go finish what you were doing. Try to take it easy. You’ll end up back in the hospital if you don’t slow down.”

  She flashed me a broad grin. “Oh, no, darling, no more white walls for me. This is just what I need!” She turned and disappeared down the stairs.

  The police, I thought with distraction, would have to wait.

  * * * * *

  Madam Valenia wasn’t what I’d term your typical clairvoyant. I expected crimson robes, bangles, beads and dark gypsy features but the woman I met at the door surprised me. She was younger than I expected, or perhaps she merely gave the impression of youth. Either way, her face was smooth and unlined with a porcelain complexion and fresh, natural beauty.

  She was very petite, no taller than five feet, with long blonde hair tied back by a gold ribbon. She wore an expensive white woolen pantsuit with a high-collared black silk blouse. Her jewelry was impressive but tasteful—gold earrings with moonstone, a gold chain at her throat and a gold watch with a thin band that accentuated her delicate wrist.

  The only thing that could be construed as remotely ostentatious was the huge square ruby that flashed from a solitary ring on her finger. She smiled at me and stretched out her hand. I took it in stunned silence.

  “You’re surprised,” she said. Her voice was delicate with a musical lilt.

  “Yes,” I said, regaining some composure. “I was expecting… I mean, I thought…”

  “Don’t be embarrassed.” Her hazel eyes twinkled. “It’s a very common misconception. Television and cinema have a lot to answer for.”

  I smiled. I liked her immediately.

  “Come in,” I said, standing aside. “I’m Suzanna Dirkston. Alicia asked me to show you around. Would you like to freshen up? We’ve set aside a room for you.”

  “Actually, I’ve just come from the hotel. I make it a rule not to stay at my place of focus. It is often…mmm…disruptive. But I’d like to put my things somewhere, if that’s all right?”

  I looked down at the large leather case and nodded. Together, we took it upstairs to a guest room not far from my own.

  Afterward, we went on a tour of the house and grounds. Valenia, as she preferred to be called, was interested in everything. Her eyes devoured the details of each room. Her small, graceful fingers trailed across furniture, walls, decorations and woodwork. I could almost see her absorb the essence of the house and I couldn’t help but admire her capacity for information. Deep down, however, I was still skeptical.

  When we reached the den, she stopped dead and I looked at her, puzzled. “Is something wrong?”

  She held up a hand and her eyes roamed around the room. She then strode across to the sliding doors and looked out at the pool.

  “There was violence here?” she asked.

  “Well, yes and no,” I replied. “My father died a few months ago. As you’ve probably heard, it was an accident. He struck his head on the side of the pool. But violence? Not really.”

  It was a lie but the media wasn’t privy to the murder investigation and I wouldn’t be the first to mention it. For all I knew, Valenia might be fishing for information.

  She turned and looked at me and I could see she was skeptical. But she didn’t pursue the subject, gesturing instead toward the pool, now hidden beneath its winter cover. “May I have a look?”

  “By all means,” I said and followed her out onto the patio.

  The wind was cold and I shivered, watching as she made her way around the pool. At one point, she bent and placed a hand palm-down on the surface of the paving, closing her eyes as though in meditation. It struck me how angelic she looked with her soft blonde hair wisping out from its ribbon like a halo and her creamy skin almost translucent in the sunshine. Finally, she stood up, frowning and stared off into the distance.

  Kong wandered out of the shrubbery and padded across the patio to her side. He sat down next to her and curled his tail around his legs. After a few moments, Valenia turned her head and looked down at him. She smiled. “Ah, there you are,” she said sof
tly and bent to stroke the cat. He purred and arched his back to her fingers. She looked at me. “He is for you,” she said.

  I didn’t understand what she meant but before I could ask, I heard the door open behind me and was surprised to see David.

  “Suzanna!” His greeting was warm and he caught me around the waist, giving me a quick kiss. “Did you miss me?” he murmured.

  I pulled away, embarrassed. Wouldn’t the tabloids like a photo of this? “David, this is Valenia De Luna, the clairvoyant.”

  David squinted against the sun, then flashed a broad. “Ah, our entertainment, eh?” He held out his hand. “Pleased to meet you, Madam!”

  “Valenia, please,” she corrected, taking his hand. Then, she turned to me, frowning. “Suzanna, if you don’t mind, I think I might go to my room for a few moments. I’m feeling a bit tired.”

  “Of course,” I said. “Are you all right? Can I get you anything?”

  She shook her head. I could see weariness and tension in her face. “No, nothing. I’ll be all right after a quick rest. Please don’t worry. I often feel overwhelmed at the start. I just need time to assimilate. You needn’t come. I can find the way.” She nodded to David and disappeared into the house.

  “Was it something I said?” David asked.

  I gazed after her. “Perhaps it was something you did.”

  “What do you mean?”

  I sighed. “Oh, David, you remember what Grant said about creating further scandal.”

  “What scandal?” he asked. “What’s wrong with giving a close friend a kiss?”

  I looked at him and could see the irritation on his face and I knew without a doubt it was plain and simple jealousy. This time, however, instead of feeling pleased, I felt pity.

  “All right,” I said. “I’m sorry.” I went to him and reached up and kissed him. “I did miss you,” I lied. “How was the trip? Did you sort out all your problems?”

  He wrapped his arms around me, assuaged. “The trip was boring. I was stuck for three hours at O’Hare because of flight delays. The accountant was late for the meeting. But I think we’re finally seeing some light at the end of the tunnel. If we can just put in a good season this year, we might even see our way out of the red. How about you? Any problems while I was gone?”