I pulled away from him gently. “No, not really.” I wouldn’t tell him about the message in the journal. I wanted to take that particular information to the police before I told anyone. “I’ll just be glad when this party is over,” I said.
“Yes,” he agreed. “Alicia will certainly be in her element! But I don’t really go in for big shindigs. Especially so soon after…” He put his hands in his pockets and turned to look out over the lake.
I placed a hand on his arm. “I know,” I said with feeling.
He looked down at me and I saw the pain of grief in his eyes. He nodded. “You’re probably the only one who really does know,” he said.
I went back into his arms and we held each other, finding comfort in the sharing of loss.
* * * * *
Guests began arriving throughout the afternoon. The majority of them were from out of town and once they checked into hotels, motels or bed-and-breakfasts came directly to Beacon. It was like a great reunion where I was the odd man out. I knew very few faces and fewer names. Some of the guests were quite famous in their own right and arrived in limousines, having flown in by private plane or jet.
It was probably one of the biggest events in the history of this small, unassuming area but because we were meticulously careful to avoid publicity, there were, as yet, no reporters or camera crews. Still, we’d hired additional security—four more men, two to check visitors at the house and two to roam the grounds at random and keep an eye on the beach access. It wouldn’t be the first time the media tried to sneak pictures of Beacon parties by approaching via the beach. We didn’t want any surprises today.
The ballroom was opened up for the first time in years and though usually cold even in summer, tonight it glowed. There was a raised dais at one end where a string quartet now provided background music for the guests milling about. There was indirect lighting along the walls, while two enormous crystal chandeliers lit the dance floor like something out of Cinderella. Later, the string quartet would be replaced by a dance band.
The costumes so far were stunning. Already there were four vampires, three witches, a banshee, a hunchback, three Frankensteins and at least two aliens. I felt somewhat unremarkable in my mother’s white wedding dress. Alicia had helped me with makeup, powdering my face and hands so my skin was deathly white, brushing dark shadow around my eyes to give them a sunken look and painting my lips blood-red. I refused to wear the fake fangs. It was impossible to speak clearly with them and I felt they were too childish.
Alicia looked magnificent in a black gauzy creation that clung to her thin frame from neck to ankle. A filmy shroud covered her head and face and draped over long sleeves, also hung with black, cobweb-like veiling. She carried a long cigarette holder and her nails were painted black. She looked like a macabre wraith, drifting from group to group as though on roller skates. I could tell she was enjoying herself, even though she only lifted the veil occasionally to sip a drink or eat a tidbit.
Velenia appeared as the antithesis to Alicia, dressed in a flowing white caftan with golden serpents at her wrists and around her forehead and golden sandals on her feet. She truly looked like a goddess.
David was quite handsome dressed as Don Quixote with a black, red-satin lined cape and form-fitting black tights and doublet. His blond hair, however, looked somewhat incongruous beneath the jaunty plumed hat. I couldn’t help smiling.
“Is it that bad?” he asked, concerned.
“No, no,” I said, chuckling. “You look wonderful! I was just noticing your fair hair. I’d never thought of Don Quixote as a blond.”
He smiled. “I had a wig but it was one of those curled white pompous affairs and I absolutely refused. Alicia thought this up.”
“Yes. She has a talent for it, doesn’t she?” I said with sarcasm. I let my gaze wander around the room. “Have you seen Colin? Or Grant? I thought they promised to be here.”
He shook his head. “I haven’t seen Grant but Colin is getting dressed right now. Wait until you see what Alicia has come up with for him!”
I didn’t have long to wait. Five minutes later, I looked up to see Colin descending the stairs, a huge scowl on his face, wearing a voluminous pink-frilled, floor-length dress, a long blonde wig and carrying a shepherd’s crook. It was too much for me. I burst out laughing. Colin turned at the sound and glared at me before Alicia drifted up to claim him and integrate him into a chattering group near the base of the stairs. David was turned aside to hide his own smile.
“Little Bo Peep?” I chortled.
“It’s Alicia’s way of getting even, I think,” David answered. He glanced at his watch. “They’re planning a séance in a few minutes. I think I’ll make myself scarce and check on the new security guards. I don’t think I could stand sitting through all that hocus-pocus nonsense. Do you mind?”
“No, not at all. Maybe I should go with you?”
He shook his head. “No, you stay. You might enjoy it. Besides, one of us should keep an eye on Alicia—just to make sure she doesn’t overdo, if you know what I mean. I don’t think Colin really notices.”
I nodded seeing the sense in this. I’d been watching Alicia. It seemed she was only drinking apple cider but I was certain she’d be strongly tempted to take something alcoholic. Besides, I was curious to see how Madam Valenia operated, despite my reservations. I’d never attended a professionally conducted séance.
* * * * *
The séance itself was limited to ten people, all of whom were nominated by Alicia. The rest of the party moved to the ballroom where a variety of semi-famous musicians with names like Nudist Monks, Nuked Kittens and Hell’s Toilet were already performing. I was glad I could temporarily escape this dubious entertainment by joining in the séance.
The chosen ten assembled in the living room. Cushions were placed in a circle in the middle of the floor and candles were lit to create an aura of mystery and suspense. I sat next to the skeleton on the piano bench observing the people assembling. Alicia chatted with Robert and Louisa Masterson, both out-of-work actors dressed as Henry VIII and Anne Boleyn.
Colin, who’d discarded his wig and crook, stood near the fireplace sipping a large glass of bourbon. He looked understandably uncomfortable. He had never learned to enjoy Alicia’s crowd of people and, dressed as he was, must’ve felt ridiculous. I silently applauded him, though. It took a certain strength of character to be put on display in such a manner.
There was Jonathan Hutchins, the famous hairdresser, as the Scarlet Pimpernel, complete with lace-cuffed shirt, tailcoat, buff-colored leggings, red-velvet knee-high boots and an elaborate powdered wig. He was chatting with Edna Murcheson, a costume designer. She was a rotund lady, who despite her profession, had made little effort on her own costume. She wore a voluminous multicolored batik caftan with matching turban wound around her head and fastened with a huge shimmering blue brooch. From what I heard, she helped with many of the costumes worn by others and most probably gleaned satisfaction from those.
Alicia excused herself from her friends and hurried over to me. “Suzanna, where’s Grant? He and Darla are supposed to make up the rest of the party.”
“I haven’t seen either of them. Have they come back from Chicago?”
“Yes. I saw them ten minutes ago. Oh, thank God! Here they are.” She hurried off with a swish of veils.
Grant and Darla stood in the doorway gazing about the room. Grant had chosen the old west as his motif and was dressed in boots, buckskins and sporting a Stetson hat. He’d even managed to find some very real-looking six-shooters that were slung low on his hips.
Darla was the perfect saloon girl in a red-flounced, form-fitting dress that revealed more of her bosom than it covered. She had one side of her hair pulled back and fastened with an artificial rose.
They both caught my eye at the same time. Grant winked and smiled. Darla lifted the corners of her mouth and slipped her hand through the crook of Grant’s arm.
“I think we’re all here.�
� Valenia’s quiet voice somehow penetrated the din of multiple conversations. “Why don’t you all choose a cushion? Please try to keep the circle as closed as possible. I shall sit here at the end. Alicia, perhaps you could get the lights?”
With much chuckling and groaning, we did as directed. Alicia pulled the doors shut and lit candles around the room with a long taper. There was one large candle in the center of our circle. It was already dark outside, so there was no need to draw the drapes. Valenia sat very erect and poised, her face relaxed, her eyes shut.
“You should’ve worn that dress at our wedding, Suzie,” Grant said, taking the cushion next to mine.
“A bit too elegant for signing a short-term partnership agreement, don’t you think? And it’s Suzanna.”
He smiled and his teeth were very white in the flickering candlelight. “Better watch what you say. These guns are real, you know.”
“Be careful not to shoot your foot off then—although that’d probably be difficult, considering it’s usually in your mouth.”
“Are we all ready?” Valenia asked.
Alicia squirmed into her place between Colin and me and nodded.
“We must join hands to form an unbroken chain. It’s easier for the other world to speak through us if we present a strong channel. Please take the hand of the persons on either side of you and don’t let go for any reason or the channel will be broken.”
I took Alicia’s hand. It was clammy and cold and my misgivings returned. Despite her seemingly happy-go-lucky attitude, she was nervous. Grant’s hand was warm and strong and I felt comforted.
“We must be silent. We must concentrate. Watch the candle. Open your minds. Allow the other world to speak.” Valenia sat very straight and still. I could see the flame dance in her eyes. The other faces around the circle were cast in ghoulish shadow. I shivered. Grant’s hand squeezed mine.
The room was hushed except for quiet breathing. There was the dull thrum of the music from the other side of the house but it only seemed to accentuate the silence in the room. I stared at the candle flame, letting my thoughts drift, fascinated by the dance and flicker of the yellow glow and the thin line of smoke rising from its point.
Valenia began to speak even more softly than before, a dull monotone, soothing to the ear. “We are open to you. We are here. Come to us. Speak to us. We are open.”
Her voice lulled me. The candlelight drew me. I felt my breathing slow. Alicia’s hand was relaxed in mine.
“I feel a great warmth.” Valenia’s voice didn’t change its pitch. “Is there someone there? Speak to us. We are open.”
My eyes were feeling heavy. The candle flame blurred. Valenia’s voice droned on. I couldn’t keep my eyes open any longer. I shut them and felt myself float free and drift away into blessed darkness.
* * * * *
“Suzanna, wake up!”
I groaned and opened my eyes to a blinding glare. I raised a hand to shield my eyes. Faces were grouped above me. The chandelier bored light into my brain making my head throb.
“Give her some water, someone. Suzanna, are you all right?”
“Yes…yes, I think so. What happened?”
I struggled to sit up, placing a hand to my throbbing temples. Someone shoved a glass of water under my nose and I took it, my hands trembling.
Alicia squatted in front of me, her eyes as big as saucers. “You said, ‘Don’t let them get away with it,’ Suzanna. What did you mean?”
“She’s been under a lot of stress.” This was Grant’s voice.
“But her voice! It was so deep—like a man’s!” Jonathan Hutchins was obviously awestruck.
“Suzanna.” I looked at Grant. His eyes were wary. “Do you remember anything?”
I frowned. “No, not really. I remember the candle and Valenia’s voice. Then I remember feeling very, very tired and I closed my eyes and…and then I woke up.”
“It isn’t uncommon for the other world to choose its own channel.” Valenia seemed unconcerned. “You’ll be all right in a moment. Drink the water.”
I did as she said, realizing my throat was parched.
“I felt a presence in this house the moment I came,” she said. “Perhaps more than one. I also felt a strong frustration. There is a great need here. Does the message mean anything to any of you?”
There was a great deal of low muttering but no one seemed to want to suggest anything. It was Alicia who said what was in everyone’s minds. “Perhaps it was Giles—or Leo,” she said, her voice shaking. “Perhaps he’s telling us he was murdered!” The last word came out a bit too high-pitched—strained.
Grant turned to Colin and murmured something. Colin nodded, dazed and went to Alicia, coaxing her to her feet and escorting her from the room. She was sobbing and leaned heavily on his arm.
Valenia extended a hand to me and I stood up. I felt better and my head was clear. She smiled. “You’ve missed your calling,” she said, then turned to the others. “We’re finished. Thank you all for your cooperation. I too, am feeling a bit tired. I will go to my room.”
With Valenia’s departure, the rest of the company began to disperse with curious backward glances in my direction. I took my empty glass over to the table, still confused and more than a little concerned. Why couldn’t I remember? And what was it about the message that rang a bell?
“That was an excellent performance, Suzie.” Grant stood at my elbow, his mouth twisted in wry amusement.
“What do you mean?”
“Oh, come now! Are you going to say you and Madam Valenia didn’t put this whole concoction together this afternoon?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
He shrugged. “Right. Well, suit yourself. But I think it was a pretty insensitive thing to do to Alicia.”
I was too astounded to do anything but gape at him.
“Grant, I could really use a drink. How about you?” Darla beckoned from the doorway.
“Yeah, a double—on the rocks,” he said and left before I could gather my wits.
His accusation hurt. And worst of all, there was no way I could prove him wrong. I wondered if Grant was alone in his belief, or if everyone suspected I staged the episode. This was too much!
The news would spread quickly throughout the rest of the party and I’d be a laughingstock. I needed to get away from them all. I needed to talk to David.
* * * * *
The night was cool and I regretted not grabbing a jacket. I stood on the sandy bluff at the top of the beach steps, staring out across the inky expanse. The wind was strong, moaning morosely, setting the reeds and grasses shivering. The house behind me was lit like a birthday cake. The sound of music and laughter, the clink of glasses and the gabble of voices drifted out, muted by distance. I wrapped my arms around myself and searched the beach. David must be out here somewhere, unless he went back in during the séance and was hiding out upstairs.
I was just about to turn and go when a light caught my eye. I stared through the dark and saw it again—just a flash, then gone. I frowned. It was coming from the room at the top of the lighthouse. No one should be up there. The entrance was boarded up long ago, the structure itself deemed unsafe. Leo would’ve had it pulled down years ago, if not for the local historical association who were trying to raise enough revenue to restore it. If one of the guests had decided to do some exploring, they could very well end up hurt.
I wondered briefly where the security guards were as I hurried down the steps and across the beach, making my way to the rocky spit. I could hear the waves breaking against the outer rocks. I stood on the rocks and peered up the sheer walls to the small walkway with a balustrade that ringed the top. There was a window just below it and I could make out a dull glow coming from within.
I had to feel my way across the rocks. I wished I had a flashlight but I reasoned if I went back for one, whoever was in there might be in trouble before I could warn them. My dress hindered my progress. I pulled the white skirt as h
igh as possible and tied it up on one side to keep it from encumbering my movements. I was glad I wore flat shoes.
The entrance appeared untouched. All the boards were in place. I pulled at them. One whole side was loosened and came away easily leaving a good-sized gap to squeeze through.
Don’t let them get away with it! The message replayed in my mind. Where had it come from? Why had I said it?
And why now, of all times, did it suddenly fill my head? Then I remembered. It was Rudy Coleman who said those same words—words spoken by my father in a ghastly dream. Coincidence? I shivered and reached a hand out in the dark interior to touch a heavy spider web. I must concentrate on what I was doing. There’d be time later to ponder that incident.
The moonlight fell across the stone floor through the gap where I entered, barely illuminating the winding staircase. The steps were stone, set against the wall, circling up into the blackness above. I started up, one hand on the wall, the other on a banister that felt none too secure. I heard a faint scuffling coming from above. I should call out—there was no need for me to go up at all. But something kept me mute. Some inner voice bade me to go slowly, carefully and most of all, quietly.
I crept on, feeling with each step, keeping as close to the wall as possible. I soon stopped holding the railing. It was very loose and there were huge sections missing altogether. The darkness was all-consuming, stifling—like the air, which was stale and musty, heavy with mildew and mold. The wall under my hand was damp and furred, fissured with cracks that attested to the deterioration of the foundation.
By the time I was halfway up, my heart was beating uncontrollably and I had to pause, a cold sweat beginning to dampen my palms and underarms. I knew now why I didn’t call up. The movements above weren’t reckless. There was no laughter or raucous noise as one would expect from people who may have left the party for a bit of exploration. Whoever was here, was here for a purpose and instinct told me he or she wouldn’t welcome discovery.
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