Never Sleep With Strangers

by Heather Graham

  She’d been a fool. He was a murderer.

  “Damn it!” he whispered to her furiously. “Don’t be ridiculous. I didn’t do this. I only found her now because Reggie must have had a heart attack stumbling upon the truth down here herself. She left us a clue. R-I-P-P-E-R, written in the dust. I’ve got to get her to a hospital, get help up here and get the rest of us out. She knows who the killer is. Reggie knows, do you understand?”

  As he spoke, Sabrina could still see Susan. See her throat. However had they missed this? That the vicious slash, and the blood, were real? How had they not seen it before?

  Because the wax figures were so good, so real. You had to be right on top of this, you had to be smelling this to realize. Nothing had been different here, nothing at all…except that wax had become flesh, and paint had become blood.

  Jon hadn’t done it. So he said. But if he had done it, he could strangle her here and now….

  His hand was easing from her mouth. “I’ve got to get moving.”

  “What are we going to do? Tell the others?”

  “We have to. If we don’t let everyone know that we’re aware Susan is dead, Reggie alive becomes even more dangerous to the killer.”

  He took her by the hand, and they rushed up the steps. Jon burst into the library. V.J., Tom and Dianne were absent, upstairs in Reggie’s room. The others were all present.

  Jon looked around at them. “We’ve found Susan,” he said simply.

  “Is she—?”

  “Dead,” Jon announced.

  Anna Lee stood uncertainly. “Not another heart attack?”

  “No. She was murdered. Her throat was slashed.”

  “Where?” Thayer demanded. “Why didn’t we find her body before?”

  “Because she’s in the Jack the Ripper tableau,” Jon said.

  “Lord!” Joshua exclaimed. He had been drinking tea by the fire. He set down his cup, stood and raced for the stairs.

  “Wait!” Jon called, following him. “Wait, Josh, don’t touch her! I’m going to get the police in here!”

  But Joshua was on his way down the stairs, Jon and Thayer right after him. Joshua reached the tableau and touched Susan before they could stop him. They pulled him back, and he let out a horrible, keening sound. “Oh, my God, oh, my God…”

  Sabrina had followed but remained in the doorway. Anna Lee, at her side, started to cry. “Oh, God, oh, hell, oh, God, oh…I’m going to be sick.”

  She turned around, hand clamped over her mouth, heading for the ladies’ room.

  “Don’t! Don’t touch her! No one touch her!” Jon said forcefully. “Joe, Thayer, help me get Josh out of here. Camy, get Dianne. Everyone, out of here!”

  He ushered them all out and closed the doors. Sabrina was still feeling sick herself. She met his eyes, and he reached out a hand to her. She hesitated just briefly, then took it.

  Camy had an arm around Anne Lee. Together, they headed up the steps. They moved into the library like automatons.

  Jon poured Anna Lee a drink, handed it to her. He looked at Camy. “You all right?”

  She nodded. “I need a brandy, but I’ll get it. We’ll all get drinks.”

  “Get your drinks, and lock yourselves into your rooms. Now. Before I go,” Jon told them.

  “What about V.J., Tom and Dianne?” Joe queried.

  “They’re together. V.J. can’t be guilty. I would never have noticed Reggie’s faint pulse if it weren’t for her,” Jon said.

  “But what about Dianne?” Joe asked.

  “Whoever killed Susan killed Cassie. You can make up whatever scenarios you want, but Dianne drove me crazy to do this Mystery Week again. She isn’t a killer. She certainly didn’t kill her own mother. So the rest of you get to your own rooms and lock yourselves in.”

  “Can I lock in with Joe?” Anna Lee asked softly. “If you’ll have me,” she said to Joe.

  Joe smiled. “Sure, you know I will.”

  “Everyone up,” Jon said.

  They started up the stairs, paired off. Jon asked Joshua to explain the situation to Tom, V.J. and Dianne, and directed Camy to go up and tell Jennie and the girls to keep themselves locked in as well.

  Joe and Anna Lee walked, hand in hand, to Joe’s room.

  “Guess you don’t want me guarding Sabrina?” Brett said hopefully.

  “Guess you’d better both just lock your doors,” Jon said.

  Brett stopped Sabrina. “You know I’m not a killer. A womanizer, yes. But not a killer. If you do need help while hero-man is away…” He left it at that and went into his own room.

  Jon came into Sabrina’s room with her. He wedged a heavy chair in front of the panel leading to the secret passageway, then hit a brick in the fireplace that caused another brick—with a drawer behind it—to pop out. A small pistol lay inside.

  “Know how to use a gun?” he asked her. She shook her head. He picked up the revolver and demonstrated. “The safety is off. Grab, aim, pull the trigger. Aim, pull the trigger. It’s a six-shooter.”

  She nodded, moistening her lips. He set the gun back in the drawer and shoved the stone back into place.

  “Open it for me,” he told her.

  She did.

  He nodded, then drew her into his arms and kissed her hard. “I’m sorry, so damn sorry!” he said after a moment. “I should have ended this whole week long ago.”

  “And let a killer get away? To kill and kill again? This killer is psychotic. Maybe he can be caught now.”

  “And Susan is dead, and Reggie may die.”

  “God forgive me, no one deserves a brutal death, but Susan obviously knew something, and she should have told us all what it was. And Reggie—”

  “Reggie is one of the finest people I know,” he said.

  “And she may live.”

  “As may we.” His eyes studied hers. “This isn’t a great time, but you do have a way of disappearing on me, and so let me at least get the question in. Will you marry me?”

  She opened her mouth to reply, but he set a finger on her lips. “Don’t answer yet. Wait until I get back.”

  “Oh, God, it’s so late. It’s freezing out there. You’ll—”

  “It’s all right. I could see all the road clearing that’s been done below. Damn I just knew Susan hadn’t gotten that far. She hadn’t gotten far at all,” he said bitterly. He kissed her once again. “I love you, you know. I have since I met you.”

  She smiled. “I love you. And maybe Brett did have a right to seduce Cassie. You did ruin all other men for me.”

  “You know I’m not a killer, right?” he said, brushing her cheek.

  She nodded.

  “But you know that someone here is.”

  She nodded again. “I’ll keep the door locked against everyone. And I know where the gun is.” She shuddered a little.

  He gazed at her, kissed her, drew away. “I’ve got to go.”

  He didn’t look back. He left the room, ordering her gruffly to lock the door.

  She did so.

  His footsteps faded, and the castle became silent.

  For a while, she paced. Then she sat. Tried to read. Time seemed endless. She looked at her watch, certain that hours had gone by.

  Thirty minutes.

  It would take forever for Jon to get back.

  She started pacing again, then hesitated, certain she had heard a sound. She had. A scraping sound. Very soft. Almost indiscernible. She walked to her door, laid her ear against it, closed her eyes, listened.

  A squeak. A scrape. Like a door sliding open.

  She realized that the sound wasn’t coming from outside the room, but inside.

  She spun around. And she knew why she had felt she was being watched before. She knew why Jon had felt the sensation.

  There was a second false panel, on the other side of the room, flanking the right side of the balcony. It was open, and Brett stood there now.

  His face was chalk white. Drawn. She watched in horror as he started walk
ing toward her.

  “Brett…Brett…what…?”

  So it was Brett! He was the killer! Oh, God! She had to scream, get to her door, get help….

  Jon had his horse saddled in the stables when he felt a touch on his shoulder. He spun around, mentally bracing himself, aware that the murderer could have followed him to stop him.

  But it was old Angus. “Sir?”

  “I’ve got a dying woman in there, Angus, and something worse. A murderer.”

  “Yer wife’s killer, sir?”

  He looked at Angus and nodded slowly.

  “We’ll get him, sir. We will.”

  “I have to ride out, Angus.”

  “Sir, there’s something you should know first,” Angus told him gravely, a very slight smile playing at his lips.

  Sabrina never got the chance to scream.

  Brett pitched forward into her arms, crying her name. “Sabrina!”

  His eyes closed. And she realized that he was covered in blood from a wound in his back.

  “Brett!” Stumbling beneath his weight, she got him to her bed. Frantically, she tried to staunch the wound. He was unconscious. She was so involved with her frenzied efforts that she didn’t see or hear anything at first as she wadded a pillowcase, her nightgown and then bedcovers to bind his wound.

  Then she heard the sound.

  And she realized that someone had come in after Brett.

  Someone in a cloak and a top hat, wielding a huge knife that dripped blood.

  Standing at the foot of her bed.

  She couldn’t see a face, just a scarf tied over the nose and mouth, the hat brim pulled low. The figure blocked her exit. And it was moving toward her.

  She could scream, but she’d never get help in time.

  There was only one way out. The secret passage.

  And she had no idea where it led.

  No choice.

  She screamed as loudly as she could for good measure, then sprinted toward the open panel and the passageway.

  Jon reentered the castle by way of the basement storm doors that led through a short passage to the furnace, the water system and then into the chapel.

  Among the old vestments there he found a large black hooded cape. Wrapped in it, he made his way back into the chamber of horrors. He surveyed each tableau, deciding where he should wait.

  He turned.

  And from the corner of his eye, he saw movement.

  A wax figure was moving. The torturer from the Lady Ariana Stuart display. The figure suddenly jumped out at him.

  Wielding a knife.

  He caught the figure’s arm. They grappled to the floor, exchanging blows. The knife rose and fell. Jon moved quickly, yet felt a slash against his thigh. He gritted his teeth at the pain, praying he wasn’t losing too much blood. The killer was aiming at him again. He shielded himself with a blow to the creature’s arm and got in a good shot to the jaw. The knife flew across the floor. The killer rose, ran after the knife, turned.

  Footsteps. Someone was coming. From somewhere within the walls of the castle.

  The accomplice?

  If he was attacked by two of them…

  He heard gasping, crying, screaming. Someone running from someone in pursuit.

  Jesus!

  He swung his fist again.

  Despite the dark and her staggering, desperate terror, Sabrina knew where they were headed.

  The dungeon.

  It was still dark where the winding stairs ended, with nothing but hard wall in front of her. In a panic, she began beating at it.

  Miraculously, a panel gave. She burst out from the passageway…

  And into the chamber of horrors.

  Jack the Ripper was gone. Susan still lay dead.

  She heard movement behind her. The killer. Jack the Ripper, come to life!

  “No!” she screamed, and she turned to run. He caught her by the hair, spinning her back around. She struggled desperately, fighting, scratching. She heard a grunt, a groan.

  He forced her against a tableau. She saw her own face as she was pressed downward. Saw more rope as the killer struggled to reach it, bind her so that he could kill her at his leisure….

  She screamed and screamed…

  And realized that the torturer above her was alive as well.

  Jon.

  He suddenly leaped down upon her assailant, and the two went flying across the floor, battling intensely.

  A knife went flying. Sabrina scurried to retrieve it, but it slid into the straw beneath the wax tableau. Jon and the figure pummeled one another with their fists. Sabrina scrambled through the straw, gave up the search and looked for something else with which she might attack the killer.

  Then she heard a sickening crunch.

  One of the cloaked figures went down. The other turned to her, drawing back his cowl.

  “Jon!”

  She cried his name and went racing toward him. He caught her in his arms. “Oh, God, oh, God!” At first, she just kissed him. Then she drew back. “But who…?”

  “Joshua,” he said softly.

  “Joshua killed Cassie?” she said incredulously.

  “No!”

  The downed figure struggled up to his elbows. Joshua’s handsome face was sporting mean bruises. His eyes were both blackening; his nose was crooked and swollen. Talking was obviously an effort. He was winded, broken.

  “No, I didn’t kill Cassie,” he said. “But…”

  “Camy killed her,” Jon finished. “And you killed Susan to protect her.”

  Joshua laughed, then choked. “No, Camy killed Susan, too. And Reggie…but…” He looked up, tears in his eyes. “You’ve killed Camy, haven’t you? That’s her, in that pile at your feet, Jon.”

  Sabrina thought Joshua had lost his mind. Then she realized that he was talking about a crumpled form at the feet of the wax figure of Jon on display.

  “There—that’s Camy. Where I immortalized you in wax, right, Jon?” Joshua asked.

  “She isn’t dead. She’s unconscious.”

  “But it doesn’t matter, does it? She might as well be dead. We’ll be locked away forever.”

  Staring at him incredulously, Sabrina asked, “Why, Joshua? I don’t understand.”

  “It’s kind of hard for me to swallow, too,” Jon said dully. “I trusted both of you. With everything. With my life.”

  “At first…it just happened,” Joshua said. “Because Cassie meant to have Camy fired, and ruin everything between Jon and me. You see, I am good.” He smiled awkwardly. “But you know, art is like writing. Good doesn’t necessarily mean fame or fortune. All my renown came from Jon’s interest, no matter how good I was.” He grimaced with pain and looked at Jon steadily. “Camy told me she killed Cassie by accident. But since then…there have been other accidents. A girl I was friendly with in the village went over the cliff last year and—” He broke off, shrugging. “Then…you were right about the bullet in the hall, Jon. Camy did it. I told her she was being crazy. She said it was part of the game. Then she shot at the horses when we were riding. I don’t know if she meant to kill either of you or Brett, but the rearing horses would have been blamed for any deaths. She wrote the note to you that she lied about, accusing you of being the murderer, to create trouble among all of you. To deflect attention.”

  Joshua frowned, his pain evident once again. “How did you know, Jon? How did you know to come back? How did you suspect that Camy and I…” His voice drifted off; he lifted his shoulders. “I thought that we might just get away. Obviously, with all the forensic techniques available now, someone might have discovered who killed Susan. But it wouldn’t have mattered. We would have disappeared by then. Gone to Mexico, Guatemala, Africa—somewhere. But then Brett there just had to play boy wonder and get nosy. He came back down. He found Camy and me here. I had to try to silence him. But how did you know what might be happening here, Jon?”

  “Angus had seen you two together, Josh. You and Camy.”

  “Why d
idn’t you leave?” Joshua asked pathetically as he used the wall to slowly pull himself up off the floor. “Why didn’t you leave to get help for Reggie?”

  “Angus’s son had finally made it up to the castle to help his father, and he rode down to the village for me,” Jon said. “And when Angus told me that he’d seen you two together—often and secretively—I began to fear that something worse would happen if I left.”

  “Something worse is still going to happen!” a voice suddenly said heatedly. Sabrina and Jon spun around. Camy, whose ostensibly unconscious form had lain at the feet of Jon’s wax image, was up. She fumbled in her cloak pocket and produced a gun. “I know how to use this—I made a point to learn. A woman frequently alone in an old castle in the wilds…I needed to be armed, to protect myself, you know,” she said. “Damn you, Jon, you just couldn’t let the bitch die! I really never wanted to hurt you. You knew that Cassie was a monster, and Susan was even worse, and—”

  “What about the village girl?” Jon asked her softly.

  Camy looked as if she was about to lie. Then she shrugged. “She was in the way. I don’t like competition. Joshua thought she was beautiful. Get up, Joshua. I’m sorry, Jon, but you’ve got to die now, too.”

  Jon stared at her, then folded his arms over his chest. “No, I don’t think so. Joshua knows now that you’re psychotic. He’s not going to help you. And I’m not going to let you kill me.”

  “You can’t kill us all, Camy!” Sabrina protested.

  She looked at Sabrina and laughed. “Honestly, I’m sorry you just had to get so involved. You seem fairly decent. And old Reggie, if she just hadn’t been such a nosy old puss! Still, it was fun to haunt you. You all think you’re so clever. Jon thought he knew all the hidden passages in the castle, but I was the one who knew them all. And used them. Yes, it amuses me to watch people. I even watched you sleep. I thought you were the smart mystery authors, but I was the one with the power, the power of life and death, over you. It was tremendously amusing to use Jon’s robe to clean the blood off me after I’d offed Susan. You were so intriguing. So desperately in love—and feeling such a fool that you might be in love with a wife-murderer! Weren’t you still suspicious of him, right up to this very minute?”

  “No,” Sabrina said. “No.” She crossed her arms over her chest as well and announced, “No. We’re getting married.”