by Marja McGraw
“Do you have any hobbies besides eating?” Richard asked, turning to look over his shoulder.
“Yeah. Drinking, and you make me think about that quite a bit.” That stopped Richard cold, and I had to laugh. I was still amazed that these two men had formed a friendship. J.T. was so nice, and Richard was such a jerk. They were the odd couple.
“So I guess I’ll be here to celebrate with all of you.” J.T. glanced around the room.
“Well, I’m glad,” I replied.
The days rushed by, the snow continuing to fall off and on, and all of a sudden it was only four days until Christmas. I’d put off wrapping most of my gifts until the last minute, and stayed up late that night to get the job done. I didn’t get started until around ten-thirty. After I wrapped the last gift and set it aside, I walked to the kitchen and fixed myself a cup of coffee. I took it into the living room with me, turned out the lights and sat down on the couch.
Only four more days, I thought to myself. This is such a magical time of year. I feel sorry for people like Richard who get depressed instead of getting involved. It must be rough. Wow, I couldn’t believe I was actually feeling sorry for Richard. I didn’t think I had it in me.
Setting my coffee cup down on the end table, I leaned back, relaxing for the first time that day. I almost dozed off, but a noise brought me to. Was someone on the stairs? I sat in the dark living room and listened, but the noise didn’t repeat. I leaned back again, too tired to get up and go to my room. I’d just rest my eyes for a moment…
The clock woke me with its chiming.
That clock and the door bell are going to drive me nuts. I picked up my coffee cup, deciding I’d better bring Jem in and go to bed. I didn’t relish the thought of sleeping on the couch all night.
There was another noise and I realized there was someone on the stairs. I heard Richard’s distinctive voice. The words were muffled because he was at the top of the stairs. I couldn’t tell who he was talking to.
“No!” Richard yelled.
It was quiet for a moment, and then he yelled again, this time sounding both angry and frightened. There was a lot of bumping and thudding, and Richard came flying down the stairs, head over heels.
“Richard!” I cried. The ferocity of his fall told me he’d been pushed, with a lot of force. That thought sprang into my head even as I ran to him and knelt by his side. Richard moaned and I heard footsteps upstairs, the sound growing fainter and fainter.
“Richard?” I said, tentatively. His eyes fluttered open, but they looked distant. There was blood oozing from the corner of his mouth, and his nose was bleeding. His eyes closed again and he seemed to stop breathing.
I heard voices upstairs.
“Hurry,” I yelled. “Richard’s been hurt. Somebody help me.”
Mike came running down the stairs with Josh right behind him.
“What’s going on?” Mike asked.
“What happened?” Josh tried to look over Mike’s shoulder before pushing him out of the way.
Ted ran down from the third floor while Josh tried to help Richard.
“Call 9-1-1. We need an ambulance.” J.T. looked frightened.
“Call the police,” Josh said, kneeling by Richard’s side, checking for a pulse. “It’s too late for an ambulance. He’s gone.”
I felt woozy for a split second, but recovered quickly.
“Josh,” I said. “He was pushed. There’s no doubt about it this time. None.”
“Where were you when it happened?” he asked. “How do you know he was pushed?”
“I nodded off on the couch. The clock woke me, and I heard Richard arguing with someone at the top of the stairs.”
I stopped talking and glanced down at Richard. It almost looked like he took a shallow breath, but I was wrong.
“Can’t this wait, Josh?” I asked, my voice trembling.
“Absolutely not. If someone pushed him, it can’t wait. Tell me the rest.”
“Could we at least go sit down on the couch? My legs feel awfully shaky.”
“Sure,” he said, a little more sympathetic. He took my arm and led me to the couch.
“Okay,” he said, “what happened after you heard voices on the stairs?”
“I didn’t hear voices. I heard one voice – Richard’s. I couldn’t tell who he was talking to. I was kind of groggy because I’d fallen asleep. It took a second for Richard’s voice to even register.”
“But you’re sure he was arguing with someone?” Josh asked.
“Yes, I could tell by his tone and how loud he was.”
“What happened next?”
Mike walked into the room and for some reason that set me off. I started to cry, out of both guilt and sorrow. I’d suspected Richard of having something to do with Ruth’s death, and now he’d joined her. I hadn’t liked him at all, but his death put a different slant on things.
“Kelly, get hold of yourself. This is important,” Josh said.
I nodded my head. By that time Lucy and Sharon had heard the commotion, had awakened David, and they’d all run out to see what was going on.
“Josh,” Lucy said, “what happened?”
“Richard fell down the stairs,” he replied.
“He was pushed,” I corrected.
“He was pushed,” Josh echoed my words. “Go on with your story, Kelly.”
“I heard Richard yell ‘No’, it was quiet for a second, he yelled ‘No’ again, and the next thing I knew he was flying down the stairs. He came down with too much force to have just tripped and fallen.”
“You’re absolutely sure he was arguing with someone?” Mike asked.
“Yes. There’s no doubt in my mind.” I closed my eyes for a moment, wishing I could block it out. No such luck.
“He does look like someone hit him,” J.T. said, walking over to join us. He’d been listening to us from the doorway. I could see how shaken he was. He’d been the closest thing to a friend Richard had. “His nose and mouth aren’t bleeding from the fall, I’m sure of that. His face looks like someone hit him.”
“But why didn’t any of us hear anything if there was a fight?” Josh looked around at each one of us, because by that time everyone had gathered in the living room.
No one had a clue.
“I’ll answer my own question,” he said, thoughtfully, inspecting the faces of the people gathered around. “Someone may have punched Richard, but there wasn’t actually a fight. No one here has any bruises or cuts. I guess Richard never had the chance to defend himself. Maybe the first punch knocked him off balance and the second punch knocked him down the stairs.”
Everyone was suddenly a suspect – even me. They had no way of knowing whether or not I’d really been asleep on the couch. As far as saying a woman couldn’t have hit Richard that hard, well, it didn’t wash. Any one of us women could have hit him with an object or a fist. It was just a matter of taking him by surprise.
The police arrived while we watched each other, each one of us trying to figure out who was guilty.
Chapter Twenty-eight
After examining the body, I heard one of the police officers say it looked like Richard had broken his neck in the fall. They took statements from each of us again, as they had when Ruth Bell died.
Ted tapped one of the officers on the shoulder. “I can’t deal with this. Can you please ask your questions so I can go to my room? Really! This is just too much.” He did look a bit ill, so the police took his statement first and let him return to his room.
The police agreed with Josh and J.T., saying it appeared Richard had been punched, at least twice. “It looks like the first blow surprised him, and the second one knocked him down the stairs.” The officer made notes to himself on a notepad.
“Come on. I’ll make coffee.” Lucy motioned for J.T., Sharon and David to follow her to the dining room. I though they looked relieved to be leaving the room.
Josh and Mike stayed with me while the police asked more questions. I’d already t
old them everything I knew, which was very little. However, they wanted to know if there was any type of relationship between Ruth and Richard.
“If you mean like a romance, then no. I can’t think of anything to link them together. I don’t think they even liked each other. Ruth avoided Richard as much as she could.”
The police took photos while a crime scene tech worked, and one of the officers went upstairs to take a look around. He came back down and I heard him tell one of the other officers it looked as though someone had cut the carpet at the top of the stairs in an effort to make it look like Richard had tripped. Josh, Mike and I stood aside from the officers, talking in hushed whispers.
“To me, that indicates the murder was premeditated because there wasn’t time for someone to cut the carpet after the fall. I heard footsteps running away. Should I tell them about the secret passages?” I asked.
“What? What are you talking about?” Josh’s eyes practically bulged after hearing my question.
Mike gave him a brief description of the passages and told him how we’d found them. He added a description of the rooms and what we’d found.
“Don’t say anything. They’ll want to see the passages and they just might scare off the killer. You’re going to have to trust me on this one, I know what I’m doing. I’m an experienced homicide detective.”
“If you say so.” Mike licked his lips and ran his fingers through is hair. He looked skeptical. “Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
I didn’t get it. What could Josh be thinking? “Why? I mean, personally, I’d prefer it if they did scare off the killer.”
“Just trust me,” Josh said. “I’ll explain my reasons to you in the morning when we can talk freely. Besides, you don’t really want this person running free, do you?”
“No, I guess not,” I said, reluctantly. Of course, he was already running free, and he’d already killed two people, but what did I know?
After another hour the police were almost finished, and one by one the boarders headed back to their rooms. I couldn’t believe how tired I was, but I almost laughed when I realized the officers were actually telling everyone not to leave town. I always thought that was something they only said in movies, and it was a little comic relief for me.
“Someone else will be out from the Homicide Division tomorrow to do a follow-up,” one of the men said, as they were leaving. At least someone finally believed me. On the other hand, they were leaving us alone with a murderer in the house. Of course, we are talking about a very small police department in an area that has had only one murder in over fifty years. And that one had been between people who were passing through the area on vacation.
Sharon and Lucy had already gone back to bed, but not before David told them he was as close as a scream, and this time I didn’t think he was joking. He’d come running if he heard either one of them. I’m sure that encouraged a good night’s sleep. I told Josh goodnight and hoped David would listen for me, too.
“Are you okay?” Mike asked.
“Not really, but I’ll feel better after I get some sleep. That is, if I can get any sleep.”
“Do you want me to stay in your room with you?”
“No, I’ll be okay. David would hear me if anything were to go wrong.”
“If you need anything, let me know. Okay?”
“Okay.”
I’d forgotten about Jem with all the commotion. I hurried to the back door and found him sitting by the porch, looking cold, dejected and a little insulted. I picked him up and stroked his back as I walked to my room. His fur was like ice. He was almost too big to pick up, but I needed to hold on to something. He wagged his tail and I felt better. When I put him down he walked straight to his blanket and curled up.
“You know, Jem, it’s not gonna be too long before I won’t be able to pick you up at all.” He took one last look at me before he closed his eyes for the night.
“I’m so sorry I left you outside for so long.” Some dog owner I was turning out to be.
I undressed and slipped on my nightgown before moving to turn the covers down on the bed. There was a note lying on top of the pillow. “Oh no,” I whispered. “Not another one – not now.”
I picked it up, noticing how heavy it felt. It was only heavy with the dread I felt, I was sure. I opened it and read:
“Amelia,
I’m getting closer you know. Here’s another quotation
to sleep on. Hope you get a good night’s rest.
‘Man is hunter; woman is his game.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
The Princess’
My meaning isn’t quite the same as Mr. Tennyson’s. Think it over.”
Amelia? Amelia. Amelia Holt! Oh, how strange things were becoming. But oddly enough, I wasn’t afraid. I should have been scared to death because I’d seen what he could do. I knew it was some kind of threat, but I didn’t feel like it was imminent. Somehow I knew I was okay for the time being, although now I knew I most definitely wouldn’t be getting a good night’s rest.
I made up my mind in a flash. Two could play at this game. I’d leave him a quotation for the next time he came. I’d leave it right in the middle of my bed, every night, until he found it. But maybe that wasn’t such a good idea. I really shouldn’t be trying to hurry things along. Maybe I shouldn’t upset this guy. And just maybe I was reacting like a child.
Thoughts and questions flooded my mind. I knew I looked like Amelia, but why would anyone address the note to her and not me? What did the quotation mean since he, or she, had said the two meanings were different? Was I fair game? Was someone beginning a hunt, with me as the prize catch?
What about Ruth and Richard? What did they have to do with it and why had they been killed? I wondered if it was possible that somehow they’d found something out that would incriminate someone in the house – whoever was after me. No, I thought. I’m becoming paranoid. No one would go that far to get to me. I couldn’t think of a single reason why anyone would want to get to me. And yet it seemed like things were beginning to escalate.
I put the note in a drawer and sat down on the edge of the bed. I’d managed to thoroughly confuse myself. Mike had said if I needed anything… I stood up and put on my robe, immediately taking it off again. I didn’t know what to do. I finally decided to wait until morning to do anything. I got into bed and slept, but not well, and not for long. I went to sleep knowing Jem was there and he’d let me know if anyone was lurking around.
That was the night I had the nightmare about Ruth Bell in which I heard her scream, and saw someone push her out of the window. I heard the thud as she hit the ground. I saw her grotesquely twisted and broken body, and I woke up with a scream caught in my throat.
That was the night I climbed out of bed and ran to the bathroom to splash cold water on my face, and the night I went back to my room and sat in the rocking chair, thinking back to how it had all begun.
I also began to wonder where it would all end, and that was a pretty frightening thought. Something I had to block out of my mind.
My head was a pretty well buried in the sand, just like the new note was buried in my drawer.
Chapter Twenty-nine
At breakfast I noticed that everyone looked bedraggled, with the exception of Ted, who wouldn’t dream of looking untidy. Cleanliness was the word of the day for him. Exhaustion was the word of the day for the rest of us.
Ted acted downright bright and cheerful, and it was really irritating. He mentioned he’d taken a tranquilizer and it had helped him get right to sleep. He sang out a cheery good morning to Lucy, who gave him one of her nastiest looks. As she passed the back of his chair she made a strangling motion at him before she returned to the kitchen.
J.T.’s eyes looked red and swollen. He kept glancing at everyone suspiciously, wanting to know who’d murdered his friend. I looked at Josh across the table and noticed he was looking at each individual with the same look as J.T. At least Josh’s looks were given w
ith a trained eye. The suspicion, the grim faces, and the quiet, all did a number on me. I couldn’t stand it. I had to get away.
“Excuse me,” I said, abruptly standing and pushing my chair back. I covered my mouth and coughed before heading to my room to grab my jacket.
“Come on Jem. Let’s go outside for a while.” He followed me out to the gazebo.
It had snowed during the night. After brushing the white stuff off a chair, I sat down. Another short bout of coughing attacked me and there was the most irritating tickle in my throat.
The snow began falling again and I concentrated on it, trying not to think about what was going on in my house. The flakes were small, and I knew each one was a unique crystal, no two alike. While I watched, larger flakes began to fall, resembling soft, ivory leaves. I gazed toward the house, and through the curtain of snow I could see the surrounding bushes swathed in white, the tree branches weighted down by the same heavy, wet snow.
The curtain grew thicker and I could barely make out the house. I thought how deathly quiet it was, then regretted my choice of words. I was shivering, but had no intention of returning to the warmth of the house any time soon. I just couldn’t face it, literally, and turned my back on the house. The maddening tickle struck again, and I started coughing.
“Kelly!” I heard Mike’s voice from near the house. “Where are you?”
“I’m here, in the gazebo,” I called out, which brought on another cough.
As he approached I looked up and saw the concern on his face.
“Are you okay?” he asked.
“No.”
“What are you doing out here? It’s freezing.”
I’d crumpled up the note from the night before and stuffed it in my shirt pocket before I left the house. I unzipped my jacket and pulled out the note.
“Read this,” I said, sullenly.
