Summons From a Stranger

by Diaz, Debra

  “According to the radio, the sun is supposed to make an appearance late in the morning. I’ll go as soon as the fog lifts.”

  Lindsey noticed that no one offered to go with him. She really didn’t understand this family at all. They were so different from her own. Her mother and father were close, and Lindsey wouldn’t dream of talking to her sister, Laura, the way Alan and Jonathan talked to each other. Of course, Laura was fifteen years older than she, so there wasn’t much opportunity for squabbling.

  Reba got up and started clearing the dishes. Everyone drifted away except Rachel, who began helping Reba–and Jonathan, who stayed seated and thoughtfully sipped another cup of coffee. Lindsey moved and sat down next to him.

  “I need to tell you something,” she said, in a low voice.

  He put down his cup and gave her his full attention. “What is it, Lindsey?”

  “I know we both think that whoever attacked Brianna thought she was Rachel. But just in case—I went to Brianna’s room to look around, to see if she had a diary or anything. You know, to look for clues.”

  He seemed to suppress a smile. “Yes, go on.”

  “Well, under her bed I found this shoebox, and inside the toes of the shoes were a bunch of pieces of paper that had IOU written on them. All of them for a thousand dollars!”

  Jonathan seemed to straighten slightly in his chair and he looked at her intently. “You don’t say.”

  “But then, it probably doesn’t mean anything, does it? Because it was really Rachel he, or she, was after.”

  He didn’t answer for a moment. Finally he said, “Would you show them to me?”

  “Sure.”

  He got up from the table; they went through the archway, up the stairs and down the corridor to Brianna’s room. Lindsey went straight to the bed, knelt down and groped underneath it for the shoebox. Then she raised the coverlet and looked under the bed. The clutter was still there, but the shoebox was gone.

  She looked up at Jonathan. “It’s not here.”

  “You’re sure?”

  “Look for yourself.”

  He got down on one knee and bent his tall body to look under the bed. He seemed rather annoyed by the mess. Then he stood up and said, “You did some good detective work, Lindsey. Those pieces of paper meant something to someone. And obviously they meant something to Brianna, or she wouldn’t have gone to such trouble to hide them.”

  “Do you think whoever owed her all that money decided to kill her?”

  He hesitated. “Brianna has a good deal of money of her own, and she spends it without thinking much about it. I don’t think she’s the type to press someone about money that’s owed to her. Remember, she believed—until tonight—that she was going to be very rich. But there must have been a reason for her to keep them.”

  Lindsey got to her feet. Just then, Rachel appeared in the doorway of the room.

  “Lindsey, I’ve been looking everywhere for you. What are you doing?”

  “Oh, we were just looking for something of Brianna’s.”

  “Looking for what?”

  “Lindsey discovered a possible motive for someone attacking Brianna,” Jonathan answered, walking toward Rachel. “She’ll tell you about it. You were right to come looking for her. I want you to stay together. Excuse me—I’m going to check on Brianna and my grandfather.”

  Rachel moved to let him pass. Then she looked at Lindsey. “What is going on?”

  “Let’s go to our room.”

  Lindsey led the way down the hall, and closed the bedroom door after them. She told Rachel what she and Jonathan had been talking about.

  “Well, it makes sense,” Rachel said. “I never really thought someone was trying to kill me.”

  “But the portrait,” Lindsey insisted. “Whoever did that to the portrait hated you, or your grandmother, or both of you.”

  “Suppose whoever slashed the portrait wasn’t the same person that pushed Brianna down the stairs?”

  Lindsey hadn’t thought of that. It just didn’t seem likely there were two people running amuck.

  “Lindsey,” Rachel said seriously, “I don’t want you wandering around this house, even with Jonathan. He seems nice, but—he’s just as much a stranger as any of the others.”

  “How can you say that, Rachel? I can tell you like him, a lot!”

  “It doesn’t matter how I feel about him. Besides, he’s engaged.”

  Lindsey blinked in surprise. Of course, Rachel couldn’t know about the break-up. Should she tell her? Had she promised not to tell? She couldn’t remember…

  “Well,” Lindsey said slowly, “I don’t think he’s going to marry her.”

  Rachel looked at her sharply. “Why do you say that?

  “I can just tell. He likes you.”

  Rachel turned away to gaze unseeingly out the window, which was beginning to emit a grayish light. “What if he thinks I’m going to keep the money? He could be just pretending to like me.”

  Lindsey felt deeply affronted. “He’s not like that! Besides, he’s rich enough without his grandfather’s money.”

  “The rich are never rich enough,” Rachel answered, turning toward her with a cynical look that wasn’t like her. “Didn’t you know that?”

  “No, it’s not true. I know Jonathan’s different. He’s nothing like his brother, or any of the rest of them.”

  “But he was standing there when you ran into the hall. You must have gotten there very quickly.”

  “No! I remember being—like, paralyzed—for a few seconds, because it was so unexpected. Rachel Evans, you don’t mean you think Jonathan pushed Brianna!”

  Rachel stared at her for a moment, then she sat down on the bed and put her head in her hands. “No. I mean, I don’t know what to think. I wish I’d never come here! Maybe none of this would have happened.”

  “Well, don’t start crying.” Lindsey went over and touched her shoulder. “It’s not your fault.”

  “I’m not crying.” Rachel stood up, glanced in the mirror, and dashed a tear from her cheek. “Let’s go downstairs, shall we?”

  They left the room. But before they could start down the staircase, a door flung open some distance away and banged against the wall. Running footsteps turned into Hensley, dressed again in jeans and a white lab coat that flew out behind him. He ignored them and ran to the top of the stairs, yelling, “Mr. Laramore! Mr. Laramore!”

  Jonathan appeared at the bottom of the stairs, looking up. There was an expression of deep unease on his face as his gaze took in Rachel and Lindsey, then moved to the overwrought nurse.

  “What is it, Hensley?”

  “She’s dead! Miss Rowan is dead!”

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Jonathan bounded up the stairs. By the time he reached his grandfather’s bedroom, with the adjoining room where they’d put Brianna, everyone else had gathered in the hallway. Reba and Barlow did not appear; probably they hadn’t heard the commotion.

  This is the third time we’ve done this in the last eight hours or so, Lindsay thought, her knees quivering.

  “Don’t come in here,” Jonathan said to Lindsey. Rachel and Mr. Caldwell stayed with her. Everyone else crowded into the room, but Lindsey could easily hear their voices.

  “What happened?” asked Jonathan.

  “Look at her skin,” the nurse answered. “Cyanosis. I think she was smothered by that pillow.”

  Isabella, Gerard and Charlotte came out of the room, looking white and sick. Lindsey heard Alan say, “What makes you think that?”

  “I know what condition she was in, not fifteen minutes ago. She was still unconscious, but she was having no respiratory problems. Her vital signs were good. That pillow was on the bed beside her. I went out of the room for a moment. When I got back she was as she is now, and the pillow was on the floor.”

  Jonathan’s voice was deep and a little hoarse. “You’re saying she was murdered.”

  “Suppose she had some sort of attack,” Alan suggested. “S
he could have knocked the pillow to the floor.”

  “Do you see how blue her skin is? That is a direct result of a lack of oxygen. I don’t believe she died a natural death. But we’ll leave it for the coroner to decide.”

  “Why did you leave the room?” Jonathan demanded. “I told you I didn’t want either one of them left alone.”

  “Nobody brought me any breakfast,” Hensley replied, in an injured tone. “I was in the kitchen for just a few minutes. Besides, I locked the door.”

  “If the door was locked,” Alan retorted, “nobody could have murdered her.”

  “There was an extra key. I looked. It’s missing.”

  “Where was it?” Jonathan asked sharply.

  “In the drawer of the bureau—the one by the door to the hallway. The same key unlocks Mr. Laramore’s door and the adjoining room. Anyone could have taken it. Every one of you has been in this room at least one time tonight, or last night—to check on things, you all said. ‘To make sure everything’s all right’. And I can’t watch everybody every minute!”

  “I wasn’t aware that this was going on,” Jonathan said. “You knew I wanted my grandfather to rest, and you were to watch over both of them.”

  “It’s like I said, Mr. Laramore. I can’t watch every minute. I was hired as a nurse, not a private detective. And I have to eat!”

  Lindsey touched her pocket and thought, Yes, it’s very easy to find and take a key.

  The sound of Jonathan’s voice indicated that he’d moved from the adjoining room to his grandfather’s bedside. “Shouldn’t he be awake?”

  Hensley replied, “It’s not unusual for him to sleep this deeply. He’ll wake soon. But we mustn’t let him know what’s happened.”

  “He’ll no doubt hear the police and medical examiner coming in and out of here. By the way, nobody’s to touch anything. Hensley, I’m going to send Barlow up here to sit with you, so my grandfather will never be alone. I expect you to make certain of that.”

  Jonathan came out into the hallway. He seemed stunned and almost angry. “Did you hear me? Nobody’s to come near these rooms.”

  He looked at the group of people standing before him. “I suppose none of you can prove where you were in the last half hour, can you?” When no one answered, he said, “Well, neither can I. I had just looked in on them, and then I went downstairs. If we are to believe Hensley, Brianna was murdered within the last fifteen minutes.”

  “I can’t believe it!” Isabella cried. “That nurse must be mistaken!”

  “I believe it. One of you killed her.”

  “What about you?” Charlotte exclaimed. “You had more of a motive than any of us! And you had opportunity.”

  “What motive?” Mr. Caldwell asked curiously.

  “Oh, it was easy to tell his feelings for her had changed,” said Charlotte. “And she wasn’t one to be put off when she wanted something. My guess is he tried to break the engagement and she wouldn’t have it.”

  “Charlotte, this is preposterous,” said Isabella indignantly.

  “I’ve had about as much of this as I can stand,” Gerard announced. “Mr. Laramore, when you walk to the highway, I’ll go with you.”

  Jonathan appeared to be ignoring them all. He said to Alan, “Go and get Barlow, will you, and tell him to sit with the nurse. Rachel and Lindsey, come with me.”

  But before any of them could move, a crotchety voice called out from the bedroom. “What’s going on? Who’s out there?”

  Mr. Laramore had awakened. Lindsey glanced at Rachel, who began to walk into the bedroom, but Jonathan caught her arm. “Wait, Rachel, please. I’ve got to decide how much he’s to be told.”

  “I understand that, Jonathan, but I have to see him right away. I need Mr. Caldwell to come with me. And you. I want you to hear what I have to say.” She looked around at the others. “You can all stand here and listen—I don’t care.”

  Jonathan nodded at Mr. Caldwell, who came forward, and the four of them, Lindsey included, stepped into the room. Hensley hissed, “I cannot be responsible if you upset him.”

  “What’s going on?” Mr. Laramore demanded again. He pushed himself up on his pillows and took a drink from the glass of water on his bedside table. His white hair was practically standing on end. “Why is everybody standing out there, muttering? Did that fool nurse pronounce me dead?”

  “Miss Evans would like to speak with you, Grandfather,” Jonathan answered, his voice low and respectful. “She’s asked Mr. Caldwell and me to be present.”

  “Indeed.” The old man peered at them obstinately. “I’ll warrant that’s not what all the ruckus is about.”

  They all looked at Jonathan. He answered slowly, “Something has happened to Brianna. She took a fall down the stairs during the night. A few moments ago—she died.”

  His voice was a little unsteady. Lindsey noticed how subtly he had left out the fact that she probably had been murdered.

  Mr. Laramore kept staring at them. Finally he said, “Pity.”

  “The phones are out,” Jonathan went on. “The roads are flooded and the bridge broke apart last night. I’m going to walk to the Stanton’s as soon as the fog lifts. The police can come by helicopter.”

  “Police?”

  Jonathan hesitated, then made a decision. “Brianna believed someone pushed her down the stairs.”

  Mr. Laramore said nothing for a moment, his eyes moving from one face to the other. “Why would somebody do that?”

  Mr. Caldwell answered, “We don’t know that she didn’t imagine it, Mr. Laramore.” He looked at Jonathan. “We don’t know anything for sure, just now.”

  “I know something, Mr. Laramore,” Rachel said, in a clear, firm voice. “Not about Brianna. About your money. You must not leave it to me. Even if you ask Mr. Caldwell to draw up a new will—I won’t take it. I’ll give it back to the Laramores.”

  The old man, for the first time, seemed dumbfounded. He sat up, put his glasses on, and stared at Rachel. “Young woman, do you know how much money we’re talking about?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  He began to cough violently. Hensley started forward and Mr. Laramore waved him back, taking another drink of water.

  “Well, maybe I’ll just leave it to charity. It’s nothing against you, Jonathan. You’ll do well enough on your own. But those others—they don’t deserve it.” He gazed at Rachel. “You are very much like Ellen. Stubborn. But I have to respect your wishes.”

  Rachel seemed vastly relieved. “Thank you, Mr. Laramore.”

  “Now, this other incident.” Mr. Laramore took another hasty gulp of water. “I take it, if somebody dispatched your intended, it was one of the family?”

  “Grandfather, it’s as Mr. Caldwell said. We’re not certain of anything at this point. Please don’t worry. I’ll take care of it.”

  “Yes. Well. Pity,” he said again. “She was beautiful, and she could charm an old man when she wanted to. But that’s all there was to her. I didn’t want her having my money, either.”

  No one said anything. Lindsey thought she might actually like the old gentleman if he hadn’t treated Rachel’s grandmother so badly. But he’d been young then. Maybe he was a little wiser, now.

  “I’m tired,” he said, and slumped back against the pillows. “Make sure Hensley stays with me. I’m surprised somebody hasn’t tried to do away with me, as well.”

  “Grandfather,” Jonathan said, “have you been sleeping the whole time? I mean, did you happen to hear anything unusual last night—or this morning?”

  Mr. Laramore sighed. “Didn’t hear anything, until you all started mumbling outside my door. Will you go now, please?”

  Someone rapped on the open door and they turned to see Barlow. “You sent for me, sir?”

  “Yes. Grandfather, here’s Barlow. He’ll stay here with you and Hensley, at least until the police come. Try to get some rest.”

  Barlow came into the room, eyeing them from under his hairless brows.

&n
bsp; “Don’t know as I trust him,” Lindsey heard the old man say, under his breath. “He came with her, didn’t he?”

  Jonathan didn’t seem to hear that. He said to Barlow, “Did Alan tell you what happened?”

  “Yes, sir. I’m very sorry, sir.”

  “He’s not to be left alone. Keep the door locked.”

  Barlow nodded. He didn’t seem thrilled by his mission. Especially since Brianna was in the next room. Lindsey pictured her lying there, her face blue—like the Wicked Witch of the West. Only her face had been green, hadn’t it? It was the second time she’d thought of The Wizard of Oz. Yet, the whole night had been like finding yourself in some strange and distant land, where something unexpected happened at every turn of the road.

  The rest of them, except Hensley, moved out the door. Jonathan closed it and waited until he heard the lock click.

  Everyone had remained standing in the hall, listening unabashedly to their conversation. But now they trundled off in the direction of their rooms. Lindsey wondered if they were just going to sit around all day, waiting for Jonathan to get back with the police. But, what else was there to do?

  Mr. Caldwell said, “I believe I’ll go and lie down a while. Call if you need me.” And he, too, disappeared down the corridor.

  Jonathan walked with Rachel and Lindsey to their room. “After I’m gone, I’d like for you both to stay in here with the door locked. I’m still not convinced you’re not in danger.”

  “Do you actually believe someone in this house went in there and deliberately smothered Brianna with a pillow?” Rachel asked, her face so pale that her freckles showed faintly, and there were dark shadows of fatigue underneath her green eyes.

  “Yes, and I’ll tell you why.” Jonathan closed the bedroom door behind him. His tall, masculine form almost overpowered the frilly room.

  “Pushing Brianna down the stairs could have been an impulsive act—not premeditated. Whether or not the attacker thought she was you, Rachel—it could have been a split-second decision. Still attempted murder, yes. But Brianna didn’t die, and she let everyone know that someone pushed her. The attacker didn’t know if she knew who pushed her. So he, or she, had to make sure Brianna never regained consciousness.”