Her easel was still standing in the middle of the living room, and she decided to leave it up. One more botanical sketch would complete the illustrations she wanted to use for her speech, and if she had to keep walking around the frame, maybe she would be motivated to finish her project.
Now and then, during her chores around the house, Edna stopped to pick up the phone, hoping to hear a dial tone so she could call Starling or Albert. Her cell phone was in the car, but she didn’t feel like going back out in the rain to get it. She should have thought of it when she’d gone for the firewood, but she hadn’t and didn’t want another soaking just to fetch the thing. Surely, it wouldn’t be long before the phone was back in service. The utility company was very good about repairs. Besides, the wind, sounding like a locomotive about to ram the house, had her nerves on edge, and exhaustion was taking hold of her entire body. Shortly after four that afternoon, the lights blinked, blinked again, then went out completely.
She still wanted to inspect the doors and windows to make certain everything was securely fastened, but now she would need a flashlight, and the only one she could think of was in the lower drawer of her bedside table. After dragging herself up the stairs, she decided to lie down on her bed just for a minute. The last thing she remembered was pulling the cranberry-and-rose colored afghan up to her chin.
Warm breath and a gentle tap on her cheek brought her awake. Benjamin was sitting beside her pillow, a front paw extended to touch her again ever so gently. She glanced at the battery-operated clock beside the bed, amazed to discover it was past seven.
“Oh, Benjamin,” she said, tossing aside the blanket and swinging her feet to the floor. “It’s way past your dinner time, isn’t it? No wonder you came to wake me.” She groped in the drawer beside the bed for her flashlight and swayed unsteadily to her feet, still groggy from sleep.
As she descended the stairs, holding onto the banister and shining the flashlight before her, Benjamin scurried past, then waited impatiently for her to light one of the oil lanterns before spooning food onto his plate. After the cat was fed, Edna forced herself to eat a piece of toast and drink some hot tea. The house was cold, and the small meal did nothing to lighten her sense of deep fatigue. Rather than light the logs in the fireplace to keep warm, she decided to go back to bed and huddle beneath her quilt.
Perhaps it was her late-afternoon nap or the food in her stomach, but despite her weariness, Edna slept badly. Tossing and turning in a fog of half sleep, she dreamed that Starling kept lobbing questions at her. Where had Tom gone? Who had been with him? Who had poisoned him? Was it a man or a woman? Why had they done such a thing?
In her dream, she tried to write down the questions, but Starling was talking too fast. Slow down, Edna tried to say, but the words would not come out. She needed more cards to write on. Starling began to throw large scraps of paper at her. Oversized, white index cards floated in the air around her as Edna flailed her arms and woke suddenly, entangled in her sheet, a pillow on top of her head.
She sat up, feeling hot and clammy. The clock beside her showed a few minutes past three. Outside, the wind howled, and rain slammed against the windows. She knew the clamor outside would keep her from going back to sleep right away, so she decided to check the downstairs. As she got out of bed, the cold air chilled the dampness on her neck and made her shiver. Reaching for her fleece robe, she slipped into warm, woolly moccasins and, guided by her small flashlight, went down to the kitchen. Benjamin padded into the room from his bed in the mudroom, blinking and yawning as Edna briefly shone the light on him. When she sat at the kitchen table, he jumped into her lap, and she hugged the furry body to her. His warmth felt good against her chest. He rubbed his head on her shoulder, and she felt the vibration of his purr. Absently stroking his back, she viewed the storm through the window above the sink.
As she watched, a sudden beam of bright light flashed through the glass. Bushes between the source of the light and the window mixed with streaks of rain on the glass to make strange dancing shadows across the ceiling and over the cupboard doors.
She froze. Benjamin struggled in her arms and jumped free, landing on the floor with a soft thud. Staring up at the window, he emitted a long low whine. Edna’s blood turned cold at the sound.
As suddenly as it had appeared, the light was gone.
“Hush, Benjamin.” She rose from the chair and moved quickly to the sink. Who could be out there at this time of night and in this storm? she wondered.
From the window, she saw two lights. She thought for a minute it was a car in the driveway until the beams moved off in different directions. One came toward the front door, and the other headed south. Flashlights, high-powered lights from the looks of them. Who was outside her house? The sheets of water on the window made it impossible to see clearly.
White heat swept through her chest as she remembered Tuck lying on the floor of the Tucker mansion. A thought leaped into her head, and she turned toward the mudroom. Had she locked that door? She couldn’t remember securing it after Mary and Hank left earlier that afternoon. Both she and Albert had gotten careless about locking up. They had felt safe in this neighborhood.
Benjamin, still in the middle of the kitchen floor with his back arched and his fur ruffled, kept up his low yowl, but now he was facing the mudroom. The sound unnerved her and his change of position was frightening.
Grabbing up the cat, Edna ran for the small study off the front hall. Nine one one. The numbers screamed in her head. Trying not to make noise, she picked up the phone. No dial tone. The phones were still out, and there was no flash hook on her cordless that she could push to try and reconnect the dead line.
What could she do? She must hide. Could she make it back to the kitchen and get to the cellar? The thought sickened her. She hated the basement with its dankness and cold dirt floor, but she had no choice. That was the best place to hide if these were the same burglars who had attacked Tuck. If they were after her belongings, they certainly wouldn’t look in an unfinished basement, Edna reasoned.
Moving into the hallway, she heard a soft metallic sound. Someone was trying the latch, trying to open the front door. She heard a muffled thud and pictured the person hitting the door with his shoulder, softly but firmly. Stealthily.
Edna looked around her in the dark, terrified. If the person at the front door was picking the lock, there was no time to reach the cellar. They’d see her. She had to find a hiding place. Panic burned in her chest, and bile bubbled at the back of her throat.
Keeping a tight grip on her struggling cat with one arm, she backed toward the coat closet, her eyes glued to the front door as she groped behind her for the handle. Slipping between the coats, she started to close the door when Benjamin leaped out of her arms.
“Benjamin!” She hissed, not daring to raise her voice, but he’d disappeared into the dark. She could only hope he would be safe.
Who is out there? What do they want? At this hour, they can’t be after the furniture. The thought struck new fear into her, turning the blood in her veins to ice.
She pushed as far back into the corner of the closet as she could and sat on the floor. The darkness engulfed her, making her feel only slightly safer than she’d felt outside the closet. She fumbled the coats in front of her, hoping to create an adequate screen. Quietly, she pulled a pair of Albert’s boots in front of her to hide her feet and legs. Then, clutching her knees to her chest, she stared at the closed door and began to shake.
Fourteen
Trying to be as quiet as possible, Edna took several rapid breaths, remembering what Albert had told her about the effects of adrenaline as the body shuts down, trying to protect itself. “Your peripheral vision decreases, and you lose your hearing. Hands and feet become cold as the blood recedes from those areas, but your heart rate increases.” She could hear his voice as if he were seated next to her. “The best way to offset the effects is to breathe deeply and get as much oxygen into your system as quickly as you can.�
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She pulled air into her lungs while listening for sounds, but the blood pounding in her ears made it difficult to hear outside the closet. Was that a footstep in the hall? Where was Benjamin?
The front door must have opened, because all at once, the noise of the storm grew louder. A light shone beneath the door at her feet before disappearing again. Someone was brandishing a flashlight. They were in the hall, and she thought they were headed for the living room.
Edna didn’t know how much time passed before she heard the first sharp noise. Was it a dog’s bark? She pressed back against the closet wall. There it was again, closer this time.
The intruders had brought a dog to sniff her out. She wanted to squeeze her eyes shut, but she could only stare at the closet door, mesmerized. Is there something here I can use as a weapon? She flicked her eyes sideways, not daring to move her head, but it was impossible to see in the blackness, and her quietly probing hand found nothing but Albert’s boots. She prayed. Please don’t hurt me.
Just then, she thought she heard the front door slam. Only a second or two must have passed before she felt, more than heard, heavy footsteps directly outside the closet. Scratching. Whining. She was certain a dog was sniffing at the closet door. They’d found her hiding place, she thought, as the door swung open. Metal screeched against metal as coats were pushed aside, and her eyes were blinded by light. She screamed, throwing up her hands to protect her face.
“It’s okay. They’re gone.” Mary’s voice. “Hank scared them away.”
Edna felt something cold and wet in the palm of her hand. A dog’s nose. Hank? Still blinded from the light, she slid her arms around his neck, buried her face in his fur, and began to sob with relief.
“You’re all right now, Edna. They’re gone.” Mary repeated.
Edna felt a touch on her arm. Letting go of Hank, she grabbed Mary’s hand like a lifeline and allowed herself to be pulled up and out of the closet. Swallowing a cry, she clung to her neighbor. When she began to feel some strength return to her legs, Edna sidled to a nearby chair and sat down, still clinging to Mary’s wrist.
“Who was it? Did you see them?” Edna looked up at her neighbor’s tall, shadowy form.
“They must have run out this way when we came in the back. The mudroom door was wide open, and so was this front one. The rain was soaking the floor, so I shut it before we started looking for you.”
Edna couldn’t see her expression in the darkness, but Mary’s voice quavered with some of the fear she herself was feeling. Then Mary knelt beside Edna and, with her flashlight, picked out puddles of muddy water on both the wood floor and the rug. The largest spots were in the entryway, but the tracks traveled down to the living room, and some could be seen on the floor just inside the kitchen.
When Mary silently panned the light down the hall for the second time, Edna turned to put a restraining hand on her arm. “What brought you out at this hour? Were you walking in the storm? Oh, Mary, I’m so glad you were.” Edna wanted to laugh and cry at the same time.
Mary played her light on the stairs leading to the rooms above. “I was in bed. Hank woke me up, so I went to check the windows ‘cause of the rain. That’s when I saw lights in your driveway. I didn’t see any headlights, but they might have turned off the car by the time I got to the window. It looked like two people carrying flashlights. One headed this way. You know, like he was walking around to the patio. I thought I’d better come over and check. Are you okay?”
Edna put up her hands, shielding her eyes against the light Mary aimed at her face. “Yes. Yes, I think so. Just shaky. Did you call the police?”
“Couldn’t. Phone’s still out.” Mary stood and turned, slowly playing the beam up and down the hall again. “What did they want?”
As light reflected off various objects, Edna noticed that Mary was holding a gun at her side. Her index finger pointed along the barrel as she held the weapon in her right hand, close to her leg.
“Would you have used that?” Edna didn’t know if she was more horrified at the thought of somebody being shot or of Mary carrying a gun.
“Don’t know. I’ve only used it for target practice before now.” She brought the pistol out from behind her leg, still aimed at the floor. “Don’t worry. The safety catch is on. I know what I’m doing.” Edna heard pride in her voice as Mary continued. “Tom taught me about guns after Father died. We used to practice together at the range.”
Incredible, Edna thought, how little I really knew about Tom—or Mary, for that matter. Aloud, she said, “We need to call the police. My phone is still out, but there’s a cellular in my car.” She started to rise.
Mary put a hand on her shoulder and gently pushed her back onto the chair. “I’ll go. Where are your keys?”
“It’s not locked. The side door to the garage is open, too. It seemed so safe around here.” Edna said, feeling she needed to excuse her carelessness, then added ironically, “Please be careful. We don’t know if they’re still out there. Maybe you should take Hank with you.”
“No. I think he’d better stay with you. I’m pretty sure whoever broke in here tonight is long gone.” Mary pointed the light to a spot near Edna’s chair and said, “Hank, come.”
The big Lab had remained standing in front of the closet. At Mary’s command, he came and sat beside Edna, momentarily placing a paw on her thigh. She rubbed the dog’s head, murmuring, “Good boy.” When she looked up, she caught only a glimpse of Mary, wrapped in an olive green rain cape, slipping out the front door.
As Edna waited for Mary’s return, Benjamin startled her by jumping into her lap. She hadn’t seen him approach in the darkness. Hank made no noise, nor did he move from his spot beside her. She hugged the cat, happy to know he was okay, while Benjamin nudged her chin with his head and purred loudly. Then, as quickly as he’d appeared, the ginger cat stiffened and leaped into the blackness as the front door burst open.
“I got through. Patrol car’s on its way,” Mary said, slamming the door behind her.
Edna waited for her pulse to slow after this latest fright and felt the phone being thrust into her hands.
“Battery’s low.”
“Oh, no. Not now.” Edna took the phone and asked Mary to shine the light on the small handset so she could dial Starling’s apartment in Boston. While she waited for a response on the other end, she looked up toward Mary’s silhouetted form. “Albert takes care of charging our cell phones. He must not have checked it before he left Thursday.”
On the fourth ring, Starling’s answering machine kicked on, and her voice asked that the caller leave a message. Considering it was sometime between three and four in the morning, and knowing what a sound sleeper her daughter was, Edna didn’t worry that Starling hadn’t picked up the phone herself. “It’s your mother, dear. I’m fine. I just wanted …”
Several shrill beeps sounded before the phone went dead. In the dim light, Edna watched with frustration as the light faded away on the little monitor. Not wanting to accept what she feared to be true, she shook the phone and pressed the redial button before putting the receiver to her ear again. Nothing. She hit the side of the phone against the palm of her left hand and again poked redial. It was no use. Communication with her family was cut off.
Hoping her message had been recorded, Edna pushed herself out of the chair. She felt as alone as she had ever been in her life and realized with a shock that she had better start doing something about her predicament. Nobody else was going to. With that thought came the understanding of how much of her security and well-being she had left to those around her, particularly Albert. Now, it seemed as if her entire world were falling apart.
In her husband’s absence, she was the next line of defense for herself and their home. If they think they can get the better of me, just because Albert’s not here, they have another think coming, she thought. With a growing anger, she straightened her back and looked at Mary’s indistinct form. At that moment, she wanted light, needing t
o see clearly. “Let’s get some hurricane lanterns from the kitchen,” she said.
Mary and Hank stayed close as Edna lit several lamps and carried one to the hall table. She was about to lead the little parade back into the kitchen when she heard cars crunching up the broken-shell driveway and opened the door to two uniformed policemen.
Both men exceeded six feet by an inch or two, but Willis Russell was as blond and slender as Zeb Grayson was dark and burly. Each man carried a large flashlight with a beam so strong that it shed more light in the hall than did the kerosene lamp. Once they’d introduced themselves, the men entered the house and immediately began directing rays of light over the walls and down the hall toward the living room.
“What’s this?” Russell’s beam picked out the easel.
“Looks like Tom Greene,” Grayson said, surprise in his voice.
The sheet of paper, which Edna was certain had been secured over the portrait, lay on the floor, and Tom looked back at them, seeming almost alive in the light that shone on the drawing.
“Good, isn’t it?” Mary said.
Even in the dimly lit hallway, Edna saw the look that passed swiftly between the two policemen and felt her face redden. “These men aren’t here to admire my artwork,” she said to Mary. “Would you gentlemen like to come into the kitchen? I have more lanterns in there, and the light’s a little better. We can sit down.”
“You want Hank to search and secure the place first?” Mary spoke to the officers.
Grayson smiled as he squatted beside Hank and rubbed the dog’s head. “I know this big guy. Used to go fishin’ with Tom and him. I think if anyone was still in the house, he’d have flushed ‘em out afore now.”
Officer Russell was shining his light around the floor. “If you two ladies will wait here, Zeb and I will see what we can make of these prints on the floor. Oh, and we’d better have your shoes and slippers.”
While she waited in silence, watching the men slowly follow the muddy tracks through to the kitchen, Edna wondered where Mary had put her gun. She turned toward the living room and considered the easel. There was no mud at that end of the hall, but it looked like water spots on the rug, as if rain had dripped from someone’s coat.
Murder by Yew Page 12
