Room Beneath the Stairs (23 page)

“It's all right, luv.”

“Grey—”

“I'm here.”

“Hold me.”

“Try to forget,” he whispered.

He was holding me, his arms wrapped around me. He was large and warm and comforting. I opened my eyes. He was really there. It wasn't a dream. His handsome face was inches from my own. His eyes were filled with concern. I touched his cheek, ran my fingers through the thick blond hair. He cradled me against his chest. Over his shoulder I could see Evan standing by the window, Burke beside him. Grey lifted my hair and kissed the nape of my neck. I clung to him desperately, but he evaporated, vanished into air.

A frightened, timid-looking little man with sandy hair and worried eyes was standing beside the bed, a black bag in his hand.

“Shock, primarily.”

“She'll be all right?” Evan asked.

“No need to worry.”

“Poor dear,” Judy said, stroking my brow.

“—'ll help. Make her relax.”

“No,” I protested, staring at the needle.

“Easy,” Evan said.

“Grey. I want Grey—”

“Her husband,” Evan explained. “He was with her earlier. He and our chauffeur have gone out to help them search.”

“—won't hurt at all,” the doctor said nervously. “Just relax, Mrs. Brandon.”

Oblivion was sweet, and total, undisturbed by voices, by dreams.

I heard the clock ticking, muffled at first, far away, and then it grew louder, shrill and discordant. I opened my eyes. The clock on the bedside table showed three. Groggy, blinking, I sat up. The pain was gone. My head no longer throbbed. Through the windows I saw a gray, overcast sky, and I realized it must be midafternoon. I was ravenously hungry. As my fogginess lifted, I stared about the room. The light was dim and gloomy. It's going to storm, I thought. There was a smell of stale tobacco smoke. Someone had been smoking in the room during the night. I got out of bed, not at all weak, surprisingly fit.

I took a long, hot shower. The water, almost scalding, cleared away the last vestiges of drug-induced grogginess. Then I dressed, choosing a simple brown dress with short, pleated skirt and sleeveless top. My face in the oval mirror showed no sign of stress and strain. My cheeks were a pale, delicate pink, and my eyes were clear, violet blue. I brushed my hair vigorously, and I was applying a touch of coral lipstick when Judy crept hesitantly into the room. She gave a cry of alarm, appalled to find me out of bed.

“Mrs. Brandon!” she exclaimed.

“I'm perfectly all right, Judy.”

“You shouldn't be up! You need rest and—”

“I've been resting for hours,” I said calmly.

“Mister Evan will have a fit. He said—”

“I don't care what he said.”

She looked slightly disappointed. She had expected to find me pale and drawn, shivering with hysteria, babbling incoherently, as I must have done the night before. Instead, she found me completely composed, looking the picture of health. I didn't really understand it myself, but I had never been calmer, had never felt stronger. Recapping the lipstick, I stood up and walked over to the windows to stare out at the churning, choppy waves. They were almost black, tipped with foam, and the low-hanging sky was the color of dark slate.

“A storm is brewing,” I said thoughtfully.

“It's been building up all day.”

“I've never seen the sky so dark.”

“Mrs. Brandon—are you sure you're all right?”

“I feel fine, Judy.”

“Terrible thing.…” She said hesitantly.

“Yes,” I agreed.

“
Hor
rible. Exactly like that other murder—the little girl, all those years ago. They never found out who did it, and now.…”

Judy gave a dramatic shudder. Cheated of her opportunity to play the devoted nurse, she wanted to talk. She had probably never seen so much excitement in all her life, I thought. For Judy this was obviously a grand, terribly thrilling drama, and she was elated to have a part in it, if only a small walk-on. Hands clasped together, eyes wide, she stared at me as an inexperienced amateur might stare at the glamorous leading lady, a little in awe, eager to discuss stage action.

“Everything's topsy-turvy,” she said. “The police were here half the morning, asking questions. Cook was terribly upset. She packed her bags. Stella did, too. They quit, both of 'em. Burke took them down to the ferry right after lunch. Cook said I'd come too if I knew what was good for me, but I couldn't. I may be high-strung—this's upset me something
awful
—but I couldn't go, not when I was needed so desperately. Mister Evan is depending on me to keep a level head. He said so himself.”

She preened a little with self-importance, mentally seeing her brief walk-on expanding into a meatier role: the reliable family servant, on hand with aid and advice in time of crisis.

“Mrs. Porter—she's in a dreadful state. Looks like death, she does, face white as a ghost, eyes starin' out of her head. Jumpy. She almost went to pieces when the police were here. Mister Evan made her go back to bed, made her take her pills. He's sending her to London to stay with one of her aunts, plans to take her over to the train station later on this afternoon. He's afraid she'll crack up if she stays here a day longer. I heard him say so to Burke.”

“So Helen's leaving,” I said quietly.

“Good thing, too. Mister Evan has enough on his hands without her carrying on like she's been. Wouldn't stay in bed. Her pills won't work. She keeps crying and crying—you'd think
she
found the body! I've been helping her pack. No disrespect, I'm sure, but I do think this murder's unhinged her mind, poor thing.”

“How is Carlotta taking it?”

“Strangest thing—she didn't blink an eyelash. Acted like she knew it was going to happen all the time. She just went right on with her sewing, told me to have Burke buy her another package of pins when he went down for the mail. I never cease to wonder—”

“And Grey?” I said.

“He's in his room,” she said. “Sleeping. Worried out of his mind, he was, till the doctor said you'd be all right. He and Burke were gone all night, searching the woods with the others. Didn't get in till sometime after eleven. I didn't see him myself, but he must've been beat. Mister Evan said he's not to be disturbed—Mister Grey, I mean.”

“Mister Evan seems to be in complete command.”

“Oh, he
is
. Wonderfully calm and stern.”

“Have the police any idea who—”

“They haven't found
any
thing,” she said in an awed voice. “Not a clue. So peculiar. Just like that little girl. Ned told me all about
that
case. He came up to see me this morning, Ned, swaggered into the kitchen bold as brass, wanted me to leave at once, but I told him, ‘I've got my duties,' I said. ‘I'm needed, particularly since Cook and Stella are deserting.' He was worried the maniac would come after
me!
Gave me a proper scare, but I'm nothing if not loyal.” Judy's role was growing meatier and meatier. “Anyway, Mister Evan said the murderer is probably long gone. Probably took a boat to the mainland soon as he finished—”

“And what did the police say?” I asked, certain she would know.

“They agreed,” Judy replied. “No one in his right mind would stay on the island after committing such a hideous crime. Of course, no one in his right mind would have done it in the
first
place. The chief constable figures he was a stranger, met Valerie at the pub and made an assignation with her, then, when she came to meet him in the woods—” She shuddered again, with full dramatic effect. “Fancy your being in the woods at that very moment. Did—did you hear her
scream?
” she asked eagerly.

I nodded, looking away.

“That's what Mister Evan told 'em. You were taking a walk, he said, and you heard her scream. That's how you discovered the body. They were eager to talk to you, but he put his foot down, Mister Evan did, said you were in no condition to talk to anyone. They were most understanding. The young sergeant, he was particularly nice. I gave him a cup of coffee in the kitchen. His name's Jack. He has the
bluest
eyes. They're still combing the woods this afternoon. The village is in a regular panic. Ned said there was a stampede on the hardware shop, people buying locks—

“You were ever so brave to go into those caves. Me, I would 've been scared to death. When he brought you in last night, I like to 've fainted dead away, and when I found out what
hap
pened—well, me so high-strung and all, you can imagine.…”

Judy was inexhaustible. Her chatter had been very informative, but I realized this could go on all day unless I put a stop to it. Interrupting her highly detailed monologue, I told her I was hungry and asked if there was anything to eat. Stressing the fact that she would have to make it herself what with Cook's treachery, she finally bustled out to see about getting my lunch. I stood at the windows, watching the sky grow darker. After a few minutes I turned away, squared my shoulders and started downstairs.

The halls were dim, the whitewashed walls spread with soft, violet-gray shadows, so unlike the day before, when they had been gilded with sunlight. There was a chill in the air, and it was really too cool for my sleeveless dress, but I didn't want to go back to my room for a sweater. I went down the stairs and stood for a moment in the main hall, poised, amazed at my own calm. There would be a delayed reaction, I knew. The trembling would come, but now it was as though I were immune to any feeling whatsoever. The events of yesterday seemed to have happened to someone else, a long time ago. I could view them with an almost frightening objectivity.

Judy brought coffee into the breakfast nook and, a few minutes later, bread, butter, sliced ham, and eggs scrambled much too hard. I lingered over the meal, pouring a third cup of coffee, watching heavy clouds form on the horizon. The weather suited me. I couldn't have borne dazzling sunlight and warbling birds—not today. Finishing the coffee, I wandered aimlessly into the sitting room, and it was there that Evan found me.

“What the
hell
are you doing out of bed?” he demanded.

“Nothing in particular.”

“Go back to your room at once!”

I shook my head slowly, staring at him with a level gaze.

“If there's one thing I don't need, it's another hysterical woman on my hands.”

“Do I seem hysterical?”

He frowned, studying me carefully, as surprised at my poise as Judy had been. He wore slender black trousers and a white dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up over his elbows. The skin seemed to be stretched tightly over his face, and there were deep shadows beneath his eyes. He looked worn and harried, near the point of collapse; but there was a stubborn set to his mouth, a look of determination in his dark brown eyes. He must have been under incredible strain these past eighteen hours, but he would continue to bear up, give orders, make decisions, control everything with an iron hand. Some men have that ability. Evan would have made a magnificent commander during time of war, I thought idly, watching his frown deepen.

“You're too calm,” he said.

“Am I?”

“I wonder why.”

“I wonder myself. Would you prefer me to babble and cry?”

“Don't push me, Carolyn. Just don't push me.”

“I have no intention of pushing you. I suppose I should thank you for what you did last night.”

“You remember?”

“Vaguely.”

“How much?”

“I remember your bringing me to the house. I remember Grey coming to my room, and the doctor. Everything else is hazy.”

I didn't mention those scraps of conversation I had overheard, nor did I mention that moment of uncharacteristic tenderness when he had touched my cheek so lightly. Evan looked relieved. He stepped over to the window and peered across the drive to the bowling green. The evergreens were swaying in the wind. I had the peculiar sensation that the Carolyn standing so calmly in the sitting room really wasn't me at all. She was a stranger, and I observed her with detachment, wondering why she felt nothing but this chilling calm.

Turning to face me, he was a dark silhouette against the window, his face in shadow, his shirt a white blur. “There are several questions,” he said.

“I assumed there would be.”

“What were you doing in the woods?”

“I went to meet Valerie,” I said simply.

“Oh?”

“Surely Burke told you I went to see her at the pub. She started to tell me something, something very important, just as he arrived. She was terrified. She said she would meet me in the woods around six thirty. She came, and she was murdered.”

“Before you talked to her again,” he said.

“That's right.”

“You're a fool, Carolyn.”

“Not as big a fool as the rest of you seem to take me for.”

“You paid no attention to what I said, did you? I told you to keep out of the woods. I told you to keep in sight of the house. But no, you had to play private detective. You had to pry and meddle. Do you know how I felt when I found you there in the woods? Have you any idea? I thought
you
had been attacked. I thought—”

“But I wasn't,” I said.

“God! When I think of it. Not only did you wander off into the woods, you went charging into the caves as well, like an absolute idiot! What if he had still
been
there?”

“I think he was.”

“Jesus!”

“I heard something move in the corner of the grotto. There was a nest of shadows, but I—I think I saw a dark form crouching there. Who was it, Evan?”

“I don't know.”

“I think you're lying.”

“Listen, Carolyn—”

“This rather tears the police's theory, doesn't it? They believe Valerie met a stranger at the pub and agreed to meet him in the woods. They think he murdered her and then took a boat to the mainland—”