April Fools (5 page)

"Obviously." He filled the teapot, and waited for it to steep. When it was ready, he filled Belinda's cup and returned to the stove.

Belinda pointed to the stool beside her. "Don't you want to sit down?"

"If it makes you more comfortable."

"Yes, it would." Belinda watched, relieved, as he perched himself on the edge of the stool. He looked like a strange, exotic bird very much out of his element. "Maybe we should sit at the table," she said.

"Excellent idea."

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Together they took their cups and a plate of toast and sat across from each other -- after Cobbs had pulled out her chair and seated her. The tea tasted wonderful, and with the first few sips, Belinda smiled hesitantly and leaned back in her chair.

"This is really good. I hke it."

"That certainly makes my day."

"YouYe from England, aren't you?"

*What was your first clue?"

Belinda's smile widened. "Your accent, of course. And you're very . . . stiff."

Cobbs conceded with a nod.

"So how did you end up here? Mrs. Thome says you've been with the family for a long time."

Another nod. "My father worked for Mr. Thome's grandfather. We go back many years."

Belinda hesitated, wanting to know . . . not sure she should ask. "Is Mr. Thome really . . . dying?"

"He's in a coma. He knows no one. His body was severely crushed and burned. It's merely a matter of time."

"I'm so sorry," Belinda mumbled, and hurried to change the subject. "I've always wanted to go to England. Do you miss it?"

"I left when I was quite a young man. I've spent more of my life in this country now than the other."

Belinda sipped thoughtfully at her tea, the warmth seeping through her body, sweet and relaxing. She could almost imagine that she'd never seen that cage in the other room. "Why are there snakes in the house?"

"It's Mr. Thome's wishes. Eccentric, perhaps, but law."

"But . . . aren't you afraid they'll get out?"

Across from her the old man's face remained bland. "I Hve in terror."

She shifted her eyes away as he caught her staring again, and her glance lighted on two gold-framed photographs arranged side by side on a windowsill. They were both boys she was sure she didn't know, and yet one of them seemed unsettlingly familiar.

"Mr. Cobbs --"

"Just Cobbs, miss."

Belinda nodded. "Those pictures over there -- who are they?"

**Why, the sons, of course."

"Sons?"

"Dear Uttle darlings of the household." He raised one shaggy eyebrow. "Mister Noel and Mister Adam."

"Oh! Then that one on the left --"

"Yes, miss. You met him upstairs. That's Mister Adam. Mr. Thome's son from his first marriage. Noel belongs to the Madame."

"May I look?"

Cobbs shrugged, and she crossed to the window, picking up each frame in turn. The boy called Noel was standing on a beach, his hair all windblown and sun-bleached, his eyes soft and hazel-colored, and there was a huge dog at his side. But Adam . . .

Something caught in Belinda's throat as she gazed at the darkness of Adam. Defiance showed in every unsmiling line of his face -- his ruggedly

handsome face -- not the face that had frightened her so upstau*s. His eyes and hair were raven black, his face tanned like Noel's, but more naturally, not just from the seasonal rays of the sun. He looked beautiful and evil at the same time, and Belinda felt tears filling her eyes.

He was standing at the edge of a cliff, and he was straight and tall and unscarred --

"Do you know\ anything about his accident?" Belinda's voice trembled, and she ran one finger over the smooth glass of Adam's cheek.

"He doesn't talk about it. It's not my place to ask." Behind her she heard Cobbs get up from the table, and she hastily wiped her eyes. She turned and he was looking at her, but then he looked away, busying himself at the counter, chopping with his cleaver.

"Do you ... do you happen to know how Mrs. Thome got my name?" she asked quietly.

"I only saw a small card advertising your services. I assume she saw it posted somewhere."

Behnda glanced over at him and replaced the picture on the sill. "Adam wouldn't let me see him," she said softly. "It was . . . scary."

The cleaver paused in midair . . . lowered noiselessly to the countertop. "Some scars run deeper than those we can see."

Puzzled, she turned and stared at his rigid back. "Mrs. Thome doesn't want him, does she?"

A long pause, and then, "Not if she can possibly avoid it."

And Belinda nodded, although there was no one

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to see her except the unsmiling face of Adam as she tilted him carefully into the light. "Then maybe I'll take this job, Mr. Cobbs."

The cleaver lifted slowly, came down again with a wet thud on the raw meat.

"If you're ready, I'll drive you home now."

That strongy challenging face . . . full of dark secrets and dark emotions . . . With a sigh BeUnda closed her Spanish book, realizing she had no idea what she'd just read. Adam Thome, whatever happened to you, couldn't have anything to do with mPS . . . but Fm going to help you come out of your darkness. She sighed again as she heard a car in the driveway. Frank and Hildy were already here. She couldn't remember when she'd ever felt less like seeing them.

"So?" Hildy burst through the back door, flinging her coat onto the kitchen table. "Did you take the job? I want to hear all about it -- don't leave anything out --"

"Is this gonna take very long?" Frank opened the refrigerator door and helped himself to a Pepsi, then rummaged for something to eat. "Hey, your cupboard's kinda bare, Belinda. Hurry up with the lessons, will you? There's a movie we wanna catch. And maybe -- if Hildy's a real good girl -- a nice surprise after that."

Hildy looked intrigued. "What kind of surprise? Where are we going?"

"I was thinking . . . maybe a Httle action. You know -- up at Suicide Drop."

Belinda shuddered. "You don't really take Hildy up there, do you?"

^What's the matter with that? It's nice and deserted . . . dark and quiet . . . perfect for making out -- wish it was you I was taking instead?" Frank grinned.

Hildy shook her head at Belinda. "Don't worry. He's always trying to get me to go up there with him, but wild horses couldn't drag me. Yuck . . . just thinking of that awful place gives me the creeps. Frank, sometimes I think you're totally

insane."

"No, you think I'm totally irresistible. And Where's your sense of adventure? Your sense of romance?"

"You mean her sense of intelligence," Belinda frowned. "And anyway, that road's been closed for months."

"The better to be alone together, my dear," Frank gave a wicked chuckle, and Belinda turned away, trying to shut the whole idea out of her head.

Everyone knew about Suicide Drop, the hill outside of town that had claimed so many innocent Hves. Its narrow dirt road descended almost straight down, then cut sharply between a jagged slope on one side, and a sheer drop to rocks below on the other. Its danger was also deceiving -- most people didn't even realize how quickly their car could pick up speed until they were too close to the cliff to make the curve. Thinking about it now reminded Belinda of the road near the airport, and she nearly dropped the coffeepot she was filling.

"So what do you think?" Frank asked again. "An hour? Two at the most? How long is all this stupid homework gonna take?"

"That depends on Hildy," Belinda said shortly, and Frank spun around with a grin.

"My, my, aren't we touchy tonight! What happened -- you get canned today before you even started your job?"

"Frank," Hildy gave him a warning look and he shrugged, finally settling on a jar of oUves, which he took to the table. "Okay, Belinda," Hildy turned back, "what happened? We were right, weren't we? You did all that worrying for nothing." She gave a triumphant grin, but it faded at the look on her friend's face.

"I don't know," Belinda said.

*What do you mean, you don't know?" Frank snorted. "It's either a coincidence or you're crazy. Very simple." Hildy glared at him and he promptly popped an ohve into each eye and made a face at her.

"Stop it, Frank; that's disgusting." Hildy pulled her chair close to BeUnda. "So why don't you know?"

"He won't talk about his accident. He won't even let me see his face." She shuddered inwardly, remembering that distorted image in the dark. "He's all stitched up and something's wrong with his legs -- he uses a cane. I don't know. ... I just don't want to believe we could have caused something like that. ..."

For a split second Hildy's expression fell, and she looked confused. It was Frank who leaned forward, his voice so self-assured in the sudden, uncomfortable quiet.

"Just cut it out, huh, Belinda? You know and / know and Hildy knows -- in our heart of hearts -- that it's absolutely impossible for --"

"Nothing's impossible, Frank," Belinda said firmly. He looked a little surprised, but still shook his head at her.

"Talk about a guilty conscience! Jeez, it's just gonna eat and eat at you --"

"You should have heard the way Adam talked," Belinda shook her head. "Things he said to me -- almost as if he knows me, it's creepy --"

"You are so easy to scare." Frank chuckled. "Anybody could scare you --"

"Let's study," Hildy said hurriedly. "Let's get this over with so we can see the movie. You, too, Belinda, you come, too --"

"No." Her voice was tight. "I don't feel like a

movie."

"You'll excuse me then if I miss this fascinating discussion." Frank stood up, his mouth full, and took his snacks with him into the living room. "I need some -- what was that, Hildy? Intellectual stimulation. In front of the TV. Hey, where's your paper?"

Belinda pressed her lips together. "Outside, I guess. I forgot to bring it in."

Hildy stared down at the table as Belinda opened her math book, laid out her notes, set out paper and pencils between them. "Belinda . . . really . . . why

don't you come with us? It'll be good for you to get out --"

"No, I don't want to." She sat down in the chair, then lowered her head in her hands.

"Belinda -- what is it?"

"You should have see him, Hildy. Before the accident, I mean."

"Before? But how -- ?"

"I saw a picture of him and he was so gorgeous . . . tall, dark, and handsome --"

"Just your type," Hildy teased, but her smile was sincere. "I told you, didn't I tell you? That this could be him? Mr. Right?"

"Oh, Hildy." Belinda's voice faded. She felt Hil-dy's hand on her arm. "If Adam really was in that accident, I'll never forgive myself."

"So is that why you're taking the job?"

"I don't know. I've got to find out for sure, but I really want to help him, too -- I just don't know. He ... he scares me. And they keep snakes in the house."

"Oh, gross! How weird! Look, I wish you'd just forget about everything once and for all. I just wish you'd --"

"Hey, Belinda" -- Frank reappeared in the doorway, examining something in his hands -- "there was a package on your porch."

"A package?" Belinda took the small box he held out to her and shook it. Nothing rattled inside. Her own name was scrawled sloppily across the brown wrapping, but there was no return address.

*What do you think it is?" Hildy took it from her and shook it again, frowning. "There're no stamps, no forms. Someone must have left it."

"Who?" Behnda looked blank. "I don't know anyone who'd have left me anything."

"Uh-oh" -- Frank shook his finger at her -- "you're holding out on us, Belinda. Some secret admirer you're not teUing us about."

Belinda ignored him and ripped the paper at one end of the box. The cardboard underneath was unmarked. She eased the wrapping off carefully, looking for any clue that might be below, but there was nothing. Just a small, flat, ordinary box.

She looked up at Hildy. Hildy looked at Frank.

"You open it," Belinda said suddenly, thrusting the box at Frank. For a second he looked startled, but then he laughed.

"Okay, but if it's something personal, don't blame me." He slid his finger under each taped end, then slowly hfted the hd.

Belinda's hand gripped the edge of the table.

Frank stared a moment, then began to chuckle. "It's a piece of paper." He held the folded object up between his fingers, and Hildy gave a nervous laugh. "Okay, Behnda, satisfied?" Frank shook his head. "Now you read it. It'd probably embarrass

me."

Belinda took the paper, relief flooding through her. What did you think it would be, anyway? You're so silly. Yet she'd had a terrible feehng that it would be something . . . something bad . . . and now that it wasn't, she felt almost giddy.

"Go on, what's it say?" Hildy nudged her.

Belinda unfolded the paper, smiling at her own foolishness.

And then the smile froze on her lips.

**What is it?" Hildy was watching her, and suddenly none of it was funny anymore.

"It's . . . it's a calender," Belinda whispered.

"A what?"

"A ... a page from a calendar. April." Belinda let the paper flutter from her . fingers. "Oh, God--"

**What is it?" Hildy's voice was shrill, and Frank snatched up the page as Belinda sagged back in her chair.

*What is that, Frank?" she asked tonelessly. And he stared at her, not answering, his face suddenly unsure. "That mark, Frank -- that mark on the first of April -- Frank, what is that?"

And his mouth moved, but nothing came out, and Belinda shut her eyes and said it again.

"That circle around April Fools' Day, Frank -- April Fools' Day --"

"It couldn't be," Frank said quietly. "It looks like . . . like dried blood."

Someone knows . .. someone knows ... someone --

"Hey, Belinda, wait up!"

Belinda spun around, startled, as Hildy came running across the schoolyard, braids streaming behind her in the playful wind.

"Didn't you hear me? Fve been yelling and yelling!" Hildy stopped to catch her breath, trying to balance her books while she struggled into her sweater. Belinda looked on and said nothing. "I thought I'd never get out of there -- dumb old Miss Cooper was lecturing us all on how dumb we are --"