Dangerous Secrets (18 page)

‶
If I hadn′t complained to
Mrs. Dawson, maybe—″

‶
Mrs. Andolina, Eileen Marshall
was murdered.″

She shook her head violently.
‶
No.
It′s my fault.″ This time the tears overflowed.

I reached over and gently touched her shoulder.
The depth of her sadness made me catch my breath. I pulled my hand back.
‶
I
didn′t mean to upset you.″

She wiped her eyes and cleared her throat. Then
she smiled at me and patted my hand affectionately.
‶
You never upset me,
son. Never.″ She looked over to her husband across the way.
‶
Fred?″

He was at her side in seconds.
‶
Yes,
dear?″

‶
I′m really very
tired.″ She turned back to me, and her smile was beatific.
‶
Thank
you, Greg.”

Fred′s eyes darted to her, his gaze
filled with surprise and pain.

Kay squeezed my hand.
‶
Good night.″
She rose from her chair, took her husband′s arm. They paused at the bar
to express their thanks to Susan for the party, then started upstairs.

Frustrated, I sat back in my chair

Who the hell was Greg?

After the Andolinas went upstairs, Sgt. Beach
made his way down. I intercepted him at the bottom of the steps.
‶
What
brings you here?″

‶
I just wanted to speak with
several of the guests. If you′ll excuse me.″ He turned for the game
room and headed for the DuBois.

Susan picked up an empty tray and returned to
the kitchen.

Richard turned to me.
‶
Looks like things
are breaking up. Did you get what you need upstairs?″

‶
We′ll talk later.″
I nodded toward Beach.
‶
What do you think he wants?″

We glanced across the room. Michele smiled at
her husband and hugged him, looking relieved.

‶
I′d say they just got the
okay to go home. Scratch two suspects,″ Richard said.

‶
Narrowing the field doesn′t
bother me a bit.″ I turned back to the bar, topping off my cola. My head
felt like it was about to split.
‶
I have to give up shaking
hands.″

‶
Why?″

‶
I learn too much crap.″

‶
Who′re you talking
about?″

I nodded toward the reporter.
‶
Ashley.
She′s a barfer. She stays skinny by throwing up. Did you see the way she
looked at the shrimp?″

He frowned, studying her.

‶
How much longer do we need to
stay?″ I asked.

‶
I′m ready to go now.
You?″

I looked back to the sergeant.
‶
In
a minute. I want to talk to Beach first.″

‶
Okay. This′ll give me a
chance to call Brenda.″

‶
I′ll meet you in your
room in ten or fifteen minutes.″

He nodded, looked down at his ice-filled empty
glass, and then poured himself another scotch, taking it and the bottle with
him.

Beach crossed to the loveseat in the corner
where Doug and Alyssa sat. He spoke with them for a moment, and then they, too,
looked relieved. After he′d finished, he noticed me waiting for him and
started toward me.

‶
Can I go home, too?″

‶
Not just yet.″

‶
I thought you said I
wasn′t a suspect.″

‶
You′re not. But you may
still be a material witness. Can you stay another day or so?″

‶
We′ll be here as long as
Maggie′s in the hospital.″ I glanced at my watch.
‶
Do
you work a twenty-four hour day?″

‶
It only seems like it.″

‶
You said you′d have this
solved in thirty-six hours. Does that still hold?″

‶
We′re getting
closer.″

‶
Who′re your most likely
suspects?″

‶
I′ll bet they′re
the same as yours.″

They. That meant he had no better idea than me.
There had to be a way to eliminate more of them from the running.

‶
Is there a chance I can get my
memory card back?″

‶
Yeah. You were right—there was
nothing worth looking at.”

Was that a judgment of my photography or had
they erased the thing?

Before I could ask, Beach said,
‶
I′ll
see you get it back.″

‶
Thanks. Oh, and my insurance
company will want a copy of the accident report. Can you help me out?″

‶
No problem. I′ve still
got paperwork to attend to. I′ll be in touch.″

I watched him go upstairs. I had nothing more
to say to the other guests, so I downed the rest of my Coke and grabbed the
last shrimp from the tray.

My work wasn′t finished yet, either.

Chapter 19

Richard had finished his call and was gone by
the time I looked out the kitchen door to the patio beyond. I headed upstairs
and knocked on his door, glad he opened it only seconds later. Brushing past
him, I headed straight for the bathroom.

‶
How′s the
headache?″

‶
How′d you know?″

‶
A, you look like shit. B, you
always have a headache when you invoke this psychic stuff.″

When the water ran cold, I wrung out a
washcloth, then headed for the comfort of the loveseat. I already had my
prescription bottle open, doled out a pill and slipped it under my tongue, and
then leaned back to settle the cool cloth on my forehead.

Richard shrugged and took the other chair.
‶
What′s
with the washcloth?″

‶
I was our mom′s favorite
hangover remedy. It makes your head feel better.″

‶
If you say so. Are you keeping
track of the medication you′ve taken?″

‶
Yes,″ I said irritably.

‶
You′ve been known to get
confused when the pain′s bad.″

‶
Thanks for the reminder.”

He shrugged again.
‶
Did Beach
leave?″

I nodded, kicked off my shoes and put my feet
on the cocktail table, trying to ignore Richard′s look of disapproval.
‶
He
said he had paperwork to finish. The town sure gets its money′s worth out
of him.″

‶
It′s called dedication.
The same can be said of you—and you′re not even getting paid for your
detective work.″

‶
It′s not detective work.
It’s more like plain nosiness since whoever killed Eileen also hurt Maggie and
wrecked my car.″

He nodded, conceding the point.
‶
I′ve
been meaning to ask you about the victim. You said she looked ill.”

‶
Yeah.″

‶
Any idea from what? Cancer?
Were there any outward sign of her being terminally ill?″

I shook my head.

‶
From what you′ve
described, it sounds like her condition was stable. What made you think she was
dying?″

‶
I got the impression
she
felt her time was short.″

Richard thought about it for a moment.
‶
Is
it possible she wanted to die?″

‶
What do you mean?″

‶
Could she have set herself up
as a target?″

‶
That doesn′t make
sense.″

‶
Why not? Have you ever heard of
suicide?″

I sat up straighter.
‶
You mean she was
too chicken to off herself, so she set herself up for someone else to do
it?″

‶
Every terminal patient handles
the news differently. Why do you think physician-assisted suicide keeps making
headlines? Some patients would rather choose the time of their death. They
don′t want to be an emotional or financial burden to their families. They
don′t want to suffer for months in agony. Perhaps she lacked the courage
to do it herself and decided being killed might be a way out.″

‶
Are you serious?″

He sank back in his chair.
‶
I′m
drained. I don′t know how you do it.″

‶
Do what?″

‶
Soak up other people′s
feelings. Like what happened with Maggie at the hospital today. It′s got
to drag you down.″

‶
It does,″ I admitted.
‶
And
I wish everything came with total understanding. Instead it comes like a jigsaw
puzzle—one piece at a time. Like searching Zack′s and Susan′s
apartment and Laura′s and Ted′s room.″

‶
What did you learn?″

‶
Not as much as I′d hoped.
I pawed through their things, but got the most information from their
beds.″

‶
Their beds?″

I explained what I′d experienced. Then a
thought occurred to me.
‶
Which bed did you sleep in the first night you were
here?″

He pointed.
‶
That one.″

‶
I didn′t get anything
from that other bed last night, and I never get anything off you. I wonder if
there′s leftover vibes from Eileen in your bed.″

‶
You make it sound like
cooties.″

‶
I always feel like a voyeur
when I get these funny feelings.″ I sobered, looking at the bed.
‶
Do
you mind?″

‶
Be my guest.″

Tossing the washcloth into the bathroom, I
moved to the bed. Perching on the edge, I laid back, closed my eyes, letting my
hands rest at my sides and opened myself up to ... whatever ... willing myself
to relax.

Nothing happened.

The sound of my own breathing unnerved me.

Richard shifted in his chair.

I concentrated on my memories of Eileen on her
last night, but trying to force these funny feelings was a sure way not to get
anything.

I needed patience.

My fingers curled into the bedspread.

A gray, hazy image seeped into my mind.
‶
She
was drinking the scotch....″ My left hand moved, groping for some unseen
object.

‶
What was she looking
for?″ Richard asked.

I struggled to sharpen the image, which made my
head thump even more.

‶
Uh ... a ... writing pad.
She′d been writing something.″

The image grew clearer. Eileen, dressed in her
white robe, sat propped up on pillows, with the scotch bottle within reach on
the bedside table. She held the half-filled tumbler in her right hand. Reading
glasses were perched on her nose. She held an expensive ballpoint pen in her
left hand and settled the tablet on her lap and began to write.

‶
Everything had been going just
the way she′d planned ... but then it started to sour.″

‶
What had she planned?″

Pain flared behind my eyes, extinguishing the
image. I exhaled loudly, frustrated.
‶
It′s gone.″ I
thought about it for a moment.
‶
It′s like ... being on the verge of
remembering, but I can′t quite focus on it.″ I folded my arms
across my chest and stared at the white textured ceiling.

‶
Let your subconscious work at
it for a while. Maybe it′ll come to you.″

‶
It’s too bad you can’t just
hypnotize me.″

‶
Who says I can′t?″

I propped myself up on my elbows and stared at
him.
‶
You
can do that?″

He shrugged.
‶
Hypnotism is just another state
of consciousness achieved through relaxation. I′ll bet I haven′t
lost my touch. Are you game?″

‶
Sure.″ I leaned back on
the bed, then raised my head to look up at him.
‶
Where′d you learn
this?″

‶
UCLA.″

I raised an eyebrow, waiting for the rest of
the explanation.

‶
Okay, so I took the course to
meet the instructor.″

‶
A woman?″

‶
Yes.″

‶
And?″

He squirmed.
‶
After that, I ... lived with
her for three years.″

‶
Before Brenda, right?″

‶
Of course.″ He cleared
his throat.
‶
Anything
specific you want me to ask?″

I′d have to grill him on his past some
other time.
‶
Just
whatever comes to mind. If it works, ask me about Adam pushing me down the
stairs. It seems like there′s something there, too, but I don′t
know how to capture it.″

Richard sat across from me on the other bed.
‶
Okay.
Close your eyes. Leave your arms at your sides and take a deep breath.″

I did as I was told.

‶
Breathe deeply and evenly, and
with every breath you′ll feel all tension within you begin to dissipate.
That′s it. Deep breaths.″

I listened to Richard speak; his voice dropped
into a gentle croon. I concentrated on the calm, soothing sound of his words
and on my own breathing.

Slowly in.

Slowly out.

The intense pounding in my head began to fade
as a sense of peace descended upon me.

Slow.

Deep.

Breaths.

I felt at ease. Safe. Floating—no longer one
with my body, my mind open to the universe.

‶
Jeff?″

‶
Yes?″ My voice sounded
oddly flat. Slower. Deeper.

‶
You′re now totally
relaxed. You feel no sense of uneasiness or anxiety. You feel calm, relaxed and
totally self-assured.″

‶
Yes.″

‶
I want you to think of Eileen.
Can you see her sitting on the bed? Writing on a tablet?″

What had been a hazy image was suddenly
superimposed on my consciousness in vivid detail—as though I was actually
witnessing it.

There′s nothing quite like a good scotch
buzz, but Eileen had gone way beyond that, the liquor intensifying all her
emotions. Sorrow, shame, and anger spewed from her in an uncontrolled torrent,
buffeting my senses like a typhoon. I struggled to catch my breath.

‶
You′re totally
relaxed,″ Richard reminded me,
‶
and any emotions you sense
cannot overwhelm you. You understand them, but they do not control you.
You′re safe from them.″

Like turning down the volume on a stereo,
Eileen′s emotions backed down to a tolerable level.

‶
That′s it,″ Richard
encouraged,
‶
relax.
Now, look at the tablet in her hands. See the pen moving across the paper. Can
you tell me what she′s writing?″

My point of view abruptly shifted. Suddenly I
was a sponge, absorbing Eileen′s essence—knowing what it was to
be
Eileen, taking in my surroundings
through her eyes.

My gaze drifted to the tablet. Doodles
decorated the page.

‶
Laura ... two hundred and fifty
thousand dollars.″

‶
What′s the money′s
for?″

In a flash, Eileen′s lifetime of memories
flooded through me. I knew so many things I shouldn′t have known: her
school years, working in London and then New York, the places she′d been
to, the lovers she′d known.

‶
Ted ... Teddy,″ I said,
surprised.
‶
Teddy
Bear.″

‶
What does that mean?″

My tongue seemed too big for my mouth, and my
stomach tightened.
‶
He reminds her of … the first one.″

‶
Her first lover?″ Richard
repeated.

‶
Yes ... no. The first … young
one.″

“Young one? Who was that? When was that?”

“When isn’t important … his age was. Just a
boy. Maybe ten or eleven.”

“And how old was Laura?”

“Twenty-two?”

“What?” Richard said, sounding incredulous.
“And Eileen knew about this?”

I nodded. “Laura worked for Eileen … was
arrested. She lost her job.”

“So what was Eileen’s plan? To blackmail her?”

“I nodded.”

‶
They both ended up here over
Fourth of July ... that’s when Eileen started plotting?″

“Why?”

‶
She wanted money—a business
loan she called it. But she knew she would never repay it.″

‶
What else is written on the
paper?″

‶
Zack ... two hundred and fifty
thousand dollars.″

‶
Was Eileen blackmailing Zack,
too?″

‶
No.″

‶
Was she going to give Zack the
money she got from Laura?″

‶
Yes.”

‶
What for?″

‶
To buy out Susan.″ The
answer had come so easily, yet I really wasn′t sure of its validity.

‶
Is that all that was on the
paper?″

‶
No. Susan ... her name ...
crossed out. Heavy ink.″ Dark lines, done in anger, almost obliterated
her name on the phantom tablet.

‶
Eileen and Zack were lovers,
weren′t they?″ Richard continued.

‶
Yes.″ Was balling Eileen
a mercy fuck? She had to be fifteen, maybe twenty years older than Zack.

‶
Had they been lovers for a long
time?″ Richard went on.

‶
No.″ A warm, bittersweet
memory came to me.
‶
Eileen first came to the inn last summer. She came
back three times since. Once when Susan was gone.″ The memory fragment
I′d picked up in the Dawson′s bathroom returned, enhanced to
include Zack and Eileen together in the hot tub on a cool, spring day.

‶
Was there anything else on the
paper?″

‶
Says ...
‵
Call
David. September 10th.′″

‶
Who′s David?″

‶
Eileen′s attorney. Ashley
said Eileen saw him the day she died.″

‶
What for?″

Whatever transpired between the attorney and
Eileen had not been emotionally charged. It eluded me.
‶
I don′t
know.″

‶
Did Eileen
want
to die?″

A ripple of sorrow shattered the calm. A
shudder ran through me.
‶
She ... thought she was going to die.″

‶
By murder?″

Something tightened in my chest. Fear—but I
wasn′t sure of the source.
‶
I don′t know.″

‶
Was she sick?″

A bitter memory of illness surfaced, what
Eileen feared would be her future.
‶
Last winter. Pneumonia.″
But that hadn’t been her underlying problem.