Nowhere to Hide (34 page)

Marissa sat quietly, listening to Ivy’s “Worry About You,” until she couldn’t stand it any longer. “Eric, was anything else in the envelope?”

He nodded, reached into the envelope lying beside him, and pulled out a color photograph. He glanced at it, then handed it to Marissa. She saw Catherine in a strapless lavender gown with a diaphanous tulle skirt. She’d pulled up her brown hair behind her right ear and fastened it with a silk gardenia while the other side waved to the top of her gown. She held a glass of champagne and laughed at something the woman beside her was saying. Will Addison stood on Catherine’s other side, looking at her with something in his eyes beyond adoration.

“This was taken at the Carlisle wedding,” Marissa said. “Catherine was a bridesmaid and I remember how beautiful she looked. That would have been…” She closed her eyes and thought. “Late April. Will and Gretchen were dating then.”

“And afterward she cooled things with Addison, started hanging out with Dillon Archer, and in June she died.”

Marissa tried to remember exactly how Gretchen had felt about Will. Cautious because of his good looks, his sophistication, his practiced charm, his reputation for never getting serious with a girl. Marissa had been stunned when Susan Montgomery let Gretchen have even one date with Will, but one had turned into many.

“Eric, Will Addison would have been one of the last people I’d have imagined your mother letting Gretchen date. Did she approve of him?”

Eric remained silent for a moment and Marissa felt as if he was struggling with truth versus loyalty. He took a deep breath. “My mother didn’t approve of Will. You know she pretty much runs the ship at home, but for once my father crossed her and said Gretchen
could
date Will. They had had a ferocious argument in their room—they seemed to think no matter how loud their voices got, Gretchen and I couldn’t hear if they had the door closed.

“My father said, ‘Do you realize how much money the Addisons have?’ Mom asked what that had to do with anything and Dad started shouting about how much Gretchen’s piano, violin, voice lessons had cost, not to mention her years at Juilliard. She lived in an apartment with Mom’s sister, whose husband charged substantial room and board. Dad said, ‘Gretchen has just about drained us, Susan. I wouldn’t change any of it—I’m so proud of her—but our financial position is precarious.’” Eric smiled bitterly. “
Precarious
. I’d never heard my dad use that word. He went on about how Wilfred Addison couldn’t live forever, when he died his money would go to Evelyn, and Evelyn would deny Will nothing, especially if he was married to someone she considered not only a lady but talented and, no doubt, one day famous.”

“Oh, I see.” Marissa tried to make her voice completely neutral, although she was deeply disappointed in Eric’s father. “Did Gretchen talk to you about Will?”

“
Me
? No way. If she was going to talk to anyone, it would have been you.”

“She never said much about him. That was my tip-off that she really cared for him, even loved him. She always kept her most personal feelings to herself.”

“Meanwhile, Will was in love with your sister.”

“I do know he didn’t break off the relationship. Gretchen told me she ended things,” Marissa said. “She claimed she and Will were just too different. After that, though, she started acting even more distant than she had when she was dating him. She never wanted to do anything.” Marissa paused. “She never wanted to play the piano. You had to almost force her.”

“Now we know why she didn’t want to play the piano, or the violin, or to sing. The tremors must have been getting noticeable.”

“The first doctor’s report is dated in early December.”

“So she knew at her last Christmas,” Eric said.

“The second doctor’s report is dated February and the third April.”

“She put that picture of Will and Catherine taken in April in the envelope because it was important to her. ‘A picture is worth a thousand words.’ I told you she loved Will, but when she saw this photo she had to realize how Will felt about Catherine. We’ve learned stress and emotional upheaval can make the condition worse.” Marissa paused. “And I hate to say this, but if Gretchen knew how your father felt about all the money he’d spent on her, she would have thought she’d put the family in financial straits for nothing. She might be able to perform on the concert circuit that was to start in the fall but not afterward. She couldn’t have a long career.”

Suddenly Eric moaned and put his head in his hands. Marissa placed her hand on his back. He didn’t breathe. After nearly ten seconds, he uttered a sob that seemed to rip from the depths of his being. His entire body shook, and without a thought Marissa pulled him to her and wrapped her arms around him, murmuring comforting phrases in his ear and pressing his face against her shoulder. At last, he raised his head. Marissa put a hand on each side of his head, lifted her lips, and tenderly kissed each of his eyelids. Then, again and again, she gently kissed his cheeks wet with both their tears and finally pressed her lips against his. They didn’t share a passionate kiss. Their tongues did not touch. But Marissa felt as if that chaste kiss, gentle as the flutter of a butterfly’s wing, bore all the love in the world.

Eric settled for a while, breathing evenly, staring into the fireplace, his fingers twining softly with hers. Marissa thought his inner storm might be abating until he asked in a tortured voice, “Why did this have to happen to Gretchen?”

“Why does something like this happen to anyone?”

“But she was so sweet, so good, so
young.
We all kept her wrapped up in a cocoon and when it was finally time for her to burst free—
this
hit her!”

“I know, Eric. It’s awful. I could tell you God has a reason and we just don’t know it, but I wouldn’t be sincere. I don’t think the universe is always rational. Bad things happen to good people and I
cannot
believe that’s just the way it’s supposed to be, no matter how hard I try. I think all we can do is endure it. There’s no universal bad guy you can bring to justice for all the wrongs in the world. There’s no bad guy you can bring to justice for Gretchen’s illness.”

“That’s the hell of it, Marissa,” Eric said with soft despair. “I always believed there
was
justice and someone had to be responsible for the
in
justice. It’s why I wanted to become a cop—so I could help set right all that was unfair in the world.” He sighed. “I was so damned naïve.”

“No, you weren’t. Justice does exist in the world—it just doesn’t always win the day, or so it seems. And you have to remember that Gretchen’s tremors
didn’t
take her life.
They
didn’t kill her.”

“You don’t think she meant to jump off that rail, but Dillon got her first?”

“Absolutely. Gretchen wouldn’t give up that easily. She had an inner strength I don’t believe her family saw. I’m sure she would have tried everything to cure her condition. She did
not
intend to kill herself, Eric. Dillon Archer killed Gretchen. I just don’t know why.”

Chapter 18

1

After Eric left Marissa’s, surprisingly unembarrassed by letting her see his emotional weakness, even his tears, he’d checked to see that the deputy was still wide-awake and watching the Gray house. Then Eric had gone back to his Spartan apartment, listened to his answering machine, on which Robbie Landers asked him to call her.

“Sorry I’m calling so late,” he told her a few minutes later. “Jean invited me to visit Mitch. Before you even ask, I’ll tell you that he’s in terrible shape. I don’t think he’ll live out the week.”

“Oh no.” Eric heard Robbie take a deep breath. “Well, we all knew he didn’t have much time. I’m glad you were able to see him. He thought a lot of you, sir.”

“I’ve known him since I was a little boy. So, how did your canvass of the local motels go today?”

“I went to eight places, ranging from moderately nice to bad. I followed all of your directions plus added a few of my own touches—lots of bright orange lipstick, false eye lashes, hair in a ponytail with a pink ribbon, and I giggled until I’m exhausted.”

“Sounds like you were quite the peacock today.” Suddenly Eric was smiling, enjoying himself. “False eyelashes?”

“And metallic black eyeliner.”

“I’m proud of you, Robbie.”

“Thank you, sir. I spent an extra half hour getting myself turned out this morning. I went to the nice places first. In most of them, people at the registration desks just glanced at the newspaper picture, said they hadn’t seen him, and then wanted to know what he’d done. I smiled at the females, giggled at the males, and said he hadn’t done a thing—we just wanted to ask him something about an old case. We wanted to know about something he’d seen—it wasn’t very important. The registration staff at a couple of motels recognized him. They wanted to know if he’d been found, what he’d done,
and
if he’d he killed Buddy and Tonya. I tried to look like I didn’t know what they were talking about and I think I did a pretty good job.” She paused. “Maybe that look came a little too easily.”

“I’m sure it didn’t, Robbie. You’d just gotten in character as the day wore on.”

“Well, that’s nice to hear, but I’m not sure you’re right. Not that I ever doubt you, sir.”

“It’s okay to doubt me sometimes, Robbie, just as long as you follow my orders.”

“I will. Always.” She paused and he could feel her revving up for something she considered important. “The last place I went to was a real dump called Fall Inn.”

Eric surprised himself by laughing. “What a classy name. I’m sure people are always getting it mixed up with the Larke Inn.”

“Not once they set eyes on it. Really, we should sic the health department on the place. I can’t imagine how many diseases you could pick up in there overnight, although the manager volunteered the information that they usually rented rooms by the hour.”

“Ah, we have a vice raid in our future,” Eric said.

“At the other places where they recognized Dillon, they said sort of offhand that they hadn’t seen him for years,” Robbie continued. “The manager of Fall Inn—a guy in his mid-thirties, I’d guess—glanced at the picture, then looked away really fast and said he’d never seen that guy in his
whole
life. Sir, I could have sworn I saw recognition in his eyes and I think he went overboard about never having seen Dillon. He got very nervous even though I was giggling and acting like a loon.

“When I walked back to the patrol car, I glanced at the few cars in the parking lot to see if anything looked like what I imagined Dillon Archer might drive. I didn’t—everything looked pretty pathetic and I was disappointed—but then I thought he’d want to blend into the crowd. He wouldn’t drive anything showy.”

“Very good job, Robbie! And you’re right—Dillon did love flashy cars, but if he’s here, he wouldn’t want to draw attention to himself.” He paused. “I think we’ll watch Fall Inn for at least twenty-four hours.”

“Do you want me to do it?” Robbie asked, dread in her voice.

“No. You’ve done the legwork. We’ll stick one of the guys with surveillance.”

She let out her breath. “Oh, I’m so glad. That place gave me the creeps, which I suppose I shouldn’t have told you.”

“It was okay to tell me.” Eric smiled. “It would probably have given me the creeps, too.”

After hanging up, Eric sighed in relief. This was their first lead in the case. Tenuous? Extremely. But at least something, which he certainly needed after the awful evening he’d had seeing Mitch and then finding out about Gretchen’s illness.

Eric looked at the envelope Marissa had found in his sister’s room, the one he’d been holding all through Robbie’s call. He tossed it aside, refusing to read the information again or see Will Addison looking adoringly at Catherine, and crawled into bed, where he’d tossed and turned most of the night. He would have dragged in the television to see if it could bore him into slumber, but Marissa was right—the screen was so little, hauling the machine into the bedroom wasn’t worth the effort. He’d vowed that he’d invest in a larger-screen TV.

The next day he leaned back in his chair and looked at the clock. Twelve thirty-five. He felt like he’d worked all day. Eric usually brought a sandwich for lunch, eating in his office and drinking some of Robbie Landers’ good coffee. Today he decided to eat out. He’d splurge and go to Wendy’s for a double hamburger, a chocolate Frosty,
and
top it all off with a cup of Robbie’s coffee. He was just rising from his chair when the phone call stopped him.

“Chief Deputy Montgomery,” he said without enthusiasm, picturing someone else sinking their teeth into a fresh double hamburger. “What can I do for you?”

“I live on Holmby Street.” The woman’s voice sounded middle-aged and furtive, as if she were doing something sly by calling the police. “My friends have all told me to mind my own business or I might get myself into some kind of trouble, but I’m afraid I’ll get in
real
trouble if I don’t tell you.”

Eric waited for her to continue. His stomach growled and he rolled his eyes, knowing he’d have to urge this woman to talk. “What’s your name, ma’am?”

“Oh! Well…that’s classified.”

“Classified? Are you with a federal agency?” Eric asked seriously, although he was grinning.

“Not exactly. Well, not at all, really, but I want to keep my name out of it.”

“I see. And what would
it
be?”

“Lights. At night.” Oh God, Eric thought. She’s going to report UFO activity. “I see lights in the old Archer house. It’s been vacant for years, ever since old Isaac Archer died, and in all those years I never saw lights. But now I do. I live down the street.”

Eric snapped to attention. “Have you ever seen anyone coming or going from the house?”

“I saw somebody go in all sneaky-like just a few minutes ago. That’s why I called right now. But I can’t talk anymore. You’re probably tracing this call. You’d better check that house.” She paused and then said darkly, “God knows
what
is going on in there!”