The Last Refuge (27 page)

Gabe sucked in his lips, but handed the instrument over. I pushed the button to exit his game and return to the main screen, then turned the phone in his direction. ‘What does this say, Gabriel?'

‘Amy's iPhone.'

‘Exactly. So it isn't an iPod Touch, is it?'

‘No, ma'am.'

‘And it isn't yours.'

A single tear slid down the boy's cheek. He shook his head.

‘Then, why do
you
have it?' I asked, pocketing the phone.

‘I kept it because I wanted to talk to my mom, but when I put her number in, it didn't work.' He swiped at his cheek with the back of his hand. ‘She writes me letters, but I really, really miss her.'

‘Oh, Gabe!' I coaxed the boy to his feet and crushed him against my petticoats. ‘I know how hard it must be for you.' I tipped his chin so I could look into his eyes. ‘But it wasn't right to take Amy's phone.'

He nodded miserably.

After a moment, I tousled his hair, then marched him back into the ballroom. Although it wasn't the done thing, 1774-wise, I considered turning the boy over to his father for a good tongue-lashing, but fortunately, I spotted several youngsters about Gabe's age clustered at the fringes of the ballroom, attempting to dance but making it look more like a scuffle. ‘There are some kids your age, now scoot!' I gave him a whack on the butt to send him on his way.

I rejoined my friends, lined up casually along the wall back where I had left them. I was planning to hand the iPhone back to Amy, but just then, we were joined by Admiral Michael Miller, the Naval Academy superintendent, his ginger hair covered by a powdered wig. Trim, and ramrod straight, Miller wore the uniform of a Continental Admiral of the Revolutionary War which was surprisingly similar to the navy dinner dress uniform of today – white breeches topped by a dark blue dress coat with tails and a double row of brass buttons marching down the front. The heavily-fringed gold epaulets that decorated his shoulders were a thing of the past, however. The admiral's wife wore a gown of Prussian blue, with tiny yellow bows decorating the sleeves and bodice. Miniature dolphins frolicked through her powdered curls. I had to admire it. ‘Navy colors, I see. Blue and gold. I like it! Especially the dolphins.' I pointed at my own elaborate coiffure. ‘My theme is birds, as you probably guessed.'

‘Where's the good professor?' Admiral Miller wanted to know.

‘He should have been here a half-hour ago,' I said. ‘Frankly, I'm getting a little worried.'

Mrs Miller touched my arm. ‘I'm sure he'll turn up,' she said. ‘They've closed downtown streets to vehicles, so traffic has been simply horrendous!'

I didn't point out to her that we lived just two blocks away, so traffic shouldn't have been an issue, but it was just like Paul to get tied up somewhere, with a midshipman needing advice, for example. I fingered Jud's note for reassurance.

Meanwhile, the musicians had moved on to a reel. Melody's friend, Jason, came to fetch her, and when the young couple began dancing, I couldn't take my eyes off her, and neither could anyone else in the room. ‘Oh, Alex, you taught that girl well,' I whispered to our dead friend's spirit. ‘She is truly the belle of the ball.'

Next to me, Amy said, ‘Just listening to that music makes me miss Alex terribly.'

‘We all miss him,' Michael said.

After a while, I asked, ‘What happened to Alex's violin?'

‘Jud packed up all his stuff,' Michael said. ‘Sent it home to Alex's parents. We'll miss the funeral service, you know.' He shook his head. ‘Doesn't seem right somehow.'

The reel ended, Melody and Jason strolled away to the banquet room. Another reel was announced, and I'd just decided to try and hook up with another glass of punch when a familiar voice said, ‘Madam, may I have this dance?'

I pressed a hand to my chest, light-headed with relief. ‘Sir, I would be delighted.'

I almost didn't recognize him. I had been expecting the green costume he'd been wearing at our last outing, but Paul wore a cobalt-blue suit and a gold brocade weskit instead. Lace spilled out of the ends of his sleeves and over his collar. His wig was different, too. The silver hair was swept back, high off his forehead. Two enormous curls, the size of orange juice cans, trembled over each ear.

‘I was
so
worried that something had happened to you!' I blurted out.

‘Not to worry,' Paul said smoothly. ‘You got the message from Jud? That Drew Cornell is in custody?'

I fell back against the wall. ‘Yes, thank God! Where did it happen?'

Paul leaned close. ‘Jud's security people picked him up in Brad Perry's backyard earlier this afternoon. They're not sure what his plans were.'

Brad Perry is our next-door neighbor. That was way too close for comfort. ‘What happens now?'

‘He's being turned over to Navy custody as we speak.'

‘I should tell Amy.'

Paul reached for my hand. ‘That can wait.' He escorted me onto the dance floor, my legs feeling as limp as cooked spaghetti.

We took our place at the head of the line.

Four steps forward, bow
. ‘So, which actor is running around naked tonight?' I asked in an attempt to lighten the mood.
Four steps back
.

Four steps forward, join right hands, turn, turn.
‘Sir Peter Teazle. That's why I was late. I couldn't find the mid with the key to the costume room.'
Four steps back.

Four steps forward, join both hands, turn, turn.
‘I didn't really think Cornell would try anything here in a room full of people, anyway.' Paul sounded confident, but then he didn't know Drew as well as Amy – and I – did.'
Four steps back.

It was a fragmented conversation, but between the do-see-dos, allemande left and rights, and the promenades, I explained about the note Drew had left in the bottle. ‘I wanted to warn you, call off our plan before somebody got hurt.'

Paul laughed. ‘Why do you think I spent all these years practicing karate?'

‘Karate? Ha! Drew's a SEAL. He probably knows Krav Maga,' I said, naming the terrifying, no-holds barred method of self-defense developed by the Israelis.

The music ended, and Paul escorted me back to where Amy was standing alone, looking around nervously. I introduced her to my husband.

Paul took her hand, raised it to his lips and gave it a gallant kiss. ‘Delighted.' He gave Amy the good news/bad news about Drew, and I watched as the tension gradually drained from her face.

‘What now?' she asked.

‘It's time to enjoy the ball, Miss Cornell.'

‘They can't let Drew get away with murdering Alex, Professor. No matter what the medical examiner says, I know he did it.'

Paul tucked Amy's hand under his arm, covered it with his own. ‘And there's something else they're going to take into consideration, Amy. Drew's unauthorized action in Swosa may have resulted in the deaths of his ten teammates, plus a well-trained dog named Cody.'

‘A dog, too?' Amy blinked back tears.

The music had started again. ‘Shall we dance?' my husband asked his young companion, and before she even answered, he whisked Amy away.

I watched from the sidelines.

For the first reel, Paul flirted, Amy was coy. By the second, Paul held on to Amy's hand just a second too long; Amy was a coquette. They called a country dance, and by then, Amy was behaving like a card-carrying colonial vamp and I had found a chair, where I seethed quietly. Paul was a damn good actor, but then, he was wearing actor's clothing.

‘Whew!' Amy trilled when the music finally ended, loud enough for me – and for everyone within a ten mile radius – to hear. ‘I could certainly use a drink, Professor Ives.'

Paul bowed in my direction – the showoff – and escorted Amy into the banquet room.

Meanwhile, another dance had begun. Michael took pity on me – he must have thought Paul had lost his mind, but was kind enough not to say so – and I danced with the superintendant, too.

After a time, Paul rejoined me, minus Amy.

‘What was
that
all about?' I snapped.

Paul leaned close. ‘Are you acting,' he whispered, ‘or are you really pissed off at me?'

I didn't answer that. ‘Where's Amy?'

‘In the ladies' room.'

‘Oh.' After a moment of silence I said, ‘The
superintendant
saw you acting like an asshole, you know.'

Paul snorted softly. ‘I'll explain it all to him later.'

‘Better you than me.'

‘I thought Amy needed cheering up, Hannah. You'd need cheering up, too, if you'd just learned that I'd been arrested.'

‘I simply don't get where Drew is coming from,' I said. ‘I know he was determined not to leave without Amy, but it would have been a whole lot safer waiting for her while windsurfing off some beach in Buenos Aires, instead of stirring up trouble here. Look where it got him.'

‘Methinks madam could use a drink. Punch?'

‘Yes, please.' I felt my makeup crackle, so I suspected I was frowning. But I
could
use a drink. By that time the ballroom was hot, filled to capacity with merry-makers. The great doors on both ends of the long hall stood open, but there was too little breeze passing through them to even begin to cool the room.

In the banquet room, a group of gentlemen, a little worse for wear due to the bottomless characteristic of the punch bowl, could be heard toasting everyone in Christendom in voices loud enough to be picked up by a passing space shuttle. To the king, long may he reign. To the queen. To Barack Obama. To his wife, Michelle. To wives in general, and to girlfriends, past, present and future. To absent friends.

Even the card games were getting rowdy, and I suspected that whist had taken a second seat to poker, although I didn't know what the players would be using for chips.

Somewhere someone began singing, ‘Whiskey in the Jar,' only to be drowned out by someone else belting out ‘Yankee Doodle' in a drunken baritone.

I was certain that the following day, the
Capital
would report that a good time was had by all.

A jig was called, and somebody said, ‘May I?'

The guy was in his mid-thirties, I guessed. Solid, tan, fit. He wore the red and white uniform of a Maryland militiaman. I couldn't tell the color of his hair because it was tucked under a fashionable wig.

‘Have we met?' I asked, as I offered him my hand.

My partner smiled enigmatically, his green eyes twinkling in the candlelight as he led me out of the banquet room and onto the dance floor.

The jig began. Using a kind of two-step, we jigged around each other for a bit, until another dancer cut in. I jigged with the newcomer for a while, fearing that the old guy – a long-time senator from the Eastern Shore – might drop dead of a heart attack, until I had the opportunity to jig away and cut in on someone else. Eventually my younger partner found me again. ‘I'm Hannah,' I said, my voice bobbly. ‘What's yours?'

‘Ed,' he said.

‘Hello, Ed.' Dancers jigged all around us, whooping and laughing. I was beginning to relax, getting swept up in their merriment, too. Perspiration sheened the faces of every gentleman on the dance floor, ran in rivulets between my breasts, but I didn't care.

At one point I pivoted and noticed Paul watching me, holding two glasses of punch, one in each hand and looking worried. I waved at my husband, grinned, and jigged madly on. What's good for the goose, et cetera, et cetera.

All of a sudden, Ed laughed, grabbed both my hands, and jigged me, bobbing and weaving, through a clot of dancers, toward the enormous bronze doors that led from the twentieth-century annex to the porch on the Lawyer's Mall side of the building. Party-going couples relaxed on benches in the alcoves on either side of the doors, so my partner steered me out onto the porch. ‘It's hot, Hannah. Let's get some fresh air.'

I reclaimed my hands and fell back against one of the six massive columns that supported the roof of the porch. ‘Whew!' I flipped open my fan. ‘What a workout!'

Ed took a step, closing the distance between us. I held out my fan to signal keep-away, but he kept advancing.

Using one arm, he hooked me around the waist and pulled me close. His lips were warm and moist against my ear. ‘Let's make Paul jealous, shall we?'

I recognized his voice then. Cold. Bitter. Pitiless.

My heart flopped, flopped again. Drew. ‘I heard that you'd been detained. How did you get away?'

He jerked me closer. ‘Rent-a-cops. Don't make me laugh.'

He jerked me again.

‘Drew, don't.' If it hadn't been for my corset, I think he might have broken my back.

Where the hell was Paul? He'd seen me dancing with Drew, he had to have noticed when Drew dragged me outside. Or had Paul been too distracted, making goo-goo eyes at Amy?

‘It's over, Drew. The Navy knows that you're alive,' I hissed.

His forehead was pressed against mine. He shook his head, slowly, dangerously. ‘Who told them that? You? Or the imbeciles that tried to arrest me outside your house?'

‘They know you murdered Alex Mueller.'

His laugh exploded in my ear. ‘That prick.'

As long as I could keep him talking, I figured I was safe. ‘It was a mistake to come here, Drew. You've already been spotted. Why don't you leave now, before my husband notices I've vanished and comes looking for me.'

‘I don't think so,' he said, his voice glacial.

The hand that wasn't pressing into the small of my back slid over my breast and up my throat, stroking gently at first, like a lover. ‘Oh, Hannah.' His fingers closed around my neck, began to squeeze. ‘I could snap your neck right now, you know. You wouldn't feel a thing.' His lips touched mine, lightly, then he breathed against my cheek. ‘I should have done it that night in Amy's room. Saved myself a lot of trouble.'