The Sound of a Scream (5 page)
Read The Sound of a Scream Online
Authors: John Manning
Daphne suspected he was being sarcastic.
“It’s true,” Ben said, standing now himself, and helping himself to a glass of brandy. “This house was rather boring until Ashlee arrived. Just all of us doddering around, running the family business. But then Ashlee came, and since then we’ve had Lady Gaga playing at all hours and rap music filtering in from the garden... .”
Daphne couldn’t tell if Ben was perturbed by all that, or if he truly enjoyed the way Ashlee had livened up the house.
“Well, you see, Daphne,” Ashlee said, “my dear and most beloved husband is rather old-fashioned. He has never allowed a television set in Witherswood, let alone a telephone. I’ve respected that, but I told him he couldn’t keep me from listening to my music, could you, Petie-poo?”
Daphne noticed the way Pete was watching and listening to all of this, his eyes big, soaking up everything. Ashlee leaned down and gave Pete a kiss on his forehead. The old man chuckled, as if relishing some secret only he understood.
“Now, listen here, everyone,” the family patriarch said, looking around the room. “Daphne is in charge of Christopher. She had in her charge at Our Lady’s School no less than twenty girls at any given time. She knows how to keep children in line.”
“And that cousin of ours has a habit of stepping
out
of line,” Donovan said.
out
of line,” Donovan said.
“Tomorrow, my dear,” Pete continued, “we will go over the specifics of what Christopher needs, both in the house and in his studies. But you are to be his authority. It is you who will have charge over his daily routine.”
“I hope to live up to your expectations of me, sir,” Daphne said.
His eyes sparkled. “Mother Angela spoke with such praise for you.”
The old man’s words were filled with genuine warmth, Daphne thought. She smiled. “She taught all of us well,” she said.
Pete was nodding. Daphne noticed Ashlee reach over and stroke his hand.
“Daphne dear,” came the meek voice of Louella Kent behind her. Daphne turned around to look at her. “I wonder if you heard all the sirens when you came through town. I heard sirens about an hour ago, so many I thought the whole town must be on fire.” The woman shivered. “Did you see any commotion?”
Here it was, the moment Daphne had been dreading. She’d have to tell them now about what had happened at the inn.
And who she was there with.
“As a matter of fact,” she said, pleased that her voice was steady, “I did see considerable commotion. It was really quite unnerving, and it’s why I haven’t really been very grounded since I’ve gotten here.”
She noticed the expression in Pete’s saucer eyes had changed from amusement to one of deliberate caution.
“You see, when I didn’t see anyone waiting for me at the station, I had to accept a ride to the inn, where I was told I could get a cab.”
No one seemed to question from whom she had accepted a ride, much to her relief. For now she could sidestep that little detail. Perhaps, in fact, they never had to know she had accepted a ride from Gregory Winston. She might not ever see him again.
“Well, while waiting at the inn for a cab, I went into the ladies’ room and I—”
She couldn’t say the words. She began to tremble.
“It’s okay, Daphne,” Ashlee said, putting her arm around her.
Ben Witherspoon and Donovan Kent also approached her, as if to offer support.
“I went into the ladies’ room and found a girl had been murdered inside,” Daphne blurted, glad to have gotten the words out, but realizing the bitter taste they left on her tongue.
“Murdered!” bellowed Pete Witherspoon, who stood from his chair.
“Dear Lord!” Louella Kent uttered, a fluttery hand to her chest.
The rest seemed shocked into silence.
“Who ... who was it? Do you know?” Ashlee asked.
Daphne looked at her. “A waitress. Her name was Maggie.”
“Oh, no,” Ashlee said in a small voice. She let go of Daphne and knelt by her husband’s chair. Pete sat back down and began stroking Ashlee’s hair.
“Maggie was a friend of Ashlee’s,” Ben explained softly to Daphne. “She came up here from Florida after Ashlee married Uncle Pete.”
“Oh, I’m so sorry,” Daphne said.
“This must be terrible for you, too,” Donovan said to Daphne. “You poor girl. On your first night here to have to see such a thing. If we had known, we wouldn’t have subjected you to this big introduction meeting. Here, please, take my chair.”
“I’m fine, thank you,” Daphne said. “It did shake me up, quite a bit.” Her gaze caught that of Abigail, who was now staring at her. “But I promise I won’t let it interfere with my job, Mr. Witherspoon.”
She looked back over at Pete. His bright eyes now seemed terribly dim. It was as if someone had pulled a plug and all the life force had just drained out of him.
Ashlee stood. “Do they have any idea who killed her?” she asked Daphne. She, too, seemed a pale copy of the vibrant person she had been just moments before. “Did they catch anyone?”
“I don’t know,” Daphne replied. “At the time, they had no leads. At least none that the sheriff mentioned when he interviewed me.”
At this Abigail Witherspoon stood and approached her brother. “If they interviewed her,” she told Pete, “then her name will be in the papers. They’ll say she has come to work here.”
Pete groaned.
“And they’ll also note that Maggie was a friend of Ashlee’s from Florida,” said Suzanne, from across the room, standing apart from the family she was planning to marry into.
Pete let out a long sigh.
“Maggie and I haven’t been in touch for a while,” Ashlee said. “We had ... a bit of a falling out. But, yes, I suppose the newspapers will make the connection between she and I.” She looked over at her husband. “I’m sorry, Pete.”
“It can’t be helped,” he said at last, standing again. He knocked the last of the tobacco from his pipe into an ashtray. “Whenever there is a killing within fifty miles of here, they will bring our family into it. It’s just the way it is.” He turned and looked at Daphne. “I’m sorry you had to experience that, Daphne. I hope you will not let yourself be broken by it.”
“No, sir,” she said. “I won’t let it get in the way of my job.”
He nodded, reaching out to his wife. Ashlee took his arm to steady him as he walked. They moved across the parlor toward the foyer.
“I need to be alone for a bit,” the old man told his family over his shoulder. “The plans we had had for this evening will unfortunately be canceled. I am not up for any festivities tonight. Expect to have the sheriff here tomorrow, asking questions.”
Daphne saw Abigail shudder.
“Daphne,” Pete said, directing his final point to her. “I trust you will find everything you need in your room. Sleep well, my dear. I guess you’ll meet my son in the morning. You’ve had enough terrors for one day.”
“Yes, sir, thank you. I’m sorry that I was the bearer of such unpleasant news.”
“We all should get some rest,” Pete said. “Good night everyone.”
The others bid him good night as well, and Pete and Ashlee left the room.
“Well, that sure put a damper on our little party, eh?” Donovan said wryly. “We had cook prepare a whole feast in your honor tonight, my dear.” He lifted a glass of brandy in Daphne’s direction. “All that pork loin going to waste.”
“Well, we still need to eat, don’t we, darling?” his fiancée cooed, walking over to stand next to him.
Daphne noticed, however, that Donovan Kent’s eyes stayed locked on her own. He winked. Daphne blushed.
Is he flirting with me?
Is he flirting with me?
Suzanne noticed, and shot Daphne a look. Daphne quickly turned away.
“Well, I suspect Daphne could probably use something to eat,” Ben said, offering her a kind smile. “I imagine you’ve had nothing all day.”
Her stomach was indeed empty, and she’d heard it growl now and then. But with all that had happened she hadn’t much thought about food. Her appetite wasn’t exactly ravenous after seeing the body of a girl murdered in cold blood.
“Why don’t we go into the dining room and have something to eat?” Ben suggested. “It might not be the big celebration Uncle Pete had in mind, but ...”
“I don’t know how you can think about eating at a time like this,” Abigail snapped at her nephew. “You know what this latest scandal in the village will do to us. Pete is right! Every time there’s a tragedy they blame us.”
“Now, Aunt Abigail, we still have to eat,” Ben said.
“He’s right, Abby,” her sister, Louella, said, somewhat timidly, as if she didn’t want to offend her older sister. “Cook has prepared all that food... .”
“You can all sit down and break bread and make merry,” Abigail said, “but I am far too shaken up. I am going to my room.”
Daphne noticed she snatched the bottle of brandy and took it with her as she left.
“May I?” Ben was asking.
Daphne looked over at him. He was offering his arm to her to escort her to the dining room. Daphne accepted.
Of all of them, only Ben seemed genuinely personable. Louella was a frightened mouse, Donovan seemed a bit of a player, or at least an incorrigible flirt, and the rest bubbled over with anger and discontent. Daphne thanked God that at least two of the people in this big gloomy old house, Ben and Ashlee, seemed as if they might become her friends.
“Aunt Louella,” Ben was asking. “would you wheel Gabe into the dining room so I might show Daphne the way?”
“Of course,” Louella said, approaching her other nephew in the wheelchair.
Daphne had almost forgotten about him. He had sat there, off in the corner, not saying a word, not even looking up at them.
But when his aunt approached his chair, his eyes suddenly lifted to her. “I can wheel myself,” Gabriel said suddenly. “There’s nothing wrong with my arms.”
“Oh, of course,” Louella said, jittery and flustered.
Daphne watched as Gabriel wheeled himself forcefully out of the parlor and into the corridor beyond. Donovan and Suzanne had already departed, and Louella trundled her way out as well. Daphne noticed she was very large in the posterior.
“It must all seem like a terrible nightmare for you,” Ben said as he led Daphne out toward the dining room.
She sighed. “It hasn’t been easy.”
She wondered if she should tell him about what she thought she had seen in Christopher’s room earlier. But she remained so confused about what was real and what was not, she decided to hold her tongue. At least for now. She was pretty sure she could trust Ben, but she wanted to wait and make sure. And also make sure she wasn’t going a little crazy. She hoped after a good night’s sleep she’d feel more like herself.
But she decided she couldn’t wait about one thing. There was something that puzzled her terribly, and she wasn’t sure she could sleep at all if she didn’t know the answer.
“Ben,” she asked, as they neared the dining room, “why would the sheriff come here tomorrow to ask questions? Why did your uncle and aunt say that whenever anything bad happens, your family gets blamed?”
Ben stopped walking. He stood beside Daphne, deathly still.
“Why would there be any connection to this family in regard to Maggie’s death? I realize Ashlee was a friend of hers, but there seems to be much more than just that. What was it that made everyone in the parlor so upset?”
Ben smiled down at her. “You poor girl,” he said. “No one told you, did they?”
Daphne looked up at him. “Told me what?”
“Twenty-five years ago, there were other murders in Point Woebegone. A number of grisly, terrible murders.”
He looked at Daphne, seeming unable to say what else needed to be said.
At last he forced himself to speak. “And those murders were committed by ... Peter Witherspoon.”
FOUR
“No!” Daphne exclaimed. “Mr. Witherspoon committed murder?”
Ben was shaking his head. “Not Uncle Pete. His father. My grandfather.” This was clearly very difficult for Ben to talk about. “Peter Witherspoon Senior was a terribly sick man. It’s not easy knowing you’re descended from a serial killer.”
Daphne felt faint again. “A serial killer? He actually was a ... serial killer?”
Ben nodded. “Among his victims were some in his own family. My father, John Witherspoon, his eldest son, for example.”
“That’s horrible!”
“He only killed Dad after he’d found out the truth.” Ben looked as if he might cry. “So you see ... this is what has upset everyone. The village hasn’t forgotten that terrible period. Many still blame our family. It’s why Uncle Pete has never allowed a telephone here, so we can’t be reached by reporters. They even had ways of discovering unpublished numbers. And it’s why, when we were growing up, no newspapers or telephones were permitted for my brother or me, or for Donovan. Uncle Pete didn’t want us to know the full details of our family’s horrible legacy until we were adults. When the murders occurred, we were children. We didn’t fully understand everything that was happening. It’s why Uncle Pete brought Christopher back from school, too, so he could be home-tutored. He had hoped, that far away, the memory of the murders of Point Woebegone wouldn’t be brought up. But Christopher found something on the Internet and called asking questions. That’s when Uncle Pete decided to bring him back here, where there’s no connection with the outside world.”
It explained so much, Daphne thought. And it might also explain why Mr. Witherspoon had hired her—a girl who had very little experience of the world herself, who wouldn’t be bringing in too many questions with her, or possibly be a spy for some newspaper or magazine.
“I’m sorry I made you talk about all of that,” Daphne said.
“It’s okay,” Ben said, but he seemed to be glad to be done with it. They resumed walking. “Someone had to tell you eventually. I wonder when Uncle Pete planned on telling you. He might be angry with me for jumping the gun, but I’ll explain to him, after everything you’ve been through today, it was only fair you knew.”
He paused, looking down at her.
“I hope it doesn’t make you leave us,” Ben said.
She smiled weakly up at him. “To be honest, I don’t have anywhere else to go.”
It was true. She couldn’t go back to Our Lady. Mother Angela would expect her to stick this out. To make the best of it. It was, she’d tell Daphne, her calling.
They entered the dining room. The others had already taken their seats around the table while a couple of servants, hunched old men with silver hair, served the food. The smell of the roast pork suddenly made Daphne hungry, despite everything that had happened today. She took a seat beside Ben at one end of the table, where she had a good view of the others. No one spoke much during dinner; obviously the fear of their old family scandal being dredged up again weighed heavily upon them.
As she ate, Daphne looked around the table. Louella was one of those women who, on first glance, didn’t seem particularly fat, but on second and third look, seemed to be barely contained in her clothes. As she reached across the table for another helping of mashed potatoes, a bowling ball of fatty flesh swung from her arm. Her wide bottom seemed squeezed into the chair. Yet she seemed pleasant enough, smiling up at Daphne now and then with lips smeared, not exactly evenly, with bright red lipstick. She certainly seemed far more amiable than her stern sister, Abigail, who, Daphne presumed, was upstairs polishing off that bottle of brandy.
Several times in the course of dinner Daphne noticed Donovan look up at her and smile. Once he even winked. She didn’t have a lot of worldly experience, and certainly she had none with men. She’d never had a boyfriend, even though the girls at Our Lady had all insisted she was the prettiest of them all. There just had been very little opportunity to meet boys. Occasionally, some of the boys from neighboring parishes came in for programs, and once, Daphne had become friends with a young man named Kevin O’Connell, a redhead with a smattering of freckles, and she’d thought maybe she’d felt the first stirrings of a crush. But that had been when she was eighteen. Three years had passed, and there had been no one else.
Yet no matter her inexperience, she knew one thing: Donovan Kent was definitely flirting with her.
She knew for sure from the surly looks his fiancée, Suzanne, kept giving her. Suzanne would notice Donovan smiling at Daphne and then turn her own steely-eyed stare onto the girl. Daphne thought Suzanne didn’t have to worry. Daphne might be pretty, but Suzanne was a knockout. Long, shiny black hair, the most intense black almond eyes, the perfect figure. Daphne figured Donovan was just one of those guys she’d seen on TV: an instinctive flirt. She was certain it was harmless.
Still, she had to admit that Donovan was perhaps the handsomest man she’d ever seen in her life. Tall, with thick wavy dark hair, he had deep-set blue eyes that danced when he looked at her. A strong jaw, a cleft chin, broad shoulders. The black T-shirt he wore under a blue blazer couldn’t disguise a well-worked physique. Donovan was so handsome, he could be a model.
As she finished the last of her dinner, she realized he might actually be a model. She had no idea what any of these people did for a living. Maybe they were rich enough that they didn’t have to do anything. Odd that they all still lived in the same house; brothers and sisters she could maybe understand, but cousins? It seemed the four children of the horrible Peter Witherspoon Senior—Pete Junior, Abigail, Louella, and Ben’s late father, John—had never left Witherswood. Instead, they had married and raised children there—at least all of them but Abigail, who was apparently unmarried.
The hunched-over waiters took her empty plate and replaced it with a slice of apple pie, a piece of cheese melting over the top of the crust and a large dollop of whipped cream smack in the middle. She didn’t think she could possibly eat it, but Ben told her to have a bite at least. Cook made an awesome apple pie.
She complied. And indeed it was wonderful.
Daphne looked over at Ben. He wasn’t as handsome as his cousin Donovan, but he certainly wasn’t unattractive. He had extraordinary blue eyes and a classic Roman nose and, like Donovan, was very fit. The short sleeves of the shirt he was wearing were completely filled by large, baseball-sized biceps. Ben’s blond hair was buzzed close to his scalp—a solution, Daphne surmised, to a slightly receding hairline.
Finally her eyes moved over to the last person at the table. The silent, withdrawn Gabriel. He ate slowly, deliberately, and never once lifted his eyes to the others at the table. It was hard to get a good look at him, since he kept his head down so much, but Daphne finally was able to see that, like the other men, Gabriel was a very attractive man. Like his brother Ben, he had blond hair, but kept it long—in fact, now that Daphne looked closer at him, she could see Gabriel’s hair was drawn back into a small ponytail behind his head. He shared with his brother another trait as well: those big arms. Clearly he’d kept working out his upper body despite being in a wheelchair.
Daphne wondered how Gabriel had become disabled. His defensiveness about being wheeled into the dining room earlier suggested to Daphne that it had not been a condition he’d been born with. He seemed, in fact, resentful of being in that chair, and perhaps it was that resentment that kept him so withdrawn into himself.
“Well, that was a fine meal,” Donovan announced. “Cook has outdone herself.”
“Yes, it was delicious,” Daphne said.
“If you need anything now, my dear,” Donovan said, “please don’t hesitate to call.”
Suzanne stood up and left the table without saying a word. Donovan winked at Daphne, then stood up and followed his fiancée out of the room.
“You’ll find my cousin is a bit of a flirt,” Ben said, walking with Daphne out into the foyer. Louella had stayed at the table for a second wedge of pie.
“Is he?” Daphne played clueless. “I hadn’t noticed.”
“Watch out for him.”
This wasn’t Ben speaking. It was a new voice. Both Daphne and Ben turned around. It was Gabriel, wheeling himself out of the dining room.
“Tell her, Ben,” he said. “Tell her all about Donovan.”
Ben sighed. “She’s had enough family history for one night, I think.”
“Two words for you, dear brother,” Gabe said as he rolled past them, not making eye contact with either of them. “Kathy Swenson.”
Ben was silent as they watched Gabe continue on down the hall, until he turned at a far corner and disappeared from view.
“Who’s Kathy Swenson?” Daphne asked.
Ben smiled sadly. “The only girl Gabe ever loved. And Donovan stole her away.”
“Oh, that’s terrible.”
“We were all kids. Teenagers. More than ten years ago now.” He sighed. “But Gabe never forgets.”
Daphne did a little math in her head. If they were teenagers more than ten years ago, that meant Ben, Gabriel, and Donovan were all probably in their late twenties. That wasn’t really so much older than she was, but she still felt like a child.
“Listen, Daphne, may I give you a bit of advice?” Ben asked.
“Of course,” she said.
He looked down at her kindly. “Tomorrow, and the day after that, and next week, we will keep on moving further and further away from this terrible night. Once again the tongues in the village will stop wagging, the sheriff won’t be coming up here to ask questions, and life will resume a degree of normalcy at Witherswood.”
“I look forward to that,” Daphne said. “But what’s the advice?”
“We shouldn’t allow you to forget that you have a rather daunting task ahead of you. My little cousin Christopher can be a handful. He hasn’t ever gotten over his mother’s death a few years ago. It was quite tragic.”
“The poor boy.”
“And ever since, he’s been acting out. Uncle Pete was too old, in my humble opinion, to have a child, because now that he’s hit seventy he just doesn’t have the energy or the patience to give Christopher the attention he needs. So you’ll have quite the job reaching him, let alone teaching him.”
Daphne smiled weakly. “So what do you suggest?”
“It’s what Uncle Pete said earlier. You are his authority. Let him know from day one that you’re in charge. That he can’t boss you around or manipulate you—or try to scare you.”
“Scare me?”
Ben laughed. “Have Ashlee and Suzanne tell you how he scared them when they first came here. Just pranks. But elaborate ones. It’s pretty amazing what that kid can concoct. It’s his way of trying to have the upper hand.”
Daphne was nodding. So maybe there was more to her so-called hallucination earlier than she realized. Maybe she’d been too quick to write it off as her imagination. She thought about describing what had happened to Ben, but decided against it. Already Abigail thought she was a flighty scaredy-cat. No use making Ben think so, too. She’d just take his advice. She’d be firm with Christopher, and find out what she could.
“Thanks, Ben,” she said. “I’ll set the ground rules right away. It’s good advice.”
He smiled. “Well, sleep well tonight, Daphne. Or at least try to.”
“Thank you. I will.”
“Oh,” he said, remembering something. He reached inside his jacket pocket and produced a small silver flashlight, just about four inches long. “Here’s a little welcome gift for you. You’ll find we lose the power often up here, so it’s a useful tool to keep on you.”
Daphne accepted the flashlight. “Well, thank you.”
Ben winked. “Don’t want you to find yourself alone in the dark.”
She smiled as he headed off.
Donovan might be the more traditionally handsome, but it was Ben she watched as he walked away, her heart filling up with something ... something she couldn’t quite describe. She had never been in such close contact with so many handsome men before. Daphne felt warm, tingly.
Until she suddenly shook her head to free herself of such foolish romantic notions.
She noticed that Ben and Gabriel had gone in one direction, Donovan and Suzanne another. She guessed that the different families had different wings in the great old house, and shared the parlor, dining room, and kitchen.
Suddenly she was utterly and completely tired. Exhaustion threatened to knock her over like a charging quarterback. With the exhale of one long, weary breath, she headed up the grand marble staircase back to her room.
But first, before she crawled into bed, she thought she might pay a call on the one remaining member of the family she had yet to meet.
Daphne paused outside Christopher’s door. It was now completely closed. She could hear music coming from within. A small, tinny sound, barely audible, that only the utter silence of the corridor could permit her to hear. Daphne raised her hand and knocked.
The music went on. It was some kind of rap or hip-hop, she thought. She knocked again.
Still the music continued without any movement from within. It occurred to her then that the softness and tinniness of the music suggested it emanated from a set of headphones, plugged into the boy’s ears. With that cacophony blasting into his ears, Christopher wouldn’t be able to hear her knock.
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