What's a Ghoul to Do? (33 page)

"Yeah," I said. "I'll explain everything when we get out of this rain."

A while later we broke through the woods and hurried to the kitchen door, but it was locked. "Damn," Steven said as he tried the handle. "I must have locked it when we came out to go to Mirabelle's. Come on; I have the key to the front door."

We circled our way around to the front and came up short. There, parked in the driveway with its windshield wipers going, was a silver Rolls-Royce, and next to that was that gray sedan I'd seen all over town. "No way," Steven said as he walked with purpose to the front door. Unlocking it, he pushed the door open and said, "Go inside. This won't take long."

If I hadn't been shivering so hard that my teeth were chattering I would have stayed and watched the fireworks, but the cold won out and I moved inside. Taking off my rain slicker, I moved into the kitchen to heat some water and make tea when I stopped cold. There at the counter was Maria, and in front of her were the love letters to Andrew.

My breath caught in my throat as everything clicked into place, and, like a movie, I saw it all unfold in my head. She must have heard me behind her, because she turned her head and her tearstained cheeks confirmed everything I believed. "It was you," I said to her. "You pushed Andrew off that roof."

She gasped and shook her head vehemently back and forth. "No! No, I would never do that!" she said, then buried her face in her hands. I knew she was telling the truth, and as I stood there the movie in my head changed and I felt a knowing confirmation that I was absolutely right on target this time.

"It was your suicide note, not Andrew's," I said.

Maria sobbed but nodded her head.

"You were going to kill yourself by diving off the roof, but Andrew found you and tried to save you, and he slipped."

Again, a vigorous nod yes.

"And you were the one who pushed Maureen down the stairs."

Maria stopped sobbing abruptly and looked up at me, her eyes large and frightened. "Yes," she said at last. "It was me. I loved him from the moment I began working for him. All those years of caring for him like he was my husband. She did not love him like I did, but always, he wanted her. The night of the ball she was so full of herself, so sure that she and Andrew were going to be together. I was young and foolish, and when she sniped at me to keep away from him, I reacted, but I never meant for her to die!" she said, her eyes pleading with me to believe her. "I was angry, and I wanted to teach her a lesson, but I never meant to do any real harm."

"Did Andrew know?"

Maria hung her head. "Yes, he knew. The moment he saw her at the bottom of the stairs he knew I'd done it. I had a temper, you see. He never said as much, though, at least, not until right before he died, so I fooled myself into believing that he didn't suspect me. But then, a few weeks before his death he called me into his study, and he told me the way of it. He said that he would make sure that Willis was taken care of, and Mirabella, but for my sin I could never be rewarded for what I'd done. He said that he would make good on the retirement account he'd set up for me, but that when he died I would never be a part of this house. He was holding me accountable."

"And you couldn't live with the guilt of knowing that he understood what had really happened on that staircase."

"I couldn't bear it. That morning he ordered his oatmeal and began to speak of hiring someone else to care for him. He was even kind about it. He said that I had worked for him long enough, and that perhaps someone younger should come in to take my place."

"That was the last straw, then," I said. "And you headed to the roof."

"Yes," she said, her voice a whisper.

Thinking of something else I said, "The morning we found you here. You were looking for your old love letters, weren't you?"

Maria's eyes became large again. "Yes. But you three arrived before I could get them on the third floor. I figured they were safe up there, but you managed to find them."

"That's why Maureen pushed Gilley. She was confused, and she thought it was you!" I said.

"Your friend was pushed down the stairs?" Maria said, worry in her voice.

"Yes, but luckily he's all right. You were pushed that time when Steven first came here, weren't you, Maria? The ghost of Maureen shoved you down the stairs."

She nodded. "Yes, that time and two others, but by then I had learned to hold tight to the banister. I always knew it was her, coming back to claim her revenge."

"I'm amazed you continued to work here," I said.

"I understood her need to hurt me. I deserved it, after all, and I wanted to be near my Andrew. I was careful."

"So you came back today to retrieve the letters," I said, putting all the pieces together.

"Yes. I spotted you and Steven going into the woods. I wanted to get the letters before you two got back."

"And is that your gray sedan out front? The one that's been flanking us?"

"No," Maria said with a puzzled look on her face. "My car is at Willis's. I brought him some food, but he must be out, because when I knocked he didn't answer."

I winced. I considered telling her about Willis, but decided to wait and see if I could get a little more info out of her first.

"Was it you in the woods that night, Maria? And in the tunnel?" I asked carefully.

Maria's expression seemed to go blank. "The woods? A tunnel? What are you talking about?"

At that moment angry voices erupted from the front hallway, and I realized that Stevens Junior and Senior had just burst into the house. Maria and I left our conversation and hurried to the front foyer. Steven Junior was yelling something at his father, and he was so angry that the sentences held both Spanish and German words. His father simply looked at him with a sneer on his face, and it was then that I caught the two in profile and realized something with a jolt: The family resemblance was unmistakable. Both had identical ears, matching jawlines, and the same small bump on the ridge of the nose. Even their hairlines were similar from the side.

"I will ask you only one more time," Senior said with menace when Junior had finished. "Where is the deed?"

"Get out of my house!" Steven roared. Senior didn't budge, but there was movement to his side, and that was when I saw another man partially hidden beside Senior and felt goose bumps line my arms.

"It's not your house!" Senior roared back. "It belongs to the Sable bloodline, of which you are not a part."

"Prove it," Steven sneered. "Come on, old man. Offer me some DNA to give a sleep to this matter."

"Oh, I plan on it," Senior snarled back. "In the next few weeks, you little Argentinean bastard, expect to be served!"

The man to Senior's side bent down to tie his shoe, and suddenly something clicked in my head. "You!" I said as I pointed to him.

Senior and Junior stopped yelling at each other long enough to look in my direction. The man by Senior's side looked up at me, and I knew I wasn't wrong. I'd never had a close look at him, but there was something familiar about his movements and build. "You were the one who followed us up here," I began, my voice angry as I walked over to Steven, my finger still pointing in the man's direction.

"Who the hell are you?" Senior asked me.

"Never mind that," I spit at him. "Your goon was the one who followed us that night into the woods. He was the one who was in the tunnel and the one who tried to kill us and, if I'm not mistaken, also the one who broke into your house, Steven!"

Sable Senior rolled his eyes and crossed his arms. "Great theatrics, sweetheart. Now why don't you let the men here deal with business and you run along somewhere else."

"Do not speak to her like that!" Junior roared.

"I've seen him before," Maria said, sidling up from the corridor leading to the kitchen. "You were that surveyor that Andrew hired last year to parcel off Willis's house."

I looked from Maria back to the man standing next to Sable Senior.
"That's
how you knew about the secret door! You
did
try to blow us up in the tunnel!"

The man seemed to shrink back slightly at the accusation. Senior turned to him and said, "Bill? What the hell are they talking about?"

The man named Bill smiled crookedly at Senior before he said, "Just doing my job, sir."

"So you hired him?" Steven asked his father. "You bastard!"

Sable Senior seemed to waffle for a moment as he thought through what Bill had just revealed. "Hold on there," he said, putting up his hands. "I never told you to blow anyone up!"

"Sometimes things get messy," Bill sneered, and I could feel the malice oozing from him. "Sometimes they get extra messy, and you have to take care of things your own way. Sometimes—like now, that is." And with that he reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a gun, pointing it at us.

"Put that thing away!" Senior said. Bill pointed the gun at him, and that shut him up. I heard a yelp from behind me and looked up to see Maria fleeing into the kitchen.

"Hey!" Bill yelled, turning to aim the gun at her. Thinking fast, I picked up a small bronze statue from a table to my right and chucked it at him. It hit him square in the kneecap, and he buckled and sprawled on the floor.

Steven pulled me down low and hauled me quickly around a corner. As we scanned the area, trying to find the safest possible place, I could hear Bill swearing about his knee, while Sable Senior screamed at Bill that he was fired. Suddenly, there was an explosion, then a loud thump that sounded an awful lot like a body hitting the marble floor.

Steven ran hunched over to the left, holding tight to my shirt as he guided me along the maze of rooms that made up the ground floor. We ducked behind a couch in the sitting room, my heart pounding in my chest. I looked behind us and through the window saw Maria hurrying across the lawn over to the path in the woods. I prayed that she'd be able to reach help in time.

Footfalls echoed from the hallway off the sitting room where we were hidden, growing closer, by the sound. I felt Steven squeeze me tightly as the footsteps stopped just outside the room.

"I'm going to find you, ya know," Bill said, sounding decidedly unhinged. "Can't leave any witnesses behind." I wanted to remind him that one witness had already escaped, but given the fact that he held a gun and I held nothing, I thought I'd better pick my battles.

After a bit we heard the footsteps fade again, and Steven whispered, "Come with me." Crouching low, we hurried as quietly as possible out of the sitting room and into the hallway. I held my breath as we saw Bill's back when he turned left and went into the study. Steven motioned me forward frantically and we darted into the kitchen. I followed him around to the island, and we ducked down low as we listened again for the footfalls. They sounded very faintly from the other side of the house. "When I give the signal," Steven said, "we run out the back door. You must get to the woods and take the path to Mirabelle's."

"Where are you going?"

"I'm going to get Bill's attention and lead him away from you. I'll take the other fork and head for Willis's. That should give you enough time to get to safety and call for help."

"But—" I protested.

"No," Steven said adamantly. "Do as I say, M.J. Go to Mirabelle's and wait for me there."

I wavered as I looked at him. I thought the plan was dumb. We both needed to head to Mirabelle's. She had a gun there, and I was fairly certain it packed a bigger punch than that handgun Bill held. Steven's eyes, however, held a stern look, and I finally nodded. "Fine," I mumbled. "On your signal then …" and as if on cue we heard a great groaning and creaking noise just to our left.

"Aw, crap! The damn elevator's waking up!" I hissed as Bill's footsteps pounded through the house, heading right toward us. Steven scrambled up to a bent-over position and grabbed my shirt as he took me with him. We could see the elevator doors begin to open five feet to our left, and the door to the outside seemed much farther away. Bill was coming too quickly for us to make it, I realized with a sinking sensation, and Steven must have felt that too as, with a grunt, he pushed me forward, away from the back door, and half threw, half helped me through the opening of the elevator. He joined me a split second later, crashing against the side of the boxcar.

"Hit the button!" he shouted, and I reached for the CLOSE DOOR button. To my relief, the doors stopped separating and began to close. Just then a powerful sound like a firecracker filled my ears, and something hot whizzed past me just to my side. "Down!" Steven said as he crouched low.

I ducked, but another gunshot echoed all around us as I saw Steven's hand snap back and he crumpled to the floor. I slammed my hand on the button panel of the boxcar, and the doors finally closed. Another slam on a button and the old elevator gave a jolt upward and we began to move. There was another explosion, followed quickly by a dent in the door, and immediately after a great howl of pain from outside.

Steven held his hand as it oozed a fountain of red. "Ohmigod!" I said as I sat next to him. "You've been hit!"

Steven's breathing was labored and his face was contorted in pain. "I need to stop the bleeding," he said. "M.J., take off my shirt and see if you can rip a strip from it."

I looked at his white face and thought there was no way I was going to try to lift his shirt off and risk hurting his hand even more. I reached under my sweater and tugged my tank top up. Wriggling, I got it over my head, and quickly put my arms back through the sleeves of my sweater.

I pulled hard at the tank top's seams and it split open. Using my teeth I ripped again and had a good long strip. "What floor did you press?" Steven asked through gritted teeth.

"The third. We still have a little way to go," I said, looking up as the dial on the top of the boxcar indicated we were just approaching the second floor. "Thank God this thing takes forever," I added as I wadded up the rest of the shirt and gently took Steven's hand away from covering his other one. He hissed through his teeth, and what was revealed made me woozy, but I swallowed hard and placed the shirt over the gaping hole in the top of his hand, wrapping it tightly with the strip I'd torn off.