Crimson Twilight (11 page)

“So much!”

Jane told her about the morning’s events, then said, “I need you to do a search on a woman named Margaret Clarendon, who lived here in the mid-1800s. Find out anything you can about her—before and after she worked for the Roth family.”

“What are you thinking?”

“Elizabeth Roth believes that she was murdered, and that her fiancé was murdered, too. She thinks she was killed by this maid.”

“And that will help you now?” Angela asked.

“I think so,” Jane said. “There’s no one to benefit from Emil Roth’s death or from him being ruined. There has to be another motive.”

“And you think Margaret Clarendon, despite the fact that she might have been a murderess, felt that ill was done to her?”

“We’ve seen it before. Sometimes there’s a descendant out there who feels that they have to right a family wrong,” Jane said.

“But remember that sometimes people just act on greed, jealousy, or revenge. Modern day psychos or self-centered asses,” Angela reminded her.

“I’ll watch from all sides,” Jane promised her.

She said good-bye and they cut the connection. Jane drummed her fingers on the table for a minute, and then hopped up again. She was going to have to wait for results, but she couldn’t sit idly by.

Time to try to pay a visit to John McCawley again.

* * * *

“Here’s what I can’t figure. If Mrs. Avery was hit on the head, she had to have been hit on the head with something. Where is that something she was hit with?” Sloan asked.

“Whoever hit her took it with them,” Logan said.

Sloan was the one driving as they headed back to the castle. He saw a coffee shop and switched on his blinker, ready to pull into the lot.

“We’re stopping for coffee,” Logan said.

Sloan grinned. “I thought we’d try for a little more gossip.”

“Sounds good to me. And coffee, too,” Logan told him.

They went in and were noticed right away by the hostess, who stood at the cash register. A number of patrons were sitting around at the various faux-leather booths. They were definitely the outsiders, probably known as the people who were the guests at the castle. Where bad things happened.

“Sit anywhere?” Sloan said, smiling at the cashier.

“Wherever,” she said.

He and Logan claimed a booth. A waitress came over, offered them menus, and took their orders for coffee. She scampered away, then returned quickly. She looked as if she was both anxious and afraid to talk to them.

She flushed as she poured the coffee and caught Sloan’s eyes. “I’m sorry. I mean, it’s a small village. You’re guests at the castle, right?”

“Yes, we are. Sad business there, though,” Sloan said.

“My God, yes! The poor reverend. Everyone loved him, you know. And now they say that Mrs. Avery has fallen down the stairs and broken her neck, too!”

Her nametag identified her as Genie.

“Yes, Mrs. Avery died,” Sloan said.

“The poor woman,” Logan agreed.

The cashier, apparently, couldn’t stand being out of the know. She headed over to the table with a bowl of coffee creamers.

“Poor woman, my foot,” she said. “Denise Avery thought she was better than anyone in town. She really thought Emil would run himself into the ground with drugs, or his stupid bungee jumping, or parachuting or whatever. He fooled her.”

Sloan and Logan glanced at one another and up at the cashier. Her tag noted her name as Mary.

“Oh, I know!” she said. “I must sound horrible. But she came in here all the time and was rude.”

“I applied to work at the castle,” Genie said. “She looked at me as if I were flypaper. I didn’t stand a chance. I wasn’t pretty enough.”

“You’re quite pretty!” Sloan told her.

Which was true.

“Oh, no! Mrs. Avery wanted really pretty girls to work there. Even as maids. I mean, who cares what your maid looks like if she does a good job?”

“Hmmph!” Mary said. “That woman wanted to tease Emil. She wanted to get him going with whoever she brought in. And then remind him, of course, that he had a position in life, even if he wasn’t fulfilling it. She just wanted to mess with that man.”

“She’s gone now,” Genie reminded her.

Mary crossed herself. “It’s not good to speak ill of the dead.”

“But truth is truth,” Genie said. “The reverend? He was a good man.”

“Bad heart, though,” Mary said.

“Oh, dear!” Genie said. “We are terrible. What would you like to eat?”

“What’s fast?” Sloan asked.

“The special. Stew,” Genie said.

“We’ll take it,” Logan told her.

“Sounds delicious,” Sloan said.

It was actually terrible, or maybe it just seemed terrible because they’d been eating Chef’s food. But it was fast and filling and they were out of there in no time. Sloan wasn’t sure what they’d gained, but they’d gained something.

“Mrs. Avery was quite a manipulator,” Sloan said.

“She was so determined to seduce Emil Roth with the maids, but he went and fell in love with Scully Adair,” Logan mused.

Sloan looked at him. “Do we know what happened before he fell in love with Scully Adair?”

“It would be interesting to find out,” Logan said.

* * * *

Jane was amazed at how quickly the day ended and darkness fell. It seemed that they’d just awoken with Mrs. Avery at the foot of the stairs. Then the police had come and begun their investigation. She had spoken with Angela, Kelsey had hob-knobbed with the kitchen staff and maids, and Logan and Sloan had headed to the autopsy. The hours had flown by, and as she came down the stairs, she could hear Detective Forester in the Great Hall. He’d certainly taken a long time with every single person who’d been in the house. She listened a second and realized from the slow answers he was receiving that Forester was now questioning Mr. Green. She thought about stopping by the kitchen, but decided to head on to the chapel.

She needed to talk with John McCawley.

She headed out again, just as she had the night before. There was no moonlight yet, the autumn sun fading, a brooding darkness hanging over the cliffs brought on by an overcast sky. She’d exited by the front to avoid running into anyone at the rear. She walked around the castle, from the manicured front to the wild and atmospheric rear, and hurried to the chapel.

John McCawley was waiting in front of the altar, staring up at it.

“Did you see her?” he asked, turning. “Did you see my Elizabeth?”

“I did,” she told him. “And I told her and, of course, you know that she loves you. She thinks she was murdered. She didn’t kill herself.”

“What?” he asked.

“She believes that there was a maid at the house—Margaret or Molly—who wanted her father’s attention. And that Molly believed that she could start by ridding the world of the two of you. And Molly had a brother—”

“David,” John told her. “He was always coming to the stables, asking for any extra work.”

“She believes that David shot you and that Molly poisoned her.”

“Can you prove it?”

“Probably not after all these years,” Jane said. “But you know. The two of you know. Maybe that’s enough.”

His face darkened and he began to frown. Jane thought that she had said something that disturbed him. But then she realized that he was looking behind her.

She spun around.

And saw a figure dressed in black.

She started to draw her Glock, but before she could something came hurtling at her. Ghosts didn’t have much strength—thus the tales of rattling chains and squeaking floors and chairs that rocked themselves. But they did have something. And Jane was sure that John McCawley had used all of his strength to cast himself before her. She dove behind one of the pews, drew her gun, and fired. The solid
thunk
she heard confirmed that her bullet had found the wood of a pew.

She rolled and took aim again.

But there was no one there.

The wraith in black was gone, and so was John McCawley.

She rose. Her phone was ringing.

Angela.

She answered, watching the door to the chapel.

“I found out more about your Margaret Clarendon,” Angela told her. “She does have a descendant working at the castle now.”

Chapter 9

Detective Flick was waiting for Sloan and Logan when they entered the castle. He immediately directed them to Detective Forester, who had set up in the Great Hall. They sat and told him what they’d discovered at the M.E.’s office.

“We’re going to need a search warrant,” Forester said. “We need to find whatever object carries Denise Avery’s blood.”

“You don’t need a warrant.”

Emil Roth stood at the arched entry to the Great Hall.

“I own the property. I give you my permission to search every room. I believe there’s a legality about guests in rooms, but I believe my guests will give you permission, too. Am I correct, gentlemen?”

“Of course,” Logan said.

“Then I’ll call in some backup,” Forester said, “and we’ll get to it tonight.”

“I think that’s an excellent idea,” Logan said.

“Where are Kelsey and Jane?” Sloan asked.

“Kitchen, I believe,” Forester told them.

Logan and Sloan headed out of the Great Hall to the kitchen. Kelsey was sitting there with Chef and Harry and Devon.

“Something to eat?” Chef asked.

“No, thanks. We had some horrible food in town,” Logan told him.

Chef grinned. “I do have the reputation for being the best around.”

“I’d not argue it,” Logan assured him.

“Why would you stop in town when you’re staying here?” Chef asked. “And how were you out when the rest of us are prisoners here? Oh, yeah, I forgot. You’re Feds.”

Logan slid into a seat at the kitchen table. “We went to hear gossip.”

Sloan remained standing. He still didn’t know where Jane was. “We heard a lot of interesting gossip. Apparently, not many people liked Mrs. Avery. In fact, they seemed to think that she was trying to make everything in the world go wrong for Emil Roth.”

Chef shrugged. “She treated him like he was a kid. When he hired me, not long after his dad died, they had a huge fight. I overheard them. She told him that he didn’t have the know-how to run anything and that he shouldn’t make decisions without her. I’m surprised he didn’t kill her. He was the heir, but she acted like she owned everything.”

“But he didn’t kill her, did he?” Sloan asked.

“Emil?” Harry asked. “He’s a decent guy. He’s like a regular guy, but with money. He’d be normal as hell if people like Mrs. Avery didn’t keep telling him that he had responsibilities as if he were Spiderman or something.”

“Where’s Jane?” Sloan asked them.

Kelsey, who’d been sitting at the table, frowned. “I’ll go see.”

“Wait. I’ll just try her phone,” Sloan said.

He dialed Jane’s number and listened as they continued to talk.

“The people in town even seemed to think that Avery hired only attractive maids to try and get Emil involved with them,” Logan said.

“Was that her plan?” Harry asked.

“I never had it figured as an actual plan,” Devon said. “Go figure. That dried up old prune of a biddy setting Emil up for sex!”

“Did it work?” Logan asked

“At first, maybe. A few girls wound up being fired for various infractions. Oh, never for flirting with or co-habiting or whatever you want to call it,” Chef said. “They’d be fired for failing in their duty, for disturbing a guest, things like that.”

Logan heard an unspoken
but
. “What?”

“That all ended a few months ago,” Devon said.

“Just spit it out, they know everything,” Harry said. “They’re Feds, remember? Emil is crazy about Scully Adair. And Scully is crazy about him. I don’t know how they were managing to hide it from Mrs. Avery. All the rest of us knew.”

“But, he did see people before that?”

“Yeah, sure. He’s young, good-looking, rich. Who wouldn’t have seen him?” Harry asked.

Jane’s phone was ringing and ringing with no answer. Sloan ended the call and looked at Logan and Kelsey.

“Now we go and find Jane,” he said. “She’s not answering, and I’m pretty sure I know who we’re looking for. Kelsey, go get the detectives. Logan, will you search the house? I’m heading out to the chapel.”

“What can we do?” Chef asked.

“Stay put,” Sloan told him.

* * * *

Jane cautiously stepped out of the church. The overcast sky seemed to have fallen closer to the ground, a dense fog rising to meet it. The graveyard, benign by day, now seemed to hold dozens of places to hide. Winged angels cast shadows over crooked stones. Trees grew at a slant and gargoyles loomed over tombs, warding off all evil. Standing in the doorway for the chapel, she was in clear view.

“You know I have a gun and I do know how to use it,” she said, addressing the graveyard. “You might as well come out. I’m sure that you want me to think that Scully Adair is doing all this. After all, you know that Scully is a descendant of Margaret Clarendon. And you must have heard that there were a few references to the fact that Margaret was suspected of having helped Elizabeth along to her death. But, you know what? I don’t think that Scully herself knows that she has any relationship to the castle. Margaret’s child with Emil Roth went up for adoption. We only found out the truth because we have access to all kinds of records. Phoebe, you were good. I mean that scream you let out when you
found
Reverend MacDonald was really something. And the shock in your eyes? Amazing. So, you had an affair with Emil Roth. You thought you were the one. And I don’t believe that you did kill Cally Thorpe. That was really just a tragic accident. But if people started dying at every wedding, that would give the castle a real reputation. But that wasn’t enough. You figured you’d get rid of Mrs. Avery. Make it really ghostly. You hated her, because she sucked you in. She fed you the story about Scully and her being a descendant of Margaret. You thought you’d replay history, except this time you’d win!”

Jane barely ducked in time as a piece of broken plaster wing off a cherub came flying her way. By the time she was up again, her quarry had moved. Slinking low, she ran from one tomb to the next.