A Midsummer Eve's Nightmare (18 page)

The iron rail on the stone stairs leading down the hillside to the park was cold under her hand. She was thankful for the little Victorian light posts sprinkled around between the bushes and trees, but she longed for more. It was dark. And the park was deserted. If Erin had crossed the expanse of lawn ahead of her, she was gone now. Elizabeth paused and listened for voices. Perhaps there were none, or perhaps
Playground. Now.
was sounding so loud in her head in time with the beating of her heart that it drowned out any other noises.

No one knew the dangers better than Erin. How could she have been so stupid as to rush off alone? And ironically, Elizabeth and Richard had been responsible for distracting her guard. That was probably it. Erin must think she was safe because her faithful bodyguard would be with her. Oh, false security.

Elizabeth headed toward the playground on the other side of the park. She thought of calling out Erin’s name, but some instinct to remain hidden herself kept her quiet. Now she could hear the gurgling of the creek as it tumbled over smooth rocks by the bridge. Earlier in the day there would have been hordes of laughing children wading and splashing in the water. Now all was as silent as a cemetery.

Elizabeth shivered, wishing she could have thought of a more cheerful simile.

Then she heard the scream.

Erin. It must be. Elizabeth looked around her. Where had it come from? The sound seemed to echo off the trees.

It came again. A short, sharp shriek, followed by a sob this time. Upstream, just beyond the playground. She turned and ran that direction.

A stifled sob and gasp for breath led her closer. She still could see nothing. Then she realized her mistake. Whoever was there was in the thickly wooded area on the other side of the creek. She started to turn back to the bridge when angry voices stopped her. There was no doubt. The girl was Erin. And the other voice male. But she couldn’t tell whose. With only the briefest thought for her new red shoes, Elizabeth stepped into the creek. At least they had low heels so she didn’t slip on the smooth, wet rocks. Another scream, cut short by the crack of a slap, made her leap up the gentle bank.

There they were, struggling just beyond this bank of bushes. A little light from a distant street lamp fell through the trees. Enough to reveal a flash of cold steel in the outstretched hand of the man.

With a cry like a wild animal Erin flung herself at the arm, grabbed the knife, and tore off up the trail.

“Erin!” the man shouted.

Elizabeth, crashing through the bushes to reach her friend, heard the shout mingled with the snapping of branches under her feet and a sharp ripping sound as a thorn caught at the sleeve of her new jacket. She was through the hedge in seconds, but already Erin and her pursuer were far ahead. Elizabeth plunged on up the dark, rough trail after them. Could she possibly reach Erin in time to save her?

She heard another shriek in the distance, answered by an angry male voice. Did that mean the assailant had overtaken Erin? Elizabeth tried to run faster, but already her breath was coming short. Erin with her dancers’ conditioning had sped up the dark trail that Elizabeth now floundered along, crashing into bushes in the dark, her bruised knee aching.

Then a new sound gave a fresh burst of energy to Elizabeth’s tiring muscles. Heavy footsteps pounded behind her. Why hadn’t she thought of that? Why had they always assumed Erin’s tormentor was working alone? Surely it was more likely that a kidnapping had been undertaken by a team? Now she who had been pursuing was herself pursued.

She gasped for air, almost crying out at the pain in her throat. And Erin, sounding further ahead than ever, gave another scream. At least that indicated the man had not yet caught her. How far must they have come? Elizabeth hadn’t been aware of passing the tennis courts that should have been somewhere on her left, but the lights wouldn’t be on now, and she could easily have run by them in the dark without noticing. What about the pond with its fountain and swans—a scene of such peace and delight in the daylight? Where was it? Could Erin swim if her assailant should choose to throw her in it—if she were conscious then?

The thudding on the ground behind Elizabeth increased. Her fear for Erin shifted to herself. Should she dive to the side and attempt hiding in the darkness? But what if he heard her? Or even saw her leap? And that would leave Erin alone with two pursuers.

Elizabeth snagged her toe on the rough path and almost fell, but righted herself and fought on. The increasingly rugged trail indicated that they were long past the groomed area of the park into the natural wilderness that ran—what had the folder said—a hundred acres into the wilds? How long could Erin and her pursuer keep on? How long could Elizabeth keep on?

Not much longer, she knew. Her throat was on fire. Her head throbbed. Her sides ached. Her feet were leaden.

“No! No! Get Away!” Erin’s voice. Just around the next bend. He had caught her. Hurry. The next minute might be too late. “Stop! Don’t touch me!”

Help me!
Elizabeth cried silently. The moon broke through the clouds, shedding a cold, eerie light over the path and bushes. Gathering her last shreds of strength, Elizabeth launched herself in the direction of Erin’s screams.

But for the half-buried root that tripped her and sent her rolling into the clearing, the whole crime might well have gone as planned. Flat on her back, gasping for breath at the edge of the clearing, Elizabeth looked up and saw. And heard.

“Erin, please. Let me help you,” Dirk pleaded as he circled, trying to disarm Erin.

Dirk was not trying to plunge the knife into Erin.

Dirk was Erin’s intended victim.

“I don’t need anyone’s help. It’s all gone perfectly so far. Who will think it wasn’t self-defense after you tried to kidnap me to get Daddy’s money?”

Again they circled, Erin and the poised knife just beyond Dirk’s grasp. “Erin, you know that’s nonsense.”

“Yes, but no one else will.” The words came out in a triumphal cry.

Erin launched herself at Dirk with a murderous shriek. The steel blade flashed in the cold light.

Dirk sidestepped. The blade caught his left shoulder, not the center of his chest where Erin had aimed.

And then Elizabeth’s pursuer crashed into the circle. Richard caught Erin’s wrist and knocked the dagger from it with a sharp jerk. She fought like something wild, kicking, screaming, attempting to scratch his face. Incongruously, the moon shone on the flowers and stage glitter still braided in her now-tangled hair.

“It’s over, Erin. It’s all over. Stop now.” Richard commanded. Facing her, he held her arms behind her back and shook her like a child but she continued to fight and kick. “Stop. It’s over.”

With a rending sob she fell against him. “No, it can’t be. I worked so hard. I did it all perfectly. It can’t be over.”

“It’s over, Erin.” Dirk added his voice to Richard’s.

Just then another sound in the bushes made Elizabeth turn. Rory Fellows lumbered up the path. She put her hand out to stop him, and shook her head to keep him quiet. Together they stood in the shelter of the bushes, afraid to interrupt the flow of words that had begun pouring from Erin’s mouth. “Of course it was me all the time. I did all of it. Everything. All by myself. I don’t need anyone else. I can do it all. And I was good. No one ever suspected. I was good, wasn’t I?” she demanded.

“You were good, Erin,” Dirk responded. “Too good.”

“Of course I was good. And you tell my father that. He said I couldn’t act. All the roles I played in Dallas, he said I just got them because of my name. But I showed him. No one knew who I was here, and I was a star.” A strangled sob broke her voice.

“I was a star onstage. But this was even harder. This was real life, and I fooled everybody just as well. I was better than Shakespeare. His stuff only works onstage. Mine works in the real world.”

“It didn’t work, Erin,” Richard reminded her.

She gasped and sank to the ground. “Oh.” Her voice was suddenly dull and lifeless. “But it should have. I did it so good. Why didn’t it work?”

“It never does in the end.” Richard sat down beside her. “Tell us why you did it, Erin.”

“Dirk knows. He can tell you.”

“Dirk?” Richard looked at Dirk, who was attempting to staunch the blood trickling down his arm. Richard handed him a white handkerchief.

Dirk sat on the other side of Erin. Elizabeth thought how sad it looked. All the drama, all the excitement over. In the end it had come to three dark, lonely figures sitting in the stark moonlight. Dirk spoke. “I think I know. I’m not Erin Renton’s boyfriend. I’m Erica Wooton’s husband.”

“Yes. But even the pleasure of defying Daddy wasn’t worth marrying you.” Erin leaned toward Richard. “This creep wouldn’t just give me a nice quiet divorce.” Her voice suddenly rose on a new note of hysteria. “It’s his fault. It’s all his fault. He could just have signed the divorce papers and gone away. But no, he wanted money. It was all he ever wanted. That’s good, isn’t it?” The hysteria turned to bitterness. “The wronged groom wanted alimony from his rich bride. Or just a nice fat payoff. The Jag wasn’t enough. He wanted more. Blackmail, that’s what it was. If anybody should go to jail for this, that jerk should. Money, money, money to keep him from telling my father about our marriage.”

“And who’s being mercenary now? The only reason you didn’t want your father to know was so ‘Daddy’ wouldn’t disinherit you like he was always threatening to do.”

“Oh, I hate you! I hate you. I hate you!” She started to claw at Dirk, but Richard restrained her.

Suddenly she started sobbing and slumped over, her head in her hands. “It all went perfectly except Sally. Poor Sally. I didn’t know she had a weak heart. I had it all planned so cleverly. And it was so easy. I just left off taking my pills for a few days—filled a few capsules with sugar—the morning I woke up feeling shaky I knew it was the day. And that was perfect because it was
Othello
that night. But if it hadn’t been I’d have taken a pill to postpone my attack.

“You see, I had it all planned. I timed it just right. I had the apple juice doctored hours before my ‘heart attack.’ And no one ever suspected me. I was so good.” She returned to her theme, then ended in another sob.

“But Sally—I didn’t mean to kill her. You have to believe me. I only wanted to make her sick. Vomiting and diarrhea, that’s all it should have been. No one would take me seriously. I had to make it look like someone was really trying to kill me. I didn’t mean to kill anyone but Dirk—and he deserved it.”

“Okay, that’s enough.” Rory Fellows stepped forward and lifted Erin to her feet. “Let’s go downtown.” She didn’t resist, but instead, leaned heavily on the officer. “Erica Wooton, Er— Erica Theisen, alias Erin Renton, I arrest you—”

Before the policeman could warn Erin that anything she might say would be taken down and might be used against her, Elizabeth jumped it. “How did you get Dirk to chase you? That sure looked real out there.”

Dirk answered. “She said she was going to kill herself. I thought I was the big hero who would save her from herself. Ha. I should have told her to go ahead.”

“Would you come with us?” Sergeant Fellows asked Dirk.

“Why? You can’t arrest me. Making a stupid marriage isn’t a crime.”

“Well, for one thing you need to get that arm bandaged. And, of course, we’ll need a full statement from all of you. Beyond that,” Fellows paused, “attempted blackmail could be held to be a contributing factor, but that’s not for me to decide.”

“You’ll never make it stick.”

The officer moved his charges forward. “Probably not. But ‘There is another comfort than this world.’”

Elizabeth almost fell into Richard’s outstretched arms. He held her tight until her pounding heart quieted. Then she gave a shaky, high-pitched laugh. “Can you believe this place? Even the police quote Shakespeare.”

Chapter 24

“EVIL IS SO INSIDIOUS. The fact that Erin was such a likable person makes her crime all the more chilling.” Elizabeth put a cup of strong tea into Tori’s hands. They had found Tori and Gregg waiting for them at the apartment and had recounted the evening’s events to them twice, but Victoria was still struggling to make sense out of it all.

“I knew she was absolutely driven to prove herself to her father, but I had no idea. . .” She shook her head. “It just doesn’t seem possible, and yet. . . there’s a sick sort of logic to it all, isn’t there?”

Elizabeth nodded. “Like starting with the little stuff and then the whole thing just getting so terribly out of hand. I suppose she may have knocked those flats over on herself and put the glass in her own powder partly just to get attention. If her parents didn’t give her the attention she needed as a child she would probably do about anything to get it now”

Richard agreed. “She probably had some vague idea of blaming those things on Dirk and scaring him off. Then when that didn’t work she got more serious.” He paused. “She was incredibly clever. She really had it all set up so no one would question that she had killed him in self-defense. I suppose she hoped for a witness. That must have been why she left the note behind—or just for evidence later.”

“If we hadn’t arrived at just the right time, no one would have doubted her,” Elizabeth agreed. “Who do you think delivered that note for her?”

Gregg shrugged. “That would have been easy. She probably left it at the box office for herself. Asked them to deliver it after the play. They would have sent it along with anyone who happened to be free.”

“So there was no kidnapper?” Tori spoke slowly, groping to make sense of it all. “She staged the whole thing all by herself? That’s really amazing.”

“Yes, it is,” Elizabeth agreed, “and a terrible waste of brains and talent. Courage, even. Those bruises were real. She must have thrown herself against a pile of rocks.” She shook her head.

Richard nodded. “‘The pity of it, Iago; oh, Iago, the pity of it.’”

There was a long, thoughtful silence in the room.

Then Elizabeth frowned. “So that must mean it was
Erin
who almost knocked me off the catwalk?”