Home Before Dark (26 page)

MURDER
SUICIDE
VERDICT
IN
LOCAL
TRAGEDY

'Did you know that dentists,’ Campbell said, as he skimmed
the text, 'have the highest suicide rate of any profession?’
Under the headline there was a photograph of Skylands.
A white Colonial mansion on top of a wooded ridge. It was
a distance shot taken from below and off to the side – Campbell
felt the thrill of recognition.
He was looking at the house on the homebeforedark website.
'Dentists? Are you kidding?’ Susan Mary said. 'They always
seem so dull and boring. Maybe that’s what it takes.’
The article added little to what Dr Stilwell had told him.
He wasn’t surprised that the inquest failed to offer a motive
for the homicide. There was an inset picture of June and
Gary Seaton; a mention, but disappointingly no photograph
of the boy.
'I’d like to get this scanned . . . now, if possible.’
'Not a problem. I’d be glad to take care of that for you.’
He watched her disappear with the scrapbook through a
door marked Private and couldn’t help wondering what her
silver-grey hair would look like loose, how far down her back
it would reach.
At ten thirteen, Campbell e-mailed Ed Lister from the
library computer a copy of the article with a circle around
the picture of Skylands, and a note: 'Look familiar? Let me
know what you think. Taking a run up there now to check it
out. C
As he left the building, starting to feel as if he was really
getting somewhere at last, Campbell stopped at the desk to
thank the librarian for her help.
'You wouldn’t happen to know directions?’
'To Skylands? Sure. Take the mountain road out of Norfolk.
Over the second ridge turn right up Deer Flats Road . . .
last driveway on the left.’
He looked at her, bemused, as if this needed an explanation.
Susan Mary smiled. 'You’re not the first person to ask.’

44

adorablejoker: what are you doing here? templedog: waiting for you aj: don’t fucking lie

I wasn’t lying I was at the office, checking my e-mails before
going into a meeting. All right, I’d only logged on a few
moments earlier. But lately I’d taken to loitering online in the
hope of bumping into her, tormenting myself with the idea
that, though invisible to me, she was there, talking to someone
else.
Then I saw the little grey face beside her screen-name light
up and any negative or jealous feelings I might have had
instantly evaporated; it was as if the sun had burst out from
behind the clouds. Was it just a chance meeting? Jelly insisted
she’d deleted me, taken my name off her buddy list, and so
had no way of telling when I was online, but I had my doubts.
I think she’d seen that I was there and had chosen the 'I’m
available’ option.
She wanted to get in touch.

td: where are you?
aj: at the beach staying with friends
td: I thought you hated the ocean… your friends in Westhampton, right?
aj: at least it’s cooler out here than Brooklyn
aj: hey, guess what? i bought this outfit for a party tonight and omg, it has the
cutest top. it’s a V-neck and a gold kinda color… now i just have to find a pair
of shoes to go with it and…
td: I’m sure you’ll be the belle of the ball

I glanced over the top of the screen through the door of my
office into the conference room where the team had gathered.
I had called an in-house meeting at two o’clock with the
accounts department. It was now a quarter past.
Audrey caught my eye and raised an inquiring eyebrow.

aj: yeah, right… it’s at a club in town called Scarlett’s
td: I remember, used to be a disco … you want to be careful about giving out
that kind of information. I could hop on a plane and be there by midnight
aj: ummm… maybe that wouldn’t be such a great idea… look, i wasn’t gonna
tell you this… but there’s a chance my ex might show up
td: I see… so rather than listen to your heart
aj: please, ed, don’t do this
td: you choose to be with someone you never loved and never will
nj: oh jesus… do I really have to spell it out for you?
td: hold on a second

I had incoming mail from Campbell Armour.

I quickly opened the attachment and felt my stomach flip
over as the clipping of the Skylands story filled the screen.
There was no question it was the same house.
I glanced at the other photo, the one of the Seatons. In
their wedding outfits, they looked like any young American
couple from that graceless era, though a hint of stylishness
about the bride made me look closer. It was nothing definite,
but June Seaton reminded me a little of someone I met once
a long time ago.
I dismissed the thought instantiy.
My attention was focused on Skylands. It gave me a strange
feeling to be looking at the childhood home of the person
who killed Sophie. I enlarged the image and pored over the
details, excited by the possibility that the old white house clearly
the model for the virtual mansion on the homebeforedark website and the drawings in Sophie’s sketchbook – could
soon lead us to him. It was a hugely significant development.
I looked at my watch.
Campbell would already be on his way there.
AJ
i slept with him
td:
congratulations… what do you want me to say, I’m happy for you?
td:
it means nothing and you know it
AJ
why are you doing this? Why can’t you just let me go?
TD
: because I believe we are meant to be together
AJ
: oh god, will you stop
TD
: i fell in love with you, Jelly … is that a crime?
AJ
not with me, with your idea of me
TD
you can go on denying it, but it’s so obvious you feel the same way
AJ
no, you got that wrong, mister… and this is the end of the line

I watched her leave – that is, I waited until the grey pop-up
flag confirmed, 'Adorablejoker is now offline’ – then I leaned
back in my chair and closed my eyes. My chest hurt, I couldn’t
breathe, my stomach was tied up in knots; and yet, I felt
strangely elated by the encounter.
We’d been here before. All our conversations now seemed
to end with Jelly saying she didn’t want to talk to me again,
but this was different.
I thought about her reaction when I had suggested flying
over to see her that evening. It had been surprising, hadn’t
it – I scrolled back to make sure I wasn’t just fooling myself – that she didn’t reject the idea out of hand?
In a way she seemed to be saying, come.
Why else reveal where she was going to be? She was using
the boyfriend to make me jealous, to make sure I did hop
on a plane. It was clear that she felt the same way I did she
just wasn’t ready to admit it yet.
Then, when I least expected it, she messaged me back.

aj: could you do me a favor?
td: depends what it is
aj: could you look this way… look at me for a sec?
aj: just for one second before you go?

When she wrote that I felt my heart jump and beat faster
for a few seconds. I pulled up Jelly’s photo. Her face filled
the screen and I could hear the thumping in my chest like a
metronome racing ahead of the song I was listening to on
my iPod – it was Stevie Wonder’s 'Superstition’.

td: ok, I’m looking
aj: i lean in and kiss you softly on the lips
td: damn you
aj:. you’re right, i think maybe this was a mistake, I should go

to: only after I return the favour
aj: haven’t you got work to do, people to see?
W: they can wait…
ay: well… if it’s just a kiss
td: you’ve got me confused here aj: i’m confused my damned self aj: i don’t know if it’s the heat or what
td: glad I’m not the only one feeling it aj: yeah … what can you do?

'Any chance of your joining us sometime this week?’ Audrey
asked.
I hadn’t heard her come into the room. She was standing
in front of my desk, hand on hip, a few feet away from my
laptop.
The picture of Jelly still filled the screen.
I quickly closed it down and removed my earpiece. 'Are
we all set?’
Audrey just nodded. I could hear the guitar riff from
'Superstition’ leaking tinnily from the white earphone. Then
it struck me that something about that last suggestive
exchange with Jelly didn’t ring right. When she came back
on a moment ago, I’d noticed that there was a slight delay
on her side of the conversation that hadn’t been there before.
I wasn’t a hundred per cent sure – and there could have been
another explanation – but I had a suspicion (it still makes
me queasy to think about) that after saying it was 'the end
of the line’ she’d sent no more messages.
I had been talking to someone else.
'You feeling all right?’ Audrey asked. 'You look like you’ve
seen a ghost.’
'Change of plan,’ I said quietly, as the implications began
to sink in. If it was Ward pretending to be Jelly, I realised,
then he not only knew of her existence but almost certainly
had found out her identity, her phone numbers, where
she worked and lived. She was in real and immediate
danger.
'I have to go to New York . . . tonight. I want you to cancel
all my appointments and book me on the last flight.’
I stood up and started to clear my desk, wondering how
often I’d talked to Ward under the impression that I was
having a conversation with Jelly – and, vice versa, if she had
ever spoken to the murderer thinking he was me.

48

'Grace?’ Ward said into his cell phone. 'Grace Wilkes?
'Who wants to know? Who is this?’
'You don’t recognise my voice?’
Silence the other end.
'I guess it’s been a while. Ernest Seaton, Grace.’
There was a wheezy intake of breath.
'Ernie? I don’t believe it. Ernie …’ she croaked, then started
to cry. It was the first time they’d spoken since he left home.
Ward held the phone away from his ear. 'Oh my … oh my
Lord. Ernie, is it really you?’
'You haven’t forgotten,’ he said, adding, once she became
halfway coherent again, 'There’s no need for anyone else to
know.’
'It’s okay, I’m alone … on my own now.’ She stopped the
boohooing long enough to let out a heavy sigh. 'Earl passed
away last year.’
'I’m sorry to hear that.’ It wasn’t news, but her saying it
brought back memories of a tall, lean man with tired sunken
eyes in a red and black plaid Woolrich shirt, sweeping leaves
in the yard. 'I’ll get to the point, Grace. I’m in a situation.
There’s this guy, some kind of a detective, trying to stick his
nose where it has no business.’
'Would that be the same one called here last night asking
questions? I told him I was out of town till tomorrow.’
'You always knew what to do.’ He let her hear the sound
of his laugh.
'Where are you, Ernie?’ she asked, still snuffling.
'Up at the house.’
He was standing on the front porch, looking down at the
ruin of the garden; he’d been shocked to see how far the
place had gone back.The terraces were so densely overgrown
he could barely distinguish the bones of the original layout.
Boulders from the retaining walls had spilled out and rolled
down the hill, coming to rest against the roots of trees and
shrubs. The white fence had gone, the garden gate, the
gravel circle where he used to set up his armies and reenact
historic battles.
Ward put everything back exactly the way he remembered it.
He didn’t need to rearrange the view. You could still see
for sixty miles clear across to the Berkshires, the forested
ridges overlapping and getting fainter and fainter till they
faded into blue mist on the horizon.
Unspoiled, the kind of view Ed Lister would have appreciated.
'I
could meet you there,’ Grace said.
In the distance he heard a car coming up the road. He
jumped down from the porch and walked quickly to the edge
of the terrace, where he knew there was a gap in the trees.
Below he glimpsed the little silver Camry hesitating before
it swung off Piper Hill Lane and then continued up the dirt
track towards the house, towing a cloud of dust.
Ward turned and looked up at the one window on the front
of the building that wasn’t shuttered. The blue of the sky
reflected in its panes tasted of rusty nails.
'No, there isn’t time now. I’ll get back to you.’ He let himself
in the front door with the key and locked it behind him.

It took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the gloom. The
round table was still there at the end of the hall, covered in
a dust sheet; beyond it the rising stairs. A shaft of light fell
across the floor from the cracked door leading to the kitchen.
The air felt cool on his face. Ward realised he was sweating.
His feet made no sound as he crossed the bare pine floor.
He recognised a few pieces of furniture coated in thick dust,
but the house had mostly been stripped of his family’s
possessions. Then through the door into the parlour he
glimpsed the old upright his mother used to play. An indefinable
smell, somewhere between dried flowers and mildew,
became a sword in his hand. He had to fight off the memories
that crowded in, jostling for his attention as he climbed the
stairs.
On the landing, following the spore of filtered daylight,
Ward entered the guest room and went over to the single
unshuttered window just as the Toyota pulled up in front of
the house, radio blaring. He watched Campbell Armour,
wearing a red tracksuit with a double white stripe down the
side, get out of the car and look around; then, satisfied he’d
found the right place, lean back in to cut the ignition.
'Son of a gun, we’ll have big fun . . .’
The abrupt muting of the old country standard left a silence
deeper than before, stirring unwelcome echoes of his childhood
and being forced to play musical statues in the front
parlour. His father would always yank the needle on 'Jambalaya’
just before Hank Williams sang the words '. . . on the
bayou’, and behind the boy’s pale eyes the orange lattice shapes
that shivered to the beat dissolved, throwing him off balance.
Saw you move, son.
Orange being his default colour for pain.
Ward drew back behind the faded chintz drapes as the
detective, using his hand as a sun-visor, squinted up at the
second-storey windows. He’d seen him around the village
earlier, at the library and the real-estate office, overheard him
asking dumb questions – the guy was an amateur. He might
know computers, but he was way, way out of his depth here.
Ward just hoped, for everyone’s sake, that little Jackie Chan
wouldn’t try something stupid now like breaking into the