Never Sleep With Strangers (27 page)

“I think he's making it all up, protecting someone here!” Joe announced.

“Well, we've all denied it,” V.J. said. “I had a husband at the time, and that was it for me. I haven't young Anna Lee's stamina. Sorry, no offense meant, Anna Lee.”

“None taken,” Anna Lee said dryly.

“He wouldn't dream of touching his stepdaughter,” Dianne said, gazing at Jon. “Even if his stepdaughter might have been willing,” she added softly.

“Don't you all go looking at me!” Reggie declared.

“I wasn't here,” Sabrina reminded them quietly.

“So that leaves…” Joe began.

“Susan!” Tom said again, making a face.

“Right. Why would he be protecting Susan? Who in his or her right mind could think that Susan needed protection?” Thayer demanded.

“Ah, but maybe Jon wasn't behaving quite so innocently. Perhaps there was some forbidden affair, the castle laird's seduction of some sweet young thing from the village who came in to cook or clean,” Joshua suggested, teasing, his eyes dancing. They all laughed.

“Indeed! We should check out the chamber of horrors for some young, innocent, unknown face!” V.J. suggested, waggling her eyebrows.

“You may look wherever you wish,” Jon said. “But since it wasn't my ‘sins' you were really after to begin with, Anna Lee, just what were you referring to when you said it was a dreadful shame?”

“Oh, just that we never solved the whodunit. It was really great fun, and so well-done. Who did kill your brother, Demented Dick?”

“Let's solve it now,” V.J. said.

“We don't have half the clues. We didn't play the game,” Thayer protested.

“Then we'll just talk it through, lay out the suspects and the clues, and we'll each make a determination!” Dianne said. “Jon?”

“Sure, why not?” he said.

Sabrina leaned forward. “Two of us are guilty, right?”

“Well, I'm innocent, seeing as how I was killed in chapel,” Brett murmured.

“Right,” Sabrina said. “Mr. Buttle, the Butler, was killed—probably because he saw something.”

“My guess,” Brett said, “is that it was Thayer's character, JoJo Scuchi, who killed Demented Darryl—because of an affair gone awry. Or…JoJo Scuchi was having an affair with Susan's character, Carla, the call girl with the clap, and he killed Demented Darryl for having given her the disease!”

“As demented Dick's and Demented Darryl's dad, I'm innocent,” Tom Heart said. “I'm certain of that.”

“And as Tilly Transvestite, I know that I'm innocent, as well. Number one—I'm not sure how, but I'm their mother. And I'm just too weird and caught up in my own psychological problems to kill others,” Joe said with certainty.

“I think the Duchess—Sabrina—did it,” Dianne surmised. “Demented Darryl tried to ditch out on back payments he owed her. She's been pretending to be a dignified duchess, when we all know that she was the queen of sleaze. The butler knew about her transactions. He'd had seen too much, and he had to go.”

“Sabrina was in the chapel when Brett bought it, remember?” V.J. said.

“So we're back to her needing an accomplice,” Joe stated.

“Okay, Camy,” Jon said, looking at his assistant. “We need a few more clues from the game. Are there two murderers?”

Camy glanced at Joshua, evidently sorry to part with information and give up the game. He shrugged at her. “Well, tell them.”

“Yes, there are two murderers. I'll give you that much. You all figure out the rest.”

“Give us this, too, please,” Sabrina persisted. “Brett—Mr Buttle—is dead, and therefore innocent. And I don't think that Carla, the call girl, is guilty, either. I think that her character was supposed to be the next to go.”

“Maybe,” Camy said.

“But Susan's character isn't the murderer,” Jon stated. Camy shook her head. “No, she's not.”

“And my character is innocent, too. Mary, the Hare Krishna—she's innocent, right?” Dianne demanded.

“A Hare Krishna? You're daffy, not guilty,” Joshua teased.

Dianne smiled at him. Josh smiled back. Jon wondered if his stepdaughter didn't seem to be growing more and more fond of the artist.

“Well, we're eliminating suspects, at least,” Tom said.

“As Tilly Transvestite, the dear boys' mum. I am innocent, aren't I?” Joe asked. “You don't need to answer, Camy. I can see by your face that it's the truth. After their miraculous births, I surely wouldn't do in one of my children.”

“You are in the clear,” Joshua said with a shrug.

“And that's it, the last clue we're giving you tonight,” Camy said. “Joshua, no more hints!”

“But the game is over isn't it?” Sabrina said quietly.

“Yes and no,” Reggie argued. “We don't know who is guilty, but we do know who is innocent. I would personally like to work on it a little longer. What do you say?”

“Well, you know, the game isn't really over,” Camy said, “since no one knows the truth at all.”

“I'll say!” V.J. murmured.

Reggie looked sternly around the table. She fluffed her gray hair. “I want to solve this. I can't help it. It's in my blood!”

Despite his unease over Sabrina's comments about the blood on his robe—there hadn't been that much—Jon found himself laughing. Reggie was one great old broad.

“Okay, let's leave it at this,” he said. “The innocent? Mary, the Hare Krishna. Mr. Buttle, the butler—he's a goner. Carla the call girl and Tilly Transvestite. That leaves us with Sabrina, the Duchess, Reggie, the Crimson Lady, V.J. as Nancy, the naughty nurse—”

“
Very
naughty nurse,” Dianne teased.

“Hush, young woman!” V.J. admonished.

“V.J., dear you've already given us one confession, and we don't want any protestations of innocence now, thank you,” Reggie said playfully.

“Besides, just like the rest of us,” Dianne drawled, “V.J. could be lying.”

“She could be,” Jon said. “And Anna Lee, as Sally Sadist, could still be guilty, along with Thayer as JoJo Scuchi, Sabrina, the Duchess, running her covert operations, and, of course…”

“Who are we missing?” Joe asked with a frown.

“Me,” Jon said simply. “Demented Dick. I think I'll be guilty till the end, don't you?” he asked lightly, gazing at Sabrina.

She looked away.

“Everybody happy with the way we've ended things for tonight?” he inquired.

“No,” Reggie said. “I want to solve a mystery.”

Jon pounced. “Good. So do I. So let's go talk to Susan.”

“Susan isn't a mystery,” Dianne complained. “Just a bitch.”

“We had our peaceful dinner,” Jon said firmly. “And now…” He rose determinedly. The others looked unhappy, but he knew they would follow suit.

He left the great hall and started up the stairs. He was aware of Sabrina's scent as she fell in slightly behind him, of Tom murmuring something to V.J., of Brett bemoaning the fact that the evening had been going so nicely and now they were going to go and spoil it all.

He reached the second floor and Susan's room. They were all silent. He rapped sharply on the door.

“Susan!”

No answer.

He looked at the others, rapped hard again. “Susan, it's Jon. I'd like to talk to you, just to make sure you're all right!”

Again, no answer.

“I told you!” Sabrina whispered. “She doesn't want anything to do with any of us.”

“She thinks we're all monsters,” Anna Lee said.

“Well, on that score,” Brett considered, “she just might be right. I mean, we can be pretty horrible.”

“Speak for yourself!” Reggie told him.

“I think he is speaking for himself,” Anna Lee teased.

“Hush, woman,” Brett commanded.

“Hush, all of you,” Jon said sternly. “I can't hear if she's giving me an answer or not. Susan!” he called out again.

“Let's just leave her,” Dianne pleaded.

He shook his head. “No, Dianne, we can't.” He rapped his fist against the door with determination. “Damn it, Susan, if you don't answer me, I'm coming in!”

Still Susan didn't reply.

“Do we break the door down?” Thayer asked.

Jon smiled. “No, we use the master key. Susan!” he called, giving her one more chance, in case she was in the bathroom, or naked, or doing a mud facial, or something equally personal.

She'd kill him.

What if she had on head phones or something of the kind and simply couldn't hear him? He'd be invading her privacy. And maybe she did just hate the hell out of all of them and want to be left alone.

But he was worried.

Totally, completely uneasy.

This just wasn't right.

What if she had hurt herself? What if she had fallen, cried out for help, and none of them had heard her? What if she had slipped in the shower? What if she lay, injured and bleeding, on the shower floor, her blood trickling with water down the drain?

There were too many what-ifs to be concerned about her right to privacy.

He felt a sudden shiver rake his spine, an unpleasant sensation that made him more and more concerned that something was really wrong.

Sabrina was upset about blood.

Too much blood, she'd implied.

There hadn't been that much blood. But it had been on his robe. What the hell did that mean?

Was there a killer among them? In his mind's eye, he could suddenly see the worst. The killer had gotten to Susan, and she was lying on her bed, blood dripping down the sheets from the stab wounds that perforated her body.

He frowned, looking at the others.

“We've got to do it.”

He turned the key in the lock and opened Susan's door. And, stepping into her room, he looked around.

A collective gasp sounded behind him.

And he saw what was there.

N
othing.

No body upon the sheets.

No endlessly running water.

No blood.

No grisly scene.

Nothing at all. No sign of Susan whatsoever.

“Well, where the hell is she?” V.J. demanded.

“Susan?” Sabrina called. She glanced at Jon, then walked farther into the room, pushing open the bathroom door, which already stood ajar. “Susan?”

“She simply isn't here,” Dianne said flatly.

“Well, where the hell could she be?” Joe asked impatiently.

“She's probably been tiptoeing around, spying on us, trying to see how we reacted to her disappearance so that she could really do a number on us all,” Anna Lee said.

“It's a big castle,” Sabrina said. “She could be anywhere.”

“That's just it. She could be anywhere,” Jon said.

“Why are we so worried about her?” Tom demanded irritably. “Let's let her wander around and fume and be a bitch. I tried to be decent to her. I stood guard while she showered, and she went ballistic at me anyway, calling me and V.J. perverts for bursting in on her privacy. I'm sorry, Jon, but I've just about had it with her. She's beginning to make Cassie look like a goddamned saint.”

They all stood very still, looking at Tom, who was seldom so passionately angry or bitter.

V.J. slipped her hand into his. “But, Tom, maybe she's hurt.”

“We can only hope,” he muttered.

“You don't mean that,” V.J. said.

He sighed and threw up his hands. “All right, let's go search for her, Jon, if that's what you want.”

“We should divide up, I think,” Thayer suggested.

“Yes, I think so,” Jon agreed. “We'd be ridiculous, all of us trooping behind one another around the castle, crashing into each other.”

“I'm not going anywhere alone,” Dianne said determinedly.

“No, of course not,” Jon said impatiently. “We'll go in groups of two or three.” He paused. “Reggie, maybe you should lock yourself in and—”

“Jon Stuart, quit acting as if I'm an invalid or so old that I should be stuffed!” Reggie protested.

“All right, then—” Jon began.

“Reggie, we just don't want you getting hurt,” Dianne said gently.

“V.J. is almost as old as I am,” Reggie insisted.

“Not nearly!” V.J. protested, appalled.

“Ladies, ladies!” Brett said.

“How do we split up?” Camy asked.

“Well, let's see,” Jon said. “Thayer, Joe and I will take the different dungeon areas; Tom, you and Brett can check the first floor and then help V.J., Sabrina and Anna Lee search the rooms up here. Dianne, maybe you and Reggie can provide a liaison point for us in the great hall.”

“I'll help you in the crypt and the chamber of horrors,” Joshua said. “I know the area well.”

“I'll help, too,” Camy offered.

“No, Camy, why don't you hang out with Dianne and Reggie in the great hall. Or, better yet, you could go up to the attic and tell Jennie that Susan has disappeared and have her search up there.”

“You know,” Joe said, “being Susan and stubborn and ornery as a bull, she might have just taken off out of here, leaving us to worry about her.”

“How?” Jon asked. “We're snowbound.”

“Maybe she took a horse?”

“If there had been a horse missing from the stables, Angus would have said so.”

“Maybe she sneaked out since we came back in,” Joshua suggested. “The weather has improved a lot.”

“It's a possibility, but I doubt it,” Jon said. “Susan was never suicidal. The snow is deep, and it's a very long way even to the village. And if I remember right, Susan is not overly fond of horses. Tom,” he said, reaching into his pocket, “here's the master key. Let's start searching, shall we?”

He stared at Sabrina, then turned and led the way down the stairs.

 

Sabrina didn't want to be a doubting Thomas. The way Jon had looked at her made her feel terrible. His gaze had gone cold, hard, his eyes like marble defenses that kept her from his heart or soul. She didn't want to throw him away again….

But she didn't want to toss aside her own life either. Logic argued that she had to be mistrustful. She didn't want to be a fool. And the more she thought about it, the more bothered she was. There had been blood on Jon's robe, much more blood than there should have been.

She was afraid, as well, that his robe still lay on the foot of her bed, that the others would see it—and the blood. She was afraid, yet she wanted to protect him at the same time.

“Well, how should we do this?” Brett asked.

“Stick together and go room to room,” V.J. said. “You're welcome to rip mine apart first.”

“Are we supposed to think that one of us has Susan hidden under a bed?” Brett demanded. “Not me, thank you. I have been known for some rather shameful sexual exploits, but I have never sunk so low.”

“Well, that's questionable,” V.J. murmured.

“Children, children, no squabbling,” Reggie said.

“You and Dianne get to the great hall, where you're supposed to be. Camy, head on upstairs and see Jennie and the girls, and we'll get started here,” Sabrina said.

“Right,” Camy said. She, Dianne and Reggie started out. V.J. walked to her door and opened it. She strode into the room with the others behind, going so far as to lift the bed skirt. “No Susan, you will note.”

Anna Lee walked into the bathroom, pulling back the shower curtain. “Susan?”

“She's not here,” Brett said. “Not unless V.J. managed to dismember her and so totally roast her in the fireplace that there's nothing left of her but ash.”

V.J. stared at him.

“How dare you—” Tom began.

“I was just teasing!” Brett protested. “I mean, it's obvious that Susan isn't here.”

“Let's move on,” Sabrina suggested.

“Jon's suite is at the end of the hall. Let's start there and work back this way,” Tom said.

“Sure.”

The five of them headed down the hall, Tom in the lead.

Sabrina hadn't been in Jon's room before.

She liked it very much.

A four-poster, king-size bed on an elegant dais dominated the main room, which was done in shades of deep blue and crimson. Antique tapestries and family arms adorned the walls.

There was nothing left of Cassie here.

There were two dressing rooms. One contained Jon's clothing. The other, exceptionally large, he apparently used as his office. The room overlooked the courtyard and had a doorway to the balcony; it was complete with word processor, printer, fax, phone, copier, shelves and files. Books he was currently using for research were piled atop his desk, along with notes and memos. Sabrina found herself wanting to touch his swivel chair, riffle his papers, delve into his very thoughts.

“Check this out!” Anna Lee said. She was standing at the door to the bathroom.

“Why? Is Susan hanging in the shower?” Brett demanded.

“No, just look at this place!” Anna Lee said.

They walked over to see.

“God, it's divine!” Anna Lee gushed.

It was. It boasted a huge whirlpool, sauna, shower, beautiful fixtures, black, gold, red, and white tiles, handsome mirrors, and fluffy towels on warmers.

He had lived here with Cassandra, Sabrina thought. It was wonderful, rich, and she could just imagine having all this with someone she loved. Except…

Cassie had gone off the balcony just steps from this place….

“You mean, you haven't seen this bathroom before?” Brett quizzed Anna Lee.

“No. What would I be doing in Jon's bathroom?” she inquired, puzzled.

Brett stared at Anna Lee. “You were sleeping with Cassie, right?”

Anna Lee stared back at him, her hands on her hips. “Yeah, right. But she came to me.” She hesitated a minute, biting her lower lip. Then she sighed, her shoulders drooping. “She wouldn't see anybody here. It was…kind of sacred to her, I guess.”

As Sabrina stared at Anna Lee, V.J. began to hustle them along. “Well, come on, let's make sure Susan isn't stashed here anywhere and move on. Tom, let's be thorough. Check under the bed. Girls, look everywhere.”

They went through the master suite again, then they all stared at the balcony doors.

Evidently no one wanted to walk out them.

Sabrina sighed. “I'll do it.”

She stepped outside.

The night air seemed frigid, and she wrapped her arms around herself. The wind had risen again. It was keening. If Susan had decided to take off and leave the castle, she was surely an icicle by now.

There was nothing on the balcony. No one. And yet, of course, it was from here, the exact place where Sabrina now stood, that Cassie had plummeted to her death. Sabrina was disturbed by the sensation sweeping through her, a sudden, uncanny fear that someone was ready to push her. She spun around.

The others were where they had been. Waiting for her.

She remembered that somewhere in this room was a door to a secret passageway.

Maybe there were other secrets.

Maybe someone
was
watching her.

And maybe she was losing her wits.

“No one here. Let's move on, huh?” she said.

“Yeah, right, let's,” Tom said.

“Dianne's room is next,” V.J. announced.

“I'll just run down the hall to the top of the stairway and shout down to Reggie and Dianne and see if they have any messages from the boys down below,” Anna Lee said.

“Okay,” Tom agreed.

Four of them stepped into Dianne's room.

Dianne was not a neat freak. Her dressing table was strewn with brushes, combs, makeup and assorted toiletries. Her notepad computer was set up on a table by the window.

Clothing was scattered on the bed and chairs; shoes littered the floor.

“Susan couldn't possibly be in here,” Brett said. “No room for her.”

“I'll look in the bathroom. You boys check under the bed,” V.J. told them.

Brett lifted the bed skirt. He suddenly yelped, and the others came crashing around him.

“What, what?” Tom demanded. “Brett, are you all right? What did you find?”

Brett drew himself up from his position by the bed. “Her dildo bit me.”

“Oh!” V.J. cried in aggravation, belting him on the shoulder. “Will you be serious!”

“Actually, I was trying not to be so serious,” Brett told her. “V.J., I am positive that Dianne isn't hiding Susan in this room!”

“But maybe Susan is hiding herself for some reason, slipping from room to room, place to place,” Sabrina suggested.

“Let's keep going. At this rate, it will be the end of the week before we get anywhere at all!” Tom said, disgruntled. “And I want to get some sleep.”

“Sleep? Oh, bull. The cat's out of the bag. You want to get back into the sack with V.J.!” Brett said.

“McGraff, you bloody—” Tom began, but V.J. stepped in, a hand on his shoulder.

“Tom, be understanding. Brett is merely jealous. He's not accustomed to being the only one without companionship. Poor dear, night after night he lies there, twiddling his thumbs—and whatever else—while right next door the love of his life is—how did he put it?—in the sack with someone else.”

“Low blow,” Brett protested.

“Then learn to be nice,” V.J. warned.

“We need to keep going,” Sabrina reminded them.

“All right, love of my life, let's move on,” Brett said.

They moved on.

Joshua's room revealed art tools, a covered easel, a work in clay. But no Susan. Camy's room, with her big desk and tons of paperwork, was kept neat and tidy. But no Susan appeared.

Anna Lee rejoined them. Nothing had been reported from below.

They looked into Joe's room—a total disaster. Thayer's room, regimental, his toiletries sparse, his clothes neatly hung. Tom's room, neither as haphazard as Joe's nor in such precise order as Thayer's. Still no Susan.

Anna Lee's proved a very personalized room, the scent of her perfume on the air, scarves here and there, jewelry in a tangle on the dresser, clothing draped gracefully about. No Susan.

Sabrina led the way into her own room, anxiously looking at the foot of her bed for the robe Jon had been wearing. The one covered in blood.

It was gone.