Never Sleep With Strangers (25 page)

“Any one of us could have written a note before leaving,” Jon said firmly.

“But if we weren't here, how could we have tormented Susan in the chamber of horrors?” Brett asked.

“Accomplice!” Thayer said softly.

“If Susan was really tormented at all,” Tom said. “She's such a dramatist, and she thrives on attention.”

“Please, Jon,” Anna Lee said, “I've a pounding headache. Could I go back to sleep for a while?”

Jon lifted his hands. “Of course,” he murmured. He looked around the room. “We'll meet for supper-cocktails in the library. We can keep playing the game, but the case we solve may be about ourselves.”

“But, Jon, what if there's nothing
to
solve?” Camy asked. “What if Cassie's death was just a tragic accident?”

“Well, if that's what we discover—and hopefully it will be so—we'll still have solved the case,” he said.

“Well! If we've gotten past the mudslinging and the fess up, I'm for cards in the library,” Reggie said hopefully.

“Bridge?” Tom asked.

“Poker, dear boy! Poker!” Reggie said.

Joe laughed. “I'm in.”

“Me, too,” Thayer agreed.

They all rose. Anna Lee left the room quickly, ignoring the rest of them. Reggie, Joe and Thayer started toward the library. Sabrina began heading toward Jon, but she saw that Camy was talking with him, apparently upset. Brett hovered near, as if he, too, were anxious to get in a word with their host.

Sabrina started to leave the room. Tom Heart blocked her way, his injured hand wrapped in a napkin. “Cards?” he said.

She shook her head, suddenly uneasy. “No, Tom, thanks. I didn't get much sleep. I'm going up for a nap. Maybe I'll join in if you're still playing later.”

“Sure.”

She slipped by him. Anna Lee had already disappeared up the stairs. Sabrina headed quickly up behind her, started for her own room and then paused.

She walked across the hall to V.J.'s door.

“V.J.?” she queried softly. No response. She tapped lightly on the door. “V.J.?”

Still there was no answer, and she knocked harder. “Damn it, V.J., you're making me nervous here!”

There was still no response, so she hesitantly set her hand on the doorknob and twisted.

The knob turned. V.J.'s door wasn't locked.

Sabrina inched the door open. “V.J.?”

Nothing.

She pushed the door fully open and stepped into her friend's room.

And saw V.J.

She was stretched out on her bed, dressed in a simple, elegant dress. No frills or lace for V.J. Her head was upon her pillow; her hands were folded upon her chest. She was laid out as neatly as a corpse in a coffin for a viewing. A thin red line encircled her neck.

“V.J.!” Sabrina shrieked, and flew across the room to her friend.

J
on began to wonder just what kind of can of worms he had opened.

“I don't understand any of this, Jon, and if I had managed things better—” Camy began.

“Camy, anyone could have written notes—”

Joshua had come up behind her, his aesthetic eyes dark and disturbed. “Camy, I'm supposed to be helping you keep an eye on things—”

“Joshua, you're an artist and a friend. I'm the one who works for Jon.”

“Camy, Josh, you've both done great work for me. There's nothing more you could have done. Please—”

“Jon, we need to talk, really talk,” Brett said, barging past the two.

Jon lifted his hands, palms up. “Camy, you didn't do anything wrong. Quit worrying. The game was great, clever, you and Joshua were doing wonderfully, but with the storm, the darkness and everything going on, maybe we just can't play it anymore.”

“Jon, I need to speak with you,” Brett insisted.

Jon turned to McGraff. “Brett, I'm not angry. Honest. I understand what you did, and why. It's all right.”

“Damn it, Jon, it's not all right. Friends don't screw friends.”

“Well, Brett, literally, it wasn't me you screwed.”

“Oh, God, Jon.”

“Sorry, Brett. Couldn't resist that. But I'm dead serious—it just didn't matter anymore.”

“Jon, she was still your wife.”

“Brett, it's over. I don't feel anything—no anger, no pain, nothing. Try to understand that there was just too much pain going on at the time with everyone. And try to see that it's all right because I've said it's all right. And I need to get by you and get outside.”

“Outside?” Camy protested. “But the cold and the snow—”

“Won't hurt me now,” Jon interrupted. “It will feel great. Excuse me,” he said. Then he hesitated, turning back to Brett. “How's the head?”

“The head?”

“Your injury.”

“Oh!” He felt his temple and shrugged. “Just a little sore, I guess. It's all right.”

“Good.”

Jon started toward the door, eager to feel the cold, clear air outside. The sun wasn't exactly pouring through the clouds yet, but at least the light outside was natural and the air would be fresh.

He didn't make it to the door. Joe stopped him. “Jesus, Jon, you've been a good friend, and I'm sorry, honest to God. It was only once, you know, and there wasn't really even any…you know, not with me and Cassie. But what I did was wrong, I admit it, and I'm sorry. You've been a stand-up kind of friend, and I was a fool.”

“Joe, I need you to try and understand this. I knew what Cass was doing. I didn't always know with whom, but I didn't care anymore. She used people because she hated these Mystery Weeks of mine—she was even trying to get me to leave when she died. So quit worrying. But if it makes you feel any better, if I ever marry again and you so much as look at my wife, I promise to beat you to a pulp.”

Joe half smiled.

“Joe, honest. It was over between the two of us, okay?”

With his grizzled face and sad eyes, Joe looked at him steadily. “No, I don't guess it can ever really be okay, because I don't know if I can forgive myself.”

“Joe, for the love of God,
I
forgive you. You have to forgive yourself. It didn't matter then, it doesn't matter now. Unless, of course, you pushed Cassie off the balcony?”

Joe's eyes widened. “No, Jon, I swear, I never went near Cassie that day. I wouldn't have hurt her. I never would have hurt her….”

“Yeah, well then, let me by, will you?”

Joe stepped aside. Jon could hear some of the others gathering in the library across the way and he hurried toward the castle doors. He paused at the coat tree for his jacket, patting the pocket and finding a pair of gloves.

Snow had piled up, so he had to slam his shoulder against the door to open it.

He stepped out quickly. It was damned cold. But the cold embraced him, the air was fresh and the castle grounds were encased in a crystal glaze that was as beautiful as it was deadly.

He walked along the snow-covered gravel path, sinking at least a foot with each step. Walking out toward the stables, he saw old Angus MacDougall with a shovel.

“Morning' sir!” the groom called out.

“Mornin', Angus. Are you and the horses doing all right in this?”

“Aye, sir, that we are! I've got the stables warm as toast, burning wood in the stove. In fact, if you get too cold in that lofty castle, sir, you come on over and join me. Ah, me boys will surely be along within the next few days, and we'll have the place shoveled up fer ye, Mr. Stuart.”

“Sure, Angus. Got another shovel? I'll set to the pathways with you now myself.”

Within minutes he was shoveling snow, and it felt good. Good to move his shoulders, to use his arms, to feel the movement of his muscles.

 

Sabrina had nearly reached the bed when she heard the voice, deep, husky, menacing.

“What the hell do you think you're doing?”

She came to a stop and spun around.

At first she couldn't see who had come into the room. Mere slivers of light penetrated the narrow windows, and for a second she couldn't place the voice. Then she realized who it was, and she remained frozen in place, her heart thundering.

“What am I doing?” she retorted with a show of fury, her heart pounding a million miles an hour. V.J. lay on the bed. He stood in the doorway, blocking it.

There was no way out.

“What are
you
doing?” she demanded. “V.J. is…V.J. is…”

He started moving toward her.

 

Strange morning, Jon thought as he worked. The simple manual labor of shoveling—so often nothing more than a royal pain in the butt—felt really good. He could think and shovel mechanically. And expending his tension was good—it just might keep him from sending a fist, or his head, into a wall. He had suspected many things. Now he knew them for facts. And actually, he hadn't been lying; none of it really mattered. It was strange to think back. He'd been so young when he'd first met Cassie. Oh, he'd had his share of relationships, had his heart broken a few times and broken a few hearts in turn. Then he'd met Cassie. She'd known the ropes about life, about publishing. She'd been fun, wild, and when she'd been busy, he'd seen other people.

He'd met Sabrina.

He'd known that love at first sight was unlikely, that emotions needed to be explored, but he'd loved every little thing about her. Her naiveté, her charm, her strange wisdom. He'd loved touching her. And he'd thought that he'd been equally good for her. But she'd left, and no matter what he'd tried, she'd refused to see him.

That's when Cassie had come to him, with cancer, and she'd been so afraid, hadn't wanted to be alone. He'd been wrong to marry her, because he hadn't really loved her that way, and maybe her knowing that had caused her outrageous behavior. They had just kept hurting one another, and it was damned sad, because he had meant to be strong for her, meant to be, if not the husband and lover she had hoped for, the friend she really needed. But the games had become too much.

“Hey! Got more shovels?”

Jon looked up. Thayer was outside, flexing his arms.

“Sure. Angus, we've got more shovels, right?”

Angus nodded happily.

Thayer started shoveling; a few minutes later, Joe joined them, as well.

Then Brett appeared. He watched for a while, then he started shoveling, too.

Pathways quickly came into being. Then Reggie appeared. “So there's where you boys go when you can't ante up!” she called from the castle steps.

Brett saluted her. “Come on out and shovel, Reggie.”

“Don't you dare!” Jon warned her firmly.

Dianne stepped out behind her, followed by Camy.

“Maybe Reggie's a bit—” Joe began.

“Don't you say it!” Reggie warned.

“I wasn't going to say old—I was simply going to say mature!” Joe protested.

“The hell you were!” Reggie chastised.

“Diane's young and strapping. Come on out here and work, woman!” Joe challenged her.

She was dressed for it—in black pants, black boots, heavy black sweater. She walked out into the snow, heading toward Joe, who was ready to hand her his shovel. But as she reached him, she smiled, bent down to pick up a handful of the white fluffy stuff, and pelted him right in the face.

“Hey, man, she got you!” Brett called out.

Joe wasn't about to take it lying down. He squatted, whipping up huge snowballs to cream first Dianne and then Brett.

Jon started to laugh. He was hit in the shoulder. Dianne had turned her attack on him. He started to throw a snowball back at her and felt a thud on the back. Spinning around, he saw that Camy was slinging snow as well. The white stuff began soaring everywhere. In minutes the group had grown. Anna Lee—so desperate to run up and take a nap—was back. Joshua had joined in. And it was, in fact, hard to tell who was who anymore, they were all so covered in snow.

Even old Angus got in on it. He had a mean curve and was dishing out more than he was getting.

In the midst of the fight, Jon began to look around. Where was Sabrina?

Almost everyone seemed to be there.

Except Susan, V.J., Tom and Sabrina.

Susan, V.J., Tom.

And now Sabrina.

Jon began to dust himself off, running toward the house.

 

“V.J. is sleeping,” Tom stated with annoyance.

“Sleeping!” Sabrina exclaimed.

“Yes. She's tired. Why are you trying to wake her up?”

Sabrina looked from Tom to V.J.—the way her friend slept, like a corpse laid out in a coffin, hands folded over her chest. She started toward the bed again, not trusting Tom's words.

If V.J. was dead, Tom had killed her. And now she was alone with Tom. And there was no way out….

“Why do you want to wake her up?” Tom demanded again, irritated.

“The red…on her neck…” Sabrina heard herself say. Stupid! She should have turned, walked away, gotten help. Let Tom think that she believed V.J. was sleeping.

“The red on her neck?” Tom said.

He frowned, striding into the room. Sabrina shrank back from him, going to the opposite side of the bed to keep something bulky between them. Yet when she looked down, she realized that V.J. was merely wearing a cameo at her throat, on a red satin ribbon that nicely accented the color of her navy and red dress.

Her chest was rising and falling.

Her eyes suddenly opened. She saw Sabrina on one side of her, and Tom on the other. She jerked upright. “Good God, what is going on here? Does a woman have to suffer an audience when she wants to take a nap?”

“I don't know what Sabrina was doing!” Tom exclaimed, throwing up his hands. “She came in here to wake you up!”

V.J. frowned, looking at Sabrina. Sabrina shrugged with a rueful smile. “I was worried about you.”

V.J. stared at her blankly, then smiled. “Oh, I guess I missed the confessions. I'm sorry. I was dressed, I was ready…. I just stretched out to catch a few winks, and I guess I went out like a light.”

“Sabrina!”

Sabrina jumped, startled to hear her name bellowed with such ferocity from down below.

“Sabrina!” Again, closer.

She turned from V.J. and hurried to the door just in time to see Jon throwing open the door to her room. She stepped into the hallway.

“Jon!”

He spun around. She saw the naked concern in his marbled eyes as he stared at her down the length of the hallway. She was suddenly ecstatic. V.J. was alive, Jon was in love with her and all of their fears were unfounded.

“Jesus, I was worried!” he said, walking down the hallway to her, a smile on his lips.

She smiled, too, because he was ready to embrace her. But he was covered in snow.

“You're all wet!” she exclaimed.

He nodded—and took her determinedly into his arms. “We were having a snowball fight, and I realized you were missing. And V.J. was missing. And Tom.”

“I seem to be missing everything,” V.J. said dryly, stepping into the hallway.

“She was sleeping. Sabrina barged right in, acting as if she were certain I had throttled V.J.,” Tom said, shaking his head. He slipped his arms around V.J.'s middle, and his voice became husky as he spoke. “Don't you know? I could never hurt V.J. I'm in love with her.”

Sabrina was silent. V.J.'s husband had passed away, but wasn't Tom still a married man?