Shadow of Reality (15 page)

“That’s right. Coroner’s men are there now. They’ll have to carry him down the hill, though. Weather’s still too rough to land a helicopter on this mountain.”

“When will the road be cleared?” Richard asked.

“Soon. Maybe even tomorrow. Next day for sure, if no more mud comes down.”

“Isn’t that ironic,” Elizabeth said. “Just the time they get the road clear, the police come in and tell everyone we can’t go anyplace.”

“I’m afraid that’s about right.” The taller of the two officers tipped his cap at her.

“You do think you’ll find who did it, don’t you?”

“Coming in so late after the fact doesn’t help matters any. But since we’ve had a more-or-less captive audience here, I should think it’ll be all right.”

“And the jewels?” Richard asked.

“If they’re here we should find them. If the thief made off over the mountain, that’ll make it more difficult.”

“Yes, well, good luck. Let us know if we can be of any more assistance.” Gavin remarked.

Richard walked Anita to the doorway. “I do hope they recover your evening bag; it sounds very special.”

“It was. Thank you, Richard. You’ve been a fantastic help.” Anita went out.

“I didn’t know she was robbed, too,” Elizabeth said. “An evening bag? I thought they took only jewels.”

“This was jeweled—a gold bag shaped like a cat with a diamond collar and emerald eyes.”

“Sounds exotic—” At the sound of footsteps in the hall Elizabeth quit talking and looked out to watch the zipped up, plastic body bag carried by. “I feel like I should put my hand over my heart, or cross myself, or something.” She turned slowly back to the room.

Murmuring something about seeing them at dinner, Gavin left, and Elizabeth and Richard went to their rooms. Elizabeth realized she had never felt less like dressing for dinner in her life. But her wardrobe plan told her that tonight she was to wear the gown she thought of as her Ginger Rogers dress. Made of midnight blue Qiana, a crepe like material, the skirt flared and swirled around her feet when she walked, and the slim long sleeves ended in great ruffs of blue feathers.

She began feeling better as she slipped three long ropes of crystals around her neck and pinned a blue feather in her hair. When she entered the dining room with Richard, who looked tall and elegant in his black tie and tux, she was glad she had forced herself to the effort, especially when first Bill Johnson, then a lady from another table asked to take their picture. “Such a beautiful couple you make,” the woman gushed, her bright pink boa tangling in her camera strap.

Now that the final interviews were finished, the intensity of the debate over who murdered Gloria Glitz increased to fever pitch, leaving room for hardly any interest in the fact that the police were there to investigate the jewel robbery.

Apparently Mr. Hamlin had persuaded the authorities to keep the fact of the murder quiet, or maybe the police weren’t ready to say anything yet until the coroner’s report was in. Either way, as soon as the players had found that the uniformed officers among them were for real and had no bearing on the mystery plot, they gave them little attention.

Elizabeth ate quietly, not really following the argument since she hadn’t settled the question of guilt in her own mind. “Yoo-hoo, Elizabeth, are you home?” Irene snapped her fingers in front of Elizabeth. “I said, are you going to the videotape showing of
The Moving Finger
?”

“Sorry. Obviously I was daydreaming. No, I don’t think I will. That’s my favorite Christie, but I’m unbelievably tired. I think I’ll just read for a while. Maybe take a nice long bath.”

“That does sound appealing,” Irene agreed. “But you might miss a clue.”

Elizabeth laughed. “There’s an incredible amount of Type A behavior going on around here. Don’t these people realize they’re supposed to be on vacation?”

“But mysteries aren’t any fun if they don’t get hold of you. Who wants to read a thriller you can put down?”

“Well, just so they keep things in perspective and don’t come to blows.” Elizabeth looked at Evan, who was shaking a fist at Cathy, and she was surprised at the vehemence with which Helen was speaking to Benton on the other side of the table.

“How’s the skit coming?” She turned back to Irene.

“I rounded up some artistic help from Helen and Cathy this afternoon. We have the puzzle all planned out, we just don’t know whose face to put on it. We’ll have to decide in the morning.”

“Well, maybe I can get a nice long night of sleep and dream up the solution—something that will make everyone happy.”

“Or all equally unhappy.” Irene shrugged. “See you in the library after breakfast.” She waved as Elizabeth rose to leave.

Richard started to get up, but she shook her head and signaled for him to stay seated. She really wanted to be alone. Irene’s mention of the library had reminded her of the magazine item she wanted to look up.

It was on the top of the stack, just as Irene had said, and the picture was indeed very moving. Margo Lovell’s face didn’t show, but her black-veiled golden blond hair gleamed above the simple black mourning dress, and the slump to the shoulders and bent back of the kneeling figure spoke grief as clearly as only one with years of dramatic experience could communicate.

The bronze casket was draped with boughs of white flowers, and a Union Jack hung from a standard near the head of the coffin. The story below the picture referred to James Lovell’s years of service as permanent secretary to a prominent minister of the crown and Lovell’s tragic death when a terrorist bomb, undoubtedly intended for the minister, ended a fishing expedition in the Lake District.

Elizabeth sat staring at the picture, wondering how much this woman had meant to Gavin. Had he been as heartbroken at her death as she had been at her uncle’s? Could she, Elizabeth, take this woman’s place in his life? The library was quiet and her chair comfortable.…

She started from a light doze when the magazine slid to the floor…
but someone said Gloria was marrying Leigh for his money and title
—
that must be nonsense, her own family held a position of importance.…

She picked up the magazine with a cry of frustration—it had happened again! The lines of reality had blurred on her, but this time the experience left her not just feeling baffled and disoriented. This time she felt the cold prickles of fear.

Chapter 12

Friday, late evening

And all her oppressors themselves shall fade as a dream, as a vision of the night. Fade as a dream
…Elizabeth couldn’t sort out why she was fearful or why that long-ago learned line was so comforting, but all the way back to her room she kept saying it over and over, clinging to it to keep the shadows from falling across her path and tripping her.

…
fade as a vision of the night
…

The shadow that had fallen across her intermingling of dream and reality in the library had indeed been a vision of the night—a night in which truth and fiction were one and the reality of the whispered truth was unacceptable. But the shadow was so illusory. She needed a firm analysis of the situation, but she couldn’t get hold of the image. The shadow kept falling between the idea and the reality.

She couldn’t remember ever being happier to see anyone than she was when she walked into their parlor and found Richard sitting there. “Oh, I’m so glad you’re here!” She flung out her arms to encompass the warmly lighted room as well as the man sitting before the fire crackling on the hearth. She had come in out of the night and the oppressing shadows had fled. She had come home.

Richard rose and came to her. “You look upset.”

“I was, but I’m not sure why. Just tired, I expect.”

He took her hands. “You’re cold, too. Come sit by the fire and get warm.” He pulled her to the sofa and sat beside her.

“Did you have a nice evening?” she asked.

“Yes, I did.” The sound of his deep voice was so comforting, she wanted him just to keep talking. “Anita seems like a really nice person—”

“Anita is an absolute darling. I will always be thankful you talked me into com—”

With a crash of the wide-flung door hitting the wall Gavin exploded into the room. “On your balcony! Did you see him?” He looked frantically around the room, then headed for Elizabeth's room.

Felicity sprang forward, following on his heels, Richard behind her. They rushed into Elizabeth’s room as Gavin lunged toward the curtained glass door between the windows. The shade on the nearest window was only partly drawn. Against the black sky Elizabeth could see the skeletal outline of the iron railing along one side of the balcony, but no figure was visible.

“I’m sure it was your balcony. I just glanced out the window along the corridor.” Gavin crossed the room and yanked the balcony door open. “There he goes!”

Richard dashed after Gavin into the night.

Elizabeth shivered from the blast of cold air, then ran after the men just in time to see Richard climb over the rail and drop to the balcony below. “Be careful!” The wind blew her words back in her face.

Gripping the cold metal bar she leaned over into the blank space, suspended four stories from the ground against the side of the stone building. She heard scuffling and male voices somewhere below, but she could see only darkness.

Keep him safe. Help him
. Her mind swam with shadowy images of feet slipping on cold metal, an evil hand clutching a throat…
No! Don’t let it happen. Help!
…A glint of cold light on the blade of a knife, a body falling through space…
Oh, God, do something!

Far below she heard the thud of a body dropping to the ground, then running feet. This time her imaginings were of someone falling over rocky ground, a body lying broken and bloody on the boulders.
No, God, help him!
Then the figure was running again, but the pursuer had become the pursued and her mind drew the picture of a gun—a handful of death encased in blue-black steel.
Oh, God!

She huddled in a corner of the balcony, her back against the cold stone, and sank to the floor with noiseless sobs. Her mind whirled as she fought for a clear image. Something to hold to in the swirling chaos. But the words that came to her only increased her horror: “I am distraught past hearing, dazed past seeing, my mind reels, sudden convulsions seize me. The cool twilight I longed for has become a terror.”

She didn’t know how long she had been crouching there in a cold, distraught heap when Richard came to lead her into the comfort and light of her room. “Richard! You’re safe! And Gavin?”

“He’s fine. Went to tell the police what happened.” He led Elizabeth to the parlor and drew her close to the fire, keeping his arm around her for warmth.

It was hard to believe the fire was still burning.  It seemed she had spent hours peering into the abyss and yet in here no time had passed. “What happened out there?”

“Nothing. The fellow got clean away—whoever he was. But he must have left a trail in this mud.” He glanced at his own brown-caked shoes. “I suppose the police can follow it in the morning.”

“By then it’ll be too late,” she said.

“Probably. But unless he intends to walk clear to Manitou Springs he’ll have to surface someplace in the valley.”

“Well, that probably means the jewels are gone. I had hoped to get Nanny’s brooch back—it’s mostly sentiment, but…I suppose the really valuable stuff was insured…” She buried her head against the warm shoulder holding her; she didn’t want to babble on about jewels and robberies. “Oh, I’m so thankful you’re safe—both of you. I was so scared. The worst part was the confusion. I even prayed, but it was awful. All I could think of was something about anguish and terror. It was like God was mocking me.”

“Elizabeth…” For an instant she thought she felt his lips on her hair. Then he moved her to the sofa. “What were you thinking about, do you remember?”

“It wasn't very clear.” She thought for a moment, then the words came back and she quoted them. “It’s a strange choice for a child—if I got it right—but it must be something I memorized for one of Nana’s ice cream outings.”

Richard nodded. “You know, I think you probably got the words right, but didn’t understand them. I don’t think God was mocking you. I think he was telling you he understood. From the beginning of time people have suffered, and they always will. And he will always suffer right along with them.”

Elizabeth’s face relaxed in a smile. “Yes, I see. Oh, that that does help when you look at it like that. Is that something you learned when…?”

“When Mary died. Yes.” They sat in silence for several moments. Elizabeth was about to give in to the delicious lightheadedness of drifting off into a doze when a log shifted in the fire and she started awake.

“Ah, I didn’t want to disturb you, but you might like something else that helped me: ‘He will keep me safe beneath his roof in the day of misfortune…he will raise me beyond reach of distress.’”

Elizabeth sat back in the cushions and regarded her companion with a little half smile.  “Mmm, ‘Beyond reach of distress.’ What a lovely thought. I wonder if that's really possible? But I do love the idea that it might be. Thank you so much, Richard. What would I do without you?”

“I had hoped you wouldn’t have to find out.”

She turned away, unable to meet his level look.

He took her face between his hands and turned her gently back to him. She raised her eyes to his face; what she saw written there stopped her heart. “Richard, I…No! I’m so sorry, Richard. I thought you were over that…” But she couldn’t turn away. So she took his hand in hers and kissed his palm before she dropped it.

He was the one to turn. “Yes, well—I’ll just have to try harder to get over it, won’t I? Don’t worry, Elizabeth. One does get over things. Some of us just bleed longer and heal slower, that’s all.”

An uncontrollable shiver shook her. Richard turned back to her. “Elizabeth, you got chilled out there on the balcony. Into a nice hot tub with you. And stay there until you’re warm through.” He gave her a gentle shove toward her room.