Invitation to a killer, p.22
Invitation to a Killer, page 22
‘And she was alarmed that his ashes had apparently been stolen.’
‘Right.’
‘But one question, after “why you?” And that is, “Why me? Why not some other writer?”’
‘Because we’d read all your books, of course, and we knew you were the one for the job. Also, Callie Moore mentioned you in an online interview she did with a Mandrekka reporter. She said you were helping her write her memoirs. It all seemed a perfect fit. You seemed a perfect fit.’
Aha. I’d been right. Briefly, I tried to recall which books of mine had featured people travelling under fake passports – there had been more than one.
‘As to “why me,” I looked enough like her to pass. I mean, it’s not as if anyone was going to do a DNA test. But above that, we are besties. It’s what best friends do for each other.’
It was as if she were speaking from a parallel universe. The age gap, the American/British gap, the gap of privilege. Ordinarily, mentioning my books favorably would be the way to my heart and probably a token legacy in my will, but I was seriously peeved and determined to be firm with this young miscreant before me.
‘You did a great job pretending to be broken-hearted by Doc’s passing, by the way.’
‘I was not acting,’ she said, ‘if that’s what you are insinuating.’ The color rose in her cheeks. ‘I knew Doc Burke quite well. He would come to the school to see Nell and he would always include me in what they were doing – taking me out for dinners and shopping and ice creams and all of that. He wanted to make sure I was part of it. The school was simply ghastly and quite unbearable in every way, you see.’
‘Quite.’
She sat forward, looking directly at me, pleading for understanding.
‘He knew I was alone up there, you see. My parents are divorced, and each of them has remarried some person and started new families and has no time for me.’ This was not said in a particularly ‘woe is me’ kind of way. Apart from the emphasis on the word ‘person’ which seemed to be a stand-in word for ‘monster,’ it was a statement of fact. I wondered for the first time if parents comprehended what they were doing to the child excluded from their bright new lives. ‘He was a very kind-hearted man and I did love him for including me in those outings so I didn’t have to hang about the school on weekends and holidays, no parents or siblings to take me in. It was his idea I go to summer school with Nell. I think the people we truly love are the people who have been kind to us, don’t you? – unless there’s something very wrong with us in the first place.’
That was nothing but the truth, I thought, abashed to have accused her so unjustly, despite the wild impersonation and despite my annoyance that now the case had been confused by this international, passport-swapping charade.
Or had it been confused? Was this the entire point of killing the doctor? His memoirs, a sort of Confessions of St Augustine crossed with the adventures of a real-life Don Juan?
Were they the reason his niece – his real niece, the Princess Eleanor – had been attacked, her bag stolen on the streets of London? Is that a coincidence, London (and other large cities where the Princess could often be seen on Twitter cavorting in fountains) being a more dangerous place than it used to be?
And might the princess’s friend here before me, one Pippa Harp, be a target? Does the attacker not realize the manuscript is no longer in the princess’s possession, no longer in Pippa’s possession, no longer even in my possession, but in the possession of a hapless transcriber making thirty-five dollars an hour to transcribe the chicken-scratch handwriting of Doc Burke?
Had I unwittingly invited someone to the lodge this weekend who might want to harm anyone who stood in the way of their retrieving Doc Burke’s manuscript?
The first order of business would be making sure Edward was safe on the off chance whoever had attacked the princess, presumably wanting the manuscript, had followed Nell here.
Reluctantly (I hated admitting I couldn’t do everything myself or be in two places at once) I placed a call to Detective Narduzzi, knowing I’d probably get his voicemail this time of night. I left a rather scrambled and lengthy message – so lengthy in fact I had to leave three separate messages to get the entire story out.
Next I called Edward to warn him not to leave the house, and not to open the door to anyone who did not identify himself clearly as a police officer. Preferably one by the name of Steve Narduzzi.
I looked at Nell-now-Pippa, wondering what on earth to do with her. So long as I didn’t understand what was going on, I couldn’t keep blundering through this investigation without taking basic precautions.
I pointed to the double bed.
‘You’re sleeping in here tonight. For your safety and mine. First, let’s make sure that connecting door to the bathroom is locked from inside.’
If she was in danger, in any way, it was my responsibility to get to the bottom of this without jeopardizing her further.
After all, I had to answer not only to myself, but to her pal, the Princess of H-G.
If we all got out of this alive, maybe I’d even get an invitation to a royal wedding.
NINETEEN
The next morning, I made my announcement. I had barely slept but I made my way downstairs around six a.m. to put out fruit and butter croissants and jam for their breakfast, and to get the coffee pot started.
It was the aroma of French roast coffee that seemed to do it. By seven they had all trickled downstairs. Callie was dressed in her best apres-ski clothing in a Ralph Laurenesque design that managed to be a nod to both Scandinavia and the Indigenous Indian population of the US.
I waited until they were all together and had their first cups of coffee before them.
‘I’m afraid Nell is too ill to join us,’ I told them. ‘I won’t beat about the bush: I believe she’s been poisoned.’
You could hear the proverbial penny drop as they all exchanged glances. It was Montana who spoke first.
‘You’re joking,’ he said.
‘So it’s a mystery weekend, after all?’ asked Mary hopefully. ‘She’s not really sick?’
A look of relief passed through the group, an indefinable dropping of the shoulders and relaxing of the eyes, and I was tempted to call back my words. I wasn’t sure I could see this through.
But I had rehearsed for most of the night what I was going to say and how I thought I could draw them out. Letting them role-play a pretend mystery wasn’t going to cut it.
I had toyed with the idea of letting them think a pretend poisoning was part of the writers’ retreat events, a test of their ability to observe. But what if they didn’t want to play ‘Mystery Weekend,’ and preferred to run around playing in the snow or the sauna?
They had to think there was a real danger to themselves and others.
After all, wasn’t there?
Not willing to risk lives, I had told Detective Narduzzi to get out to the retreat lodge on the double himself, if possible, but in any case to notify the local authorities, and – again, if possible – make sure none of these people were allowed to leave. When they realized what was going on, I figured some of them would try, regardless of the road conditions, and I wouldn’t have any grounds or legal standing to stop them.
Nor would the police if it came to that.
The fact it would make them look guilty if they left might not prevent them making the attempt.
I decided to up the ante for good measure. I didn’t have to fake the tremor in my voice. It was a risky maneuver with no guarantee of success.
‘Look,’ I said. ‘I’ll be honest with you. Nell is very ill and I’m not sure she’s going to make it.’ This had the desired effect. Both Hiltons pressed their fists hard against their mouths in alarm, no doubt thinking of his already checkered career ending with a murdered girl in a remote lodge. Not too different from his usual scandals, really, except his victims usually survived.
Montana looked ready to wrestle anyone to the ground who tried to leave. I was finding Montana, with all his military training, to be a most useful stand-in for the police.
Larsson was harder to read. He wasn’t particularly thinking of himself and his career, so far as I could tell, but he looked distinctly uncomfortable to be part of the sort of scandal that wouldn’t result in a million-dollar book deal.
Antoine and Zelda looked strangely unfazed, as if this was for them all in a day’s work.
So did the Overstones. For them, I was sure in a way it was. But there was an excess of tension to their postures, as there was to Montana’s, as if their adrenaline gates had opened.
‘Tommy?’ said Callie. He returned her worried look with a shrug, not looking particularly perturbed. Another day with Callie, another fiasco, might have been the man’s motto.
‘I’ve already called for an ambulance and put the EMTs in the picture,’ I said, ‘but I think it’s poison so any thoughts of leaving … Well, I really wouldn’t. They indicated they’d like to speak with you.’
‘They?’ Callie wanted to know. ‘The ambulance attendants?’
‘No, the police,’ I said. I had the satisfaction of watching her turn pale beneath her expertly applied blush. ‘Besides,’ and here I swept an arm across the nearly whited out window. The snow acted as a curtain, darkening the room. ‘Look at the snow coming down. I wouldn’t chance it, myself, for lots of reasons.’
‘This is ridiculous,’ offered Callie. Her ambassadorship must have started to look like a tiny ship last seen on an ever-receding horizon.
‘It’s more a horror film,’ I said. ‘But while we’re waiting for them to get here, it might be helpful if you all explained your movements last night. Did any of you go outside, for example? Or see anyone else go outside?’
‘Why would we go outside?’ asked Felicity, not unreasonably. ‘You said yourself there’s a storm out there and it started yesterday. In the middle of the night, what are we supposed to do? Go night skiing with a torch?’
The touchy tone was interesting. I thought secret agents knew how to keep their cool.
‘None of you went outdoors to get to the sauna?’
‘We were going to,’ said Callie. ‘But it was so cold out and we decided against it. Right, Tommy?’
‘Why are you asking?’ This was Felicity again. ‘What does the sauna have to do with anything?’
‘It just so happens there is a sort of potting shed out by the sauna.’
‘So?’
‘It’s a place where the gardener keeps his tools, the fertilizer and the leaf blower and the lawnmower and so on. He also has some very interesting poisons. An old tin of rat poison, probably decades old. That stuff is unmistakable. It has the skull and crossbones on it and everything. As a warning, of course, because it’s deadly.’
I had their attention now. The actor in me was finding it all rather thrilling.
‘You know what’s really interesting?’ I asked. ‘There are footsteps out there. In the snow. I followed them right to the potting shed. But I was careful not to disturb them. Even though, by the time the authorities get here, they may be obliterated.’
Did I imagine it or did someone breathe a giant sigh of relief? I thought it might’ve been Carn, but he and Mary were so much in sync even unto their breathing, it might’ve been her.
‘I was able to get some really great photos on my phone, though,’ I said, looking directly at them, one by one. ‘These new cameras are wonderful, aren’t they? You don’t need to be an expert anymore to get a good shot. The flash, the three-lens camera that really captures things in high relief if you have the settings right. Which I did. I love my camera phone so much. I got it as a Christmas present last year.’
There was not a sound. They absorbed my lies and gush about photos of the footprints without a peep.
‘What kind of footprints?’ Felicity finally asked.
‘They look like hiking boots to me. But I will leave that for the experts to decide; I really couldn’t say. I can only say for certain whoever it was, they weren’t wearing high heels. Ha ha!’
If I was hoping someone would make a lunge for my phone, which happened to be in my back pocket, I was disappointed. They didn’t look thrilled by the news, they all looked to some degree nervous and uncomfortable, but no one looked like they were ready to knock me to the ground, grab my phone, and run.
This was disappointing. I had hoped for so much more panic.
‘Where is she?’ demanded Mary.
‘Nell? She’s in her room, of course; I’ll be checking on her in a minute. I told her to keep her door locked – the doors to both the bathroom and her room – and to not let anyone but me inside. No worries, she’s perfectly safe. Now. She’s young and we can only hope that given the right treatment in time …’
‘How would anyone know there’s an old tin of rat poison out there?’ asked Montana. ‘How would they know to look there? It would have to be someone who had visited the lodge before. Or maybe the owner …’
‘The person was seen,’ I said, playing my last card. ‘But none of you admit being outside. Interesting.’
Crickets. These guys were good. They didn’t scare easily.
I was just getting ready to herd them into the living room – that warm room, big and high-ceilinged yet welcoming, with its outsize fireplace. I was reminded of the lovely outdoor firepit the night of the murder of Doc Burke. The night all of this started.
Hopefully this would be the day it ended.
I thought I sensed movement near the door into the dining room. A scuffing sound, a slight displacement of air. Tommy, turning his head in that direction, seemed to sense it also. I listened closely but heard nothing else.
Aloud I said, stalling, ‘We just have to wait until we get help out here.’
Definitely I heard something on the stairs. One of the steps creaking ever so slightly. Just then the wind shifted in the growth surrounding the house. Perhaps only a tree branch moving, then.
‘Besides,’ I went on, improvising as I prayed for help to arrive, ‘I think the weapon used against Nell was ketamine. Veterinarians and doctors and even the police use it to quiet suspects. It’s an anesthetic. Combined with alcohol it can really knock a victim flat, as it did Nell. I used it in one of my books that featured a fatal poisoning of a victim – a high enough dosage can kill. And Nell is not a large person.’
‘Neither was the doctor,’ said Mary.
‘He didn’t drink alcohol,’ put in Antoine. ‘I tried to serve him that night and he refused everything but water.’
‘A good point,’ I said. Not having a clue what poison really killed the doctor, and with no way to determine it without a body, was totally getting in my way. Ketamine was my chosen shot in the dark. I’d done research on it and I was counting on them, with the possible exception of Felicity, to know as little about it as the usual layperson.
‘Nell wasn’t drinking last night, not that I saw.’ This was Montana’s contribution. It was a small slipup on my part. I chose to blow right past it.
‘She has a small build. The question is, who among us would have had access to the drug? Granted it’s a street drug and anyone could have acquired it easily, but this crowd isn’t really the type to hang around Adams Morgan hoping to buy illegal drugs. For one thing, there’s no need. It is readily available in some circles, medical and otherwise.
‘I kept coming back to this: Who had drugged Doc Burke, killing him? It had to be someone with access to drugs, like a nurse or another doctor. Maybe a police officer? A veterinarian? Perhaps a pet owner who had access to a vet’s drug cabinets?’
‘This is purest speculation,’ said Zelda, piping up at last. ‘I know what ketamine is. But how do you know what killed the doctor and sickened the girl? It could have been anything.’
‘I did a little search of your rooms while you were getting your breakfasts,’ I said.
Another bluff, of course, but I closely watched their faces and among looks of befuddlement I saw that one person had the look of a deer caught in the headlights. A little fear, a lot of concern. Was the penny dropping for someone?
Interesting.
‘And what did you find?’ Zelda asked.
‘I’ll wait to tell that to the police,’ I said.
I was really pushing it now. I expected someone to ask who I thought I was, searching their rooms. But no one did.
‘Ketamine takes effect in thirty minutes and lasts an hour – depending on the amount used, the person’s body weight and so on,’ I said. ‘I noticed last night that Nell, when she came to say goodnight to me, seemed confused – her movements were clumsy and her speech was slurred. Moreover, she claimed to have seen a ghost outside the living-room window. She was hallucinating from the drug, you see. I put her to bed in her room to sleep it off, thinking she’d got into the drinks cabinet. This morning, when she still wasn’t well, I called for help.’
‘Is there a snowmobile in that garden shed by any chance?’ asked Montana. ‘We don’t have to sit around here waiting. I could take her into the nearest town.’
‘No, worse luck. We’re here for the duration. Now I’m going to go and see how Nell is doing. Why don’t you all get settled by the fire? Take your coffee with you. It will take the authorities a while to get here, and we’ve got nowhere to go. I noticed there were some board games on one of the shelves if you feel the need of a pastime. Cluedo, anyone?’
I went up the stairs slowly, listening for I knew not what. The more I thought about it the more I was certain I had heard someone lurking outside the dining room door. But there was no one there when I passed through the hallway.
Halfway up, one of the stairs behind me creaked. I turned and saw Tommy had followed me.
‘It’s OK,’ I told him. ‘I’ll be right down.’
‘I want to use the bathroom,’ he said.
‘There’s one downstairs off the kitchen,’ I said. ‘I don’t want anyone up here with Nell.’
He hesitated, turning as if to go, but he was called back by my next words.
‘Get away from that door,’ I shouted.
From my vantage point halfway up, I could see a woman standing near Nell’s room. A woman wearing a bulky parka with a fur-trimmed hood and ski pants.
