Authors: Patti Berg
“That big oaf who’s been hanging around here would have liked you in that dress.”
“I’d rather not talk about him.”
“He loves you, you know.”
“He’s a Winchester.”
“I suppose, but hell and tarnation, he sure doesn’t act like one.”
Elizabeth sat at the dresser and mirror Jon had found in the attic and carried down especially for her room and picked up the mother-of-pearl brush
he said had once belonged to his grandmother. She slid it through the end of her braid and remembered him saying a pretty brush like that deserved beautiful, silky hair like hers.
Ripping a tissue out of a box, she dabbed it at her eyes.
“Maybe you shouldn’t help me, Elizabeth. Maybe you should make up with him,” Alex said.
Elizabeth shook her head. “I promised I’d help you, Alex. And Jon is just being a pigheaded fool. He has no reason to be jealous.”
“He’s more than jealous. He’s worried about you getting close to that scavenger.”
“Why are you sticking up for Jon?”
“Haven’t rightly figured that out yet.”
Elizabeth twisted around in her chair and looked at Alex, still stretched out on the mantel. As much as she wanted to think and talk about Jon, she needed to learn more from Alex. “I believe you were going to tell me about Phoebe and Luke.”
“Well, let’s see, “Alex began. “Phoebe had her sights set on Luke long before that husband of hers kicked the bucket. I had a hunch they were spending evenings together when the mister was out of town. Got easier for them when Carruthers passed on. Of course, no one in town knew the real truth. It was all speculation, mind you, and far be it from me to spread gossip.”
“Why was it such a secret after Phoebe’s husband died?”
“One year of mourning. It was expected, and Phoebe wanted respect more than anything. Luke came here a lot during that year, when Phoebe wasn’t entertaining other guests. He wined her and
dined her, and Phoebe had a tendency to get a little tipsy. I was alive then, and living here. I saw it all, except what went on behind closed doors.”
“Do you think he loved her?”
“Luke Winchester never loved anyone,” Alex fumed. He swept down from the mantel, all casualness forgotten. He prowled the circumference of the room. “My theory’s always been that he was using Phoebe.”
“For what reason?”
“An alibi. He wasn’t at the church when that robbery happened. Neither was Phoebe. I think he planned the holdup for a long, long time, and he was just waiting for the right moment.”
“Did anyone ever ask them where they were when the robbery occurred?”
“That you’ll have to find out. If you’ll remember correctly, I was dead—buried six feet underground. First thing I remember after Luke tossed down those shovelfuls of dirt was trying to get my bearings, trying to get a clue about what had happened. Took quite a while to figure out I was dead. Took me even longer to figure out how to move, or go from room to room.”
Elizabeth swiped a tear from her cheek. She hated to think of all the pain Alex had endured. “You must have been frightened.”
“Yes, but that’s old news. When I realized I couldn’t get out of the house, I started searching rooms, looking for some other way out. First people I saw were Luke and Phoebe, going at it in this very room. Found out later it was his wedding night. He’d married my Amanda. Made her think he loved her, consummated the marriage, then left
her alone. He and Phoebe were laughing about it.
‘One day soon this entire town will be mine,
’ Luke told her.” Alex held his hands up in front of his face and studied them. “I tried to strangle him, but I couldn’t.”
“Why? You can move furniture. You can touch my hair and I can feel you.” Elizabeth hesitated a moment. “Not that it would have been right, but why couldn’t you strangle him?”
Alex shrugged. “I don’t know.”
Elizabeth grabbed her favorite red boots from the closet and sat down on the footstool next to the bed. Alex sat at her side and watched her pull the tight-fitting leather onto her legs.
“Did I ever tell you that you have mighty fine legs?” His cheerful laughter resounded through the room and lifted Elizabeth’s spirits. “I used to love those days when the wind kicked up,” he said. “I’d be walking down Main Street and a gust would catch the hem of a pretty lady’s skirt and swirl it way up above her knees. Of course, I quit wanting to look at other women the minute I set my sights on Amanda.” Alex looked into Elizabeth’s eyes and shook his head. “She had the prettiest legs I ever saw.”
He sighed and went back to the window. “She didn’t deserve the treatment she got from Luke. She deserved a husband who loved her. I would have killed Luke if I could. I tried putting my hands around his neck, but he never realized I was there. Back then I couldn’t even blow a speck of dust across the room.”
He paced again, his restlessness unnerving. He slumped into a chair near the fireplace and looked
into Elizabeth’s eyes. “I was in this room the night Amanda died. Luke had brought a bottle of wine to celebrate. I think I hated him more for that than for murdering me. I have to get revenge, Elizabeth.”
“And I want to help. But I don’t want to hurt anyone—not Matt, and definitely not Jon.”
“I wish there were another way, but there isn’t. I swore I’d never leave as long as a Winchester walked the streets of Sapphire.”
“Can’t you just take back your vow? You died a hundred years ago, Alex. Could it really matter so much now?”
“It matters to me. I’ve always been an honest man, I’ve always kept my word, and I won’t go back on it now. You have to help me, Elizabeth. You have to.”
oOo
She didn’t want to go to Matt’s. She wanted to be in Jon’s arms. She wanted to forget Alex’s revenge, Jon’s anger, Matt’s photographs, and her promise to help. But she couldn’t forget any of those things.
Alex needed her, and she prayed Jon would want her again when all this insanity was over. As for Matt, she had to be pleasant. If she wa
sn’t, he might not show her the photos; he might not share his knowledge.
She pushed through the gate in the white rail fence and trudged up the crushed granite path bordered by winter-bare shrubs that led to
Matt’s antebellum-style home.
The massive mansion with round white columns looked as cold and unwelcoming as Matt. She
thought about turning around and running to the other end of town to spend the evening with Jon. That’s where she wanted to be, but instead, she put a boot on the first of a dozen marble stairs and kept on climbing until she reached the wide double doors.
Hesitantly
she knocked, hoping Matt had forgotten, but one of the doors opened just as her knuckles hit the wood the second time. “Good evening, Ms. Fitzgerald. Please come in. Mr. Winchester’s expecting you in the dining room.”
“Thank you,” she said to the... butler, a tall, gangly fellow decked out in a tux.
Formal. Too, too formal, and totally pretentious, just like Matt.
The butler
took her coat and gloves and Elizabeth followed the stately gentleman with a heavy British accent through the entry and down a long, dimly lit hallway. When they neared the end, he left her standing at the entrance to a room where a blazing fire burned in a massive white marble hearth, and off to one side she saw Matt filling crystal stemware with dark red wine.
“You’re late,” he said, handing her a glass when she was close. “I expected you at seven.”
“It’s barely ten after. Surely a few minutes isn’t a crime.”
He sipped his wine. “This time you’re forgiven,” he said, smiling indulgently before he took another taste
. He studied her over the rim.
All the fear Jon had tried to instill in her came rushing in when she looked into
Matt’s obsidian eyes. Had Amanda seen obsidian eyes just like Matt’s when she’d looked at Luke? Did she fear him whenever he came near? Oh, Amanda ... why
did you marry him?
Elizabeth brushed her fingers over tables and along the backs of chairs as she circled the room, wanting to stay out of range of
Matt’s hands and his eyes. “You’ve done quite well for yourself,” she said, knowing she needed to make some type of conversation.
“Real estate’s lucrative; so’s the outfitting business. Of course, I owe most of this to my great-grandfather. He invested well.”
“So well he needed two homes in town?” she asked.
“He lived in Dalton House with his first wife, and built Winchester Place fo
r his second. This one’s bigger and grander. It suited their needs and tastes.”
He poured more wine into Elizabeth’s glass before she could refuse. “Why all the questions?”
“A little gossip to spread to paying guests, that’s all.”
“Not much gossip where the Winchesters are concerned. My great-grandfather was a rich and powerful man in this town, as were my grandfather and my father.”
“What about Thomas? He was Luke’s son, too.”
Matt took another drink of his wine. “He invested wisely. I believe that’s about the only thing Thomas and my great-grandfather saw eye-to-eye on. But that isn’t something people will want to know, and it’s not something I’m all that interested in discussing.”
“You knew why I came tonight. I wanted to talk about history, to look at your photo albums.”
“I knew,” he said, moving closer, much too close. “Of course, some plans are easily changed.” Slowly, he tilted his head and kissed her.
Elizabeth backed away until she hit a wall and couldn’t move any further. He’d cornered her like a frightened animal. And he was smiling. “You’re very beautiful, Liz.”
“So I’ve been told.” She
took a sip of wine, anything to avoid another kiss. She took a second drink to toughen her backbone. “Perhaps I could look at those albums now?”
“Actually, I decided dinner
would go well with the drinks, and had my chef prepare something light.” He set down the bottle of wine and took her arm. “We'll be eating in the study,” he said, leading her easily across the room and down another darkened hall. She wanted to pull away, she wanted to run, but she had to see those pictures.
They passed through double doors and into a massive room paneled in knotty pine, darkened with age to a rich whiskey color. It was like stepping into a high-ceilinged hunting lodge. The heads of bear, buffalo, bighorn sheep, deer, antelope, and elk lined the walls, dozens of brown eyes staring emotionlessly across the room. Bearskin rugs had been tossed here and there on the parquet floor, and many pieces of furniture appeared to have been made out of twisted antlers. Elizabeth realized her home might have a ghost creeping around, but she felt the souls of many more beings haunted this room.
“Most of these trophies belonged to my great grandfather,” Matt said. “He rather liked having them hang
around so he could enjoy his conquests. What do you think?”
“It’s not exactly my taste in decorating, but it’s your home, Matt, not mine.”
“I take it you share my cousin’s feelings about hunting.”
“Senseless killing has never set well with me. But I’m not here to judge you.”
“That’s right. You’re not.” He pulled out a chair for Elizabeth at a small, intimate table in front of the fireplace. “We’ve never had much opportunity to talk. I hope we’ll become better acquainted tonight.”
“We had a chance not too long ago
when you had dinner at my place,” Elizabeth said, as she took her seat. “As I recall, you ran out.”
Matt laughed as he sat across from her
. “I prefer not to dredge up the past. The present is much more interesting.” He poured more wine and held his glass in toast. “To tonight. To us.”
Elizabeth smiled indulgently and took another sip of her wine. He’d offered a similar toast the last time they were together, and she liked it even less tonight. “Tell me more about Luke,” she said,
picking at the salad that had been waiting for them when they entered the room.
Eyes narrowing, Matt
took a bite of shrimp then lightly wiped his mouth with a black linen napkin. “Your interest in my family history staggers me, Liz.”
“It’s all part of an advertising scheme. Surely you must understand the need to have something provocative to draw people in.”
“I understand advertising perfectly. Unfortunately, I can’t honestly think of anything significant that happened in that hotel. And definitely nothing provocative.”
“It’s amazing what you can do with even the smallest hint of history,” she said, digging far more than she probably should. “It’s like photographing a black sheath dress. There’s nothing attractive about the dress all by itself, but put it on the perfect model, add just the right accessories, find the perfect background, and you’ll have women dying to buy the thing. It’s all very simple.”
Matt leaned back and sipped at his wine, the food on his plate all but ignored. “Surely Jon is able to give you a history lesson on Sapphire. He lived most of his life with a man who thought and talked about nothing but the past.”
“We’ve talked briefly about it, but there’s more than one side to a story. Please, tell me about Luke.”