Never Sleep With Strangers (15 page)

“Joshua!” she called out. But he didn't seem to hear or see or heed her. Should she go back for him? But they couldn't turn back; they couldn't lose any time with Brett unconscious, facing shock and a long ride through the snow.

Biting her lip, she looked toward Jon, who was moving ahead quickly. Should she call out to him? She turned to glance back at Joshua Valine once again, and she was relieved to see that he had finally risen and was mounting his horse to follow them. She turned quickly away, for some instinctive reason not wanting him to know that she had been watching him.

They all rode on in silence until, finally, like a giant boulder cast down upon the snowy land, the castle rose out of the sea of white before them. They were almost home.

 

“Oh! It just fucking figures, doesn't it?” Susan swore from a few feet away, her voice sharp in the sudden total darkness. She hadn't gotten very far before the lights went out.

Then V.J. thought she heard something else. A whirring or whooshing sound, as if a cape swept by her, nearly touching her.

A cape.

Jack the Ripper?

Jack the Ripper, real and running amok in the chamber of horrors? They'd all been so determined that Susan was dramatizing, that her imagination had been running away with her. But mightn't someone dressed up like the figure have been hiding nearby, gloating, laughing, thinking that he—or she—had only to wait for the power to fail, then they'd all be like lambs at a slaughter, helpless, perfect victims?

A second scream pierced the darkness, and V.J. thought she might perish of a heart attack.

But it was just Susan, and the sharp cry was followed by swearing. “You burned me, damn it!” she yelped.

“Well, damn it, you're standing right on top of me!” Thayer said as his lighter flicked to life, giving them a small spot of illumination.

V.J. strained her eyes in the darkness. The figure of Jack the Ripper was standing right where he'd been. Silly woman! she taunted herself.

“Here—a lantern,” Tom said, lifting an old-fashioned candle lamp from a hook by the door. “They probably lose electricity in most of these storms. This thing looks as if it was in use not too long ago.”

“There's another here,” Joe stated.

With the lanterns flaring, the chamber of horrors was alight again, actually brighter than it had ever been before.

“I'm telling you, someone is—” Susan began.

“Oh, Susan!” Joe protested, pulling on his beard in total aggravation. “Storms are acts of God, and power outages are failures of mechanics, and neither is a conspiracy against Susan Sharp.”

“The hell with this storm. You haven't seen anything yet!” Susan assured them. She strode to Thayer, snatching a lantern from him. “There's going to be one big hurricane around little Miss Camy Clark.”

She started once more out of the chamber of horrors, still determined that she'd been the victim of an evil trick. The others followed her.

V.J. found herself last in the chamber, with the blackness swiftly creeping in around her. She gazed at the wax figures as the light began to fade. It seemed that they were beginning to move, just waiting for the light to dim entirely before leaping fully to life.

“Wait!” she tried to cry. But her throat was dry, the sound barely a whisper. They were all going to leave her, and she'd be standing here, stupidly paralyzed, as the figures came alive and started menacingly after her, seeking her blood in the black void settling around her.

“V.J.?” boomed a masculine voice.

“Tom!”

Bless him. He'd come back for her, lifting a lamp high. Light flooded around her, and the wax figures stood obediently still.

“Victoria, you're not staying down here, are you?” Tom asked softly.

V.J. felt life and movement return. She flashed Tom a smile and hurried after the group with him. Susan was leading the way, striding ahead of them all. It was amazing to V.J. that a woman like her, who sometimes made an art out of the act of walking itself, could swing her shoulders and stride with the tough-guy gait of a trucker.

On the ground floor, candles gleamed all around them. The household staff had been at work.

And there, three of their number deserted the gang. As Susan started up the stairs to the second floor, barging along like the Wicked Witch of the West in search of Camy Clark, Thayer Newby followed her, but Tom Heart halted.

“You do your best with this one, Victoria. I'm not watching a lamb at her slaughter,” he announced, shaking his head.

V.J. bit her lower lip lightly, knowing how he hated Susan.

“I'll be joining Reggie for a drink,” Anna Lee interjected, walking toward the library. Over her shoulder she added, “Maybe Thayer can keep Susan from extreme violence. The rest of us should just huddle around the fire like the true chickens we are.”

“I'm with Tom,” Joe Johnston agreed.

V.J. looked at them both. They stood side by side: Tom tall, handsome, so dignified with his beautiful crop of silver-white hair, and Joe, bearded, heavier, coarser and a bit gruff. One dressed Versace, one Salvation Army. One was a second Sean Connery, the other a Grizzly Adams. They seemed strangely united now.

“Susan's going to do her best to humiliate young Camy,” Tom explained. “And Camy might not want an audience,” he added softly.

V.J. nodded, but stood her ground. “We don't all need to barge in on her, but I'll go and back up Thayer.”

“I'm with you,” Dianne said, her eyes curiously wide with excitement. They all looked at her. She tossed back her perfectly cut black hair. “Susan can be a real monster—we all know it. I'll be there to back up V.J. as Susan tries to draw blood, so V.J. won't have to take the heat alone.”

“Just remember, after this weekend we may
all
be paying for the fact that Susan's a monster,” Joe said dourly.

Tom was watching V.J., his thoughts held in check. She turned away and hurried up the stairs, Dianne right behind her.

Susan had already burst in when they reached Camy's room. As usual, Jon's diminutive assistant was sitting at her desk. Evidently power failures didn't daunt her. She was working by the light of a large battery-powered lamp.

“You stupid, miserable, little bitch, I will have you fired for this!” Susan raged at her.

Camy jumped up, shaking, staring at Susan. Her mouth worked, but no words came. Tears stung her eyes, and she looked helplessly past Susan to Thayer, V.J. and Dianne.

“I—I…” she began, stunned. She looked as vulnerable as a baby chick fallen out of its nest.

“Susan, do you at least want to tell her what you're accusing her of doing?” V.J. snapped firmly.

Susan swung around to glare at her.

Well, even if her next book were the Bible, V.J. thought wearily, Susan was still going to trash it in the media.

Susan swung back to Camy, her face contorted in fury. “She knows what she did. She wrote me a note, sending me into the chamber of horrors, then she snuck down one of the secret staircases and did her best to scare me to death. She shouldn't just be fired, she should be arrested, and I intend to see that it happens!”

“Susan,” Camy cried in self-defense, “I didn't…I don't know…I swear to you—”

“Lying little maggot!” Susan said through gritted teeth, starting forward.

“Now, wait a minute there,” Thayer interrupted angrily, taking a step to stop Susan.

“Oh, let her bitch,” Dianne said casually.

“Oh, Susan, why don't you just quit being such a royal, self-righteous bitch!” V.J. blurted.

Oh, great. Mystery Week, and she'd turned suicidal. She was mincemeat in the press.

“I—I—I didn't give you instructions to go to the chamber of horrors,” Camy said to Susan. “Everyone was ordered to the séance in the crypt. Joshua was supposed to make a tapping sound from behind the tombs, but he followed Jon in case there was any trouble—I mean—uh, in case someone was stranded or the snow got too bad.” She stuttered and paused, realizing she was admitting that her boss was in a high temper when he rode out after Brett McGraff and Sabrina Holloway. “He—he thought Jon might need help in the snow, and that you would all amuse yourselves just fine in the crypt.”

“Oh, yeah, nothing like an amusing morning among the dead,” Dianne said dryly.

Camy shot her a pathetic look. Dianne instantly looked contrite. “Well, it was definitely more important for Josh to make sure no one got lost in the snow,” she added quickly.

The truth hung in the air. Or to make sure Brett and Jon didn't come to blows over Sabrina?

“Susan, I swear, if you had a note sending you somewhere else, I didn't write it,” Camy said.

“Then just where did the note come from?” Susan demanded.

Camy was still shaking and in distress. “I don't know, I don't know. I don't know where the other one came from either—”

She broke off, staring at them all, white as a sheet.

“Someone else got a note you didn't write?” Thayer demanded.

“I—I—”

“God in heaven, quit stuttering like a complete ninny!” Susan cried.

“Who else got a misleading note?” V.J. asked quietly.

“Yes, please, who?” Dianne asked softly.

“I'm not at liberty to—” Camy began defensively.

“Jon! It was Jon Stuart!” Dianne guessed. She appeared strangely excited again.

Camy remained white. She looked like a little lost doe, standing there shaking.

“You know what I think?” Susan demanded. “I think this is all a pile of B.S. I think you're a troublemaker. Who else could be giving people different notes and stealing the ones you had
really
written? You're doing it all, Miss Clark. The only question is why.”

“No, oh, no, please, Ms. Sharp. I couldn't. I wouldn't. Honestly,” Camy said, desperately trying to state her innocence. “I'm so sorry you were frightened, but—”

V.J. felt as if she were watching a puppy being slaughtered. She had to risk stepping in again. “Oh, Susan, get off your high horse! None of us is in chains. We're all free to sneak around the castle! It could be anybody playing tricks!” she said angrily.

Susan stared at her with pure venom in her eyes. “You weren't locked in with some awful monster breathing down your neck. He could have killed me. I know he would have killed me if you all hadn't gotten to me first!”

“He who? You're accusing Camy of sending the notes,” Thayer said.

“He, she, little precious Camy here pretending to be Jack the Ripper—what difference does it make? Someone meant to kill me, and I'm certain it was this little bitch right here!” Susan accused.

“Oh, Susan, stop it. You really don't know anything at all,” Dianne told her quietly.

The young woman seemed oddly disappointed, and V.J. belatedly wondered if Dianne had looked forward to this confrontation, hoping it would help her discover something that was eluding her. She was so young, V.J. mused again, watching her, and she suspected that life had given her a few hard kicks, not just early successes, along the way.

Susan looked from one of them to another. She remained furious, her face pinched and ugly. V.J. thought that, at that moment, any one of them would happily lock her away with Jack the Ripper.

“Well, fuck you all!” Susan said softly. And once again she looked around the room at them. “And trust me, you
are
fucked!”

She stomped out the door, slamming it behind her.

Once again, V.J. had an image of the Wicked Witch of the West.

Camy started to cry softly, Thayer looked grim, and V.J. realized that she was trembling herself from all the dramatic emotions swirling about.

“I think we all need a drink,” Dianne announced. “Come on, Camy, come on down and have a drink with us.”

“I—I—was working,” Camy said, a ragged sniff following her words as she tried to control her sobs.

“That's all right, you can work later, dear,” V.J. said gently.

“But I'm not one of you. This is Mystery Week, and you're supposed to be solving a whodunit.”

“Oh, we've enough mystery going on without having to work at it too much,” Dianne said. “Either that or we're capable of making a mystery out of anything. Come on. Jon wouldn't mind. He'd want you to take a breather after an encounter with old Medusa there.”

Camy nodded. “Jon would never mind,” she said softly. “I do know that.”

“Then come on,” V.J. said. “I need to sit down before I fall down, and right now, I want a martini when I sit.”

She started from the room, and the others followed.

And just as they did so, a high-pitched, bloodcurdling scream sounded from the first floor.