You can’t sleep yet.
Car keys.
What good would it do to get her keys? She could never get past Roberta. She might as well just sit down here in the corridor and wait for the end.
No. She couldn’t do that. She had a date for dinner with Thomas.
The thought sent another surge of adrenaline through her, knocking back some of the drug’s effects.
“The drug can be made in various strengths. The weaker versions create amazing hallucinations and cause a person to be quite suggestible. Stronger versions also produce hallucinations, but not for long. One gets very drowsy, very quickly.”
Keep going. Keep moving.
“I gave you the strong dose, of course. The same dose that I gave to Bethany Walker and Meredith Spooner.”
She put one hand on the wall and turned her head. Roberta was coming toward her through the shadows. She had something in her hand.
A gun.
“You killed Rhodes,” Leonora whispered. The words were thick and cumbersome in her mouth. “You were the one Thomas and Deke saw running away that night.”
“Ah, yes, Mr. Rhodes. Such a handsome man. He was the one who came up with a name for my hallucinogen. Smoke and Mirrors. I thought it was very creative. He said a good name was essential for proper marketing. Mirror House gave him the idea, I believe.”
“How did he . . . how did he know about you? And the drug?”
“He figured out that I was mixing up the drugs the night I pushed Bethany off that bluff.”
“How did he know that you killed her?”
“I was a trifle careless, I must admit. Alex was out running rather late in the evening. He passed by Mirror House just as I was getting Bethany into her car. He knew something was wrong. He followed me. Watched me push her off the cliff. The next day I very carefully planted the rumors of Bethany’s drug use. And Alex put it all together.”
“He tried to blackmail you?”
“No, no, dear. He offered to form a partnership. I was the manufacturer and supplier. He was the middleman who actually sold the product. He’d had experience in that line, you see, and I had none. Most of his transactions were with out-of-town clients, of course. Wing Cove is such a small community. He feared that if he sold too much locally, others would soon figure out that he was the source. But he couldn’t resist experimenting with
it from time to time, especially on some of his female clients.”
“Why . . . why did you kill him if the partnership worked?”
“It was a lucrative arrangement for both of us, but when everything started to fall apart I knew I had to tidy up before I left town. Mr. Rhodes knew too much about me. I couldn’t let him live, now could I?”
“Why . . . why did you kill Meredith Spooner?”
“Because for some reason that I was never able to determine, she grew extremely curious about the circumstances of Sebastian Eubanks’s death.” Roberta frowned. “She somehow managed to link it with Bethany’s suicide. I simply don’t understand how she put it all together. But that is neither here nor there now, is it?”
“Why did you feed that drug to me? You were in the clear after you shot Alex. No one was even suspicious of you.”
Roberta’s hand tightened around the gun. “I really couldn’t leave town without punishing you, Leonora. I blame you for stirring things up here in Wing Cove. You very nearly ruined everything. You must pay for causing me so much trouble.”
“Why are you okay?” Leonora whispered. “You drank the coffee, too. I saw you drink it.”
Roberta chuckled. “The drug wasn’t in the coffee. It comes in the form of a powder, you see. I merely sprinkled a little in the bottom of your cup before I poured. It dissolves instantly.”
There were other questions she needed to ask, but she couldn’t do it now. Time to prioritize. The first job was to survive. She had that dinner date with Thomas tonight. Couldn’t be late.
For a very important date.
Oh, damn. She was losing it fast here. Get a grip.
She realized she was sliding down the wall. Fear lanced through her. She closed her eyes, summoned all of her will and straightened. She had to plant both palms on the wall to hold herself upright.
When she opened her eyes she found herself gazing into another dark looking glass. It was framed in gilded wood.
You can’t sleep yet.
She reached out with both hands. Gripped the old mirror and lifted it off its hook. It was heavy.
“Oh, my, whatever do you want with that?” Roberta said. “Put it down. We must be on our way.”
She held on to the mirror, never looking away from the nearly opaque reflective surface. “Where are we going?”
“Why, to your car, of course.”
“So that I can fall asleep at the wheel the way . . . the way Meredith did?”
“Sleep is what you want most now, isn’t it?”
“I can’t sleep yet.”
“Put the mirror down, Leonora.”
She ignored the order. Staring into the mirror as though transfixed by her own image, she turned and staggered into the library.
Roberta would not shoot her here unless she felt she had no choice, she thought. Blood in the library would be hard to explain.
“The hallucinations must be very, very bad.” Roberta came to stand in the doorway. “Don’t you want to sleep now, Leonora? You should be very sleepy. Perhaps I didn’t get the mix quite right this time. It is unpredictable and I was in something of a hurry when I made up this batch. What with getting rid of Osmond Kern and Mr. Rhodes and handling all the details of the alumni reception, things have been quite hectic around here lately.”
“Kern. How did you manage his suicide?”
“Oh, that was no trouble at all. He was already quite drunk when I phoned him and told him that something important had come up and that he had to meet me at the boathouse. When I gave him some coffee to drink, he didn’t hesitate at all. Probably thought it would sober him up. But the effects of the drug are intensified with alcohol. I got him into the boat, took him out a ways into the Sound and pushed him overboard. Then I went back to shore and set the boat free.”
“Thomas will know. If you kill me, he’ll find you.”
“By the time the authorities have finished investigating your accident, I will be long gone, Leonora. A new name, a new identity, a new life. I have been planning it for several months. It is all in place.”
“No.”
Leonora dashed the heavy mirror against the metal upright of the nearest bookcase. The old glass fractured and shattered, breaking into a dozen tinkling, screaming shards. The jagged pieces of mirror bounced and skittered on the floor at her feet.
“Now, see what you’ve done.” Roberta chuckled. “Seven years’ bad luck, I’m afraid. But the good news is that you won’t live long enough to worry about it.”
Leonora crouched slowly, cautiously, one hand clutching the edge of a bookshelf to keep herself from toppling forward.
“Oh, good, it’s finally hitting you,” Roberta said. “Come along now. On your feet. Don’t worry, you’ll be able to sleep soon enough.”
Leonora said nothing. She was too busy staring at the glittering shards that littered the floor.
“We’ve wasted enough time.” Roberta came toward her down the aisle formed by the bookcases. “You and I must take a little trip. Get up, Leonora. Do you hear me? Get up right now.”
She stayed crouched near the floor, looking at the fragmented images of herself in the shards. The bits and pieces of her reflections gave a whole new meaning to the words
pull yourself together
, she thought.
She started to giggle.
“Stop it.” Roberta transferred the gun to her left hand, reached down, grasped Leonora’s upper arm. She was a large, strongly built woman. She did not expect to encounter any resistance from her drugged victim.
Leonora made no effort to resist. She summoned all the strength and willpower that she had left and lurched to her feet.
Simultaneously she clawed at Roberta’s face with her right hand.
Roberta saw the long, jagged piece of broken mirror clutched in Leonora’s fingers. She shrieked in reflexive fear and fell back, putting up both arms in an instinctive move to protect her eyes.
Leonora raked her glass claw downward, not caring what part of Roberta’s anatomy she struck. The shard bit into flesh.
A keening scream reverberated in the library.
Blood spouted. Not all of it was Roberta’s. Leonora felt the sting of glass slicing through the skin of her palm.
The gun fell from Roberta’s fingers. She shrieked again.
Leonora raised her bloody hand and tried another slashing swing. She missed this time because Roberta was reeling back down the aisle, her arms still raised to defend her face.
Leonora dropped the shard and grabbed the gun with both hands. She swung around. The aisle of books looped and dipped like a roller coaster. She stumbled toward the far end.
She knew now that she could not get to her keys, let
alone try to drive a car. But if she could get as far as the concealed flight of steps that led to the third floor she might be able to barricade herself inside the narrow passage until help arrived. The entrance was just around the corner out in the hall. All she had to do was stay awake.
A dark figure blotted out the light in the doorway.
“Leonora,” Thomas said.
A glorious sense of relief flooded through her. She lurched into his outstretched arms.
“Knew you’d come,” she whispered.
She was vaguely aware of Deke in the hallway. Claws clicked on the wooden flooring. Wrench.
Behind her, Roberta screamed in raw rage. Leonora managed to turn her head.
Roberta rushed toward the door, a huge chunk of mirror clutched in her hands.
“Shit,” Deke said, “she’s gone crazy. Get out of her way.”
“Wrench.” Thomas pulled Leonora out of the doorway, back into the hall, and motioned with the flat of his hand.
Wrench flashed through the opening, utterly silent, a sleek, fast predator doing what came naturally.
Inside the library, Roberta screamed.
There was no place to run. Leonora heard a crash. Books tumbled from the shelves. A body hit the floor hard.
She raised her head from Thomas’s shoulder and looked into the library. Roberta sprawled on her back in one of the aisles, sobbing in fear, her bleeding arm thrown across her face. Wrench stood guard over her, the wolf in his genes etched in every line of his taut body.
“I thought you said he was a reincarnated miniature poodle,” Leonora whispered.
“Must have been a poodle with attitude,” Thomas said. “Hell, you’re bleeding.”
She wanted to smile, but she was so tired. He picked her up in his arms. It felt wonderful.
When he swung around to carry her toward the staircase she caught a glimpse of a reflection in the strange mirror that produced the double images.
For just an instant she thought she saw a familiar face, not her own, smiling at her from the other side of the antique looking glass.
You can go to sleep now, he’ll be there when you wake up.
We’re going to name our first daughter after you.
I know. Thanks. Good-bye, sister.
Good-bye, Meredith.
The hallucination in the mirror vanished.
The next day
they gathered together in Thomas’s living room. A cheerful fire blazed. The hearth tiles glowed in all their splendor. Deke and Cassie sat side by side on the sofa. Their knees touched.
Leonora lounged in one of the recliners, feet stretched out toward the flames. She had bandages on her palms and she still felt wan and washed out, but the stuff they had given her in the emergency room had gotten rid of most of the drug in her system. She was feeling much better, all things considered.
Thomas occupied the other recliner. Wrench napped on the floor.
Ed Stovall sat very straight in an armchair. He did not take out his notebook. This was supposed to be a private conversation, he had explained. Off the record.
“I’m no shrink, but I think it’s safe to say that Roberta Brinks must have started out warped and then got downright nutzoid over the years,” Thomas said. “Just your
ordinary, garden-variety sociopath. The kind of freak no one even notices until after she’s murdered a few folks.”
“You still haven’t explained how you and Deke realized I might be in major trouble yesterday afternoon,” Leonora said.
“Thomas wanted to run down a few loose details,” Deke replied. He rested one hand on Cassie’s knee.
“I just wanted to know for sure who was blackmailing whom.” Thomas steepled his fingers. “When Deke got into Rhodes’s bank records he discovered that a couple of large transactions had been made during the past year. They were credited to a numbered account in an offshore bank. At first we assumed they were the profits Rhodes had made from blackmailing Osmond Kern.”
“But just to be on the safe side, Thomas had me check Kern’s bank records, too,” Deke continued. “He wanted to make sure the amount of the blackmail payments matched.”
Cassie frowned. “I take it they didn’t?”
“No,” Thomas said. “In fact, we found no large transactions at all in Kern’s account. But we discovered a lot of smaller payments going into that same offshore account. They transferred like clockwork on the first of every month.”
“We followed a hunch and went upstream in Kern’s bank records,” Deke said. “Those payments stretched back for years. The offshore account number didn’t appear until three years ago, though. Before that the money went into a bank in California. The account was in the name of a trust, but we were able to get a social security number off some tax records.”
“Roberta Brinks?” Leonora asked.
“Yep.” Thomas put a hand on top of Wrench’s head. “Osmond Kern paid blackmail, all right. For nearly thirty years.”
“But to Roberta Brinks, not Alex Rhodes,” Cassie concluded.
“Rhodes’s two large payments into Roberta’s offshore account this year had nothing to do with blackmail. They were to cover the cost of the two shipments of drugs that he bought from her,” Ed said.
“But as soon as we saw the thirty years’ worth of payments to Roberta Brinks,” Thomas said, “we knew the situation was a lot more complicated than everyone assumed.”