The Writer (12 page)

“It’ll pass. I just need a minute.”

Adele watched as Delroy took several deep breaths and then cleared his throat.

“Apologies, these pains are getting more frequent of late. Now, where were we?”

“I asked you how well you knew Tilda.”

Delroy placed his teacup and saucer on the kitchen counter. Then he folded his arms across his chest and looked up at something Adele couldn’t see on the ceiling.

“Yes, Tilda, a rather complicated subject, that. As far as my knowing her, I know her enough to have had dinner with her just two nights earlier in her private residence at the hotel. We are among the longest-term Roche Harbor residents, you see. The trick with her is to ignore the past because it’s the past that’s killing her as surely as this cancer is killing me.”

“Please explain what that means.”

Delroy stood up and pointed to the sailboat’s open door.

“Could we have a walk and talk? I try to keep moving as much as possible and today’s weather is especially warm for this time of year and I’d like to enjoy it, if that’s OK.”

Adele joined Delroy outside on the dock and was soon walking alongside him as he continued to share his knowledge of the mystery surrounding Decklan and Calista Stone and Tilda’s place within that same story.

“There are two things to understand regarding Tilda Ashford. One, she blames herself for causing the argument that led to Calista’s death. Two, she is convinced Decklan did in fact kill his wife and that the murder was subsequently covered up by the local authorities, namely by the former San Juan County Sheriff, Martin Speaks.”

Adele stopped walking and turned to face Delroy.

“I met the sheriff in Deer Harbor. He came off rather…”

Delroy was already nodding his head.

“Like a complete asshole? Yes, he is. And he absolutely detests me. Rather homophobic, that one. What did he have to say to you?”

The two began walking again to the end of another of several docks that extended out over the Roche Harbor waters.

“He basically told me not to go back for another interview with Decklan Stone, and he was pretty aggressive about it too. Thankfully the woman who owns the store over there intervened and got him away from me.”

“Oh, you mean Bella!”

Adele nodded.

“She’s a fine lady, isn’t she? My goodness I haven’t seen her in, it must be three, perhaps four, years. Do you have idea why the sheriff didn’t want you talking with Decklan?”

A seal’s glossy black head broke the surface of the water no more than forty feet from where Adele and Delroy stood on the dock. The sea mammal appeared to be waiting for Adele’s answer as much as Delroy was.

“No, not really.”

Delroy stopped and stared at Adele. He seemed to sense she had more to tell, and that she required just a bit of gentle prodding to do so.

“What is it?”

Adele noted how the professor had somehow become the one interviewing her.

“I thought I was supposed to be the person asking questions?”

Delroy grinned as he slowly stroked his beard with his right hand.

“Ah, you noticed that did you? It’s just my nature, always brushing away the dirt to see what is found just beneath the surface.”

“And why is that?”

The professor trapped Adele’s eyes in his own and held them there for several seconds before responding.

“Because, my dear girl, that is so often where the truth resides. Now turn around and look behind you.”

Adele paused, made certain she wasn’t standing too close to the water, and then did as Delroy requested.

“Look up toward the hill.”

Adele saw the upper half of the Roche Harbor hotel.

“Do you see her? She’s watching us. She’s
always
watching what goes on down here. It’s her nature, and an animal rarely changes its fundamental nature.”

At the center of the hotel’s second-story balcony stood a woman dressed in a loose-fitting white dress that hung down to her ankles. And though Adele couldn’t see her face, she knew who the woman was.

Tilda.

“Now that she’s seen you with me, your chances of being able to meet with her tonight have vastly improved.”

“So you met with me for
her
benefit?”

Delroy gave Adele a brief scowl.

“No, Ms. Plank, I did it for
your
benefit, yours and Decklan’s.”

The seal remained floating just beyond the dock, watching their conversation.

“I don’t understand.”

Delroy removed his hat and ran a hand through his thick shock of gray hair and then returned the hat to its perch atop his head.

“I think you do, Adele. It’s why you’re here speaking with me. It’s why you want to try and talk with Tilda. It’s why you took time to stop in at the bookstore and have coffee with Suze. And it’s why you’re willing to risk the anger of someone like Sheriff Speaks.”

“OK, Mr. Hicks, please tell me why it is I’m doing these things.”

Delroy leaned in close to Adele and whispered his answer into her left ear.

“For the mystery, my young friend! The mystery!”

“I’m sorry, Ms. Ashford is not available. Would you like a room?”

Phillip Ozere was a tall, slightly overweight man in his early forties. He was dressed in a crisp, white shirt, red tie, and black dress slacks. He regarded Adele with a formal indifference, as if his position at the Roche Harbor Hotel was comparable to being the official greeter of Buckingham Palace. His fleshy cheeks were riddled with pockmarks, likely the byproduct of especially bad skin during his youth.

“Suze indicated you might be willing to ask her for me, and I’m also an acquaintance of Mr. Delroy Hicks.”

Phillip’s features softened, and he took another moment to look Adele up and down.

“You know Suze?”

“Yes, I spent the day with her. I’m a reporter for the college newspaper in Bellingham. I just want to ask Ms. Ashford a few questions.”

Phillip’s guarded demeanor quickly returned.

“A reporter? No, I don’t think that will be possible. And now that I’ve checked, it doesn’t appear we have any rooms available, either.”

Adele rose to her full height, a less than impressive five foot four, and gave the hotel manager an exaggerated shrug.

“Well, I’m sorry to hear that. You leave me with no choice but to note that Ms. Ashford made no comment on the subject in my article. This will, of course, lead to speculation among readers and might harm the reputation of the hotel.”

Phillip’s eyes narrowed.

“What subject are you talking about?”

Adele shook her head.

“I’m afraid that is between me and the owner of this hotel.”

Adele could see Phillip struggling with the decision. His loyalty to Tilda was clearly evident. After several seconds, with Phillip standing behind the massive oak desk that dominated the hotel’s red-and-gold-carpeted lobby, he issued a final answer.

“I am going to ask you to leave. Now.”

Adele looked around the lobby, confirming she and Phillip were the only ones in the large, high-ceilinged room. To her right was the wide staircase leading to the second floor and the guest rooms. Adele knew that somewhere up there she would find Tilda.

“I tell you what, Phillip, I’m gonna wait over there in one of those nice chairs next to that big stone fireplace and give you a chance to reconsider, OK?”

Before Phillip could respond, Adele walked quickly across the wood plank floor and sat down in one of two high-backed, green upholstered chars that faced what appeared to be the hotel’s original limestone fireplace mantel. She removed a paper pad from her backpack and pretended to write notes in it. The lobby, being lit by just a few antique lamps placed in various corners of the large room, was being overtaken by late-day shadow.

C’mon, Phillip. At least go up there and ask her.

Phillip remained standing, utterly immobile, behind the lobby desk. Adele could feel his eyes boring into her back.

It was a sitting standoff.

I’m just going to stay right here. He can stand over there glaring at me all he wants.

Nearly an hour went by before Adele heard the sound of footsteps as a likely guest entered the hotel lobby from outside. She glanced at her phone and noted it was nearly seven-thirty. Darkness had settled over Roche Harbor.

The footsteps didn’t make their way to the lobby desk, though. Instead, they indicated someone was approaching the very chair Adele was sitting in. By the time Adele moved to turn her head and see who it was, the person was sitting down in the other chair directly across from her.

Adele’s mouth fell partially open and she let out a soft gasp.

The dark gaze of Tilda Ashland settled upon Adele.

“You wish to speak with me?”

Adele, caught off guard, initially stammered, forced herself to focus, and then responded.

“Yes, my name is Adele Plank. I believe you saw me speaking with Delroy earlier.”

Tilda smiled, showing a row of age-yellowed teeth. Her skin was remarkably smooth for a woman of nearly sixty, and her shoulder-length red hair remained almost as long and luxurious as it had been during the days of her youth, with just a hint of gray showing amidst its thick strands. The fingers were thin and delicate, and the legs underneath the white lace dress she wore appeared to be as well. Adele looked at Tilda’s chest and then quickly glanced away, only to find herself drawn back again.

A swath of translucent lace covered the upper portion of Tilda’s dress. She wasn’t wearing a bra and the material was not nearly opaque enough to hide her ample breasts and the dark outline of her nipples.

“Yes, I saw you speaking with Delroy. That’s the only reason I’m willing to speak with you now.”

Tilda leaned back and extended her right hand. Phillip placed a nearly full glass of amber-hued whiskey into it. She took a long, slow drink, emptying a third of the contents. Then she looked up with her dark eyes that seemed to stare
into
Adele.

“Tell me what you want from me, but don’t you dare lie, little girl. I have no patience for lies.”

Adele could smell the hotel owner’s alcohol-drenched breath and marveled at how Tilda was able to function given the amount she already appeared to have consumed.

“I’m doing an interview with the writer, Decklan Stone.”

Tilda’s eyes flickered ice, and her smile sent a shiver down Adele’s spine.

“I am quite certain I’m not Decklan Stone. You appear to be speaking to the wrong person.”

“I know you were friends with both Decklan and Calista, and---“

Tilda let out a hiss and then looked away for a moment as if trying to recall something she had long ago forgotten. The drink remained clasped in her right hand, while the tips of her left hand fingernails dug into the chair’s arm.

“You don’t know
anything
.”

Though shaken by Tilda’s obvious instability, Adele was determined to forge ahead, not certain that she would ever be given the opportunity to speak with her again.

“I know what Decklan told me of that day, and then the night that Calista died. He mentioned you and that is what brought me here. I wanted to hear
your
version. I wanted to show you that respect.”

Tilda’s mouth curled into a grotesque, savage snarl. The words she spoke next were spit out like a cobra striking upon its frightened prey.

“Decklan Stone is a killer! A murderer! Don’t talk to me of respect! Don’t talk to me of Calista! YOU…KNOW…NOTHING!”

Tilda brought the glass to her mouth and proceeded to empty its contents in a single swallow. It was then flung into the fireplace where it shattered in much the same way it seemed Tilda’s life had been shattered when Calista Stone forever sank beneath dark waters twenty-seven-years earlier.

Phillip rushed to Tilda’s side and gently placed a hand onto her right shoulder.

“Ms. Ashford, we do have guests.”

Tilda appeared ready to scream at Phillip as well, but then saw movement from the second floor as an older woman peered from a partially open door. The hotel owner let out a deep, exhausted sigh and then pointed toward the lobby desk. Her words were slightly slurred as her chin fell onto her chest.

“Bring me another drink.”

Phillip whispered into Tilda’s right ear.

“Perhaps it’s best you retire for the evening, Ms. Ashland.”

Tilda closed her eyes and began to chuckle. Her response arrived softly at first, but then grew in volume with each subsequent word spoken.

“Thank you for your concern, Phillip. Now do as you’re told and
get me another drink.”

Phillip stood up again, paused, and then finally surrendered with a curt nod.

“Yes, Ms. Ashland, right away.”

Tilda’s eyes opened slowly until she was looking at Adele.

“What was the reason Delroy sent you? What part is he playing in this?”

Adele shook her head.

“I’m not sure what you mean.”

“Yes you are, stop playing games. Clearly he wanted you here, and I’m now demanding you tell me why.”

Tilda’s volatile nature made it difficult for Adele to choose how to answer the hotel owner’s question. She chose to simply regurgitate Delroy’s own words in the hopes of sounding as truthful as possible.

“He said it would be for my benefit, and Decklan’s.”

Phillip returned with the drink. Tilda took it and then pointed to the fireplace.

“Please start a fire, Phillip. I grow cold. It seems I’m always cold anymore.”

Phillip quickly set about placing handfuls of kindling onto a pile of old newspaper and then added three large logs atop the pile. Soon the crackle and snap of burning wood echoed throughout the hotel lobby, the fire’s light helping to partially push back the shadows from the seating area that housed both Adele and Tilda. Tilda was about to take a sip from her whiskey when she stopped and loudly snapped her right fingers together.

“Phillip, bring my guest her own glass, and be quick about it.”

Adele was about to decline the offer but then realized it wasn’t actually an offer, but in fact an expectation, so she simply waited silently and then accepted the half-full glass of whiskey with a polite, albeit strained, grin.