Death in Castle Dark, page 16
In my room I found the kittens playing on the floor of the kitchenette. I filled their bowls with food and water and watched them tumble comically toward their dinner, their tiny tails pointing at the ceiling. I went to my armchair and watched some mindless TV for a couple hours, trying to clear my mind of all the conflicts in the castle. Eventually I went to bed, expecting to toss and turn, but I fell asleep almost instantly.
I had barely dressed on Friday morning when there was a tap at my door; I opened it a crack to see Connie in the hall. She had obviously been crying. “Do you have a minute?” she said.
“Sure. Are you okay?”
She shrugged, walked across the floor, and flung herself into my easy chair. I grabbed a chair from the kitchenette and sat across from her. She wiped at her eyes and said, “I’ve been better.”
Connie had always been a pretty charismatic personality, but a sad Connie was impossible to resist. “Listen, is this about yesterday? What he did was out of line. But I think he had a very compelling reason.”
She waved these words away. “Oh, Derek. I could murder him right now. But I just can’t believe this—that someone out there wanted to hurt me, that he wrote threat after threat—and I didn’t do a thing to encourage it! I don’t even know him, Nora!”
“He’s mentally ill, Connie.”
“Well, it’s horrifying. And then to have it kept from me. This is a bit much, coming on top of—”
“On top of what?”
More tears leaked out of her sky-colored eyes. “Okay, well—it seems like you’ve been mad at me. And I’ve been racking my brain, trying to figure out what I did.”
I handed her a box of tissues, and she wiped her eyes and blew her nose. Then she looked at me and said, “Did I do something to upset you, Nora? Because it kind of feels like I’ve lost my only friend.”
“Connie, this isn’t the time—”
“The time for what? What did I do?”
She seemed poised to become even more emotional, so I held up a hand. “On Wednesday, I went to look for you in your room. You weren’t there, but your door was open and your notebook was there on your desk. I glanced at it and saw my own name. You wrote that I was a problem.”
“What?” she asked, eyes wide and innocent. Connie, ever the ingenue.
I shrugged. “I was shocked. And then I didn’t know what to think.”
She stood up and raced across the room and out the door. Moments later she was back, holding the notebook. She was reading what she had written, her eyes widening. “Oh, I see. I guess that looks sort of bad, right? But it wasn’t about you, Nora.”
“Oh?” I knew my voice was cold, but I couldn’t help it.
She went back to the easy chair and sat down. Shuddering out a sigh, she said, “Do you know how long I’ve tried to get Derek to notice me?”
“What?”
“At least a year. I mean, I wasn’t here long before I had developed a huge crush on him, but over time it just got bigger and bigger. I realized how good he was, how kind and compassionate and—noble, not to mention how gorgeous and sexy the man is.”
“Okay—”
“I did all sorts of things to get him to like me back. I made him little treats in the kitchen with Zana. I sat and worked with him on his scripts, offering constructive criticism. I went antiquing with him. I flirted my head off. And sometimes he seemed to be really responding. And I’d get my hopes up, and then he’d sort of go blank and practically ignore me. Up and down, up and down. For a year. And I keep saying, ‘Give up on him, find someone else.’ But here I am in a castle with a prince. Who else is going to appeal to me?”
“What are you saying?” I looked at her in real confusion, surprised by her unsolicited confession.
She stood up and put the notebook in my hands. “I was keeping track. Look, it goes back way farther than the page you were on.” I turned to the page before and saw entry after entry, going back to May of the previous year, where she had written, I think I like Derek. And then by December, an entry with a little heart: I am in love with Derek.
I flipped back to the page where she had written about my interview, my arrival. “So why did you write that I might be a problem?”
She shrugged. “Because there was the chance that he would like you as much as I did,” she said. Her bottom lip quivered slightly, and I relented in a rush of affection and relief.
“Connie, Derek doesn’t like me. And I don’t like him, not that way.”
“I don’t know anymore. For a year I’ve tried to figure out if there’s some other woman, someone he keeps secret.” She sent me a guilty look. “I actually hang around his room, Nora, trying to listen at the door. Sometimes if it’s unlocked, and I know he’s not around, I even go in.”
“You need to stop doing that.”
“I know,” she said. “It’s crazy.”
My eyes opened wide with a realization. “You were in there Wednesday. When I thought you were in your room, you were in his.”
“Just for a second,” she whispered.
I folded my arms. “And did you ever find a sign of this mystery woman?”
“No. There is a picture of him and a woman, but he and Paul have a sister somewhere, and I think it’s her in the photo.”
“Yeah, probably. There is no mystery woman, Connie, and he’s not going to fall in love with me. He’s already in love.”
“What?” Her watery eyes were impossibly blue. No wonder she had Derek enthralled.
“You were too angry to see it, but all the rest of us did. He was practically groveling at your feet!”
“What? He just feels bad.” She folded her arms. “Which he should.”
“He loves you, Connie. I’d bet my sweet little Brontës on that fact.”
A gleam of hope entered her eyes, but her face remained stony. “If he loved me, he would have told me so. He’s had a year. With no distractions, no other men in the picture.”
“I can’t explain that. Maybe you should ask him.”
Now her lip curled and her pretty face became sardonic. “Yeah, I’ll just go up to him and ask if he loves me. When’s the last time you asked a man that?”
“I did it in a play once,” I said meekly. “It had a happy ending.”
“Well, this is real life,” she said. “And I think it’s time for me to move on.”
“Move on to other men or—”
“I think I need to leave the castle.” She was the picture of melancholy, drooping in the chair.
“You can’t make that decision right now. You’re upset, and decisions shouldn’t be made when you’re emotional. On the other hand—”
“Yes?” She sat up in her chair.
“Well—it’s dangerous here.”
She nodded. “I know. There are so many reasons to go now. Except that you just got here, and I’m just getting to know you, and I . . . like it here.” Her eyes grew wet as she gazed out one of my giant windows.
I stood up and clapped my hands together. “Like I said, you can’t make decisions now. You need some therapy, and I happen to know the best therapist in the castle. He has toys and chocolate.”
Connie turned back to me, her expression reclaiming some of its usual brightness. “I like both of those,” she said.
“Come with me.” I held out my hand, and she stood up to clasp it. “We’ll get things sorted out.”
She walked with me into the hallway. Annie the kitten marched beside her and tried to leave with us, but Connie tucked her safely into the room and shut the door.
As we approached the staircase, she sighed and said, “I’m so glad you don’t hate me anymore.”
I laughed. “I didn’t hate you. I distrusted you.”
Her face was solemn. “That makes sense. But just so you know, you can trust me. I’m terrible at lying.”
“I know that now.”
Her pale brows rose. “Why?”
“Because I saw your face when you said you were done with Derek.”
Connie pursed her lips and marched determinedly down the stairs, ignoring my teasing smile.
* * *
* * *
Paul was still in his office, and he looked concerned but also amused at the idea that I had brought Connie to him for “therapy.”
“My toys are your toys,” he said. “Any psychologist will tell you that play is healthy.” He retrieved the glass bowl full of chocolate and held it out while Connie and I dove into it like children.
“Listen,” Paul said. “This afternoon I’m heading to town to get a couple things for Derek at the antiques shop. Do you want to come along? Have a change of scenery?”
“Absolutely,” I said at the same time that Connie said, “Yes, please!”
Paul laughed. “Great. Meet me here around two, and we’ll head out. Sound good?”
We nodded and left him to his paperwork. Back in the main hall, Connie murmured, “I should have fallen for Paul instead. He’s almost as gorgeous as Derek.”
I nodded. “But maybe not as exciting.”
She sighed. “What do we do now? Do you want to forage in the kitchen?”
“Let’s go to the library,” I said. “We never got to go the other day. I really do want some reading material. Plus I told my mom I’d send her a picture of it. She works at a library, you know.”
“I didn’t know that! How neat. Your family sounds so nice.” She bounced along beside me like a happy Tigger, revived by chocolate and our repaired relationship.
“They are nice. What about your family? Do you all get along?”
She shrugged. “My brothers are all older. I was a sort of last-chance baby. So my parents are kind of old, but they’re sweet. And my brothers dote on me from a distance. None of them lives nearby, unfortunately. I don’t even want to tell them about this stalking thing, because they’ll lose it.”
I would have “lost it,” too, if Gen told me someone had stalked her in New York or if one of my brothers was being stalked. “You have to tell your family. Just let them know that the police have the guy.”
She was still worried, and her face showed it. “Charges like that never seem to stick, do they? I feel like he’ll get out.”
I put a hand on her arm. “We’ll talk to the police. You don’t have to worry about anything right now. He trespassed on this property with a weapon and assaulted me, and he wrote threatening letters. He’s under arrest and I’m guessing he’s sitting in jail.”
We had reached the library; Connie peeked in the doorway, then turned back and made a face at me. “Oh, man. Zana is in there again, doing that weird thing. Should we leave?”
“No. Let’s just go in. If she’s uncomfortable, then she’ll stop what she’s doing.” I walked into the library, enjoying the slightly musty smell and the way the walls of books looked in the stippled sunlight. I snapped a couple of pictures to send to my mother; then Connie and I walked farther into the room. Zana sat at her corner table with a stack of books, fanning the pages of a large tome, holding it upside down and shaking it.
“Hi, Zana,” I said loudly.
“Hey,” she said. She didn’t stop her strange behavior; she merely set the book down and picked up the next one.
We walked toward her table and sat at two chairs across from hers. “What are you doing?” Connie asked.
Zana grinned at us. “Something my grandma taught me long ago. She called it Treasure Hunt—probably her way of keeping little kids occupied in a library. You go through every book to see what people left inside. I know librarians do that when books are returned, but Derek got this whole load from private donations, so who knows what people forgot? It’s fun. Try it!”
Connie shrugged at me, and I laughed. We went to a nearby shelf and each grabbed a stack of books. Then we returned to Zana’s table and began riffling. I raised an eyebrow at Zana, “Doesn’t Eric miss you?’
Zana shook her head. “He and our baby girl are at the movies tonight. I’m just claiming a little me time. This library has always relaxed me.” She smiled at Connie, who had just found a bookmark.
“There, see—treasure already. We’ll compare at the end of this pile,” she said.
A couple of minutes later we showed our individual discoveries: Zana had a bookmark with a kitten on it, a note that read: 9 PM, and a sticky note with someone’s shopping list. She shrugged. “Not my best haul ever, but my daughter will like the bookmark.”
Connie showed us her little pile: a gas station receipt, a pressed rose petal, and a photo of someone’s beagle.
“Pretty good,” Zana said. “It’s a cute dog. You can put him up in the costume room.”
Elspeth did have a photo-sharing wall in the costume room, and people routinely tacked up pictures of family, pets, scenery—whatever they felt like posting. “I will!” Connie said. “What did you find, Nora?”
I showed them my two items: a dollar bill and a hand-drawn cartoon of a person with a two-sided face, half human and half monster. The human side was an attractive-looking face of indeterminate gender, with a large eye and full lips. The other side was a gory, terrible image of that face seemingly decayed or transforming into something else. The caption read: Castle Dark’s Jekyll and Hyde. The artist had obviously dashed it off quickly, yet there was real talent evident in the sketch. It was signed with the initials G.P.
“Oh, I like that,” Connie said, “even though it’s gross.”
Zana nodded. “Yeah, Nora wins this round. That’s a real conversation starter.”
I studied it more closely. “I think Garrett drew it,” I said.
“What?” Connie leaned in and saw the initials. “Oh, my gosh! He was a pretty good artist. He always helped to paint the scenery at the community theater.”
A sudden memory came to me. “He said something about being an artist the night we all introduced ourselves. He said he liked to draw up in his room. And he was doodling on a napkin—some kind of amazing tree.”
Zana was studying the picture; she had an odd look on her face. “You need to give that to the police.”
“Why?”
She pointed. “Who was he drawing? Who turned into Hyde? He says this person is in Castle Dark.”
We sat and considered this with solemn expressions. “Yeah, I think you’re right,” I said. “I can send it right now.” I took out my phone, snapped a picture, and texted it to Dashiell.
I think Garrett drew this.
Then I explained where I had found the drawing.
Moments later he texted back:
Got it. Thanks, Nora.
I lifted my pile of books and brought them back to the shelf. Then I returned and said, “Zana, I have to admit, that was an interesting game.”
She nodded. “Shades of my childhood, but I still enjoy it.”
“Childhood is a recurring theme today,” Connie said. “Paul has an office full of toys.”
Zana thought about this. “Someone famous said that when we’re children and young people, we have our most important experiences, and that we spend the rest of our lives remembering them. I wish I could recall who it was. I think about that concept a lot.”
“Huh,” Connie said. “Well, I like to think I’m still having the experiences.”
Zana sighed and said, “Well, that’s my little treat for today. There’s something really addictive about hunting for treasure, no matter what kind of prize it is. Don’t you think?”
My mind flashed to Garrett’s room with his items thrown all over the floor. Could Zana have been hunting for treasure up there? Or could Hyde have been searching for something? Maybe for this cartoon?
“I think you’re absolutely right,” Connie said. “I’ve been hunting for my own kind of treasure for more than a year. And it is addictive.”
“But duty calls,” Zana said. “I need to put out lunch and get started on dinner.” She put her books away and walked back to the table. “By the way, my daughter said that you are both pretty.”
“Oh, that’s sweet,” Connie said.
“Your daughter is the pretty one, Zana. She reminded me of a cartoon with her big eyes,” I said.
“Yeah, she got those from Eric. They both have Bambi eyes,” she said, laughing.
Connie put her books back on the shelf, and the three of us walked out of the library together. “What’s on the menu tonight?” Connie asked.
“Chicken stew and corn bread,” Zana said. “And lunch is tuna salad croissants.”
We made appreciative noises and she smiled. We walked her to the kitchen and I said, “Thanks for inviting us to the treasure hunt.”
Zana waved and disappeared inside. I realized that I still hadn’t actually taken a book out of the library.
“I should go call my mom and dad,” Connie said. “I’ve put it off, but you’re right. I need to tell them. My dad is going to want to tear Derek’s throat out.”
I nodded. “Maybe. Or maybe he’ll appreciate Derek’s intention, which was to protect you. And to hire private security for you with his own money.”
Connie stopped walking. “That cost Derek money? Don’t the police do that for free?”
“No, Con. Lots of people could benefit from the police just hanging out on their grounds, but that wouldn’t happen unless they were posted there by their bosses. I think Derek’s been losing money and sleep over this. And I think I know why.”
Her face flushed for a moment, and then she lifted her chin. “Well, he didn’t need to spend a dime on me. He could have told me the truth, and I could have protected myself.”
