Death in Castle Dark, page 5
“Okay. I see.” I didn’t see.
“Your full name, please?” His voice was gentle, but there was some impatience there.
“Nora Blake.”
“And you’ve been here for how long?”
“About two weeks. A bit less.”
“And you’re one of the actors.”
“Yes. Tonight I was the murderer.” The last two words, juxtaposed with the image in my mind of poor Garrett’s blood, made me gasp. “Not—not like that.”
“I understand, Miss Blake.”
He made some notes, and I glanced around the room. The lamplight seemed menacing, as did the shadowy corners. Someone could have been hiding there. . . .
“Miss Blake?”
“I’m sorry?”
“I asked if you could take me through the events that led up to your discovery of Mr. Perth’s body.”
“Oh, God. Garrett. I can’t believe it. It’s weird—he was playing a gardener.” I looked up and met John’s hazel eyes. They looked dark brown in the weird lamplight. “And you were playing a gardener.”
“Yes. Can you tell me what happened?”
I sighed. “I was wearing these earrings.” I gestured to the faux rubies in my ears. “They’re supposed to be a clue that would lead the guests to realize I was—the killer. We went to the chapel, and people milled around looking for clues. Then we moved down the hall and up the north stairway to the portrait gallery.” I pointed vaguely upward. “They were supposed to study the portraits and take notes. One of the older gentlemen fell, and it ended up being a kind of long distraction; then I realized up there that one of the earrings was missing. I figured I had a few minutes, so I decided to retrace my steps, looking for it in the hall and the chapel. I told Tim where I was going.”
He pointed at my ear with his pen. “You found the earring.”
“Yes, at the end of my search, in the chapel. Right before I saw Garrett.” The last word came out as a whisper, and I cleared my throat. “I just saw his hand, at first. I thought it was some weird prop, something Derek had added into the story. He has lots of props.”
“Sure.”
“Then I thought the story line had changed, and someone was playing the role of the dead man—my employer in this script. And then—” I remembered with horror, and John Dashiell reached out to pat my hand. His hand was warm.
“Let’s think back to your walk from the portrait gallery to the chapel. Who did you see?”
I stared at him. Whom had I seen? “On the way back? I don’t think I saw anyone. Everyone was supposed to be up in the gallery, you know. So—I mean—I know someone must have stayed back at the chapel when we all moved toward the gallery, but in all honesty I can’t recall. Tim led us up to the next level, telling us the history of some of the people in the portraits. So I know he was at the head of the group. Other than that—I’m not sure. I was behind some Inspectors, and I was trying to figure out how I could unobtrusively drop some clues pointing to my own guilt. Focused on my performance, you know. So I wasn’t—keeping track.”
“Right. Listen, I’m going to write down my phone number. If at any point in the evening you remember something, text me, okay? That will be the easiest way of making contact in this big place.”
“Okay. I’m sorry I can’t seem to remember more about who was up in the portrait gallery.”
“Understandable. But Tim you saw?”
“Yes, he was there. And everyone else had to be, really, because we had all moved on, and they all had parts to play. And I would have seen someone when I returned to the chapel unless—”
He leaned forward. “Yes?”
“Well, unless for some reason they were in the hidden passage.”
He leaned forward. “What hidden passage? Is that part of the game?”
“No, at least not this script. But the passage is part of the castle. Connie showed it to me. I don’t know how many of the actors know about it. But when we came out of the chapel—”
“Yes?” His dark eyes grew darker.
“I thought the door moved. But it was an optical illusion, because when I looked again, it was flush with the wall.”
“Can you show me the entrance?”
“Yes, of course. I’m sorry I didn’t mention it sooner, but I . . . I’m having some trouble concentrating.”
“It’s understandable, Miss Blake.”
“Nora. You can just call me Nora like you did when you were a gardener,” I said, rubbing my suddenly tired eyes.
“Nora, can you take me back to the hidden passage?”
“Yes.” A fear assailed me. “Do I have to go—”
“No, you won’t need to look in the chapel.”
“Okay. Thank you.” I looked down at my hands and saw that they were shaking. “I wouldn’t have thought I’d react this way—I’m normally a calm person.”
“You saw a murder, Nora. No one is calm when that happens. You’re doing very well; I appreciate your help.”
“Okay, thanks.” I stood up. “I’ll take you there. I’m surprised Derek didn’t show you.”
He stood up, too; he was quite tall. “He was distracted by some other things.” His expression was inscrutable.
“Yes, of course.”
I led him out of the room, and we walked in silence back to the chapel. My mind was racing, and he seemed to be deep in thought, as well. Who could have done this? And why? Could one of the Inspectors be a criminal? An enemy of Garrett’s? Surely it wasn’t one of our actors?
I thought of shy, quiet Garrett, the former drama teacher who liked going to town to visit his girlfriend. . . .
I spun around to speak to John the gardener, now a policeman. “He had a girlfriend. Someone needs to notify her.”
He nodded. “I believe Derek is doing that duty. Is this the spot?” His eyes raked the wall across from the chapel.
“Yes, just up here. Wait. Where was that— Oh, here it is.” I touched the curlicue in the wood that held the mechanism, and the panel opened with a click.
Detective Dashiell donned a glove and pulled gingerly on the doorframe, then peered inside. A uniformed officer appeared at the end of the hall, and Dashiell held up a hand, signaling him. “Get the crew,” he called.
Within minutes the hallway was cordoned off, and the hidden passage was illuminated; people in protective clothing went in and out, looking like a blend of surgeon and astronaut. I made my way to the dining room, where I huddled with Connie and Zana. Tim joined us eventually, then Elspeth and Renata, and finally Bethany, who had been on the phone with her husband. She was wearing a jacket, so obviously he had found her. . . .
We were numb and frightened; Tim looked particularly dejected. “I can’t believe this,” he said. “Why Garrett? He was such a sweet person and a good friend. This makes no sense.”
Bethany wiped away a tear. “I only wish I’d gotten to know him better,” she said. “We really only started talking in the last few weeks. I was planning to invite him for dinner sometime and introduce him to Tyler.” Her eyes widened as she realized this could never happen.
Renata looked thoughtful. “He always made a point of making other people feel appreciated.” Her eyes, too, glistened with tears.
Elspeth stared at her folded hands. “He was always very complimentary about my makeup skills.”
Zana stood, went to the counter, and retrieved a pan of brownies. “I was supposed to serve these when the mystery was solved,” she said. “But they interviewed those players, took their info, and sent them home. So help yourselves.” She started slicing the brownies and putting them on cake plates; those she passed around. “Food is comfort,” she said. “That’s what my mama always said.”
It was comforting somehow, eating together and drinking glasses of water in Derek’s frugal kitchen. Connie poked at the crumbs on her plate. “Who could have done it?” she asked.
I studied the faces around the table; each one looked shocked and supremely innocent, and I realized that these were actors. If any one of them had committed murder, they could certainly make us believe that they had not. My hands began to tremble again, and Connie put an arm around me. “Poor Nora. It must have been terrible, finding him like that.”
I nodded, looking at my plate, but when I looked up, I caught some varying expressions on the faces of my companions, from sympathy to speculation to downright suspicion. Shocked, I said, “I didn’t even know Garrett. He seemed like a very nice person.”
Now everyone’s eyes held sympathy and compassion. Had I merely imagined the suspicion?
Derek wandered in, looking weary. “Oh, good, I’m glad you’re all here. I have some updates.” He sighed and sat down. “Zana, is there any coffee?”
Zana sprang up, returned with a pot, and poured him a cup.
He thanked her and smiled a sad smile. “It will keep me awake, but I’ll be up all night, anyway, with police traipsing all over the castle.”
We nodded, waiting.
He took a bracing sip of coffee, then said, “Garrett has been brought to the St. Elizabeth Hospital morgue. His girlfriend, Sora, will go to see him there; she has also agreed to notify his family. Apparently he has a brother somewhere and some nieces and nephews. Sora took it hard, but she’s been really great, under the circumstances. This isn’t the first partner she’s lost, which is sad.”
We nodded in silence.
Derek drank some more coffee. “I have arranged for someone to come and clean the chapel when the police are all finished. It’s a beautiful part of the castle, and eventually I want people to feel comfortable in there again. I have a friend in town, a Catholic priest. I got to know him because we both enjoy antiques. Father Jim has agreed to come and say a prayer for Garrett and a blessing over the chapel. That will bring us all some peace, I think.”
I was surprised that Derek had summoned the presence of mind to make these arrangements; then again, he was in charge of this giant building and the events that went on within it. He would have to be focused on the future.
“Were the visitors okay about not finishing? Did they know what happened?” Tim asked.
Derek nodded. “They were told that a man was dead and the police were investigating. They were all given rain checks, and they were quite polite about it. I hate to say it, but I think it actually made the whole thing more thrilling for them, knowing that a real murder happened at Castle Dark.”
This brought a new silence around the table. Derek’s dark head drooped as he stared at the brownie Zana had put in front of him. He toyed with the handle of his coffee cup, then looked up suddenly, his dark eyes meeting mine. “Nora, are you all right? I didn’t really get a chance to talk to you in all the chaos—”
All eyes were back on me. “I’m fine. Thank you. It was a shock, but I’ve had some time to get over it. Zana’s brownie helped a lot. You’re right, Zana. Food is comfort.”
She smiled and nodded.
Elspeth leaned forward. “Derek, this might sound rude, but in terms of the mystery parties and our jobs . . .”
“Your jobs are safe.” Derek pushed away his coffee. “Obviously we’ll have to shut down for a couple of weeks, maybe more; we’ll see what the police say. But we’ll be working carefully on PR, making sure that while Garrett’s death is something we will mourn, we will still be opening the castle to the public in the future. We might offer online events that would require us filming you all in some mini mysteries that people can pay to solve. For the time being, you can all just lie low, answer whatever questions the police have. Dash has asked that no one leave Wood Glen for the foreseeable future.”
“Dash?” Connie said. “Who is that?”
Derek made eye contact on one side of the table, then the other. “Dash is Detective John Dashiell. He has been on the grounds for the last few weeks, gardening.”
Renata’s voice was crisp with the suspicion that I also suddenly felt. “A police detective was doing your gardening . . . why? He needed extra money? He was moonlighting in the middle of the day?”
“No.” Derek sighed. “The fact is, Detective Dashiell had been working undercover regarding another matter. A matter unrelated to poor Garrett’s death. That is why I was able to quickly summon him to our aid.”
Bethany’s green eyes were wide. “A matter unrelated to Garrett’s death—but having to do with something here at the castle? I feel like we should have been privy to that information, Derek.”
She folded her arms, her eyes flashing, and something Connie had said came back to me: Bethany is a good actress, but she’s so over-the-top in real life. I know we’re all dramatic, but Bethany takes exaggeration to new heights. It was true. Everything about Bethany was a bit exaggerated—her expressions, her gestures, her reactions. It was a source of good-natured humor among the cast.
Our gazes swung back to Derek. His mouth was a firm line. “You did not in fact need to be privy to anything, Bethany. It’s a private matter that doesn’t involve you. Let me remind you that the castle is my property and my home.”
Bethany didn’t look convinced; I sensed that she was itching to grab the cell phone that sat near her on the table, perhaps to text her new husband.
Tim stretched suddenly, stifling a yawn. “Derek, do you think we’re finished down here? I feel like heading up to my room.”
Derek nodded. “Yeah, I think they’re finished with our group for the time being. You can all retire to your rooms if you wish.” I was struck by his formal phrasing. It sounded like something we would have said to the Inspectors.
Tim went to the sink with his plate and cup; he rinsed them out and put them on the drain board. We all followed suit, and Zana said, “Thanks, guys. I appreciate it.”
Everyone wandered out, bound for their rooms, but I waited for Connie, who was lingering at Derek’s side. “Do you need anything?” she asked. “Are you holding up okay?”
He looked at her for a minute, his dark eyes intense. Derek could have been the model for a cover of some Gothic romance: Wuthering Heights or Rebecca. How fitting that he lived in a castle. He touched Connie’s hand. “That’s sweet of you. But I’m okay.”
A man appeared in the doorway; for a surreal moment I thought it was Derek, somehow casting himself across the room without seeming to move. Then my eyes adjusted to the new face and I realized that he merely resembled Derek, but he was a bit stockier, and his hair was shorter.
“Paul,” Derek said, “I thought you’d be here hours ago. You know Connie. And this is Nora Blake, our new cast member.”
Paul Corby took a few steps and thrust out a hand. I shook it and said, “Nice to meet you.”
He smiled grimly. “Under terrible circumstances, but yes, it is nice to meet you, too, Nora.”
Derek pointed at the counter. “Zana made brownies if you want some. Where were you?”
Paul’s eyes slid sideways, away from his brother’s gaze. “I’ve been around, running errands. Sorry you’ve had to deal with all this.”
Connie backed away slightly and said, “I guess we’ll say good night.”
Derek smiled at her. “Good night. Thanks for your support, Con. Nora, try to rest and recover. Things will look better tomorrow.”
I nodded and followed Connie out of the kitchen. We were headed toward the main staircase, which would take us up, up into the dark castle, and something in me rebelled.
“Connie? I need some fresh air.”
She turned to study my face, then patted my shoulder. “Of course you do. Let’s go look at the stars.”
She went back to the dining room doorway and leaned in, murmuring something about how they shouldn’t lock us out.
“Let’s go out the back way by the fountain,” Connie said.
I followed her to the north entrance, where a police officer heard our request for air with slightly narrowed eyes before she finally let us pass.
We went down the staircase and crunched through some landscaping stones until we reached the fountain and then the soft grass beyond it. It was difficult to see in the velvety blackness, although the muted light from the castle allowed us some shadowy vision. Connie grabbed my wrist; I wasn’t sure if she was showing me support or seeking it as we moved through the darkness, making no sound besides the slight rustling of grass.
Eventually we stopped. I took a deep breath of the clean, chilled air, and then I looked up. How different the sky was here far from the city! The stars were everywhere, scattered across the night in a glittering, luminous display.
“They really do twinkle,” Connie noted. “Why do they make me want to cry?”
“That’s stress,” I murmured. “We’re all under stress. But it’s easier to breathe out here.”
“It is,” she agreed.
We were silent then, thinking our own thoughts. I allowed myself to relax, to focus on nothing but the silver shine above me. It was indescribable, the power of that night sky, a canvas for the poetry of the stars.
Despite the refreshing vision above me, I turned, almost against my will, to look at Castle Dark, its windows like gold eyes winking in the darkness. It stood silhouetted against the navy blue sky, a jagged black shape that crouched like a bird of prey in the middle of the forest-rimmed field. What had brought me here? Why had violence visited the once peaceful castle, which now would be associated with blood and fear?
Connie’s voice said, “You’re not looking up.” She put a friendly arm around me.
“This was starting to feel like home.”
“I know. It will again. We have to get over the shock.”
I nodded.
“Let’s go in, Nora. The next time we look at the stars, we’ll make sure we’re in happy moods. We don’t want to associate that beautiful sky with sadness.”
“Right.” I followed her as she headed toward the north door; something ran across the path in front of us, and Connie let out a yelp.
