Castle Deadly, Castle Deep, page 7
She nodded. “We’ve always been close. She just has brothers, so I was the one she came to for girl chats.”
“Ah. Does she have a boyfriend?”
Zana didn’t seem to find this question odd. “She’s on-again, off-again with this guy named Tom. He’s a park ranger who works up at Prescott National Forest. Robin met him while she was hiking there. Really romantic. And he is gorgeous. I mean, just gorgeous.”
“Wow. Sounds amazing. So are they on again right now?”
She shrugged. “She’s always making up some kind of drama, probably so they can have dramatic reunions. I think they’re pretty—physical.”
I thought Tom seemed like a wonderful man. “Well, I hope they work things out.”
“Oh, they will. Even when they’re on the outs, she doesn’t date anyone else. She just bides her time and then goes prowling after him again.”
We had reached the third floor, and I guided Zana to Connie’s door, which stood ajar. The bed linens had been changed, and Connie had left the coverlet pulled back. I saw that Zana was looking longingly at the mattress. I touched her shoulder.
“Bathroom is over there”—I pointed—“and you can get a cup of water in there.” I gestured to Connie’s tiny kitchenette. “Good night, Zana.”
“Night, hon,” Zana said vaguely.
I walked out and closed the door behind me. I crossed the hall, about to unlock my own door, but was arrested by a sound, not from my room, but from the one beside it. Curious, my fear deadened by exhaustion, I walked to the Small Library, opened the door, and flipped on the light. There was nothing there. The table was empty and the chairs were tucked neatly beneath it. Whatever the sound had been must have come from outside. Or I was hearing things, caused by a tortured imagination. I went back to the hall, unlocked my own door, and faced a barrage of indignation in the form of aggrieved meows.
“Sorry, girls,” I said. “It’s been a long night.”
I fed my little gray cats, got quickly into pajamas, and dove into bed. The cats, forgiving now that their bellies were full, clustered around me, but I didn’t even have a chance to pet them before I fell asleep.
7
Fair Genevieve
I WOKE IN A patch of sun, which warmed me and made me feel contented beneath my blue quilt. I had a blissful ten or twenty seconds in which I was still half in a dream, awake but not yet remembering who or where I was. Then it hit me, my eyes flew open, and misery found its way back in. Poor Ben. It didn’t seem real.
I dove for my phone and checked texts. Nothing from Derek or Dash. I frowned. Derek would write sooner or later, letting us know the plan for the days going forward. Dash had not followed up to ask how I was. Granted, he had probably been up half the night and must have felt terrible, letting a murderer go free, but I was his girlfriend, and he should have confided that to me.
I sighed and climbed out of bed. The kittens had already risen and had apparently been playing with a toy mouse suspended from a scratching post, but they, too, had been lulled by the warmth, and they lay sleeping in a wide square of sunlight near my fireplace. Annie was once again on her back, her tummy rising and falling with cartoonish cuteness.
I checked the weather on my phone: it was expected to be twenty degrees warmer than yesterday and was already fifty-eight degrees.
“Well, that’s a relief,” I murmured.
I showered quickly and dressed in jeans and a red sweater.
I kissed the groggy cats and locked them in, then knocked tentatively at Connie’s door.
“Zana?”
No answer. She had probably gotten up to make breakfast. I made my way down the staircase, my thoughts darting from Ben to the castle show to the Ibsen play to Dash to Detective Bradley to the catacombs. I made it to the kitchen without noticing anything about my surroundings.
A voice said, “Nora?”
“Hmmm?” I looked up to see Zana and Dorian.
“Would you like some coffee?” Zana asked. “Breakfast is just cold stuff today, but we’ve got sweet rolls, cereal, oatmeal, stuff like that.”
“Thanks. I’ll help myself.”
I went to the sideboard and poured myself a cup of coffee, then selected a cheese Danish and went to the dining room table. Dorian sat down across from me.
“Any word from Derek?” I asked.
He shook his head. “I can’t imagine that the shows won’t both be canceled, which means we don’t get paid, right?” He looked at me expectantly since I had been in the castle longer than he had.
“Uh—normally Derek keeps paying us. It isn’t our fault he has to cancel. But I know that money is tight. . . .”
Suddenly the thought of no paycheck had me feeling truly afraid. I couldn’t survive without that check, even with the generous addition of room and board that Derek provided. I was trying to create a nest egg so that if I ever had to leave the castle, I would have enough money to put a security deposit and a month’s rent down on an apartment in Chicago. Or perhaps somewhere closer to Wood Glen, since my boyfriend lived there. . . .
“I’m sure Derek will call a meeting today, and we can ask him then,” I said.
Dorian said nothing. I realized that for perhaps the first time since I had met him, he was subdued, even quiet. There were dark smudges under his eyes that suggested he had not slept well and something in his eyes that spoke of unhappiness.
“Are you okay?” I asked.
He looked up, surprised. “What?”
“You seem a bit down.”
“I’m okay. Thanks for asking, though,” he said. Then, just as I was about to consider that he was human after all, he summoned up his sarcastic smile and said, “Have I finally won over the elusive Nora Blake?”
I sighed. “I asked if you were all right, not if you would marry me.”
Dorian laughed, displaying his attractive white teeth.
And a condescending smile.
I shook my head and sipped my coffee. The Danish was particularly good, and I was tempted to get another one, but I talked myself out of it.
I took my cup to the sideboard and left after a vague wave to Dorian. Zana had disappeared, and I could hear sounds of her doing dishes in the kitchen.
I wandered, suddenly at a loss, toward the chapel hallway and the front entrance. I saw no sign of the Corby brothers or of my friend Connie. As I tried to think of ways to spend the empty time, I thought of the Small Library, the room I thought of as mine. I could go there and lose myself in books until someone texted me with more information.
As I moved toward the chapel hall, I spied a torn piece of paper on the floor. I picked it up absently, prepared to throw it in the first wastebasket I saw. Then I glanced down at it and saw the word “Genevieve.”
It was my sister’s name, and it appeared in what seemed to be a poem.
Fair Genevieve,
You may be far away, but parts of you remain imprinted on my memory:
The softness of your hand in mine, the startling beauty of your smile,
The merry music of your laughter, the sweet garden scent of you,
The warmth of your lips when I stole a kiss.
Fair Genevieve, you said we could not be, but part of you
Is waiting here with me.
I stared at the words, stunned. I knew that Paul had felt an immediate chemistry with my sister when she’d visited the castle in July, but I had not realized she’d made an impact this large; she had inspired him to poetry.
And I was an intruder when I had not intended to be so. I turned into the chapel hallway, where Paul’s office was located, and found his door slightly ajar.
“Paul?”
I went in and found the little room empty. I set the poem on his desk and moved automatically to his side table, on which sat a green bowl that he routinely filled with chocolate for all the sweet-tooth occupants of the castle. I found it full of Rolos today, and I scooped one out automatically. As I did so, I glanced to the side and saw a little framed poem on the wall near Paul’s floor-to-ceiling bookshelves. I moved to it, wondering if this was the verse Paul had referenced at our late-night meal in the kitchen.
The poem, on yellowed paper in a simple wood frame, read:
The source of knowledge, light, and lore
Is just behind a certain door.
And those who would enlightened be
Must find the door they cannot see.
“The door they cannot see,” I murmured, intrigued.
Dizzy from the surreal nature of the moment—a series of poems encountered in an empty room inside a giant castle in which a murder had been committed—I left the room and espied Elspeth, Renata, and Miranda emerging from the chapel.
“Hello, Nora,” Renata said. “We were looking for you earlier. We were going to invite you to join us in the chapel. We had an impromptu prayer service for Ben.”
“Oh, that’s good of you. I would have joined, but I’m afraid my growling stomach sent me to the kitchen. And I was just looking for Paul, but he’s not there.”
Elspeth said, “We were just telling Miranda some stories about Ben.”
“From the community theater?” I asked, joining them as they walked back to the main hallway.
“No, more from the bakery.” Elspeth looked at Renata. “Renata and I are both addicted to Balfour Bars—have you had one?”
“No. What are they?”
“It’s these special brownie-like things they make at Balfour Bakery. Layers of cake and chocolate chips and caramel and more cake and frosting.”
“I think there’s marshmallow, as well,” Renata said.
“Wow. I’ll have to try one.”
“Yes.” Renata nodded. “A chocolate lover’s delight. We would go there at least once a week for a bar and a coffee. We sat at one of those little tables in the window, and Ben was often our waiter. He would joke with us about chocolate and how much ladies loved it. It was rather adorable, since Ben clearly had no experience with ladies. He was an innocent,” she said, wiping her eyes.
Miranda patted her shoulder and said, “It’s just terrible.”
I met her eyes and said, “I was sorry to hear you dropped out of the play, although who knows if it will even happen now.”
Miranda shrugged. “I realized I had too many irons in the fire. Basically, I was working three jobs, and something had to give.”
“Like the one you weren’t being paid for?” I joked.
She nodded. “Sad to say, yes.”
We paused when we reached the main hallway and Elspeth pulled out her phone. “We got a text from Derek. He says there will be a castle staff meeting at two p.m.”
A burst of fear went through me, inexplicable and sudden. Somehow, I didn’t want to know what information Derek had for us.
The women with me were murmuring about breakfast, and I said, “They don’t have Balfour Bars, but there are some alluring sweet rolls down there.”
“Sold,” Renata joked. “Coming, Nora?”
I shook my head. “I had breakfast, so I’m going to head up to my room. See you all later.”
I waved at them and walked swiftly to the elevator, which was conveniently located just at the end of the main hall, and climbed aboard. When I emerged on the third floor, I heard scrabbling sounds from the Small Library. There was no question about it now—someone, or something, was in there. Slowly, I opened the door and looked inside. Once again, not a living thing was visible, but a chair was pulled away from the table, and a large pile of books had been scattered across its surface.
“Weird,” I murmured.
I shut the door and went to my room. I scooped up the Brontës and gave them all kisses on their little noses, then let them sniff my face for a curious moment. I sat on the bed and let them explore while I thought about the library. Yesterday all had been neat and untouched. Today I had heard another noise, but again I had found no one inside, although there was evidence that someone had visited. It was most likely Dorian, since he had expressed an interest in reading books from the shelves. Perhaps the sound was not at all related to the scattered books. It was always possible that we had a raccoon or some other wildlife intruder. Plenty of those animals could climb, and it was certainly possible that a raccoon might have scaled the building in hopes of finding somewhere to nest for the autumn.
The kittens began a fluffy and silent war on the bed, and I left them to their tumbling play. I wandered to the window and looked out, my thoughts troubled by the impossibility of events. Impossible that someone had killed poor Ben Boyle. An “innocent” Renata had called him. Impossible that I kept hearing noises in an empty room. Impossible, too, that Paul could have become so enamored with my sister after meeting her only one time? And impossible, infuriating, that a gulf had risen between Dash and me when I had marveled, mere weeks ago, at our closeness.
I cranked open one of the windows and felt a cool but not cold breeze. I studied the west lawn, so smooth and lovely as it sloped toward the forest, and I was treated to the sight of a fox jumping through the grass. He looked buoyant, bouncy, but I knew that he was being predatory. He was probably after a mouse.
The thought of predators made me feel sick. I lay on my bed and grabbed the Mary Stewart novel. It was set in the post-WWII era and was blissfully old-fashioned. A young woman, staying with a friend at a French hotel, became fond of a boy who was staying there, as well. The child seemed unhappy, and Charity, the heroine, became embroiled in his affairs to an extreme and dangerous degree.
I was absorbed in the novel when my stomach began to growl, and I realized it was one thirty. I put down my book and glanced out the window where Derek was now grabbing some exercise with Hamlet. Derek threw a ball with impressive athleticism and Hamlet bounded after it like a happy puppy. I smiled, marveling at the idea that a creature so big could think himself so small. I decided to grab a quick sandwich before the meeting; I might need sustenance.
The Brontës had been reading with me. Emily was curled up on my lap, purring. Charlotte lay nestled against my right thigh, and Annie, ever the oddball, was sitting on my shoulder like a parrot.
“I’m hungry, girls. I bet you are, too. And today I think you’ve earned a treat for giving me feline therapy. Let’s go open a can of the wet stuff!”
Alerted by my tone, the kittens had already jumped off the bed and scurried over to their bowls, crying piteously. The bowls were new, a gift from Dash; they were silver with white monogramed names, reading Charlotte, Emily, and Annie. Obviously the cats didn’t stick to their assigned bowls, but I appreciated the sentiment of the gift anyway.
I laughed and followed them. I gave them the promised wet food, and they ate daintily, turning now and then to look at me—I liked to think in gratitude.
I left the room, locking the door, and jogged down to the kitchen, where Zana had anticipated the needs of the staffers and left out a buffet of sandwiches, chips, pickles, condiments, and soft drinks. I loaded up a plate and sat with it at the kitchen table, observing Zana.
“Did you get enough sleep?” I asked before taking a huge bite of my sub.
She nodded. “I don’t need a ton of sleep, but, Lord, I was tired last night. Connie’s bed is comfy, too.”
“Do you have to be at the meeting?”
“Yeah.” She sat down in the chair next to mine and took one of my chips. “I’m worried there will be layoffs.” So Zana, too, had wondered about the effect of that event on an already strapped castle budget.
“Derek wouldn’t do that today. Maybe in the future, but not today. That would be tacky, and Derek has class.”
“True.” Zana still looked nervous. “It’s just— I love this job. I get to do my own thing, hang out in a castle. And I have good friends here.”
“If he has to fire someone, it should be Dorian or Miranda. They’re the lowest on the totem pole.”
She studied my face. “You don’t like Dorian, do you?”
“No,” I admitted. “I feel bad, because there’s no specific reason. I just—get a bad vibe from him.”
She shook her head. “Give him a chance. He’s really funny. He and I hit it off right away, mostly because he’s always mooching food down here.”
“Maybe that’s not why he comes down,” I said, raising my eyebrows. “You have made it clear that you’re married, right?”
Zana laughed. “It’s not like that.”
“It might be. You’re pretty, and he’s . . . predatory.”
I thought of the fox, looking so joyful as it pounced on some unsuspecting rodent.
Zana pursed her lips. “Give him a chance,” she said again.
Paul jogged in and loaded two plates—one for him, one for Derek—and left again. Connie and Elspeth came in, deep in conversation, followed by Dorian and Miranda.
Finally, Renata strolled in, smiling at me. She came to sit on my other side and said, “I’ve had a text from your brothers.”
I groaned. “Are they bugging you?”
She laughed. “They are the bright spot of my day. I’ve told them they should never stop.”
I nodded. Luke and Jay had that effect. Despite my complaints about them, I knew that they made people happy. They made me happy. A burst of homesickness overcame me for a moment, but then I was distracted by Dorian, who said, “Is anyone else kind of weirded out by this meeting? Should we bring our lawyers?”
“It’s not that kind of meeting,” Connie said. “Derek just wants to fill us in on the plans he’s been making, mostly to try to anticipate and prevent bad press. He and Dash have been hashing out a—”
“Dash is here?” I asked.
Connie saw my face and said, “Yes, but Derek pulled him into a meeting the moment he got here, and they’ve been holed up in Derek’s office. He hasn’t had time to—”
