“They didn’t just want a subject who was normal,” Jake said. “They wanted someone who was alone in the world. Someone who didn’t have any family members who might ask awkward questions.”

  “They could have kidnapped some poor soul off the street if that was all they wanted,” Adelaide said. “But they also needed money. They had a nice little sideline going with the sales of some drug that they packaged in perfume bottles, but they didn’t have the capacity to produce and market large quantities of the stuff. And, as it happens, experimental research is expensive.”

  “Massey agreed to give Gill a share of the money he got from your inheritance.”

  “Yes.”

  “How did Conrad Massey get involved in this?”

  Adelaide’s smile was both cold and sad. “He wanted to marry me for the oldest reason in the world.”

  “He needed money.”

  “Yes.”

  “But to get control of your inheritance, he would have had to marry you,” Jake said. “Not only that, he would have had to be your husband in order to have you committed against your will. You said you decided not to marry him. You gave him back his ring.”

  “I told you, that’s where things get murky. You see, when I woke up in the Rushbrook Sanitarium, everyone insisted on addressing me as Mrs. Massey. I had a gold wedding band on my left hand.”

  “The bastard claimed he had married you? Dr. Gill believed him?”

  Adelaide shrugged. “I think it was Gill’s idea from the start. But here’s the problem—it might be true. I don’t know if I’m actually married to Conrad.”

  “You don’t know?”

  “I don’t have any clear memories of the time between the night of my so-called breakdown in Conrad’s dining room and the morning I finally started to recover from the delirium. I lost three days of my life to a nightmare. I was told that during those three days, Conrad and I had eloped to Reno. I was also informed that it was the stress of my wedding night that had caused my nervous breakdown. Gill said that I was suffering from amnesia.”

  “Even though you collapsed in Massey’s town house shortly after you drank some drugged champagne?”

  “I was advised that I could not trust any of my memories of events that took place during those three days.”

  “You said that they were using Daydream, the drug your parents discovered, for the experiments. How did Gill and Ormsby get hold of it?”

  “Gill was well aware of my parents’ research. He’s in the business of operating a psychiatric asylum, after all. My father had said Gill was especially interested in a drug that would cause patients to become highly suggestible. Gill claimed he wanted a drug that would induce a trancelike state so that a doctor could use hypnosis in a therapeutic way to stabilize a patient’s unbalanced mind. To some extent Daydream accomplishes that goal—it certainly has hypnotic properties. But as you discovered, it has some very serious side effects.”

  “The hallucinations?”

  “Yes. It is also very unpredictable. It can make you extremely paranoid, for example. In the end my parents concluded that it was simply too dangerous. They informed Gill that they were closing down the research into Daydream.” Adelaide paused. Her eyes tightened at the corners. “Coincidentally, my mother and father were killed less than a week later in a mysterious explosion in their laboratory, and all of the research files on Daydream disappeared.”

  “But you doubt that?”

  “Supposedly my parents’ notebooks were destroyed in the blast, but I’m very sure that Gill and Ormsby stole them.”

  “You think Gill and Ormsby murdered your parents.”

  “At the time I was convinced that the explosion really was an accident. But I stopped believing that when I woke up in a room at Rushbrook.” Adelaide made a face. “As I said, I may be a little naïve, but once I know the truth about someone, I learn my lesson.”

  “What about the antidote?”

  “Gill and Ormsby never knew about it. In hindsight, I think my parents may have been starting to get concerned about Gill. There must have been a reason why they did not record the formula for the antidote in the notes that they kept in their laboratory.”

  “But you knew the ingredients because you had done the research for your mother.”

  “Yes. Once I realized what was happening to me, I set about collecting them. Some of the herbs were actually growing in the hospital gardens. The rest of the ingredients were smuggled in by my friends.”

  He set his mug down hard on the wooden table. “You had friends in that asylum?”

  “I was there for two months,” Adelaide said gently. “I had time to get to know a few people—the janitors, one of the guards at the front gate. A nurse. A member of the kitchen staff. I was also friends with some of the patients, especially the woman everyone called the Duchess. I owe them all more than I can ever repay. It took a while but eventually they helped me collect the ingredients that I needed for the antidote.”

  “How did you manage to make it without attracting the attention of Gill and Ormsby?”

  “I kept the herbs under my mattress. After each session in the lab, a friend in the kitchen made sure to send a pot of hot tea to my room. I added the herbs. I was terrified that, in my drugged state, I would accidentally give myself away. But some of the effects of the drug can be . . . managed . . . once you’ve had experience with it. Thanks to Gill and Ormsby I got a lot of experience.”

  Jake sat back in his chair. “What happened to the wedding ring?”

  “I’ve still got it. I keep it in a box under the bed, the same place I keep my gun. I’ve been afraid to sell it for fear someone would ask questions. I didn’t want my new friends here in Burning Cove speculating about my husband.”

  “What about a marriage license?”

  “I don’t have a copy of it but that doesn’t mean I didn’t sign one in my hallucinatory state. I’ve thought about it a lot, though, and I doubt that one exists. It’s very possible there never was a marriage. There was no need for one, you see. It’s extremely rare for someone to actually demand proof of a marriage.”

  “Good point. Which is why bigamy is a surprisingly common crime. It usually comes to light only when someone dies and another spouse steps forward to claim an inheritance.”

  “But I wasn’t dead. I had been declared mentally ill. There was no reason that the New York bankers who handle my father’s estate would question Conrad’s claim that he had married me. I told you, he’s the descendant of a very distinguished family. Why would they doubt his word?”

  Jake nodded, thinking about it. “It was a risk, but one Massey and Gill were willing to take. And you haven’t dared to contact the people handling the estate, have you?”

  “I’ve practiced all sorts of ways to try to explain what happened to me, but I’m terrified that they’ll think I really am crazy.”

  “Even if a marriage license does exist, it’s entirely possible that it was forged,” Jake said. “It would be a fairly simple thing to do. I think you’re right; the most likely explanation is that there never was a marriage.”

  “What makes you so sure?”

  “Because none of them—not Gill or Massey or Ormsby—have let on that you escaped.”

  “Gill and Conrad have kept quiet about it,” Adelaide said. “There never was a risk that Ormsby would tell anyone about my escape. He’s dead.”

  “How?”

  “I saw him the night I left Rushbrook. Someone used the drug on him. He was hallucinating wildly. The killer deliberately frightened him so badly that he jumped out one of the windows in the laboratory at Rushbrook.”

  “You saw the murderer?”

  “I saw him twice that night,” Adelaide said. “The first time was when he chased Ormsby through the lab and again in the hallway a short time later. But I didn’t get a good look at him eit
her time because he wore a surgical mask and a doctor’s coat and cap.”

  Jake reached for his coffee mug. “You saw Ormsby go out that window?”

  “Actually, I heard him go out the window. I was in his office in the lab at the time. I wanted to get my patient file before I left. I was afraid that Gill and the others could use it to convince a judge to send me back to Rushbrook.”

  “Did you find the file?”

  “No, because the killer chased Ormsby into the lab just as I was searching for the key to the file cabinet. After the murderer left, I dared not take the chance that he might come back. I ran.”

  “You said you saw the man in the surgical mask again that night?”

  “The second time I saw him he was just leaving the hallway where my room was located,” Adelaide said. “He had a syringe in his hand. I was the only patient housed in that particular corridor. I think he intended to kill me.”

  “Sounds like it. No wonder you were so shaken by Madam Zolanda’s death. It looked too much like Dr. Ormsby’s death, didn’t it?”

  Adelaide put her mug aside and folded her arms on the table. “It’s not just the fact that both appear to have been suicides. Remember that cut crystal perfume bottle stopper that you found under the liquor cabinet?”

  “You know something about that, don’t you?”

  “I told you that, in addition to Daydream, Ormsby and Gill were brewing up some illicit drugs in their laboratory. I’m not sure of the purpose of the drugs but I am certain that they were not legitimate medicines. Every couple of weeks Ormsby complained because he had to take time off from perfecting Daydream in order to make up a batch of the other drugs. He bottled the stuff in crystal perfume bottles that he stored in a velvet jewelry case. Usually, Gill stopped by the lab to pick up the bottles. But on the night I escaped, the killer, not Gill, took the drugs.”

  “You’re sure the killer was not Gill?”

  “Positive,” Adelaide said. “Gill is a short man. The killer in the surgical mask was tall.”

  “You saw him take the perfume bottles?”

  “Yes. I was hiding behind Ormsby’s desk at the time. I was terrified that he would find me. I had a couple of jars of chemicals that I planned to throw into his eyes if necessary.”

  Jake swallowed the last of the coffee and put the mug down.

  “That,” he said, “is one hell of a story.”

  Adelaide closed her eyes as if absorbing a physical blow. When she raised her lashes and looked at him, he could see the fear she was struggling to control.

  “You don’t believe me, do you?” she whispered. “I was afraid you wouldn’t. I’ve been lying low, living under a new name here in Burning Cove while I try to figure out what to do. I haven’t dared to go to the police because I’ve been afraid they would find out that I was an escapee from a lunatic asylum. The first thing they would do is contact my so-called husband.”

  “Who would then call the head of the Rushbrook Sanitarium.”

  “Yes.”

  He got to his feet and rounded the end of the big table. Reaching down, he grasped Adelaide’s arms and hauled her gently out of the chair.

  “One thing we need to get straight before we discuss anything else,” he said. “No one is going to take you away. No one is going to send you back to Rushbrook. No one is going to lock you up again. I will not allow it.”

  “But what if Conrad really is my husband?”

  “Then you and I will go to Reno and we will stay there for the necessary six weeks until you can file for divorce. Trust me, Conrad Massey won’t be a problem. A nuisance, maybe, but not a serious problem. Do we understand each other now?”

  She watched him with her shadow-filled eyes for what seemed like an eternity. And then she threw her arms around him, rested her head on his chest, and held him as if he had just saved her from drowning. He folded her close.

  “Thank you,” she mumbled into his shirt. “I’m so sorry I dragged you into this situation.”

  “You didn’t drag me into it. I came to Burning Cove to look for Madam Zolanda. Now she’s dead and that perfume bottle stopper we found at her villa indicates she may have had a connection to the bastards at the Rushbrook Sanitarium. If that’s true, it’s all tied up together and we might finally be able to figure out what is going on here.”

  Adelaide sniffed a couple of times and raised her head with obvious reluctance. There were tears running down her cheeks. She stepped back and used the hem of her apron to dab at her eyes.

  “I knew that, sooner or later, I was going to have to find a way out of this mess, but I figured as long as Gill and Conrad were pretending that I was still a patient, I was safe. But last night everything changed.”

  “Yes,” he said. “Until now you’ve been worried that someone would drag you back to Rushbrook. But it looks like we’ve got an even bigger problem.”

  “I know. Someone tried to kill you.”

  “And you, as well. Whoever drugged me last night had to know there was an excellent chance that I would drive straight off Cliff Road into the ocean. If that had happened, we would probably both be dead. The original plan may have been to kidnap you and take you back to Rushbrook, but obviously that has changed. Whoever is after you is evidently willing to murder you.”

  “But I’m no good to Conrad unless I’m alive. Under the terms of my father’s estate, if I die with no offspring, my inheritance goes to some very distant relatives.”

  “Massey might want you alive but it doesn’t look like the others do. I think they’ve decided that if they can’t grab you, they have to try to silence you.”

  “But who would believe my story?” Adelaide said.

  “I believe it. Trust me, that’s enough to create serious problems for Gill and Massey and the guy in the surgical mask. I’ve got one more question.”

  “What is it?”

  “What made you pick that particular night—the same night that a killer was prowling the halls of Rushbrook—to try to escape the sanitarium?”

  Adelaide smiled a watery smile. “The Duchess warned me that something terrible was going to happen that night. She said that if I didn’t leave, I would not survive until morning. She said I would become the next ghost.”

  Chapter 33

  Adelaide was washing teacups in the big sink in the tearoom kitchen when the phone rang. She wiped her hands on her apron and crossed the pea green linoleum floor to pick up the receiver.

  “Refresh Tearoom,” she said.

  “Adelaide, it’s Raina. I have a possible location for Thelma Leggett.”

  “That’s great.”

  “No guarantees but here’s what I’ve got. I located the property that Leggett inherited. I made a phone call to a local real estate firm and pretended that I was looking for a place to rent for a week. I mentioned that I had seen an empty cabin the last time I drove through the town. I gave them the address of the property that Leggett owns. The secretary who took my call said that the place has had a For Sale sign in the window for about two years but the day before yesterday a woman moved in. Her car is still sitting in the driveway.”

  “Raina, you are absolutely brilliant.”

  “It might be a huge coincidence that a woman moved into Leggett’s cabin a couple of days ago,” Raina warned.

  “It must be Leggett.”

  “That’s what I’m assuming. I checked a map. Looks like the town is about a two-hour drive from Burning Cove.”

  Adelaide glanced at the wall clock. “It’s a little after ten. I’ve got to call Jake. He’s talking to Luther Pell. If we leave now, we can be there before one o’clock.”

  “What about your job?”

  “Flo will understand when I tell her I need the day off. She’ll probably assume that Jake and I are sneaking off for an afternoon tryst at some unnamed auto court.”

&nbs
p; “When nothing could be further from the truth, right?”

  “Right. Got to go, Raina. Thanks.”

  “I’ll send my bill to Mr. Truett.”

  “No, that wouldn’t be right. Send it to me.”

  “You can’t afford me, pal. Drive carefully.”

  Raina hung up the phone.

  Chapter 34

  The shot to the temple had done a lot of damage but there was enough left of Thelma Leggett’s face to identify her.

  “Another suicide,” Jake said. “What an amazing coincidence. But this time the victim used a gun. Someone evidently decided to rewrite the script.”

  Adelaide turned away from the sight of Thelma Leggett sprawled on the thin, blood-soaked bed. For a moment she was afraid that she would be sick.

  “Are you all right?” Jake asked.

  “Yes. No. But I’m not going to faint, if that’s what’s worrying you.”

  Jake rounded the end of the cot and put an arm around her shoulders.

  “Why don’t you wait outside?” he suggested, his voice gentling.

  She shook her head and stepped away from the comfort he was offering. She forced herself to take another look at the cot. Thelma had evidently been sitting on the edge of the bed when she put the pistol to her temple and pulled the trigger. She had fallen backward across the quilt. Her fingers were still wrapped around the gun.

  “What is going on here?” she said.

  “It would be easy to assume that someone was after the stash of blackmail secrets. But now, given what happened to Zolanda and what you told me about Ormsby’s death, I’m wondering if we’re looking at something a lot more complicated.”

  “Such as?”

  “You described a drug ring operating out of the Rushbrook Sanitarium. People engaged in that business tend to be vicious and ruthless. Maybe the killer has concluded that it’s time to leave the old gang behind and strike out on his own.”

  “Why murder Ormsby, the person who concocted the drugs?” Adelaide asked.