“You get used to it after a while,” Ethan said.
Harry and Singleton swiveled their heads toward each other and exchanged glances through their dark glasses.
“He’s getting accustomed to it,” Singleton said ominously.
“Oh, man,” Harry exhaled heavily. “Not a good sign. Time is running out. His brain is starting to rot.”
Singleton turned back to Ethan. “Look, forget the pink problem for now. Maybe you’re trying to make this whole situation a lot more complicated than it really is. Let’s look at the facts here. Neither you nor Zoe is looking over the garden fence yet, right?”
“I’ve been too busy since I got to Whispering Springs to look over any fences. Same for Zoe. Neither of us have had a chance to develop anything resembling a normal social life.”
Singleton turned a can of pop slowly between his palms and looked wise. “Not sure there is any such thing as a normal social life.”
“Huh.” Harry was obviously taken with that observation. “You may be right. I sure as hell never had one.”
Ethan glanced at him. “What about New Orleans?”
“New Orleans was different.” Harry’s wraparound sunglasses made it impossible to read his eyes.
“Normal?” Ethan pressed.
“Don’t know that you’d call it normal.” Harry’s mouth twitched a little in what might have been a smile. “But New Orleans was definitely good.”
“Tell you what,” Singleton said, “let Zoe bring it up first. That way you’ll know if she really wants a divorce.”
“I’ll think about it,” Ethan said.
But he was not sure he could take the uncertainty. Marriage was a strange phenomenon in his experience. Sort of like being pregnant. Either you were married or you weren’t. He had never been good with anything that required inhabiting a mushy middle ground.
Chapter Thirty-seven
Zoe stood in the center of the sprawling, lush, pink living room, a grid-printed sketchbook in hand, and drew a rough floor plan. It was not easy envisioning the space without the flamboyant furnishings. It was amazing how overpowering the color pink could be in all its variants and mutations.
The bones of the house were good, though, she thought, mentally stripping the interiors of furniture and drapes. The dimensions of the rooms were pleasing and well situated to take advantage of the natural flow of energy.
Maybe she could even do something about clearing out the bad vibes in the theater. One of the things that she had discovered during the past six months was that there really was something to the feng shui and Vastu theories. She could modify the invisible auras of some rooms by changing the design.
She had the house to herself this evening. Ethan was at a school function with Bonnie, Jeff, and Theo. She could feel the potential in Nightwinds. Maybe it was because it was the first time that she had been alone in the residence, the first time that she had not had to worry about the enormous distraction created by the owner.
It had been a strange feeling letting herself into the big house tonight. In the legal sense, this was her home, too. She was Ethan’s wife, for a while, at least.
She finished the sketch of the living room and looked up at the painting hanging on the wall above the mantel. Camelia Foote smiled down, taunting, mocking, and yet somehow tragic. She had married for money and maybe the bargain had seemed like a good one at the time. But it had brought her no happiness.
Zoe turned away from the portrait and walked into the formal dining room. Beyond the yards of rose-colored drapery, she could see the shades of shadows that defined the desert night. The moon was bright, washing the canyon in silver. The lights of other homes glittered in the distance like so many bright, sparkling little gemstones tossed carelessly about.
She stood looking at the scene for a long time.
The doorbell chimed, breaking the trance. She had been so lost in her reverie that she had not heard the car arrive in the drive.
She went quickly toward the door, wondering if the school function had ended early.
But when she peered through the small glass peephole she saw Kimberley Cleland.
Damn. She did not need this. She was tempted not to answer the door, but her car was parked in the drive. Kimberley would know that someone was home.
Reluctantly, Zoe opened the door. “What are you doing here?”
“Sara.” Kimberley smiled tremulously. She was dressed in black trousers trimmed with a black silk shirt. Her pale blond hair was pulled into a ponytail. An expensive-looking bag made of soft, pliable black leather was slung over one shoulder. “May I come in? I need to talk to you.”
“The name is Zoe and if you’ve come to offer another bribe to Ethan, you’ll have to return some other time. He’s not here.”
Kimberley shook her head. Her eyes darkened with some strong emotion that might have been pain. “You’re the one I want to talk to.”
“How did you find me?”
“I went to your apartment first. When you weren’t there, I knew you would probably be here.”
“Where is Forrest?”
“Home. He doesn’t know I’m in Whispering Springs. I left a message telling him that I went to visit my mother for a few days.”
“If you’ve come to plead with me not to vote in favor of the merger, you can save your energy.”
“Yes, I’ve come here to plead with you.” Kimberley’s voice was cracking at the edges. Tears glistened in her eyes. “I’ll get down on my knees, if that’s what you want. Please, listen to me, that’s all I ask. There is so much at stake.”
Kimberley was one of the many family members who had refused to talk to her in the wake of Preston’s death, Zoe reflected. She had stood by her husband and the rest of the Clelands while Zoe was committed to Candle Lake Manor. I owe her nothing. Not one single, damn thing.
But just as she was about to slam the door in Kimberley’s face, Ethan’s words came back to her. When in doubt, stir the pot and see what bubbles to the surface.
Kimberley just might be the one person who could break Forrest Cleland’s alibi. What did she have to lose by talking to her? Zoe thought. If Kimberley was desperate, it was possible that she might forget herself and say too much if pressed hard enough. Maybe she would drop some small clue that would provide an opening to find proof of Forrest’s guilt.
“All right.” Zoe stood back. “Come in.”
“Thank you.” Relieved, Kimberley stepped quickly into the large hall. She stopped and looked around with an air of surprise and gathering distaste. “How . . . unusual.”
“The original owner did it for his wife. She liked pink.”
“I can see that.”
“The living room is this way.” Zoe led her into the front room and waved Kimberley toward the sofa. “Have a seat.”
She took the chair on the other side of the pink marble coffee table. Damned if she would offer coffee or tea, she decided. Not unless Kimberley really started to get chatty and informative.
Kimberley sat down somewhat gingerly. She put her black purse on the sofa beside her and examined Zoe with a tiny frown.
“You look . . . very well,” she said, breaking the small silence.
“For a crazy woman, do you mean?” Zoe gave her a bright, brittle smile. “Oh, hey, I’m in great shape. Been working out and eating right. But you know what, Kimberley? I barely survived Candle Lake Manor. I blame all of the Clelands for putting me in there, of course, but most of all I blame Forrest.”
Kimberley’s face was drawn and tight. “I swear, he only did what he thought was best for you. You were so very ill.”
“Please do not add insult to injury by lying to me. We both know why I wound up in there. Forrest paid Ian Harper a lot of money to keep me out of the way.”
Kimberley laced her fingers very tightly together. “I understand your anger and resentment, but what else could we do? You weren’t yourself in the weeks and months following Preston’s death. And after you made th
at last visit to the cabin, you seemed to take a turn for the worse. All those accusations against Forrest. What happened to you that day when you went back there? What was it that put you into such a state?”
“I thought you came here to talk to me about my shares of Cleland Cage.”
“I’m sorry.” Kimberley twisted her hands. “It’s just that I’ve always wondered why you lost it the way you did after that second visit to that cabin. Claiming to hear voices in the walls. It was frightening, if you must know.”
“In point of fact, I never claimed to hear voices in the walls.”
“You said something about hearing an argument.”
“No, I did not. I said I sensed rage. I didn’t have to hear voices in the walls to know that whoever murdered Preston had been crazy with it. It was pretty obvious, Kimberley. The smashed flowers and the broken camera. All of it was evidence of a really sick mind.”
“The police said that whoever killed Preston was probably furious because there was so little money in his wallet. That would be logical in a terrible kind of way.” Kimberley tightened her fingers. “But it wouldn’t mean the killer was crazy.”
“This one was definitely nuts.”
“How can you be sure?”
“Maybe it takes one to know one,” Zoe replied.
Kimberley stared at her, shocked. “You admit that you’re not well?”
“Let’s get back to why you came here to see me tonight. I’m especially interested in the fact that you didn’t tell Forrest about this visit.”
“He would not have let me come here,” Kimberley whispered. “He’ll be very angry if he finds out what I’ve done.”
“What, exactly, are you going to do?”
Kimberley got to her feet, hands still clenched. She bowed her head. “I’m here because I can’t stand the guilt any longer. Please forgive me, Zoe.”
Zoe went very still. Then she rose cautiously from the chair. It was suddenly very hard to breathe.
“What guilt?” she whispered. “What are you talking about?”
“I’ve tried so hard not to think about this, but I can’t pretend any longer.” Kimberley raised her head. She looked as if she was drowning in her unshed tears. “You’re right. I’m afraid that Forrest may have . . . that he might have shot Preston.”
“Dear God.”
“But not because of the shares.”
“What other reason could there possibly be?”
“I think he may have discovered that I was—” Kimberley paused to wipe her eyes with the back of her hand. “This is so hard.”
Zoe went around behind the high, gilded chair and gripped the back very tightly. “What are you trying to say?”
“I’m so desperately sorry, but the truth is that I had an affair with Preston.” Kimberley was sobbing full out now. She reached down, opened her bag, and took out a handful of tissues to blot her tears. “And I think Forrest got suspicious and that he went to the cabin that day and . . . and shot him.”
Ethan’s phone rang just as he bent over to examine the robot Jeff was demonstrating.
“It picks up this little stick,” Jeff explained proudly. He pushed a button to set the robot in motion. “Watch this.”
The robot whirred into jerky action. Ethan watched it clutch the small strip of wood while he fished his phone out of his pocket.
“Excellent,” he said to Jeff. “Most excellent.”
Jeff beamed.
“Let me get this,” Ethan said, indicating the phone. “I’ll be right back.”
“Okay.”
“Truax,” he said into the phone, working his way cautiously through the maze of low tables that had been set up in the classroom.
“This is Singleton. I’ve got—”
The high-pitched voices of some twenty youngsters excitedly explaining their science projects to their parents created a background din that made it impossible to catch what Singleton said.
“Hang on until I get outside,” Ethan said.
Bonnie, standing on the other side of the room, talking to Jeff’s teacher, saw him and gave him an inquiring look.
He let her see the phone in his palm. She nodded and went back to her conversation.
Ethan went past a demonstration of capillary action, which featured purple-and-orange tinted water and some drooping stalks of celery, and a handmade replica of the solar system.
“Okay,” he said, stepping out of the room into the balmy night. “What’s up?”
“I don’t know if this is important or not,” Singleton said. “But you told me to let you know if any of the Clelands made any moves. I’ve been monitoring their online activities to see if anyone bought any tickets.”
“Forrest?”
“No. His wife. She got on a flight to Phoenix this afternoon. I didn’t pick up the red flag until I checked my computer a few minutes ago.”
Ethan went cold. With a slamming jolt of deep certainty, all the pieces of the puzzle came together.
“Well, shit,” he said very softly. “I should have seen it coming.”
“Mama, Mama, that man said the bad ‘s’ word,” a high-pitched voice declared in ringing accents. “I heard him.”
Ethan looked down and saw a person of very small stature staring up at him. The short person’s mother was frowning.
“You’re in trouble,” the small person announced.
“You can say that again,” Ethan said.
He ran for the parking lot.
Chapter Thirty-eight
An unseen ice storm swirled through the big house. It gave no outward indication of its presence. No papers fluttered in the draft. The drapes did not billow. The chandelier in the hall did not tremble beneath the driving sleet. But Zoe could feel the heavy, chilling sigh as it passed through her, whispering along her bones.
“You’re telling me that Forrest killed Preston because of you,” Zoe repeated very evenly.
“Yes. This has all been such a nightmare for so long. I can’t stand it anymore. I can’t sleep. I can’t eat. I’m living on pills. I’m terrified of my own husband because of what he did and what he might do. It has to end. Don’t you understand?”
“Oh, yes, Kimberley. I understand all of it now.”
Kimberley pulled herself together with a visible effort. “The truth has to come out, or I’m afraid that I’ll be the one who will end up in Candle Lake Manor.”
“I called it Xanadu.” Zoe released her death grip on the back of the chair and moved back a step toward the arched opening of the central hall. “It was an unreal place in some ways, you see? A place of sunless seas and caves of ice, just like in the Coleridge poem. There were so many nights when I lay there in bed looking out at the lake thinking that this couldn’t be happening to me, that I was living in a nightmare.”
“Yes.” Kimberley raised her tear-smudged face. “Living in a nightmare. That’s what it feels like. I should never have gotten involved with Preston. But he wanted me so much and I was so unhappy with Forrest.”
“Really? How strange.” Zoe took another pace back. “Say, I’ve got an idea. Would you like a tour of this house? It has a fascinating history. Maybe even what some people would call a ghost.”
“A ghost?” Kimberley was confused now. Anger sparked in her eyes. “Come back here. I don’t want a tour of this damned house. I’m trying to explain how it was between Preston and me.”
“But I don’t care anymore how it was between you and Preston.” She was at the arched opening. She turned and walked away down the long, grand hall. “That’s one of the things I learned during my stay in the Manor, you know. Not to care. It’s better when you don’t care. That way there’s no pain. No sense of loss.”
“Don’t walk away from me.”
Zoe kept going.
Kimberley followed. Zoe looked back and saw that she had retrieved her black bag.
“You know, Kimberley, if you really are going crazy, you might want to consider checking into Candle Lake yourself.
I’m sure for certain types of people, it would be a lovely place for a vacation. You can have all the pills you want.”
“I have to tell you about Preston.” Kimberley hurried after her, clutching the purse. “I know this comes as a shock to you. But the truth is we had been seeing each other in secret for some time. Preston begged me to leave Forrest. But how could I do that?”
“Really, Kimberley, you’re not being at all logical here. Why would it have been so difficult to leave Forrest if you no longer loved him?”
“Oh, please, Sara—”
“Zoe. I really must insist that you call me by my new name. I left the old name behind at the Manor.” Zoe laughed, a high, sharp, edgy sound that echoed eerily in the long hall. “Yes, indeed, that place made a new woman of me.”
“I couldn’t possibly walk away from my life with Forrest just to marry a man who teaches art history, could I?” Kimberley’s voice rose. “I had everything I wanted. I couldn’t turn my back on it all.”
“How sad. Now you’ll never know what you missed, will you? You’re doomed to live out your perfect life with Forrest.” Zoe started to hum.
“Stop it. You’re acting crazy.”
“Probably because I am crazy. Just ask any of the folks back at the Manor. They’ll tell you how crazy I am.”
“You have to listen to me.”
“One of the great benefits of having been declared insane is that I no longer have to listen to anyone unless I really, really want to listen and I don’t think I want to listen to you, Kimberley. Now, then, where was I? Oh, yes, I was giving you a tour of this magnificent residence. A man named Abner Bennett Foote built it for his wife. That’s her over the mantel in the living room. Did you happen to notice? She was lovely and, I think, just a little bit crazy, too. She married Foote for his money, you see. Don’t you think that’s a crazy thing to do?”
“I don’t want to hear anything about her. I don’t care about a dead woman. I want you to know about Preston. How he cheated on you with me.”
“Then again, maybe you don’t think it’s crazy to marry for money. After all, that’s what you did, isn’t it?” Zoe stopped in front of the pair of elaborately worked theater doors. She winked at Kimberley. “Wait until you see this room.”