Nine Buck's Row (25 page)

“I'm happy for you. I like Jamie very much.”

“Oh, he's got his faults. He's too bossy for one thing, thinks he can order me around. He's too prim and proper, too, and stiff and stubborn, but that's part of his charm. After he kissed me that one time—couldn't control himself—he decided to treat me with complete respect and call on me like a regular suitor, flowers and everything! He's expecting a promotion next month, and we're to be married as soon as it comes through. Until then I might as well be his
sis
ter! Infuriating, but I think it's rather sweet just the same.”

Millie nestled Scrappy against her bosom and rubbed his tiny wet nose with her own. He squirmed with delight and let out a howl of protest when she set him down on the floor. She smoothed down the folds of her yellow skirt and spoke in a quiet, thoughtful voice.

“He's also understanding,” she said. “I told him about—well, about my little transgression, and he understood. He was very solemn, grim, in fact, smoldering with anger, but he understood and said he was glad I told him.”

“Millie, what
hap
pened? For a while there you were—different, not yourself at all. You were pale, nervous—”

“A little transgression,” she said evasively. “I went off the track a bit—nothing
serious
, mind you, but my head was turned and I made a fool of myself and—it's over. I'd rather not discuss it, Suzy.”

Although I was consumed with curiosity, I was too polite to question her further. I assumed she had met another man, someone unsuitable, who had turned her head and caused her to act in such an untypical fashion. She had worn the red dress for him, no doubt, hoping to please him. I had no idea who the man might be or how she may have met him, but I was glad that she had come to her senses at last. Jamie would keep her in line. He would never be able to dampen her high spirits, but with Jamie in the picture she would have no more capricious flirtations. He wouldn't tolerate it.

Maggie came upstairs to say hello to Millie and scold her for dashing out without a wrap. She chatted pleasantly for a few minutes and then had Colleen prepare a small tea for us, saying she was much too busy to join us and hoped to see Millie again soon. It had grown darker in the room, and we had to light the lamps. I laid a fresh log on the fire as Colleen came in with a tray bearing tea, cups, bread and butter and a platter of delicate frosted cakes.

“We've so much to catch up on,” Millie said, slipping a small chocolate cake to Scrappy. He pounced on it with relish and soon had chocolate all over his whiskers. “What have you been doing? Have you gone to the theater again?”

I shook my head, pouring steaming hot tea from a small white porcelain pot adorned with pink enamel roses. “I
have
been to a ball,” I said casually.

“A ball! And I knew nothing about it! Tell me, Suzy—”

For the next half hour we discussed the ball. I described my gown and Belmount House and the Oriental foyer. I told her about the nephews, about my stroll in the gardens with Ted, and Millie had dozens of questions. She finished her tea and nibbled a cake and passed Scrappy a sliver of buttered bread which he promptly tore into bits. I confessed that I had had too much champagne and grew tipsy, but I said nothing about Valerie or about the incident in the hallway after the ball was over. She was intrigued with all of it, particularly the part about Ted Elliot, and kept bringing the conversation back to him.

“He sounds
mar
velous, Suzy. So romantic—”

“I'll probably never see him again.”

“You say he lives in Surrey. You'll probably see him there.”

“I don't even know when we'll be leaving for Surrey. Ted Elliot was amusing himself and passing the time and—and it meant nothing. I feel sure he treats all the girls the way he treated me.”

“He was smitten! I just know it. How could he resist you? Aren't you
interested
, Suzy?”

“Not particularly.”

“Fiddlesticks! I don't believe that for a minute. If he's as handsome and dashing as you describe him, you couldn't help but be interested. Unless, of course, there's someone else—” She paused, watching me closely. “
Is
there, Suzy?”

I made no reply. Gazing at the fireplace, I watched the bright orange flames turn the fresh log into puffy black blisters, but I wasn't actually seeing it. I was seeing his face as he stood there in front of me, mouth spread wide, dark eyes glowing, the wind ruffling his hair and causing the silver lock to tumble over his forehead. The flames crackled lustily, sending up clouds of fragrant smoke, and I smelled his male smell and heard the rustle of heavy satin as his cape fluttered about his shoulders. Ted Elliot was but a pale memory.

The sound of heavy footsteps shattered my revery, and I looked up. The noise died away, and I couldn't be sure where it had come from. Perhaps it had been Nicholas coming in, or perhaps Daniel Lord had been going down the backstairs. I passed a hand over my forehead. Millie was still watching me with that knowing look in her eyes, and I had the feeling she had been able to read my thoughts but was too tactful to say anything. She guessed, just as Maggie had guessed. Was it as obvious as that?

Millie took my hand, holding it tightly.

“We've been through so much together,” she said. “I'm so happy about Jamie, and I want you to be happy, too. I want you to find the right person, just as I have. You deserve happiness, Suzy. I want you to have it. I—I don't want you to be hurt again. I want you to find the
right
person to share your life with.”

There was genuine concern in her voice, and I was touched. Millie was afraid I was in love with Nicholas Craig, afraid I would be hurt. I pulled my hand free and gave her a light, reassuring smile.

“Don't
worry
about me,” I said teasingly.

“I can't help it,” Millie retorted. “In some ways you're so vulnerable. You know absolutely
nothing
about men.”

“I've plenty of time to learn.”

“I hope you don't make some disastrous error.”

“I won't. I promise.”

Millie gave an exasperated sigh and shook her head, copper locks tumbling. Scrappy was at her feet, daintily licking his paws and rubbing them over his cheeks to remove the chocolate. We chattered for a while longer about inconsequential things, and then Millie glanced up at the clock and jumped to her feet.

“I didn't realize it was so late! Jamie said he'd stop by for me about six thirty. It's almost that now. He's going to walk me back to the flat. With all these dreadful things going on he doesn't want me to be out alone, even at this time of day.”

The wind was rattling the windows, and the sky was almost black. There was a heavy mist in the air, gradually thickening into fog. The street below was already half-obscured, misty vapors rising over the cobblestones. I was relieved that Jamie was coming by for her.

“It's grown colder,” I said. “You can't go out without a wrap. Come on up to my bedroom and I'll lend you one of mine.”

“There's really no need to bother. It's just a short walk. Oh well, if you insist! I want to see your ball gown anyway.”

We went upstairs, Scrappy bounding behind us. The hallway was a nest of shadows, and I had to light a lamp in my bedroom. I took the gown out of the wardrobe, and Millie exclaimed over it, vowing she'd never seen anything so stunning. She held it in front of her and smoothed down the skirt and asked me about the hoop. Several minutes passed. I was growing apprehensive. I had no idea why I should feel this way, but the uneasiness had suddenly appeared for no apparent reason.

“I wouldn't know how to act in a gown like this,” Millie said, handing it back to me. I hung it back up in the wardrobe and took down a cape trimmed with rich golden brown fur. Millie wrapped it around her shoulders, still protesting that it wasn't necessary.

“You're certain Jamie is coming by for you?” I asked nervously.

“Of course. He passes right in front of the house, and he said he'd stop by and then walk back with—Suzy, you look pale! Is something wrong? What's come over you?”

“I—nothing. I just—”

“You're worried about me getting back? Oh, Suzy, how sweet of you, and how
silly
! Jamie will protect me, and even if he wasn't with me nothing could happen. It's
early
, and—”

“I know. I suppose I'm being foolish, but I just had this peculiar sensation. I read all those newspapers this afternoon—”

“That explains it! He only goes after prostitutes, duckie, and in the dead of night. What a ninny you are! Come on, let's go downstairs.”

We stepped out into the hallway. It was dark, only a small amount of light coming through the window at the end, night shadows thickening on the walls. Something was wrong. I could sense it. I seized Millie's hand so suddenly that she gave a little cry of alarm.

“Really, Suzy, I almost jumped out of my skin! What is—”

Then she smelled it, too. Her nostrils quivered with distaste. A sour unpleasant odor filled the hallway, and there was a draft of cold, clammy air, a strong current with its own distinct aura. The window at the end of the hall rattled violently, as though someone were trying to break in, and then a loud, raspy creak grated the air. I watched as the door of the storage room swung slowly open.

“The door,” I whispered.

“What about it? Why are you
whis
pering?”

“It was closed when we first came up here.”

“Perhaps it was. I didn't notice. The wind probably blew it open.”

“It's supposed to be kept locked,” I said firmly.

“So?”

“It—it shouldn't be open, Millie.”

“For Heaven's sake! I've actually got goose pimples. If you're trying to tell me the place is haunted, I'm not buying. I've never known you to act like this before, Suzy!” She marched over to the door and slammed it shut with a loud bang. “There! It's closed. Now can we go down? Jamie's probably waiting.”

She was irritated. Justifiably so. I didn't know what had come over me or why my nerves had grown taut and alert. No one had slipped into the storage room while Millie and I were in my bedroom. We would have heard. Yet I had felt a presence. I had sensed something. I shook myself mentally and followed Millie on down.

“I've got to start planning my trousseau,” Millie said as we reached the first landing and started down to the street level. “I'm depending on you to help me with the sewing. I can't afford anything fancy, but Daddy's given me a few pounds for material, and we should be able to—”

We stepped outside, closing the door behind us. Jamie wasn't waiting. The damp brown cobblestones seemed to be steaming, thin vapors rising from them in curling white plumes. Although the fog wasn't really thick yet, the houses across the street were barely visible. Maggie had closed the shop, but she was still working in the back room, streams of yellow light pouring through the opened door and dimly illuminating the interior. Frivolous bonnets stood on racks behind the glass, and they seemed to be looking out at the fog.

“I wonder why he's not here,” Millie said. “I expected to find him at the door, foot tapping impatiently.”

“Perhaps something held him up.”

“He'll be along in a minute. I'll start ahead. I'm bound to run into him at the end of the street.”

“Millie—I wish you wouldn't.”

Millie threw me an exasperated look and leaned forward to peer down the street, but it was impossible to discern anything through the fog. The damp tendrils made a soft, swishing sound, like whispers, and they grew thicker by the second.

“We'll go back inside,” I said nervously. “Jamie'll knock when he gets here. Colleen will call us.”

“You really must get hold of yourself, Suzy. Nothing's going to happen to me. I've got to get on home. Daddy'll be waiting, and if he doesn't get his dinner on time—”

“Millie, please—”

“I'll probably run into Jamie before I've gone five yards. It's been wonderful seeing you, Suzy. Come over tomorrow afternoon if you can. We'll start thinking about patterns.”

She kissed me lightly on the cheek and started merrily down the block, wrapping the borrowed cape closely about her shoulders. For a moment I saw the buttercup yellow skirts swaying brightly, and then she was gone. There was nothing but the fog. My heart was palpitating. My throat was dry. My wrists were suddenly limp. What was it? What was wrong? I felt as though I were going to pass out. I could still hear her footsteps ringing on the sidewalk, a light, jaunty sound that echoed down the street.

“Millie!”

I don't know whether or not I cried her name aloud. I was moving without being aware of it, running wildly down the street after her, tendrils of fog slapping my cheeks like wet rags. I stumbled. I almost fell, grabbing a lamppost for support. Panting, I clung to it for a second, and I could see her up ahead, see a vague blur of moving color, yellow, brown, copper red, all half-obscured through the thin white veils.

He stepped out of a doorway behind her. I saw nothing clearly. There was a heavy cloak, dark, and a deerstalker cap pulled low. He moved toward her. He seemed to glide. Waves of horror swept over me. I clung to the lamp post to keep from falling.

He was directly behind her. He raised the knife. Millie turned around. A gust of wind blew his cloak open, and it was fluttering like evil black wings when I heard her scream.

16

It was a macabre ballet, figures in the fog, cloak swelling and billowing, Millie's skirts swirling, red curls flying, the knife flashing silver-blue as it described an arc in the air. Half a second passed, surely not more than that, but it seemed like an eternity to me as I stood with horrified paralysis, unable to move or call out. The knife plunged down. I saw it rip the front of the fur-trimmed cape and waited for the scarlet ribbons to flow, but there were none. The cape fell to the ground. Millie kicked out savagely, the toe-point of her shoe making vicious contact against leg bone. He seized her hair, gloved fingers gripping copper red locks, and the knife arced again, hung suspended, fell to the ground with a clattering clang as his frenzied scream ripped the air.