This Little Piggy Went to Murder (25 page)

Alice looked up from the cake. She appeared genuinely upset. “For good? Are you driving back to Minneapolis?”

“No, not yet. Bram still needs some quiet time to fmish his book. He’s going to work in the hotel room for the next few days. I wanted to stick around a while longer, see if I can be of some help. I just feel like there should be something I could do.” She sighed and looked out at the fog.

Grimly, Alice shook her head. “I don’t blame you for taking a room in town. It’s not safe in this house anymore. lf I had any brains, I’d probably leave, too.” She twisted the top of the pastry bag shut and stood, pulling the cake stand toward her.

Sophie crossed to the table and sat down. Since she felt somewhat at loose ends tonight, she might as well watch Alice decorate the cake. “Where is everyone?”

“Well, Mrs. Jorensen had her dinner sent up on a tray. She has a bad headache. If you ask me, it’s going to be a long time before she’s over her father’s death. This has all been pretty hard on her. And Mr. Jorensen said he didn’t feel much like eating. He’s been reading in his study all evening. I’m going to bring him a pot of tea and some sandwiches a little later. He needs to eat something.”

“Are Jack and Nora here?”

“Sure are. Last I heard they’d gone to the east sun room to do some work.”

Sophie glanced into the silent dining room. She wasn’t particularly upset at the prospect of spending another night at Brule House. It felt like the same old place. Just like always, the house was quiet and dark. Someone had built a fire in the living room fireplace. The wonderful scent of burning pine beckoned to her even as she sat at the kitchen table.

Alice scowled at the cake. “A chocolate layer cake can cure just about anything. I thought I’d do my part to try and change the mood around here.” Her expert hands deftly began to decorate the sides. As she finished, she made a large swirl in the center and dropped a cherry on top. “All done,” she announced. “Would you like a piece?”

Sophie patted her stomach. “Of course I would. But I think I’d better pass. There’s altogether too much good food around here.” She pushed away from the table. “I think I’m going to go and sit by the fire in the front room for a few minutes before heading up to bed.”

Alice nodded her approval. “If you need anything, just give me a holler.” She carried the cake over to the counter and crossed to the sink to begin washing up the mixing bowls and pans. “See you in the morning,” she called over her shoulder.

Jack looked up from a stack of papers he’d been reading and leaned back in his chair, making an arch of his fingers. He peered over them at Nora, who had just entered the sunroom holding a large goblet full of wine. “I wondered where you’d gone. I see now that I should have guessed.” His eyes dropped to the glass. “Didn’t you get enough of that at dinner?”

“Guess not.” She took a sip. “Well?”

“Well what?”

Nora narrowed her eyes in disgust. “Have you thought anymore about what I said?”

“No.”

“Jack, you’ve got to address this!”

He shifted some papers into a folder. “Why did you wait until now to tell me?”

“Because I wasn’t sure the file still existed until this afternoon.”

He was silent.

“Well? Don’t you have anything to say? Your sister told you she’d burned it. There’s only one good reason she wanted to hold on to it.”

“What do you mean?”

“Do I have to draw you a picture? Your sister is your one blind spot, darling. You don’t see how controlling she is.”

“Nora, I’m not going to listen to this.”

“With that file in her possession, she has a great deal of power over your future decisions.”

“She would never blackmail me. I’m sure of it.”

Nora shook her head. “The day after you told her you were going to run for the Senate, she handed you a list of issues she wanted you to champion — and all her little feminist dos and don’ts.”

“Some of those dos and don’ts, as you put it, I happen to agree with. You might take a moment out of your busy schedule to read some of the position papers she’s given me. Most of them are very well thought out and well documented. I’ve used them in several of my campaign speeches.”

“Well, don’t kid yourself that the scope of her interest lies in merely feeding you statistics. Just look at the money she’s given over the years to her pet causes. Through you she has a chance at real clout. Under all that sisterly charm beats the heart of a power broker.”

Jack began to laugh. “You should listen to yourself. Don’t you think this is a case of the pot calling the kettle black?”

Nora made a sickly smile. “Someone needs to speak to you about your periodic use of cliché. It’s a liabiIity.”

“I’m just a homespun kind of guy. And anyway,” he said, his expression growing serious, “I’m nobody’s puppet.”

“No? Maybe not willingly, but what if — six months after we get to Washington — she threatens to send that file to, say,
The New York Times
? That is, unless you vote her way on something very specific.”

“It won’t happen.”

Nora let out a screech and flopped backward on the couch. “You’re impossible. Do you know that? Amanda lied to you, Jack. And there are other things about her you don’t know. As I think of it, two can play at the game of blackmail. “

“What do you mean?”

“Oh, just drop it. You never give me any credit. One day you’ll see how much I’ve helped.”

“Nora, I hate it when you speak cryptically. Either say what you mean or shut up.” He picked up his favorite dagger-shaped letter opener, poking the tip into his palm.

“You shouldn’t speak to me like that, dear. Remember, you’re supposed to be Mr. Wonderful.”

He yawned. “Don’t worry, Nora. I have everything under control.”

“That’s not good enough. You need a plan to deal with your sister — with
everything
that’s been happening.”

“This may come as a shock, but I’ve had everything planned from the very beginning.”

Nora was surprised by the hard edge in his voice. “Well, that’s a start. But who’s speaking cryptically, now? What specifically are you going to do about that file?”

“Wait.”

“Wait?”

“Look, there are other people who know about the time I spent at the Saltzman Clinic. You don’t need the actual file to make an accusation.”

“Most of them are dead.”

“What are you saying?”

She looked away.

“I paid Sydney off.”

“But he wanted more. That’s why he drove all the way up here in that flashy piece of tin.”

Jack drummed his nails on the arm of his chair. “Luther’s not dead. He knows. And thanks to you, Ryan knows. You made a mistake there, Nora. Never trust a zealot — even if you
are
attracted to him.”

“Don’t be absurd.”

“No? I suppose he might even tell Chelsea. If he does, he’ll regret it. Did you know they are seeing each other? She’s muscling in on your territory. I told her I thought she should be careful.” He laughed. “God, if you think you’ve seen Amanda at her controlling best before, just wait till she finds out Ryan is hustling her only daughter. That goes for Luther, too. He’s never had much time for Master Woodthorpe.”

Nora pretended a smile. “Very funny. The atmosphere in here is getting a little … close. I think I need some fresh air.”

“Suit yourself.” He opened his briefcase and removed a stack of papers. “I’ll be in here going over these briefs. On your way out will you ask Alice to bring me a thermos of coffee?”

“Of course.
Dear
.” She crossed to the door and disappeared into the darkness.

Sophie stood next to the fireplace, hand on her hip, staring intently into the crackling flames. She’d just tossed another log onto the fire and was deciding whether it was positioned correctly on top of the others. As she reached for a poker, the phone began to ring. “I’ll get it,” she called to Alice, who she could hear still washing up dishes in the kitchen. Walking briskly into the front foyer, she picked up the extension that sat on a thin piecrust table next to the stairs. “Hello,” she said into the receiver. She noticed a stack of mail leaning against a small crystal bowl filled with mints.

“This is John Wardlaw. I’d like to speak with Sophie Greenway.”

“Detective Wardlaw. Hi. This is Sophie.” Absently, she picked up a mint.

“You’re a hard person to track down, you know that?” He sounded relieved.“I’m sorry it’s taken me so long to contact you. I didn’t find out about the sauna incident until late this afternoon. The Two Harbors police handled it and I still haven’t seen any of the paperwork. I should have been informed about it immediately.”

Sophie could hear the frustration in his voice.

“Anyway. I was wondering what your plans were?”

She hesitated. “My plans?”

He cleared his throat. “Do you intend to continue staying at Brule’s Landing? In all honesty, I have to tell you that I feel partially responsible for what happened to you and your husband yesterday. I should have taken the potential threat to your safety much more seriously.”

“I’m not sure there was any way you could have convinced me to leave.”

“I realize that. But I should have tried.” He paused. “I really have to insist that you find somewhere else to stay.”

Sophie thought about the incident in the attic. Was the person who switched off the light the same one who tried to trap her and Bram in the sauna? And what did it have to do with the murders? “Are you any nearer to finding this murderer?” she asked. She could hear phones ringing in the background. It was nearly nine P.M. and yet there he was, still at work.

Wardlaw was momentarily silent. “Yes,” he answered slowly. “The typewriter you found in the sauna was used to type those notes. I think we may be close to an arrest.”

“But you can’t tell me who, right?”

“No. I’m sorry. It’s not something I can discuss. By the way, you haven’t received any more notes, have you?”

“No, I haven’t. Not since the one about the Child’s Garden. Turns out it was a book of children’s poetry by Robert Louis Stevenson. I found a copy that belonged to Amanda when she was a child. She’d given it to her own daughter for her sixth birthday. The thing is, I don’t know where that leaves us.”

“Interesting,” said Wardlaw. “I don’t suppose you’ve run across anything else that might be of help to our investigation?”

“Nothing. And to answer your earlier question, Bram and I are leaving in the morning. We only came back here to pick up our belongings, but because of the fog, we decided to stay the night.”

“See to it that you two stick together. Stay in the same room for the rest of the evening, if at all possible. And if you can lock your bedroom door before you turn in, do so. I’m not trying to scare you, I just want you to appreciate the seriousness of your situation.”

Sophie felt herself begin to shiver. She knew that for many years, she’d resisted any urge to feel afraid. Fear was something from her past. Admitting fear into her life now might mean that she wasn’t in control. That thought was almost worse than any tangible threat she could imagine. Yet, she knew intellectualizing things didn’t make them go away. In her gut, she realized that she had mentally forced herself to take an impossible emotional position. She was afraid. She couldn’t continue to ignore it.

“And one more thing, Ms. Greenway. Do you still have my card? The one with my home phone number on it?”

“I do. It’s in my wallet.”

“Well, don’t hesitate to call if the need arises.”

“Thanks,” said Sophie.

“All right. Take care. Perhaps we’ll talk tomorrow.” The line clicked.

Sophie replaced the phone and stood for a moment, looking up the stairs. She could hear Bram’s typewriter plunking away. Had they made a mistake coming back here? Surely nothing was going to happen tonight. For days she had refused to consider that anyone of her friends would want to hurt her, but her resolve was beginning to crumble. Nervously, she picked up the mail and began flipping through the letters. The top postcard was from Bram’s daughter. Margie was in her first year of college and taking care of the house in Minneapolis while they were away. Halfway through the stack she came across a small, white envelope with her name typed on the front. No address. No postmark. She turned it over and drew out a piece of typing paper. Stepping nearer to the floor lamp, she read:

You must leave.

Your life is in danger.

Consider yourself warned.

Sophie could feel a prickly sensation creep down her back. She had to get upstairs right away and show it to Bram.

“Are you all right?” asked Alice.

Sophie looked up. Alice was standing in front of her, her shrewd blue eyes fixed on Sophie with a look of intense concern.