Deception at Dark Hall (The Briony Martin Mystery Series) (11 page)

Yannatos ignored Daniel’s threat and strode to the end of the hall and stopped. “This is Shawna’s room. When I introduce you, try to hide your shock. It could be devastating for her if you don’t.” He knocked on the door and then turned his watchful eyes on them as if expecting them to make a run for it.

“Who the hell is Shawna?” Daniel croaked.

Standing beside her, Briony could sense his tense muscles practically bursting through his clothes. Her heart pounded with an insane rhythm. She stared at Yannatos. His mesmerizing eyes sparkled wickedly, and the blinders fell from her eyes. Her body went numb. If only she’d been more perceptive all along! But she’d been as sightless as Sharlyn.

“Come in,” a voice called.

Yannatos pushed open the door and the three of them stepped inside. There she was standing in the middle of the room. Briony gazed around quickly. It was the room of a teenage girl, with clothes scattered on the floor, the bed unmade, and rock and roll music playing from a transistor radio.

“Shawna, please turn the music off,” Yannatos requested.

She did so and stepped forward and sighed. “Hello, Nickolaos.” The words were not spoken in Sharlyn’s sweet, bewitching tone nor in Shelby’s seductive voice, but with the intonation of a bored teenager who didn’t want to be bothered. Her long hair was pulled into two braids, and despite the cold weather, she wore Capri pants and a short-sleeved top that accentuated her soft curves. Her head angled.

“We have guests,” Yannatos told her. “Do you recognize these people, my dear?”

The woman with both Sharlyn and Shelby’s face rudely chomped on the gum inside her mouth and shook her head. “Nope. Should I?”

This was neither Sharlyn nor Shelby, but someone else altogether. Shawna, the lawyer had said. Briony flicked a glance at Daniel. From the petrified expression on his face, she thought he understood. Or maybe he didn’t understand at all.

“Are these people doctors?” Shawna asked. “Are they here about Griggs?”

“No, my dear,” Yannatos replied. “They’re not doctors. They’re friends of Sharlyn and Shelby.”

“Oh.” Her face went blank. “I heard them crying a while ago. Has something dreadful happened to Griggs?”

He reached out to pat her arm. “We’ll talk about all that later, Shawna. Say goodbye to these nice people.”

“Goodbye,” she said, turning her back on them. Daniel exited the room behind Yannatos trudging out like a war-wounded soldier. Before Briony followed, she watched Shawna flick the transistor back on and start dancing. When she twirled and caught Briony watching, she stuck her tongue out and marched forward and slammed the door in her face.

The three of them stepped into the elevator. They rode it in silence to the ground floor. Briony ached for the depth of pain that filled Daniel’s face.

Once they’d reached the foyer, he asked, “Are they triplets? Or…”

She remembered the advertisement about a movie that had been released at the end of last year starring Joanne Woodward, but she hadn’t seen it. The film was called
The Three Faces of Eve
. With her heart hammering, she searched Yannatos’s face. He nodded at her. “You understand, don’t you?”

She returned a curt nod. “Sharlyn, Shelby, and Shawna. They’re all one person.”

“It’s called Multiple Personality Disorder.”

But which was her true identity? Briony wondered.

Daniel’s forehead crinkled in confusion. “But how is such a thing possible? Has she been possessed by a demon? It must have something to do with her communicating with spirits.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Yannatos gritted. “You’ve seen with your own eyes, but you refuse to believe. There are no satanic forces at work. The child is mentally ill.”

“Has she seen a doctor?” Briony asked.

“Yes, there have been many medical doctors and psychiatrists who have tested her through the years. They’ve all said the same thing. She inherited her poor mother’s disease of the mind. Oliver’s daughter, Bella, has been committed to an insane asylum since Sharlyn was a toddler.”

“How awful. Is Sharlyn her true identity?” Briony asked.

“That’s the name she was given at birth, yes. And her sweet personality is authentic. But as the other two personas began to emerge and develop their own characteristics when she was younger, Sharlyn took on one unique trait.”

“She’s not blind, you mean,” Daniel said, stone-faced.

“That’s correct.”

“Is she a medium? Or is that all a hoax, too?”

“The ability to connect with the dead seemed to correlate with when she claimed to first lose her sight. That was about five years ago.”

“Around the same time Todd Brandt was discovered to have overdosed after becoming involved with Sharlyn,” Briony noted.

Yannatos’s lips thinned. He was a lawyer and knew his rights. He wasn’t going to say anything more that would possibly incriminate his client, and probably knew he’d said too much already.

A fist pounded on the front door at the same time the buzzer sounded. Briony recognized the voice that came through the intercom speaker.

“That’s Sergeant Montague,” Daniel said. When Yannatos hesitated, he said, “If you don’t open the door, I will. The police are coming in one way or the other.”

The lawyer unlocked the door. In stepped Montague, one uniformed policeman, a man carrying a black medical bag, and another man in a rumpled trench coat and fedora. “I got your message,” the sergeant said to Daniel. He introduced the man in the trench coat and then the man carrying the bag. “This is Detective Bailey of the homicide division, and this is Dr. Hamel. Where’s the suicide victim?”

With his pupils squinted into pinpoints, Yannatos introduced himself and motioned in the direction of the library. “Two paramedics are waiting for permission to take the body to the coroner’s office.”

“The body shouldn’t have been moved,” Montague said gruffly.

“Where was he found?” Bailey inquired.

“Lying on his bed in his room at the back of the house.”

“Was there a suicide note?”

“Yes. It’s still sitting on the bedside table, along with the half-empty glass of milk he apparently mixed the poison in. Nothing’s been touched.”

The cords on the sergeant’s neck flexed and quivered. “Except the body itself.”

“I phoned Dr. Crisman,” Yannatos defended. “He wasn’t able to leave his office and said he’d send an ambulance.”

“That’s not protocol and the coroner knows it,” Montague thundered.

Yannatos’s voice was measured. “I apologize, Sergeant. The man has been the butler of Dark Hall for over forty years. I was trying to save additional distress to those in the household. It was quite a shock to all of us. His name is George Griggs.”

“We know his name,” Montague said. “I’ve spoken to Dr. Crisman myself. That’s why Dr. Hamel is here.” His head jerked toward one of the policemen. “Officer Drake, go to the library and instruct the medics to move the gurney to another part of the house where Dr. Hamel can conduct an examination.”

“Yes sir.”

 “Where’s the best place for them to go?” the sergeant asked Yannatos.

“I suppose the salon would work.” When Drake exited the library moments later with the paramedics pushing the gurney, he directed them to the salon.

“We’ll be waiting in the library,” Montague told the detective and the doctor.

When they’d gone, he turned his attention back to Briony, Daniel, and Yannatos. “We’ve just finished interviewing the coroner, and he was very helpful in clearing up a few things. Turns out, he keeps piss-poor records in that office of his, but when strongly encouraged, the man has a memory like an elephant. With a little prodding, he was able to recall details of cases dating back five, ten years even.” The corner of his lip lifted in a sly smile.

“What sort of things?” Yannatos asked, wringing his hands.

“Things involving the people of Dark Hall. But we’ll get to all that soon enough. Right now, I want you to bring everyone in this house downstairs. I need to interview them.”

Exhilaration coursed through Briony’s veins. The air buzzed with nervous energy. Finally, there were going to be answers to all her questions.

Yannatos’s eyes widened. “There’s no one else in the mansion except Miss Dark and her assistant. It’s the housekeeper’s day off. The valets are only here on nights when séances are held. There hasn’t been a large staff serving Dark Hall in years.”

“Which Miss Dark are you referring to?” the sergeant asked.

Sweat glowed across Yannatos’s upper lip. “Miss Sharlyn Dark.”

“Shelby is not currently here at Dark Hall?”

“Not to my knowledge,” he answered.

Biony and Daniel exchanged a glance. Montague shrugged, off-handedly. “Then bring Miss Dark and her assistant to the library.”

The visibly anxious Greek lawyer disappeared into the hallway, and they heard the whir of the elevator as it ascended.

Briony wondered which Miss Dark would actually appear before the sergeant. Yannatos had said it would be Sharlyn. Could she alter her persona on a whim? Or did some outside influence or emotional disturbance trigger the change? She could tell by the soft groan that tore from Daniel’s chest that the same question haunted him. She speculated on whether it would be best to warn the sergeant about Sharlyn’s different personalities or let him find out for himself. Daniel’s lip stayed buttoned. If he wasn’t going to say anything, neither would she.

“Did the coroner shed any light on the death of Oliver Dark?” she asked instead.

“Still playing private eye, I see, Miss Martin.” A deep chuckled rumbled from Montague’s belly. “All in good time. Let’s go into the library, shall we?”

Obviously, he wasn’t prepared to discuss with her and Daniel what he knew or didn’t know. She followed the two men into the library and sat on the far side of the room where she fixed her gaze upon the blazing fire someone had made in the hearth.

Montague lowered his weight into a Victorian parlor chair.

It was fifteen minutes before Yannatos entered the library. Briony’s gaze lifted. On the lawyer’s arm was Sharlyn, looking as beautiful as ever dressed in a flowing white dress and staring straight ahead with her blue eyes wide open. Behind them shadowed her assistant, dressed casually in trousers and a pullover shirt. Lee’s eyes were swollen and rimmed in red.

“Have a seat,” Sergeant Montague said. Sharlyn and Lee sat side-by-side on the settee with Yannatos in a chair next to them. Having met before, Montague abandoned the formality of a re-introduction. “I’m sorry for your loss. I understand the butler had been with the family for forty years.”

“That’s correct,” Sharlyn replied, softly. She dabbed her nose with a tissue.

Briony stood up and quietly took a seat next to Daniel. His steady gaze never left Sharlyn’s face. Once, she turned her head and looked at him. “Daniel, are you here?”

“Yes, but how did you know?”

“I smell your cologne.” Her angelic smile could have melted ice.

Montague got straight to the point. “Miss Dark, are you hiding your sister, Shelby, here at Dark Hall?”

“No, Sergeant. I haven’t seen my sister in over six months. She has a brownstone downtown and lives a fast life.”

“That’s a lie, and I know it.” His mouth pressed into a straight line.

“Say now,” Yannatos cut in, frowning.

“Shut up,” Montague barked, causing Briony to jump. “I’m interviewing Miss Dark. Not you. Now, Miss Dark, are you aware that a man by the name of Andrew Whealdon was found murdered in Shelby’s brownstone?”

“Yes…yes, I am,” she stammered. “I knew Andrew. He was a client of mine. Nice fellow.”

“Yes, he was a client of yours, and you introduced him to your sister three months ago, yet you claim not to have seen Shelby in six months. How does that add up?”

She folded her hands into her lap. “I must be mistaken about the time period. I apologize.”

Lee stared at her own hands in her lap. Her lips visibly trembled.

“Does your sister own a gun?” the sergeant asked.

“I have no idea.”

“What about you? Are you the registered owner of a firearm?”

A smug smile played across her lips. “That might lead to a dangerous situation, Sergeant. In case you hadn’t noticed, I’m blind.”

He retrieved a piece of paper from his pocket. “Then how is it I have a copy of a permit with your name on it originally dated May 1952 and renewed in 1955?”

She didn’t skip a beat. “I don’t know, Sergeant. Doesn’t a person have to complete a firearm safety course before being allowed to purchase a gun?”

“Yes.”

She chuckled. “I couldn’t possibly pass a safety course in my condition. More than likely, my sister pretended to be me. Don’t ask me why. She’s always had a macabre sense of humor. Or perhaps her unsavory dealings in the past didn’t allow her to pass a background check. We’re identical twins. It would be easy for her to forge my signature and buy a gun.”

“But not as easy for her to forge your fingerprints. Every person who registers for a firearm has his or her fingerprints placed on file. Twins don’t have the same fingerprints, even identical twins.” When a gasp caught in her throat, he added, “I’m not as dumb as I look.”

“I can’t see how you look,” Sharlyn said, quietly.

“Oh, I think you can,” Montague replied.

Not a muscle moved in Sharlyn’s body. Lee squeezed her eyes shut. Briony noticed her hand shook when she grasped for Sharlyn’s.

Even though the room was full of people, Montague leaned forward, assuming a confidential air. Then he dropped a bomb. “It’s time to stop lying, Miss Dark.
Your
fingerprints are on file. Not Shelby’s.”

CHAPTER NINE

Deafening silence filled the room.

When the sergeant finally spoke again, his voice was low. “Sharlyn, we found the handgun that killed Andrew Whealdon. Your prints are all over it.”

“No! They couldn’t be.”

Yannatos’s hand snaked out to grab her wrist. “Don’t say another word, Sharlyn. As your lawyer, I’m advising you to be quiet.”

“But I didn’t kill that man,” she said, ignoring his counsel.

“You killed him
and
Todd Brandt,” Montague argued. “We have evidence and a confession that proves you administered Brandt a lethal dose of cocaine. And we also know you murdered your own grandfather by pushing him down the stairs in this very mansion. Dr. Crisman has admitted to helping cover up both crimes. He’s a greedy son-of-a-gun who has a hefty bank account and appears to have enjoyed a number of vacations in Europe, all bankrolled by your family. There’s no use in denying any of it.”