Killing Her Softly (26 page)

"It's completely bizarre,” he said to Leslie as he took her arm. “I've never seen anything like it."

"Is that Allegra, by any chance?"

"I suspect it is. The initials on the suitcase are ALC. What's really odd, though, is that someone must be visiting her regularly."

"Yes, but who?” Leslie said faintly.

"Good question. Is it possible it was Jason?"

Another shudder ran through her. “What about Cecil? After all, he has the painting of her."

"That's true. And there's Gage to consider. He wanted to look in the armoire.” Simon frowned. “No, it can't be him. Gage was only in his thirties. I'd say, from the clothes in the suitcase and the condition of the body, she's been dead for at least twenty-five years, possibly longer."

They reached the top of the stairs. Simon felt Leslie trembling as he led her across to a chair. Under the bright kitchen light, her face looked as pale as cheese. “Are you all right?” he asked, wondering if she felt faint again.

"If I could have a glass of water, please."

She made a visible attempt to pull herself together as she raised the ice water to her mouth. The glass clicked against her teeth. Holding it steady with both hands, she managed to drink most of it. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. “Thanks."

She took a deep breath, grimacing as if she hurt inside. “It's the same as Melanie, isn't it? A hidden body, not likely to be found unless the house was searched from top to bottom."

Simon tapped his fingers on the table. “Not quite the same as Melanie. She was just left in the trunk. This is more like a shrine."

"And I'm supposed to be next,” Leslie said dismally. She jumped up from the chair. “I'm getting out of here,” she said, her gaze swinging wildly around the room. “I'm not staying in this house a minute longer."

Simon gently pushed her back into the chair, kneading her shoulders. His own hands were unsteady, and his stomach lurched uncomfortably. He imagined he could still smell the sweet scent of death and flowers. He dragged in several breaths, steadying his stomach.

Going over to the door, he opened it, letting a fresh breeze carry in the scent of growing plants.

Two bodies, now. Three, counting Jason's, but that didn't fit the pattern, and they already knew who had killed him—the greedy Mr. Wheeler.

Two bodies, both women, both blonde, both hidden. The evidence pointed to a single killer. A killer who also stalked Leslie.

He glanced out of the open door. Dawn was creeping across the clear sky. A soft gray light filled the kitchen, promising another gorgeous summer day. Had it been a lovely day like this when the woman downstairs had died?

Obsession. Love gone wrong.

"Do you remember a movie that's on late night television sometimes?” he said musingly. “The Collector. It was about a man who locked a woman up and kept her, imagining he was in love. I wonder if this was the same kind of obsession."

Leslie looked at him, her eyes large and frightened in her white face. “He wanted to collect me, as well."

Simon's heart twisted painfully. In two strides, he reached her, lifted her from the chair, and folded her into his arms. “I'm not going to let him. He'll have to go through me to get to you.” He set her back on the chair. “Wait here while I call Jimmy."

He came back from the living room within minutes. “Is he coming?” Leslie asked.

"I didn't get him.” Simon pushed his hand through his hair. “The phone's dead.” He took her hand and pulled her up. “We'll try another phone. But first I'm taking you home."

"I'm sorry, Simon, but I can't let you do that."

The voice that spun them both around was soft, almost regretful. Cecil stood in the pantry doorway, his face unshaven, his clothes rumpled, as if he'd slept in them. Scruffy's furry face peered out at them from the crook of Cecil's elbow.

Leslie, exhausted from a night without sleep and from the traumatic events that had kept her up, had a sense that this wasn't really happening. At any moment she'd wake up and find herself in her bed.

Hysterical laughter bubbled up in her throat. The old man and the dog—for the first time she noticed the similarity between them. They would have looked ludicrous, except for the gun in Cecil's other hand.

The gun he pointed straight at them.

"I can't let you take her away, Simon. She's mine."

"I belong to myself,” Leslie said, setting her jaw. “No one else."

"And I won't let you have her,” Simon said, placing himself in front of her. “Not like the others. You fixed the phone, didn't you? And the lights."

Cecil's hand wavered, and momentary confusion clouded his eyes. “Phone?” He nodded, his eyes clearing. “Yes, I fixed the lights and the phone. You won't need them now. It was simple. I rigged a timer, to give the appearance that someone was at home when Jason was away on business. It worked without or without the fuse box. It also discouraged people like Mr. Gage from snooping around."

Simon's mouth dropped open. “You knew about the guns."

Cecil nodded. “Very inconvenient when you came, Leslie. Jason and I had to move them out of the wine cellar. It wasn't easy getting them into the tunnel."

"There are two tunnels, aren't there?” Simon said. “The other one is behind the room with the body, isn't it?"

"Yes, but you can't use it,” Cecil said smugly. “Only I know how to control it, and I don't need a key. Jason never knew about it."

"But you were hiding Jason,” Leslie said, a mélange of emotions seething beneath the determined neutrality of her voice. “Did you help him fake the accident with the sailboard?"

A shadow crossed Cecil's face, and his fingers tightened on the gun. Leslie felt the tension in Simon's body as he braced himself to defend her. She gently moved the hand he held in front of her and stepped ahead, to stand at his side. Returning his questioning look with a faint smile, she laced her fingers through his. “We're in this together,” she whispered.

"Well, Cecil?” she said, more loudly.

Without taking his eyes from them, he put Scruffy on the floor, where the dog sat, growling in his throat. Cecil admonished him and took a firmer grip on the gun. “Yes, we staged the accident. I picked him up with the boat the shepherd saw. We had to do it. The last gun deal was going wrong, and Jason had received serious death threats. And Gage made everything even more precarious. He was an old business rival of Jason's."

"Goes to show you shouldn't do business with criminals,” Simon said.

Cecil's eyes glittered and he lifted the gun. “Please, Simon, I don't want to hurt you."

"Put the gun down and no one will be hurt."

Cecil appeared not to hear. His eyes swung to Leslie, his expression wistful. “You should have loved me, Allegra. You should have loved me. I can't let you leave."

He'd gone completely over the edge, Leslie realized, her fear turning to pity. The old man looked fragile and unhappy. And possibly insane. But that could work in their favor, if they played it right. He thought she was Allegra. If she could play on his memory, they might have a chance of getting out of this alive.

"I did love you,” Leslie said, taking a gamble.

"No, you didn't, Allegra,” he said sadly. “You wanted to go away. I had to keep you safe. But you just lay there, not eating, not talking. But I took care of you. For thirty years, I took care of you."

Abruptly he reached out and grabbed Leslie's hand, keeping his gun trained on Simon, who was forced to let go of her. “Your hair is so pretty,” Cecil said, stroking his hand down its glossy length. “Just like hers."

Back in the present, then, Leslie realized, steeling herself to stand still under his touch. She was almost convinced that he wouldn't shoot them. Especially if she could keep him talking. Sooner or later Jimmy would try to call, and when he discovered the phone was out of order, he would come in person.

If she could keep Cecil occupied until then...

She heard a raucous laugh from the garden, through the open door, and hope rose in her. Baby was out again. Which meant Eugenia might be here at any moment, looking for them. All they needed was a small distraction, and they could grab Cecil's gun.

Cecil glanced at the open door. “That stupid bird of Eugenia's. He kept interfering, stealing keys. It inconvenienced us a great deal. For a while we couldn't get the guns from the wine cellar, until the bird left the keys here and we got them back. Nice of you to leave the stuff he brought on the kitchen table, Leslie.” He frowned. “There was one key ring we never found, though."

"The ones we used to get into Allegra's room,” Leslie said.

Cecil nodded. “Luckily, I didn't need it."

"When exactly was Allegra staying here?” Simon asked.

"One summer, thirty years ago.” Cecil's face grew soft and dreamy. “The summer I was having my house built. We each rented a room in this house. She spent all her time with me. But September came, and she was going to leave. Dear Allegra, why didn't you love me as I loved you?"

"She would have come back,” Leslie said in a soothing tone. “She would have."

"What about Melanie?” Simon asked, edging closer to Leslie again.

Cecil roughly cleared his throat. “Melanie,” he said in a contemptuous voice. “She kept coming to Platania. Her hair was so pretty, shining like gold in the sun. I sent her flowers and gifts. She thought they were from Simon. After Simon left that night, I told her she didn't need him. I told her I would love her. She laughed and called me an old man.” His gaze shifted from Leslie to Simon. “You were wise, Simon. She was a witch. She had to be eliminated. She couldn't love anyone except herself."

Leslie pressed her hand against her stomach, her throat closing. “You locked her up in the attic."

"I didn't hurt her. I gave her something to make her sleep. But I knew I couldn't keep her, with Jason so often in the house. I used a pillow. I killed her softly."

"As you would have killed me,” Leslie said. “It was you, wasn't it? And you tried to drown me in the bath, and you shot at me the first night."

"I only wanted to scare you, to get you away from the house.” Cecil shook his head. “I wouldn't kill you. You said you love me.” He turned to Simon. “I didn't mean to make trouble for you, Simon. I asked Jason not to bother you, but he wouldn't listen. He said to let you take the blame when he thought Melanie drowned."

"Thanks,” Simon said sardonically. “But why did he want to make trouble for me?"

"He said it was your fault, Simon, when the hotel company pulled out of the agreement to buy the house. And he put Melanie up to accusing you of harassing her. He wanted to ruin your reputation, and, if possible, your business, to get revenge."

"How?” Simon frowned. That would have been after his father's death. He'd gone back to London for a couple of months. The real estate development firm in which he'd been a partner had called him back to complete several projects he'd worked on earlier. Now that he thought of it, one of their big projects at the time had been in Greece. “Wait a minute. What was the name of that hotel company?"

"Sunshine Resorts,” Cecil said.

Simon nodded. “Now I get it. The new location on the mainland—the company I worked for arranged the sale and the financing. I wasn't even involved in that deal, but Jason probably didn't know that, and held me responsible for his losses. And I suppose all those trumped-up accusations about Melanie were also part of it.” A bitter smile curved his lips. “I guess justice has been served after all, although it's too late for my father. And too bad Jason had to die for it in the end. I would have been happy just to see him in jail for fraud or gun smuggling."

"Why did you come, Leslie?” Cecil said plaintively. “Why did you spoil it? If we had completed the deal with the guns, Jason could have gotten out of the trouble he was in. Instead, Wheeler killed him.” He dragged in a raspy breath. “When I saw you, I thought you were Allegra, but Jason told me you were his wife."

A tear crept down Cecil's face, to disperse in the bristly stubble on his chin. He let go his hold on Leslie's arm, and she was able to put a little distance between them.

"Every time I saw you,” he said, “I thought you'd come back to haunt me. I couldn't stand it. And Jason was going crazy, jumping at every shadow. It was all falling apart."

"You tried to scare me away,” Leslie said. “And when that didn't work, you fixed my brakes."

"Your brakes?” Cecil said indignantly. “I never touched your brakes."

"Then who did, Cecil?” Simon asked. “You left flowers, and a note that was practically an admission of guilt."

Cecil's narrow shoulders slumped, and he swayed on his feet. Simon took a deep breath, and Leslie knew he was tensing himself for attack. She turned her head and caught his eye. Wait, she silently told him.

"Gage. Gage did it,” Cecil said. “Gage taunted us about it, said our stupid amateur schemes to scare Leslie away weren't working, so he would try a sure thing."

"Well, it didn't work,” Simon said bluntly. “Your funeral flowers were premature."

"They were for Allegra,” Cecil said. A dry sob shook his bony frame. “It was all for Allegra. I couldn't let you find her resting place."

"You were afraid I'd find the bodies, weren't you?” Leslie said.

"Yes,” Cecil wailed. “I couldn't let them take her away from me."

Outside, the mynah shrieked again, making Leslie start. He was closer, she thought. Any minute now, he would probably fly in the door.

Unnoticed by Cecil, Simon had again moved right next to her. “Get ready to duck,” he murmured, his breath fanning her ear. “Whatever happens, remember this: I love you."

"What?” Leslie gasped, her heart thudding.

A flurry of feathers whipped past their heads. Cecil screamed and jerked his head violently to one side, his arms coming up to protect his face. The gun clattered to the floor. He stared at his empty hands for an instant, then dropped to his knees, frantically scrabbling for it.

Scruffy barked hysterically as the gray cat leaped into the room, hissing as if he were demented. He swiped one paw across Scruffy's nose, sending the little dog yelping into the corner. He skidded to a stop in front of Cecil. Cecil sneezed explosively. The cat, in a complete panic, sank needle-sharp teeth into Cecil's ankle.