Chapter 23
TWENTY-THREE
WEDNESDAY
This morning, I spent time with the children, getting them ready for school.
I enjoy every second with them and the chatter is uplifting.
After sending them off with Jenny, I walk Jack to his Porsche and kiss him goodbye.
I have many things on my mind. The inconsistencies in the stories about Laura’s death are starting to niggle at me.
I wonder who is telling me the truth and who is gaslighting me.
If I am to believe Jack and Ruby, I must consider that the information about the weather is incorrect, or perhaps it didn’t rain where they were at the time.
I’ve known it to rain on one side of the street and not the other, so anything is possible.
Inside I want to believe my husband and his personal assistant.
I can find no reason why Ruby would lie to me about the weather when she has been so forthcoming about her affair with Tom.
I make my way to the kitchen and find Sue loading the dishwasher. “Morning, Sue. I’ll just grab a mug of coffee and then I’m going to work on my plans for the new bedroom.”
“That will be exciting.” Sue smiles at me over one shoulder. “I can’t wait to see it.”
I take down a mug and pour myself a coffee. “Me either. I’m sorry to be harping on Laura again, but do you recall who told you about the accident?”
“Ruby.” Sue raises her eyebrows as she looks at me. “She was standing right there where you are now. When she returned home with Mr. Hunter, they were both exhausted from being awake all night.”
I stir cream and sugar into my mug. “How did they look? Were they wet or dry?”
“They resembled a pair of drowned rats.” Sue shook her head. “Both of them had wet hair and their shoes were soaked through. I suppose that’s not surprising considering there was a storm that night.”
I nod. “So did they mention a storm?”
“Yes, they both believed that’s how Laura got tossed overboard.” Sue’s eyes narrow. “Have you heard something to the contrary?”
I straighten and smile. “No, I know about the storm. It’s a huge yacht so people can easily move around without being seen.
I know Laura left the others to get some fresh air, and she was seen by Ruby and Tom.
The thing is, I’m surprised they were on deck during a storm.
From the weather report it was bad with high waves and, if Laura fell overboard, I doubt anyone heard her scream.
If it was a bad storm, as the reports say, I couldn’t see her lasting long in that swell.
I’m just surprised her body didn’t show. ”
“The Coast Guard searched for a full week.” Sue swallows hard. “Likely a shark ate her. They didn’t find so much as a shoe.”
Head spinning with the conflicting stories, I sip my coffee.
I must keep my composure although inside my stomach is twisting.
So many different versions that I can’t keep my head straight.
I need to get away and think. I stand slowly.
“That’s awful.” I frown. “I’d better get a start on these ideas.
Ruby will have the architect here before I’m finished.
” I smile as I leave the kitchen and carry my mug up the stairs.
As I climb the stairs, I’m acutely aware of Laura’s eyes following me from the portrait.
The uneasy feeling remains as I make my way to my room.
Even in the daytime the hallway is still dimly lit and, as I walk, the hair on the back of my neck stiffens.
I stop and look around. I’m sure someone is watching me.
A loud bang comes close by. It frightens the heck out of me and I spill hot coffee over my fingers.
Heart pounding, I lean against the wall, scanning the hallway.
As I turn, one of the bedroom doors moves and a sliver of light cuts across the hall carpet.
I’m frozen in place, staring at the door, but nobody emerges and everything is eerily silent.
No one should be here. The rooms along this hallway are furnished for guests but the furniture is covered.
I can think of no reason why light would be coming from that room.
When I looked inside just yesterday, the blinds were shut tight.
The door creaks and moves again, sending more light into the hallway.
Panic grips me but I listen, trying to hear over the pounding in my ears.
A clicking sound comes from the room but no footsteps or voices.
Gripping the mug before me like a pistol, I watch the door moving back and forth.
The mug trembles in my hand and I place it on a delicate highly polished table beside a vase of fresh roses set on a lace doily.
I don’t recall seeing the table before and why are the flowers here outside this particular room?
The door whines again and I shrink back, heart thundering in my chest.
This is supposed to be my home so why am I so afraid?
I’m no threat to anyone. Taking a deep breath, I push leaden feet toward the door, place one palm against it and thrust it open.
I flinch as someone runs toward me but it’s only the long white silken curtains billowing out from the window like two women dancing in long white gowns.
The window is wide open, pushed up on a sash and the thick drapes either side are gathered back and secured with gold ropes to rings in the wall.
Reluctantly, I step inside and scan the area.
The bed and everything else are the same.
Goosebumps prickle up my arms but I push through the fear and walk across the room and shut the window and secure it.
I search the garden below and see Bill tending the flowerbeds.
I leave the drapes open and move slowly through the room.
The ever-present feeling of being watched hangs about me in a shroud of uncertainty.
Why would someone want to observe me? I move my attention around the walls, searching for cameras, but shake my head.
The technology these days could mean a camera might be hidden anywhere in anything and appear like a speck of dust.
Opening closets has become a challenge since seeing the mannequin but I suck in my breath and throw open the doors.
A wave of old wooden closet smell fills my nostrils and a light flickering inside illuminates a figure.
Alarmed, I jump back but it’s just a coat.
I laugh at my stupidity and close the doors.
I walk out, leaving the bedroom door wide open.
The light streaming into the hallway is welcome.
I gather my courage and make myself check the second bedroom but it is the same as it was the first time I peered inside.
The feeling of being observed clings to me and I hurry to my bedroom.
I’m glad to get inside but somebody has been here.
The new curtains of a beige velvet and the matching bedspread are welcome additions.
The room has been made up and is sparkling clean.
I close the door, turn the key and then sink onto the bed.
I should feel comfortable in my home and yet it’s as if I’m in a five-star hotel.
I’m not sure if I’m happy about strangers going through my belongings and setting things straight.
It seems like an invasion of privacy. All the strange happenings since I arrived are unsettling, especially when my phone went missing.
It’s as if everything around me is slipping from my control.
Is that what Laura felt like living here?
Am I starting to parallel Laura’s time in this house?
I remember my mug of coffee and go out to retrieve it.
I stand and listen to the creaking of the old house for a few seconds and then turn back to my room.
My mind is in turmoil and small insignificant things have become giant problems. This just isn’t like me.
I’ve always been strong but, right now, after the conflicting stories about Laura’s death, I don’t know who I can trust. It worries me that Jack gave me the same story as Ruby’s and yet differs on the weather from the original one Ruby told Sue when they returned home that night.
So how come they both gave me a different version?
A storm at sea is a crucial detail to forget as it offers a rational explanation of how Laura could have fallen overboard—so why the cover-up?
Or was Tom involved—if so, why would he want to kill Laura?
My attention moves to the bottom drawer of the dresser where I’ve hidden Laura’s laptop.
I wonder if Jack knows that Laura wrote a diary.
If so, was he aware of the unusual happenings she experienced in the house and just dismissed them?
Should I ask him or keep the diary to myself?
I stare at the drawer, unable to drag my eyes away.
I must discover more about Laura and can tell no one.
Someone is lying about that night and I need to find out why.