Chapter 25
TWENTY-FIVE
My first instinct is to confront Jack but by the time I get back to my room and take a shower, I’ve devised a different plan.
Maybe it’s better if I keep my discovery to myself for the time being, and ask Jack more information about himself.
I’ll ask him about college and his sweethearts.
I figure that would be a normal topic for a couple to talk about.
In the meantime, I need to make a list of everything that’s happening around me.
The way Laura did so she could keep track of everything.
I need to talk to people to discover the truth.
I realize how isolated I am in this house.
If I want to leave I can’t. I don’t have a vehicle or phone numbers of anyone apart from Jack, Ruby and of course my family, but they’re in LA.
My only form of online communication is my phone unless I use Jack’s computer in his office—but any emails I send can be read by Jack or Ruby.
No doubt she knows his passwords. He trusts her with everything.
I sit at my dressing table, brushing my hair, suddenly feeling trapped.
There are people I would like to speak to.
Jack’s friends who were on the yacht the night Laura died, and Tom Bates.
I need to know if any of them met Caroline and what was the true story behind her death? Will any of them tell me the truth?
My attention moves to the bottom drawer where Laura’s laptop is hidden.
Now I know the secret of Caroline, I’ll be able to understand the entries in her diary.
She would be feeling the same turmoil as I am but I guess she wasn’t as strong-minded as me.
I lock my door and pull out the laptop. Moments later I’ve found where I left reading.
I can feel Laura’s confusion in every word.
I went to see the psychiatrist today. Her name is Doctor Ladley and she is quite nice but I don’t trust her.
After our sessions I hear her whispering to Jack in the waiting room.
This gives me no confidence in her confidentiality.
I always believed what was said between a doctor and a patient was sacrosanct, but she gives him instructions on how to keep me medicated.
I haven’t been taking the meds that Jack thrusts into my hand each night but lately I’ve been sleeping like death and waking up with a mouth so dry I can hardly speak.
My brain isn’t working right and it takes me most of the day to wake up.
Someone in the house is drugging me. Last night at dinner, the moment Sue placed my plate in front of me, I asked Jack to go and look outside because I was sure I saw someone looking at me through the window.
It was a lie, of course. I just needed him out of the way for a few seconds so I could switch our plates.
When Jack didn’t come down for breakfast, I knew I’d been correct and Sue or Pierre are involved in drugging me.
I can’t trust anyone. I don’t have any friends and my parents live overseas and wouldn’t believe me if I told them.
I need to take my life into my own hands.
I can’t leave. I’ve got nowhere to go and I’m watched every second of the day but I do have a debit card and this laptop.
I plan on ordering meals from my favorite restaurants and having them delivered.
It’s the only way I’ll be able to survive.
I stare at the entry and push both hands through my hair, clutching my aching skull.
I’m not sure what to do. Am I reading the ramblings of a woman who is mentally ill, or is she the victim of a coercive husband?
I consider my time with Jack. The honeymoon was bliss and we spent every moment together but since he’s been back at work, I’ve been literally housebound.
Okay, so I don’t have any friends to go visit but I should have a vehicle of some description.
Most people in my position wouldn’t be content to sit at home every day.
I need a car to go visit the local stores, go shopping and drive around the neighborhood to get the feel of it.
Am I slipping slowly under his coercive control without realizing?
I think over my time since I arrived. I’ve spoken to most of the staff and they’ve been very co-operative with me and, in fact, I can’t find fault with them.
Although I do find them a little intrusive, I guess having all my meals cooked for me and my bedroom cleaned is the usual way for rich people to live.
I return the laptop to its hiding place.
I need to limit my exposure to Laura’s unstable ramblings before she drags me down with her.
What she writes is very unsettling and what if it’s true?
My resentment for her has now gone, replaced by sympathy for a woman in a terrible position.
Like me she had no one to go to for advice and no one she could really trust. The room suddenly becomes unbearably small, oppressive and suffocating.
I fling open the door and step outside. The feeling of being watched is overpowering and as I head down to the kitchen I scan the walls for any sign of surveillance cameras.
Am I getting paranoid? If I am being recorded, perhaps it’s just a security measure but I need to know.
Where would I find the hard drives connected to a CCTV? Would they be on Jack’s computer?
As the clock in the hall chimes telling me it’s one o’clock, I walk into the kitchen.
Sue has proved to be a font of information but how much of it is secondhand?
If she was willing to drug Laura, can I even trust her to tell me the truth?
The people in this house could be rehashing a well-rehearsed fabrication of lies.
It would make sense to have a deviation from the original story after so long.
Maybe I need to have a chat to George and Bill as well?
There are so many things to consider and I make a mental list of things to do.
First is to find a suitable notebook. I’m so used to working on a tablet that using pen and paper is going to be strange.
I frown, recalling what happened to my tablet.
I was lounging under a huge umbrella by the pool during our honeymoon, answering emails from my friends.
A shadow loomed over me and Jack smiled, plucked the tablet from my hands and tossed it into the pool.
I believe he is jealous of anyone or anything taking my attention away from him.
I remember the credit card in my purse. Maybe it’s about time I purchased a new tablet online.
I smile. I need to become a little more self-sufficient.
I walk into the kitchen and Pierre is there. “Ah, just the person I need to see. I’m starving. What do you recommend for lunch?”
“Spanish omelet, served with French toast?” He smiles at me.
“I’ve read your menu suggestions. Do you want a specific meal on a specific day or do you want me to surprise you?
Mr. Hunter has some desserts he likes as well.
Is there anything on his list you don’t like?
” He takes a list from a drawer and hands it to me.
I read down the list of delights and shake my head. “I love all of them, and yes, to the omelet.” I turn to Sue. “I’ll eat in the dining room today. Could you find George? I’d like a word with him.”
“He was just here for lunch.” Sue pulled out her phone. “I’ll call him.”
I leave them and head to Jack’s office. Inside I go to his supply cabinet.
I find a nice hard cover notebook with his company logo emblazoned in gold on a blue cover.
I select two silver pens and walk to the dining room.
By the time I place the book and pens on the table, George is knocking on the door and giving me an inquiring stare.
I grip the pen so he can’t see my hands trembling.
I’m an actor and this is just a scene of the mistress of the house talking to a subordinate.
Action. “Thanks for coming, George. Sit down, I’d like to speak to you. ”
“How are you settling in?” George rests his clasped hands on the table.
I look at him. He is the man Jack trusts to run the entire estate. “Fine, thanks. May I ask how long you’ve worked here?”
“Must be over twenty years, I figure.” George nods and smiles at me.
“I’m guessing you want to know about the previous renovations?
They were completed during my time here, although I’ll never know why they decided to section another part of the house for staff and then changed their mind and built the staff buildings. It seemed like a waste of money.”
I blink, trying to allow the information to sink in. “I didn’t notice any other staff quarters on the blueprints Jack gave me to work from. Are you sure they were completed?”
“I’ve seen them with my own two eyes.” He rubs the end of his nose, and his small brown eyes fix on me.
“Mr. Langly, the owner at the time, gave me a tour when it was done. The bedrooms were small but there was a sitting room, and a nice kitchen. The entrance was downstairs; it takes up half of the cellar and has steps leading upstairs. It was never used because Mrs. Langly figured she could hear people talking. She didn’t want the staff hearing her private conversations, so it was locked up and never used.
” He frowned. “Some time later, they renovated again and expanded the rooms. They took out the staff quarters. Like I say, a waste of good money.”
Mind spinning, I stare at him. “Does Mr. Hunter know about it?”
“I can’t say.” George scratches his cheek and leans back in his chair.
“I’ve never spoken to him about it. I heard from Sue about the renovations you’d planned and assumed you wanted to speak to me about it.
I don’t know why it’s not on the blueprints.
The door is still there. I don’t know how much inside remains. ”
I stand. “Could you show me?”
“I don’t have the keys.” He lowers his gaze to his hands resting on the table. “Mr. Langly took them from me. I’ve never seen them since. Perhaps he decided it would reduce the chance of selling the estate if anyone knew about the changes and then had a new set of blueprints created?”
Dismay rolls over me. I sit down and see he is just as confused as I am. “I guess so. How strange. Anyway, while I have you here there are a few things I’d like to know. How is the security here? I don’t see any security guards. Do we at least have CCTV surveillance?”
“Yes, we do.” George blows out a sigh as if relieved. “Outside and the front gate.”
I frown. “What about inside the house? Surely the entrance hall at least is covered?”
“I believe so, yes.” George nods. “I recall Mr. Hunter arranging for them to be updated when you married and we do have a security team. They patrol the estate regularly and have an office in the staff quarters.”
So, someone is watching me. “To what extent is the house covered by the cameras?”
“All over including the hallways, front and back doors.” George ran a hand through his thinning hair. “Outside, the gardens and driveway as well as the gate.”
The idea that strangers watch my every move is disturbing. “Where does the feed go to?”
“I believe Mr. Hunter can tell you.” George frowns and his eyes shift uncomfortably.
“I would imagine he has the house feed either sent to his office or his home computer. It’s stored in the Cloud as far as I’m aware.
It’s only in case anyone breaks in but with the security system that would be remote. ”
I force my expression into one of relief. “That’s good to know.” I meet his gaze. “Has anyone ever discussed the night Laura died with you?”
“Well, yes.” George opens his hands wide.
“It was a topic of conversation at the time. There was a storm at sea, she went out on deck to get some fresh air and a freak wave knocked her overboard. No one knew she was missing for over an hour. They never found her body. It was a tragic accident.” He sighs.
“The coroner ruled it as an accident and pronounced her dead. Lost at sea.”
I shake my head. “How sad. Did you get along with Laura? I heard she could be quite prickly at times.”
“She was set in her ways.” George stares into space as if thinking and then shifts his attention to me.
“She had a habit of mislaying things and often made me question the staff about them. I figure she believed we were playing tricks on her as the things always showed after a few hours. Of course we weren’t.
Why would we? Mr. Hunter pays us a higher salary than just about anywhere else.
We all like working here but, in truth, at times it became difficult. ”
I clear my throat and smile as Sue arrives with my meal. The aroma is mouthwatering. “Thank you, George. You’ve been a great help.”
I stare at my plate, not a Spanish omelet but slices of crispy duck with fried rice. It looks delicious but it wasn’t what I ordered. I look at Sue who places a glass of orange juice on the table. “What happened to the Spanish omelet?”
“Spanish omelet?” She frowns at me and raises one eyebrow. “The duck was planned for dinner. Mandarin duck is one of Mr. Hunter’s favorites but Pierre said you insisted on duck. He has two ducks prepared.”
I shake my head. What exactly is going on here? “You were there when he suggested the omelet. This looks delicious but I didn’t order it.” I sigh. “It doesn’t matter; tell Pierre I’m happy to have duck for dinner. I like it too.”
“Is there anything else?”
The way Sue’s mouth puckers reminds me of a cat walking away and I bite back a laugh. I pick up my silverware. “Yes, I’d like a mug of coffee please. Thank you, Sue.”
I watch her leave and wonder why the deception about lunch. Why the different accounts of Laura’s death? I eat slowly, trying to get my head around everything. I’m no threat to the staff. What game are they playing with me?