 XXI. Sassur 9:00 PM Dinner that night was tense. The atmosphere was heavy and foreboding and it was evident that everyone felt it. Conversation was spoken with tense voices and sometimes arguments would break out, especially between Diana and her cousin, Xanthia. The astrologer was still pale and had no recollection (or at least she had said she had no recollection) of the encounter just outside of Reine’s bedroom. But, as Diana had pointed out, she was feeling well enough to attend dinner without fainting. But even the arguments could not diffuse the tension. Larrington continued to sit at the end of the table where his aunt Ira had originally placed him. His eyes were puffy as if he had lost a lot of sleep recently. He mumbled to himself about searching the garage at the base of the plateau. The Baroness reported another of her trinkets stolen. Vicker’s wife Esther continued to complain about her lost pin. What was remarkable was that she had finally donned a modest blouse that covered most of her skin. Vicker himself remained silent, eating quickly. After dinner, Diana again pleaded a headache and wandered out of the living room to the foyer. Larrington mumbled something about going to his car because he forgot something and also left. It was still quite early and the guests either lounged in the living room or paced around the room, looking at Ira’s decorations, unsure and weary about making conversation, yet unable to leave because of general uneasiness. “I’ve been having strange dreams,” confided Tabora as Mary began pouring the after dinner port. “They’re strange, bizarre and disturbing.” On that topic, Xanthia remained remarkably silent. Instead, she watched the rest of the guests covertly over her own glass of port, eyes glittering. “I personally believe dreams are your mind’s way of processing the day’s events,” said her husband. “So if I dreamed of decapitations,” the Baroness replied, “then what does that mean?” He shrugged. “I’m not a dream interpreter.” “Why is it,” said Esther, “that I don’t feel safe here even though nothing has happened to me? This morning, I thought I saw a face in the mirror. I was quite rattled for the rest of the day.” “Your own?” supplied Hadrian. She shot him a dirty look. “No. It was a man’s face, quit lecherous, mind you.” “She was screaming this morning,” winced Vicker. “I saw a face in the mirror one morning,” said Reine. Mary set down the bottle of port. “And I concluded it was the ghost of Phineas Cronan. He does fancy the ladies.” “There are no such things as ghosts,” Reine added. Esther shook her head. “I was not hallucinating. I saw that face. But it wasn’t an old man’s face. Nothing that I would expect of someone like Phineas Cronan. No, I don’t think it was the ghost. A demon more likely.” She tilted her head, indicating the game heads on Ira’s living room wall. “It looked like the cross between a moose and a human. With red eyes.” “An overactive imagination,” Vicker said. “Perhaps. But I didn’t like it.” “Dreams are indeed strange things,” Xanthia said quietly. Suddenly all the eyes were riveted on her. Everyone had heard of her confrontation with Reine. Diana had not kept quiet about the incident, determined to paint her cousin as someone who needed help. “Sometimes they do come true.” Her eyes darted briefly to the foyer, which no one but Reine noticed. “What do you mean they come true?” Reine said. “Like dreaming about winning the lottery and then actually getting the winning ticket the next day?” “In my experience,” the astrologer said, barring her teeth in a semblance of a smile, “it is never anything that benign.” Tabora gave a long suffering sigh and Amanda’s ears perked up. The bulldog lumbered slowly toward the foyer and started barking. “What is it, Amanda?” demanded Hadrian lazily. “I vow, I have no idea why Ira gave him to me. He’ll make a better guard dog if he lost some weight.” Amanda continued barking. “Maybe Tuesday finally decided to wake up from his nap,” said Reine, getting up. The cat had been snoozing in her room for most of the day. She didn’t doubt that the feline had climbed down the stairs and was now stalled by the yapping dog. She walked to the entranceway where Amanda was standing, still barking. He momentarily stopped to look up at her, but then continued making noise. “What is it, Amanda, an intruder? I don’t see anyone coming in the front door.” But she did see the door to the library open. Light was spilling out from it, into the hallway. “Hello?” she called out. No one answered and she had a strange sense of déjà vu as she approached the door. A voice in the back of her mind told her to call out for back up from the people sitting in the living room, but curiosity and not a little bit of machismo also drove her toward the door. Amanda stopped barking, content that someone was investigating this little bit of oddity and trotted behind to see what was going on. Reine peered into the crack afforded by the open door, but still saw and heard nothing. Steeling herself, she suddenly pushed the door open. The first thing she noticed was a woman sprawled out in the center of the library, on top of the compass rose painted on the floor. She was wearing a dark blue robe and glittering objects were scattered around her person like broken glass. A man stood over her, like an angel of death in his black trench coat. He looked up at Reine with rheumy eyes. “Larrington,” she automatically said. “What are you doing here?” he demanded. Amanda started barking again. “What have you done with her?” “What are you doing here?” he repeated. He turned to her, strolling to her, his eyes intent on something that made her skin crawl. “This is none of your business.” “Yes it is,” she countered, stepping away. He suddenly made a grab for her, his hand clamping down on her forearm. Reine screamed. “Quiet bitch,” he snarled. “I should have never let the board hire you for the publishing…” he suddenly cut off with a piercing scream of his own as Amanda took a chomp at his leg. “Get that infernal beast away from me!” “Reine!” She felt another pair of hands grab hold of her, wrenching her away from Larrington’s grip. “Marcus, Diana’s in there. She’s hurt.” “Diana?” said Xanthia from behind the crowd of people who had rushed into the foyer to see what was going on. The astrologer pushed her way through the throng and took a slug at Larrington’s jaw before entering the library herself. Larrington let out another howl of pain. Content that Ira’s nephew was damaged enough, Amanda let go of his leg and followed Xanthia to examine Diana. Larrington kept howling dramatically before he tripped on his own untied shoelace and fell over. “Should we tie him up and phone the authorities?” said the Baron as he and Hadrian hauled Larrington up and dumped him into the corner of the library while he glared at everyone while nursing his wounds. “Yes,” said Xanthia, looking up from her fallen cousin. “It looks like he beat her up pretty badly. Thank God she’s still alive.” “I didn’t do anything to her,” Larrington snarled. “I found her that way along with all that jewelry around her.” “Jewelry?” Tabora moved in to observe the fallen woman. “Indeed. These are mine.” “And here’s my pin!” added Esther triumphantly. “She had stolen them,” Larrington spat out. “How would you know?” questioned the Baron. “You’re the one who hit the woman. A far more serious crime than stealing.” “I swear, I did nothing to her. Ask Reine.” “It is true,” Reine admitted. “I didn’t see him hitting her. She was already on the floor, unconscious.” Larrington smiled triumphantly. “But,” she continued, “that doesn’t mean that he hit her before I opened the door.” “I didn’t do it!” Larrington howled. “Whatever the case,” said Tabora, “we’ll have to call the authorities anyway.” “I shall get the phone,” said Palwick from the door of the library. Vicker scowled at the mess. “So Ira is right about you. You don’t have much of a brain, hm?” Ira’s newphew only stared at him sullenly. “So what did you really see?” Marcus whispered to Reine once they had moved a little ways from the others. “Not much,” she said. “Larrington was standing over Diana’s body, but anything could have happened. He really could be telling the truth. That he stumbled upon the scene by accident.” “What’s that?” Tabora said, catching everyone’s attention. “Ira, is that you?” She headed over to one of the armchairs near the fireplace. Something white, white hair in fact, peeked over one of the headrests. “I have a bad feeling about this,” Reine murmured. Marcus put an arm around her shoulders. “I thought Hadrian told us that Ira was having a vacation in Mexico,” the Baron said, confused. “Ira?” Tabora continued to call out. She walked over to the fireplace to look at the occupied armchair. She shrieked and drooped to the floor in a dead swoon. Reine shuddered. “Tabora!” The Baron loped over to his fallen wife and glanced at the armchair. “Oh God. What sort of abomination is this?” Palwick walked quickly back to the library. “What is it, I thought I heard a scream.” “It was Tabora,” Reine said grimly. “Did you get the authorities?” said the Baron. “It looks like some psycho is loose in this house.” “I’m sorry to inform you that the phone is not working,” the butler said. “I glanced outside. There’s a snowstorm going on outside and I wouldn’t be surprised that the storm has cut the phone lines.” “Just the phone lines?” said Vicker incredulously. “The phone lines are separate from the electricity. It’s fortunate if the electricity is out, but unfortunate if the phone lines themselves are damaged.” The butler walked over to the fireplace and glanced at the armchair. He visibly blanched. “You’re right, sir, there is a psycho loose in this house.” “Apparently it’s not the butler then,” Marcus said lowly. “The psycho’s right here,” Vicker said indicating Larrington. “I think we should tie him up as the Baron has suggested earlier.” Larrington whimpered. Esther rubbed her arms. “I, for one, at least am glad that the electricity is still on. It’s cold out there and the last time the electricity was off, it was cold in here.” “I seriously doubt snow could damage power lines,” Hadrian said. “Lightning yes, snow no.” Vicker, meanwhile, had taken the liberty to drag Larrington to a standing position and had tied his hands to his back. “We should keep him where we can see him.” “Good idea,” said the Baron. He was cradling his wife who was slowly coming back to her senses. “We wouldn’t want the bastard wandering around assaulting the women in the middle of the night.” “Could someone help me get Diana to her room?” said Xanthia. “If it’s not obvious to any of you, I’m not strong enough to lift her.” “I’ll help,” said Hadrian. But as Hadrian and Marcus lifted the middle-aged woman off the library floor, the lights went out. The fire in the library’s hearth, however fortunately, remained burning. The butler cursed. “Not again.” “You’re not going anywhere, my boy,” Vicker said loudly. “I know I’m not going anywhere, old man,” retorted Larrington. “I’ll get the flashlights and candles,” volunteered Mary. Reine quickly followed the housekeeper as she stepped outside the library. “Let me lend a hand. I’m sure you can’t carry them all.” © 2002, S. Y. Affolee |