Suspicion of Madness (34 page)

Shaking his head, Tom took his jacket off the peg in the hall and opened the door. A faint rectangle of light fell onto the porch long enough for him to see rain splattering on the warped boards and twisted columns. The cart waited at the bottom of the stairs. He pulled the door shut and put on his jacket. He walked forward, feeling for the railing. Rain drummed on the tin roof and poured in streams to the yard. Tom wiped his glasses with the palm of his hand. Raindrops hit his hood with a racket like popping corn.

Easing himself down the stairs, he explored the treads with his toe for secure footing. At the bottom he stepped into a puddle and cursed that he hadn't thought to bring a flashlight.

He walked around to the other side of the cart, and as he started to get in, his head jerked backward. For a split second of perplexed confusion he thought that his foot had slipped or that he had caught his rain hood on a spur of exposed metal.

Then came an immense blow over his ear, and the pain shot through his spine into his legs. He struggled to turn around, to see beyond the edge of his hood. The second blow hit, sending him against the cart. Yellow and red dots swam in his vision. He cried out and lifted his arms to ward off another blow that he sensed was coming, and it did. Again. Again. He staggered away to find a telephone, aware that his collarbone had shattered and he needed someone to fix it.

Another blow put him on his knees, staring into the darkness. Warm liquid ran into his eyes. He heard a distant splash and tasted the grit of mud. Tom moved his lips, but the words gurgled in his throat like water.

20

Beyond the dark glass in the bedroom window a palm frond trembled, then swirled in the wind. Gail crossed the room to close the wooden louvers. Walking past the nightstand she turned on the lamp to make the room even brighter. She was alone in the cottage. Anthony had stayed after dinner to talk to Billy, and Gail had decided to start packing since they would be leaving in the morning. She had noticed
Bride of Nosferatu
and brought it into the bedroom to watch while she worked.

It was a cliché-ridden, low-budget horror film. Too much mist on the ground, too many candles, squeaking hinges, and footsteps echoing in stone passageways. The music track consisted of screeching violins and mallets on open piano strings. The aging male lead was a cadaverous, former Shakespearean actor of minor pedigree with a silken British accent. "Sup with me. We shall dine on bones and drink our fill of blood." It was silly... and yet Gail found herself pulled into the plot, jumping at every strange noise, staying away from the bed in case something was under there to grab her ankles.

Whenever Joan Sinclair appeared, Gail stopped packing and watched her. Joan had been in her mid-twenties when the movie was made but had looked younger, with big eyes, pouty lips, and a pretty little valentine of a face that spoke less of innocence than of voracious sexuality.

So far Nosferatu had seduced Katerina, brought her to the lonely mountains of an unnamed Central European country, and had failed to satisfy her thirst. He lured travelers to his castle, one of whom, conveniently, was Katerina's former lover, Charles. He had become engaged to someone else but was still in love with Katerina.

Gail watched the movie as she laid clothes out on the bed to be folded.

Sundown, a narrow road through the mountains. Charles in the carriage with his new fiancee and a group of fellow travelers. The horses are nervous. They bolt, and the carriage careens into a ditch and breaks an axle. It will take some time to repair it. Count Nosferatu offers them lodging. A warning from the coachman, but no one listens. From there, a plot littered with blood-drained corpses.

Dinner with the count. A gloomy dining room, black velvet curtains. Enter the bride of Nosferatu in a trailing white gown. She sits at the other end of the table. Shock! Charles recognizes his former betrothed. He still carries a small photograph in a silver frame of the two of them together in Katerina's virginal, prevampire days. He vows to bring her back from the legion of the undead. His fiancée, Anna, sweet as pie, has no objection to this. "You must, Charles. You must save her."

Then a long scene with Nosferatu going after one of the other female guests. Uninterested in this, Gail took Anthony's pajamas from the armoire and folded them around his T-shirts to prevent wrinkling. She didn't mind; it made him happy. He also liked his socks folded, not rolled into balls.

Anna was walking down a long, empty hallway. Footsteps tap on stone. "Charles? Charles, where are you?" Candles flutter in the wall sconces. Shadows loom. Anna senses something behind her. She turns around. It's Katerina, whose lips curl back like a dog's. Anna screams, runs away. Katerina is waiting in the next room.

Gail heard a noise at the front door and froze, then let out a breath. She called out, "Is that Nosferatu coming in to ravish me?"

A deep voice answered, "It is I." A second later Anthony appeared at the bedroom door. His head turned toward the television. "You're watching that movie. How is it?"

"Great, if you like over-the-top B-movie melodrama. Katerina has sucked the blood out of most of the men in the cast already. I'm waiting to see if Charles can bring her back from the undead."

"Who is Charles?"

"The man she was engaged to before Nosferatu carried her off."

"Ah, yes." Anthony saw his suitcase open on the floor. "What is this? Oh, thank you, sweetheart, but don't do any more packing for me. I will probably stay through the weekend."

"Why?"

"Two reasons. First, I want to make sure Tom Holtz talks to Detective Baylor. And second... Billy wants to see the mermaid lamp."

"He remembers it?"

"He says no." Anthony went to hang up his jacket in the closet. "Four years ago he was at the Morgans' house at least twice mowing the yard, but he says he has no memory of the mermaid being there. So tomorrow, first thing in the morning, he wants to see it for himself. Martin will take us in his boat." Anthony kicked off his shoes.

"So Martin came downstairs after all?"

"No, I called him. He was not happy to be disturbed. He and Teri were... busy."

Gail said, "I don't want to leave you here during the storm."

"Martin made this resort to withstand a force-five hurricane, so a little tropical storm is nothing. You need to get back, Gail. You have a date with your daughter on Saturday morning. You and Karen and stacks of bread and jars of peanut butter. Come back for me on Sunday, if you can, and if not, Martin said he could arrange someone to take me home."

She looked at him a while. "Fine." She took his socks and briefs out of the suitcase and carried them back to the armoire. "I'll see you on Sunday."

Laughing softly, Anthony caught her hand and pulled her around. "I wasn't finished. Tomorrow, after Billy sees his mermaid, you and I will go to the courthouse in Tavernier. We apply for the marriage license, you go on to Miami, and I return here. But we'll have to hurry. You need to be on the road by noon."

"The marriage license." She couldn't hold back a smile. "You still want to do it."

"Yes,
bonboncita."
His hands slid down her back, pressing her close. "Did you think you could escape?"

"I thought
you
were trying to."

"Never. When you called Karen today from the marina, did you tell her about it?" When Gail replied with a grimace, he shook his head.
"¡Qué cobarde!"

"A big fat coward," Gail agreed. "I'll talk to her this weekend."

"Is that a promise?"

"I swear." She put an X over her heart.

He kissed her. "Let's go take a shower."

"Soon as the movie is over. Come on, watch the ending with me."

They turned off the lights and propped pillows against the headboard as Katerina told Charles to meet her in her chambers at midnight. She would be his for eternity. But Nosferatu waits in the shadows. Charles guessed this in advance, clever man, and he carries an altar cloth sewn with garlic and wolfsbane. He throws the cloth over the vampire and weights it with crosses to keep him from escaping. The vampire thrashes and howls.

Katerina's eyes gleam with desire. Her breasts strain at the low neck of her nightgown. She moistens her lips, exposes her teeth. Charles is tempted but in a surge of manly fortitude he pulls the cork from a bottle of holy water and douses her with it. Katerina screams and writhes on the floor. Charles leaps on her and in a single thrust throbbing with metaphorical significance, plunges a sharpened stick into her heart. For a brief moment her face softens. Her eyes fix on him. "Charles." Her eyelids drop.

"Ay, Dios mío.
" Anthony laughed.

Charles running with the body of his beloved in his arms, grabbing a torch, setting fire to the curtains on his way out. They burst into flames, no doubt soaked in gasoline by the special effects crew. Closeup on Nosferatu trying to claw out from under the altar cloth, flames engulfing him.

Anthony pointed. "No, that's wrong. You can't kill a vampire that way."

"He can come back in a sequel," Gail said.

A graveyard near a church. Overcast sky, bare trees, a small group of mourners. Charles kisses the portrait of himself and Katerina. He tosses it into the grave. The gravedigger steps forward with his shovel. Closeup on the coffin, the photograph of the lovers gradually being covered with dirt.

Credits roll.

"Well." Anthony stared at the screen as if waiting for something more. "Did you find out why Sandra McCoy wanted to show this movie to Doug Lindeman?"

"I have no earthly idea," Gail said.

"Maybe she learned a new way of sucking blood." Anthony turned on the lamp on his nightstand and began to unbutton his shirt.

Gail got up and went over to press the rewind button. "Joan was good, though, wasn't she? Completely overqualified for this film." On the video box Joan Sinclair's sin-black eyes stared back at her. The points of her teeth made indentations in the red pillow of her lower lip. "You have a secret that you're not telling. Don't you?"

"Señora,
are you coming with me or not?" Anthony tossed his pants over the back of a chair.

"What? Oh, yes." Gail set the video box upright. "I meant to ask you. Did Tom and Joan ever show up?"

"No, they didn't. Martin found the cart parked under the portico, where it always is, and Tom's boat wasn't at the dock. He must have gone home."

"But it's odd, don't you think, that he didn't tell anyone?"

Anthony pulled her along behind him. "Yes, very inconsiderate. I'll call him tomorrow. Now I want you to show me what you learned from that movie."

The phone had rung twice before, and Doug had let it go to voice mail, but this time he rolled over and turned on the lamp. The woman beside him lifted her head from the pillow.

"Why don't you turn off the damned phone?"

"Let me just see who—"

Lois Greenwald.

"Shit. I have to take this. It's a client." He picked up the handset. "Yes?"

"You said to call you. I was worried."

He cleared his throat. "Sorry. I was asleep. What's up?"

"Joan never came. I put her things in the room and gave Martin a key. Martin was going to talk to Joan. He could have persuaded her, but she never came."

"Crap."

"What do you want me to do now?"

Doug swung his feet to the floor. "Where's Tom?"

"He went home. His boat is gone. We didn't see him either. Maybe she went with him."

"Maybe."

"Douglas? I heard something tonight that hurt me a great deal. I want you to be completely honest with me. Do you have other women?"

"No. Where'd you hear that?"

"Is it true?"

"Absolutely not. Someone is lying to you."

He could hear her intake of breath. "Yes," she said. "Yes. You love me, don't you?"

Naked, Doug took the phone down the hall, closing the bedroom door on his way out. "Listen to me. What did I tell you? I need time. Didn't we agree on that?"

"Say you love me."

"I don't want you calling me at home in the middle of the night—"

"Say it. Please."

"Lois, I'll say it when I fucking feel like it. Okay? Jesus. Don't push me. My therapist said the worst thing for me right now is to push too hard. Grief isn't something you can just turn on and off. You understand that, don't you? Honey?"

There was a long silence. Then she said, "You have to try."

"I'm trying."

"I can help. I'd come to your house tonight if you wanted me to."

"Not tonight," he said.

"When?"

Doug pounded his head slowly, silently on the wall. "Soon. Very soon. Maybe by next month I'll be able to... you know. God, I can't even say it."

"It's all right. Forgive me, darling."

"I want to be normal again. I don't feel like a man anymore." He made a choking noise, a stifled sob.