Part Two

Trixie watched as Dan walked away. As soon as her brother was alone, she pounced on him. “We need to talk,” she stated firmly. “In private.” Mart ducked his head but followed her obediently.

“What do you want to know?” he asked, his voice filled with a hollow note of defeat.

“You’ve got a secret,” she accused, surprised at his compliance. “Something that happened before you went away. I need to know what it is so that I can eliminate it from the investigation.”

“I knew this was going to happen,” he muttered. “I guess I’d better start at the beginning.”

Bright sunshine shone down on Mart as he hurried across campus. This afternoon he had promised to meet his study group and, owing to a string of misfortunes, he was late. His friend Peter, who had started these sessions more than a year ago, was liable to shutting the door in the face of latecomers and Mart wanted to avoid that fate.

Finally, his destination came in sight. He saw just ahead of him another member of the group, also hurrying.

“Brad!” he called, jogging to catch up. “Wait for me. We’ve got a better chance if we’re together.”

“I don’t know why I go to these,” Brad grumbled, in reply. He threw open the door and they went inside, heading straight for the stairs. “Why don’t we form our own group and leave His Majesty to his own devices?”

“Because he’s gotten both of us through classes that we had little hope of passing on our own?” Mart suggested. “Besides, he might be better this semester.”

Brad groaned and walked up to Peter’s door. He rapped sharply and the door opened to reveal a rather peevish Peter.

“You’re both late,” he muttered, irritably. “Get in and sit down.”

As Mart looked for somewhere to sit, he realised with a start that there was a newcomer. How did she get here? he wondered, in awe. As well as being hard on latecomers, Peter was notoriously misogynistic and rather racist. The newcomer was not only a woman, but a black woman. Peter must be having kittens. Josh, who sat next to her, quickly introduced her as Latisha.

The session was particularly uncomfortable. As Mart had guessed, Peter was extremely unhappy with the way things had turned out and took it out on the rest of them. It was with relief that everyone left at the end of the designated time.

Outside the building minutes later, Brad turned on Josh. “What do you think you’re doing, bringing her?” he hissed, as Latisha talked with someone else. “Do you want Peter to be upset?”

“Yeah, actually, I did,” Josh admitted, with a grin. “I’m through with Peter and his dictatorial ways. I just thought I’d stir things up a little before I left.”

“That’s just what we need,” Mart muttered, in disgust. “Next time you plan one of these pranks, tell me first so I can run in the other direction.”

At that point, Latisha joined them, politely saying to Mart, “I hear you’re from Sleepyside.”

As Mart replied, the rest of the group dispersed in a variety of directions, each calling a goodbye. “Most people have never heard of it,” he added.

“I have a relative who used to live there,” she replied. “Perhaps you know her. Do you have anywhere you need to be?” He shook his head. “Maybe we could go get a coffee.”

“That sounds great,” he replied. As they began to walk, he picked up the previous topic. “Sleepyside’s a small town. What is your relative’s name?”

“Loyola Kevins.”

Mart frowned, thinking hard. “That name is familiar. I think she might have been in some of my older brother’s classes,” he decided, finally. “I don’t think I’ve ever met her, though. How are you related?”

“She’s my half-sister,” Latisha replied. “I guess you know the story of the tragedy. Afterwards, she went to live with her grandfather and I went to my father.”

“Tragedy?” he asked, confused.

She laughed, without humour. “I thought everyone in town knew about that.” She sighed. “I guess I’d better tell you now, seeing as I’ve started.”

“You don’t have to,” he responded, lightly. “I won’t expire of curiosity.”

Stopping, she looked straight at him. “I’d like to.” There was a sadness in her face that made Mart’s heart constrict in his chest. “It all happened about ten years ago. My mother had taken Loyola to Sleepyside to visit her grandparents – her father abandoned Mom when she was pregnant with Loyola, but his parents liked to see her.

“So, Mom and I were on the way to pick her up. When we pulled into the drive, Loyola’s father was there and he had a gun. He started shouting. I don’t remember what he said. Then he started shooting people. Mom didn’t make it. Neither did Loyola’s grandmother. When the police arrived, he shot himself.”

“I’m sorry,” Mart told her, sincerely.

Latisha stared off into the distance. “I try not to think about it much,” she said, slowly, “but sometimes…” She dropped her eyes. “You grew up there, right?”

“Yeah,” he answered, softly. “And, of course, I’d heard the story before. I just never connected it with Loyola.”

The young woman beside him smiled gently. “Let’s talk about something else.”

An hour later, they had covered a multitude of topics and had drunk large quantities of coffee. Mart found himself liking Latisha very much. She had a lively sense of humour and the range of her knowledge was formidable. When she finally had to leave, he did not hesitate to give her his contact details.

“We should do this again,” he suggested, scrawling his number on a scrap of paper, along with his name. “Call me sometime.”

With a smile, she accepted the number, but did not make any sort of commitment. Mart watched her go, wondering if he would ever see her again.

A few weeks later, the call which he had given up hope of receiving came, and with it, an invitation to meet once again for coffee. He accepted, almost eagerly, and found himself looking forward to the agreed time. Mart’s steps were light as he entered the coffee shop and took a seat at a table. He did not have long to wait.

“Good to see you.” Latisha dropped into the seat opposite him. “I hope I haven’t kept you waiting.”

“Not at all,” he replied. “What can I get you?”

Minutes later, they both had cups of coffee and Mart had a large slice of chocolate cake. From there, the conversation began to flow.

An hour passed. Just as it had been at their first meeting, they had no shortage of topics for conversation. The table between them became cluttered with empty cups and dishes. Other customers drifted away and fewer replaced them.

“I guess we should get going,” Mart decided reluctantly. “I think they’re wanting to close.” He surveyed her face. “Unless you’d like to go somewhere else?”

“What did you have in mind?”

Mart thought for a moment about how much money he could afford to spend. His budget was usually fairly tight, but he did keep a little aside for unexpected expenses.

“How does pizza sound?” he asked. “There’s a nice place, not far from my dorm.”

“Great,” she replied. “So, we’ll go back to your room?”

“Oh. Okay,” he answered, slightly taken aback. “I don’t think my room-mate will be there, so that should be okay.” She only smiled.

Hours passed. The pizza was finished, but the conversation showed no sign of letting up. Mart was aware of a growing respect for Latisha. From the first, he had seen her as a very intelligent woman. Only now was he beginning to appreciate how truly brilliant she was.

A noise at the door startled him enough to make him stop mid-sentence. “I guess that’s my room mate,” he thought aloud, moving a little further away from her. “It must be late.”

“I should go.” She rose to do just that. The door opened, admitting a dark-haired, rather disheveled man. “I’ve had a wonderful time.” With an enigmatic smile, she slipped past him and was gone.

“Who-wa-tha?” slurred Mart’s room mate, a look on his face which was possibly meant to be a leer.

“Don’t breathe on me, Gavin!” Mart screwed up his face in disgust. “You stink of booze. Go and sleep it off.” He turned his back and tried to ignore Gavin’s laughter.

Time with Latisha, alone in his room, became an almost daily occurrence. Gavin was rather a heavy drinker and spent most of his evenings in search of some liquid refreshment. As the days passed, their conversations became more and more personal.

“I feel like I’ve known you forever,” he told her, one night. “I could tell you anything, Teesh, even things that no one else knows about me.” He could not put a finger on the time when she had stopped being Latisha and started being Teesh. It had seemed a natural progression.

“I think I could, too.” She scanned his face, searching for something. “In fact, I just might.”

“You might tell me what?” he asked, when she showed no sign of continuing. A chill ran through him, as her whole posture changed. Warning bells were ringing in his head, but he pushed the feeling away.

“About the night my mother died – I told you about it, right?” He nodded slowly. “There was a man,” she said, eyes averted. “He just stood there and watched. I’ll never forget it. Right through the whole thing – the argument, the shooting… and everything that happened after that.”

For once, Mart was lost for words. Meaningless platitudes floated around in his head, but nothing of substance would come to mind. The silence stretched out, long and uncomfortable.

“Can you do something for me, Mart?”

“Of course,” he said, without hesitation.

“You’re from Sleepyside. If I give you a description, could you give me some names of people who match it?”

“What makes you think it was a local?” Mart felt suddenly reluctant, though he knew not why. “Couldn’t he have been from out of town?”

“He was wearing a uniform,” she explained. “I’d seen it around town before, but not anywhere else.”

“Well, give me the description,” he decided, “and I’ll think about it and let you know.”

Latisha’s bold handwriting sketched out a brief description on a scrap of paper, ending with her phone number. Without another word, she set it aside and turned the conversation on to cheerier topics.

Over the next few days, Mart thought hard about the task that Latisha had given him. His initial impression of the description was that it fit no one he knew. As he thought about it, he came to see that there was someone it fit. The more he thought about it, the less he liked it.

The trouble was, the person who came to mind was a friend; someone that Mart liked and trusted. He could not see that person acting in the way that Latisha had described, any more than he would have acted that way if he was in that position.

In his mind’s eye, he went back those ten years and saw once again a person who met the description exactly. Tom Delanoy would have been around eighteen at the time, working in the Sleepyside Auto Shop, with its distinctive blue and yellow uniform. The way that Mart remembered it, Tom had even lived close to the address where the tragedy had occurred. He would have travelled right past there on the way to or from work.

The Auto Shop was only a small operation; they had few employees at any one time. As far as he could recall, in those days it had only been old Mr. Underwood, his son and daughter-in-law, and Tom. Of those, only Tom fit the bill.

It just has to be Tom, Mart thought, feeling uneasy. But, he wouldn’t stand by while people died. I know him. He wouldn’t do that, not even back then. Another thought bothered him even more: What am I going to tell Teesh?

Somehow, it didn’t seem right to lie to her. On the other hand, what sort of trouble would he be getting Tom into if he did tell her? The only other option would be to tell her that he didn’t want to tell her, but that seemed a mean thing to do. There didn’t seem to be a solution.

So, he did nothing. A week passed with nothing more than an increasingly guilty feeling for Mart. Teesh did not turn up at his dorm room, and neither did he meet her anywhere on campus. To all intents and purposes she seemed to have disappeared. The one course of action he avoided was using the telephone number she had given him. No amount of guilt would overcome the feeling that he owed it to Tom to stay silent.

The following week, just as he was beginning to think that he might have heard the last of the matter, Mart heard his name being called loudly as he left class. Turning, he saw Latisha, her face set in a determined smile.

“How did you go?” she asked, going straight to the point. “Do you know who he is?”

“I’ve thought of someone.” Mart’s reluctance was clearly evident. “It can’t possibly be him, though, so I’m not giving you his name.”

“I see,” she replied, frowning. “Come with me. I think I have something which will change your mind.”

Groaning inwardly, Mart followed her away from the densely populated area just outside the door and into a less-used corridor. She reached into her bag and pulled out an envelope.

“Take a look,” she directed, handing it to him. He pulled out a pile of photographs. “They’re just copies, you understand.”

“How did you get these?” he demanded, his face turning a pasty white. In front of him was unmistakable evidence of the worst mistake of his life. Evidence which he had no idea even existed. “What are you going to do with them?”

“That depends on you,” she replied, a nasty smile on her face. “Tell me the name and they’ll never see the light of day. Otherwise…”

“This amounts to blackmail,” he warned, trying to suppress his anger. “I won’t be bullied.”

“But you haven’t even seen the best ones.” With a humourless smile, she pointed to the bottom of the pile.

He flicked through the increasingly incriminating shots until he came to the last one. His previously white face quickly turned a deep red. The first thought, on seeing it, was that this was a supremely unflattering photograph. His second was that almost anything would be better than for this to be made public.

“Give me some time to think about it,” he pleaded, his voice raspy.

“You’ve got two days. Then…” She snatched the pile back from him, turned sharply and walked away.

And to think that I really LIKED her, he thought, disgusted in himself. What have I gotten myself into?

Those two days were some of the most stressful of Mart’s life. There seemed to be no way out of this. If he told, someone who probably didn’t do anything wrong could be exposed to – who knew what? If he didn’t tell, that photograph could end up – where? In the hands of his room mate? His family? Or, worse still, his boss? There was no way that he could keep his job if that happened.

Worn down by the prospect of no friends, no money and constant ridicule, Mart made the call to Latisha. I have to tell her, he told himself. There’s no other option, but I’ll do it on my own terms if I can. In his ear, her phone rang.

“Hello,” he heard her say.

“Latisha? It’s Mart.”

“Hello,” she repeated, sounding like the cat who swallowed the canary. “How nice to hear from you, Mart. Now, what was that name?”

“I want to go and see him first,” he replied. “If he can prove that it wasn’t him, I want you to drop it. I can’t think of anyone else it could have been.”

There was a long silence. Mart began to wonder whether she had heard him.

“You’ve got twenty-four hours. No more. And, you have to see him in person. I don’t want any phone calls, warning him or anything. Deal?”

“Deal,” Mart agreed.

Early the next morning, a Saturday, Mart set out for Sleepyside, hoping against hope that Tom would be there when he got there and that no one else would notice him. The drive seemed to take forever. Finally, he turned onto Glen Road and made his final approach. It was with enormous relief that he met Tom halfway up the Manor House’s long drive.

“Can I have a word?” he asked, leaning out the window. “In private?”

“Sure,” Tom readily agreed. “Let me hop in.”

Mart reversed back onto the road and drove the short distance to Rose Cottage. He pulled into the driveway and stopped the engine.

“I don’t want anyone to know that I’m here,” he explained, feeling terribly guilty. “I’ve met a girl at college and she asked me to find someone in Sleepyside for her. She gave me a description and when I thought about it, it sounded like you. Thing is, I don’t think it can be, because of what she said the man did.”

“So…” Tom’s level stare was making Mart uncomfortable.

“So, she’s pressuring me to give her your name, but I thought I’d give you the chance to say that it wasn’t you.”

“Why do you think it was me?” Tom asked.

“She described a uniform – you used to work at the Auto Shop, didn’t you? About ten years ago?” The other man nodded. “And you lived near–”

“The house with the shooting,” Tom interrupted. “The girl in the car – a black girl. Is that the one who’s asking you?” Mart nodded. “Tell her I haven’t got it.”

“Haven’t got what?” Mart asked. “She told me that she wanted to find a man who stood by, without helping, while her mother bled to death.”

The older man shuddered. “I helped, all right.” He looked off into the distance. “Even when I knew that there was no chance…” He looked back at his companion. “She lied to you. She’s looking for me because she thinks I stole something from her mother’s body. A necklace. If you ask me, either it was blown to pieces by the shot, or it got left in the body.”

Mart frowned, thinking hard. Could that sort of thing really happen? The doubt must have been evident on his face.

“If you think I’m just trying to get out of trouble,” Tom insisted, in a shaky voice, “I can tell you what it was like. Her whole chest was a bloody mess. He put five bullets in her at close range–”

“That’s enough!” Mart held up a hand to stop the torrent of words. “I believe you. I just don’t know how to get myself out of this.”

“Just tell her ‘no’.”

“I wish it was that simple,” he replied.

The next week was ominously quiet for Mart. He tried to call Latisha and tell her that he would not tell, but she never seemed to be home. He looked for her everywhere he went, but she was never in sight. With a feeling of dread, he watched and waited for one of the photographs to appear somewhere, but nothing happened.

On the Friday, while he fruitlessly tried to study, the phone rang. He jumped, his nerves frayed by the constant worry, and snatched it up.

“Yes?”

“Mart? Is that you?”

“Yes.”

“Tom Delanoy. Listen, I’ve got something I need to tell you, but you’ve got to keep it a secret, okay?”

“Sure,” Mart agreed, feeling numb.

“Last night, while I was out with Mr. Wheeler, someone tried to break in to the cottage. Celia called the police, but they didn’t catch anyone, or find any real evidence. We’re not sure, but we think it might have been the girl you’ve been talking to. Have you seen her lately?”

“No,” he replied. His own voice sounded distant and faint, over the wild beating of his heart. “I’ve been trying to call her, but she’s never home. I haven’t seen or heard from her since before I talked to you.”

“That’s kind of what we were afraid of,” said Tom, with a sigh. “I guess she must have followed you here. Do me a favour, okay? Try not to have any contact with anyone from Sleepyside for a while. Celia and I don’t want this to get around.”

“Sure, Tom,” he agreed. “But are you and Celia and the kids safe there? I don’t want anything to happen to you.”

“Let’s just say that when this is over, we’re sending Jim a big present for going the extra mile on security.”

With a sickening mixture of relief and guilt, Mart ended the conversation and slumped back in his chair. What am I doing? he wondered. And, how do I get myself out of this?

A few days later, Latisha was back, as brash as ever. This time, she approached him as he returned to his room after the last class of the day. From the look on her face, he knew that he did not want to talk to her.

“Leave me alone,” he demanded, trying to push past her. “I don’t want anything more to do with you.”

“I’m not finished with you.” Smiling that same, humourless smile, she blocked his way. “And I still have those photographs.”

“You followed me,” he accused. “You tried to break into his house. And you lied. He didn’t stand by without helping. And, he didn’t take what you’ve already accused him of taking.”

“Stop it,” she hissed, in a fierce whisper. “He has it and it’s mine. He’s the one who’s lying. You’re going to help me get it, or those pictures will be everywhere you look.”

“I don’t care any more,” he informed her, roughly pushing her away. “Nothing you can do to me would be as bad as helping you.”

“You’ll regret that,” she snarled.

“I regret ever setting eyes on you.” He turned his back to her as he opened the door. “And that’s all I have to say to you.”

Mart neither saw nor heard from Latisha for two weeks after that. The agitation which had plagued him had subsided somewhat and he started to settle back into his regular routine. The call, when it came, was an enormous shock.

“There’s something I need to tell you,” Tom informed him, over the phone. “That girl you’ve been talking to made another attempt last night.”

“Are you okay? Celia? The kids?” Mart asked, in one breath.

“We’re all fine,” the other man confirmed. “In fact, Celia and the kids were safe at home while it happened. I was out driving for Mr. Wheeler at the time. She’s been arrested.”

A wild mixture of emotions rushed through Mart, covered with an overwhelming feeling of relief. Perhaps things would work out after all – at least if they could charge her with something and make it stick.

“Thanks for telling me.” The words sounded hollow to his own ears. “I just hope this is the end of it.”

A few days later, Latisha rang and from the first syllable Mart could hear the venom in her tones. He cringed at the first sentence she uttered, and things got worse from there.

“You made me lose everything,” she accused. “Because you wouldn’t help me, I got arrested. Do you know what that means?” He did not reply, so she went on. “It means that I’ve lost everything! My whole career rests on having a clean record.”

“Hey,” he interrupted. “I didn’t have anything to do with that. It was your choice to go after – him.” He almost gave her some information, but saved himself in time. “It was nothing to do with me.”

“That’s what you think,” she spat. “You’ll pay for this. Believe it.”

She slammed the receiver down and Mart was left wondering what would happen next.

The last communication that Mart had from Latisha left him feeling as if he had failed completely. He found the letter pushed under his door one afternoon after class and spent a few minutes deciding whether to open it at all.

It’s going to bother me if I don’t, he thought, feeling dismal. He slit open the envelope and pulled out a single sheet.

‘Dear Mart,

‘I’m writing to say goodbye since I don’t think we’ll see each other again. I’m going to end it all and I want you to know that you pushed me to do it.

‘Right now I hate you, Mart. I hate the thought of the things we did together. I hate the memory of the night that I asked you to help me. I would have made it if it wasn’t for you. You made me lose everything and I want you to pay for it.

‘By the time you get this it’ll be too late to do anything about it and you’ll have to live the rest of your life knowing that it was your fault.

‘I hope you never forget me.

‘Teesh’

What does it mean? he thought in alarm. Is this a suicide note? With a start, he realised that he did not know where she lived or, in fact, anything about her. What could he do? There was no return address on the letter, not even her surname written anywhere.

With a groan, he picked up the phone and dialled her number. After four rings, a man’s voice greeted him in formal tones.

“Is Latisha there?” Mart asked, feeling silly.

“Are you a relative?”

“No, just a casual acquaintance,” he replied, though he felt it was a lie. “Is she there?”

“I’m sorry to tell you that she’s dead.”

When he had finished talking, Trixie looked at him thoughtfully. Eventually she asked, “So, she’s dead and she has hardly any living relatives?”

“That’s right,” he replied. “Just her father and half-sister, as far as I know, and I’ve never met either of them.”

“Thanks for telling me, Mart.” She patted his arm soothingly. “I’ll think about it and let you know if it’s related.”

He managed a weak smile. “Just don’t tell anyone else, okay?”

“Okay,” she agreed. “And I’ll let you keep your other secret, for now. I have a feeling it’s not related at all.”

His jaw dropped, as she smiled sweetly and walked away.

As Trixie jogged up the stairs to her room, she knew that something else had happened. From behind a closed door she could hear Dan’s voice, raised in anger. She couldn’t quite hear his words, but the very sound made her quicken her steps. A door was thrown open and Dan appeared, looking tense and stern.

“What’s up?” she asked, stepping in his way as he tried to push past her. “Hey! I said, ‘what’s up?’”

“Get out of my way, Trix,” he insisted, as she dodged back and forth. “Everything’s just peachy keen.”

“Stop it!” When her words had no effect, she gave him a solid thump on the arm. “Tell me what happened. What’s missing, now?”

“My photo.” With a sigh, he gave up on getting past her. “The bastard’s taken my photo of Honey.”

Trixie looked past him, to see her friend leaning against the doorframe. She looked worried, and Trixie was not surprised.

“You’re sure? Of course, you’re sure, or you wouldn’t be ranting and raving like this.” She stopped to think for a moment. “There’s no evidence?” This was directed at Honey, who shook her head. “Nothing else out of place.”

“Nothing.”

By now, practically everyone was watching the scene. None of the others seemed inclined to speak.

“Do you want us to search?” asked Trixie, this time addressing Dan. His anger had abated, leaving him looking deeply worried. His gaze strayed to his girlfriend, and Trixie’s heart ached at the pain in that look.

“No. No point. If it’s like any of the other things, he’ll return it – or we’ll find it – when he’s good and ready, and I’ve had enough of jumping when the bastard says jump.”

Trixie nodded. “We’ll leave it, for now,” she agreed. “But if I ever hear you use the expression ‘peachy keen’ again, I’m getting you committed!”

Dan’s only response was a rude gesture, before he disappeared back into his room. Slowly, the hallway cleared. Ginnie took her boyfriend by the hand and led him downstairs and into one of the empty rooms.

“I’m worried, Brian,” she told him, softly. “There’s someone in the house with us who means to do harm and I can’t help thinking that one of us knows what it’s about.”

“What do you mean?” he asked, his face serious. “And who?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know who it is.” She frowned. “Someone has a secret–”

“We all have secrets,” Brian interrupted.

“That’s what I’m worried about. None of us want to give up our secrets, but if we don’t…”

He looked away. “I told Trixie why we’re not sharing – or, at least, the basic idea. I trust her not to tell anyone.” He met her eyes. “If you’ve got a secret–”

“You know I have,” she whispered. She sighed deeply. “Maybe it’s time that I told you.” She took his hand but focused her gaze on the middle of his chest. “I moved to Buffalo because I wanted to get away – you know that much.”

“You told me you felt smothered,” he reminded her, with a nod. “You didn’t want everyone telling you what to do all the time. You wanted to be independent; to know what it’s like to choose the path of your own life.”

“All of that,” she agreed. “And I think I probably let you believe that it was all about my family.”

“I got the idea that you wanted me to think that.” He smiled softly. “There was someone else, too, wasn’t there?”

“And they say your sister is the detective of the family,” she pointed out, with a smile. “Ever since I was a little girl, my mother has been determined that I would one day marry the son of one of her business associates. When I was almost finished high school, one of them started to be interested in me. He’s about six years older than I am, tall and handsome, successful in everything he does, but I’ve seen Petri dishes with more personality.”

“Sounds quite a catch,” joked Brian. “What was the problem?”

“Nothing, if you like that sort of thing,” she said, with a grimace. “He sent expensive presents that I detested; he kept trying to take me out to expensive restaurants; he even asked my father for my hand in marriage when I was only seventeen. But, the worst thing was, he was under the impression that my career plans were just castles in the air and that I would give them up to be his perfect stay-at-home wife.”

“He must have been delusional,” her boyfriend replied, knowing that Ginnie was as determined to be a doctor as he was. “Didn’t he even talk to you, before making all these plans?”

“I don’t think they were specific to me,” she acknowledged, with a little sigh. “I got the impression that I wasn’t the first girl to hear the spiel. I probably wasn’t the last, either, but every now and again, I hear from him and he tries to convince me that I made the wrong decision.”

“He couldn’t be connected with this, though, could he?”

“I doubt it.” She frowned. “Outside of his own sphere of expertise, he seemed to have very little imagination, whatsoever. I doubt he could think up a scheme like this, and I doubt that he’d want to.”

“I don’t think Trixie needs to know this,” Brian decided, looking relieved. “We’ll keep it to ourselves.”

Meanwhile, Di had decided to take a shower. Having carefully checked that she had everything she needed, she locked herself into the bathroom and undressed. Just before she stepped under the stream of warm water, she undid the chain around her neck and refastened it. The ring, which hung from it, swung slightly as she looped it over a small, white hook on the opposite wall.

Di leant against the wall and let the gentle patter of water relieve the tension in her shoulders. She thought, with thankfulness, of the large hot water system which had been installed at Manor House, which would let her stay there as long as she chose. She felt a lot more relaxed after a few minutes, and decided to get on with the business of getting clean. Minutes later, her hair was freshly washed and her skin felt pleasantly clean. The water was such a comfortable temperature that she wanted to stay there for just a few minutes longer.

Finally, she turned off the water and reached for a fluffy white towel. Having dried off, she slipped into a bathrobe while she blow-dried her hair. Next, it was time to dress. She sighed, looking at the comfortable, but completely unsexy underwear she had brought. Heaven knew, no one would be seeing it, but it was still a little depressing. Pushing the thought aside, she started to dress.

Next, her necklace and ring. She reached for the hook and stopped short. The necklace was no longer hanging there. She looked on the floor. Nothing. She checked her bathrobe and all over her person, in case it had somehow attached itself to one of them, but it was not caught up anywhere. Growing frantic, she searched the whole room, but without result. Pulling the bathrobe back on, she unlocked the door and opened it a crack.

“Trixie?” she called. “Honey? Ginnie? Anyone?”

There was a thump, followed by an opening door, then Trixie appeared.

“Did you call?” she asked.

“I can’t find my necklace,” Di explained, starting to feel teary. “I hung it on that hook while I was in the shower, but when I went to put it back it was gone.”

“Well, it must be in there somewhere,” pointed out Trixie, practical as ever. “Let me in and I’ll help you look.”

Di opened the door far enough for her friend to enter and the search began anew. After fifteen futile minutes, Trixie was ready to concede defeat.

“It’s definitely not here,” she conceded, with a confused frown. “Are you sure you locked the door?”

“Of course I locked it! What are you saying, Trixie? Do you mean to tell me that someone came in here while I was in the shower and took it? It’s just got to be here somewhere!”

“I don’t see how it got off the hook, if it wasn’t by some human agency,” Trixie argued. “It’s really too high to catch on your clothes, and it’s quite firm – it didn’t just fall off. From what you said, you didn’t really come near it when you were drying your hair. What other explanation could there be?”

“I don’t know.” A tear ran down Di’s face. “Trixie, I’m scared. It’s not here, is it? Someone must have come in and taken it, but how? I’m sure I locked the door and I’m sure it was locked when I opened it to call you. I think I’m going to leave.”

“I don’t think you should,” her friend replied, in a gentle voice. “I’m not certain who the target is. If it’s you, I think you’d be safer here, with all of us to look out for you. If it’s not you, I don’t think you’re in danger. Either way, I think we’ll all have to watch out for each other a lot more, after this.”

“Okay,” whispered Di, nodding. “I’ll stay.”

Trixie gave her a hug and they went out together. Just outside, they met up with Cook, who was looking more that a little perplexed.

“Is this some kind of joke?” she asked, holding up a set of keys. “I just found these in the refrigerator.”

“Oh, thank you!” Trixie took them from her with a smile. “Brian’s been looking for these. I’m sorry to have bothered you. I’ll make sure to give them to him.”

The other woman returned the smile, and then went back to her work. As soon as she was gone, Trixie slumped against the wall.

“At least she thought it was just a joke,” she said, sounding weak. “I’d better return these to their owner.”

The two went off in search of Brian, and soon found him downstairs with Ginnie. Trixie held the keys aloft, then tossed them to him from across the room. He caught them deftly, and gave her a quizzical look.

“Cook found them in the refrigerator,” she informed him, shrugging. “Beyond that, I didn’t ask.”

“Before you ask,” he clarified, “I haven’t been eating between the usual times. I haven’t set foot in the kitchen, except when I’ve helped prepare or clean up.”

“I thought as much,” Trixie replied. She tensed a little before saying, “You might as well know: there’s been another incident, too, just before Cook brought back your keys. Someone took Di’s ring and chain from the bathroom while she was in the shower.”

“I see.” He looked over his sister’s shoulder to see that Mart and Dan had joined them. “I take it you’ve looked into the matter already? There’s no question that it might be an accident?”

“None.”

He nodded and turned away. Di, conscious of everyone looking at her, walked over to Ginnie and started a conversation. After a moment, Trixie began talking to Dan.

Brian made a sign to his brother and the two went up to their room and closed the door. “I don’t like this,” he said, taking a seat on his bed. “Whoever is behind this could be seriously disturbed. We could be in terrible danger just staying here. I think we should call off the reunion.”

“But nothing serious has happened so far,” Mart argued. “If whoever it is wanted to hurt one – or all – of us they could have done it any number of times. I don’t think that’s what it’s about.”

“Then what is it about?”

Mart was silent for several moments. “I think it’s aimed at one person, but disguised by a lot of other little incidents so that the true target won’t be obvious. I think if we call it off, the person it’s aimed at will be in danger and I think it’s our duty to protect her.”

“Her?”

“I think it’s Honey.”

For several long moments, Brian stared at the floor. “I couldn’t live with myself if I left and you were right,” he said softly. “Okay, I won’t say anything, but I’m going to tell Dan to never leave her alone.”

After dinner that evening, the group gathered in the family room. The original plan had been for a celebration and for them to ring in the New Year together. In light of the disturbing and unexplained events of the last few days, they were all on edge. Dan walked into the room first, but stopped still – only a few paces inside the door.

“Isn’t this your diary, Trixie?” he asked, in a strange, tense voice. “It wasn’t here before dinner.”

“It is,” she said, catching up.

“I don’t like this.” Di peered anxiously around her. “I feel like someone’s watching me.”

“How can they be?” whispered Honey. “We’ve checked as best we can.”

“Well, they’re not watching now,” said Trixie, feeling a little sickened by the unhappy faces around her. “Lock the door and let’s play a game. I think we all need a good laugh.”

“What did you have in mind?” asked Honey. “I’d like something really silly. I want to get my mind off… things.”

“Do you remember the time we played some sort of game with forfeits at Crabapple Farm, with all the Beldens and my little brothers?” Di asked. “That was lots of fun.”

“And you had to kiss Mart,” added Trixie. “I remember. Bobby made me sing. Though, if I remember rightly, it was ‘Simon Says’ that we were playing. I was thinking of something a little more…”

“Adult?” suggested Honey. “I know a game. It’s called ‘Names Of.’”

“Do I really want to know?” asked Brian.

“I’m sure you’ll be very good at it,” Honey laughed. “We start a rhythm.” She clapped her hands twice, then hit the floor in front of her twice, then repeated the sequence. “Then the leader – and we’ll all take turns – says ‘Names of’ (clap, clap) and then names a category. They give the first example, then each time we bang on the floor, the next person around the circle adds their own. If you miss the rhythm, you’re out.”

“I think we should try it.” Trixie’s eyes sparkled as she looked around the group. “The first few people out each round can pay the forfeit, and then we just continue until we have a winner. What does everyone else think?”

Everyone seemed to agree, and they formed a circle. Honey had the first turn as leader and named the category of movie stars. Everything went smoothly until the third time around the circle.

Clap, clap.

‘Tom Cruise,’ suggested Honey.

Clap, clap.

‘Meg Ryan,’ guessed Dan.

Clap, clap.

‘Danny DeVito,’ Brian added, with a little frown.

Clap, clap.

‘Julia Roberts,’ said Ginnie, smiling with relief.

Clap, clap.

‘Kevin Costner,’ Jim put in.

Clap, clap.

‘John Wayne,’ crowed Trixie.

Clap, clap.

‘N-Nick Jackerson,’ stuttered Mart, well out of time.

Diana, beside him, burst out laughing. “You mean, Jack Nicholson? Oh, Mart, I think you’ll have to pay a forfeit.”

He tossed his watch into the middle and the game continued. Eventually, Brian was the winner of the round. They kept playing until the pile of forfeits had grown quite large, then set about earning them back.

“Whose is this?” asked Trixie, fishing a bracelet out of the pile. “Whoever you are, you’ve got the first turn.”

“Mine.” Honey glanced at Dan. “What do I have to do?”

“I know,” Mart put in, rubbing his hands together. He leaned over and whispered to her.

A smile spread across Honey’s face. She turned to Dan and kissed him soundly, on the lips. Next, she gave Brian a kiss on the cheek, then continued around the circle until she had kissed everyone.

“In honour of the last time,” she explained, “when Di had to kiss Mart.”

“Only, I thought Honey needed to try a little harder,” added Mart. “It’s not like she wouldn’t kiss Dan, anyway.”

They all laughed, just because they were finally feeling carefree, and Honey pulled Mart’s watch out of the pile. She waved it around a little, until Brian grabbed it. He gave his brother an evil grin, before telling him the challenge.

“No,” whispered Mart, in return. “I don’t want to. Think of something else.”

Brian sniggered and suggested something else. His brother’s face turned bright red.

“Fine,” snapped Mart. “Tis the aspiration of my elder kinsman that I humiliate myself via the employment of an overabundance of polysyllabic locutions, whilst recounting the unfortunate events of September, past. The listeners will have determined that their orator resided, at that instant, within the most beauteous state of Iowa, at the establishment of Andrew Belden. Additionally present, on the relevant occasion, was an assemblage of the creatures to whom the establishment is dedicated, known in the vernacular as sheep. Whilst attending to a portion of avuncular advice, I neglected to ascertain the precise position of the aforementioned sheep, and stumbled over an individual, landing on my posterior.”

By the time he had finished his recital, the rest were hooting with laughter and Mart had regained his good humour. The game continued until the pile of objects dwindled to just one. The last item belonged to Diana.

“Just give it back, please?” she asked, with a pleading look. There had been a couple of rounds that she had found quite difficult and she had given more items than anyone else. “I think I’ve done enough to amuse you all for the evening already.”

“The least you could do is think of a new game for us,” Honey suggested, with a wink. “I think that would be enough.”

“Off the top of my head,” replied Di, “the only game I can think of is the other one we played that same night. You remember? The shopping one.”

“I went to New York today,” said Mart, next to her.

“What did you buy?” replied Di, with a nod.

“A prophylactic,” Mart announced, with a grin. “This is the adults-only version of the game, you know.”

“I hope you don’t want me to do actions to go with that,” Di quipped, with a surprised laugh.

“As it happens, I do. You can put it in your pocket.”

They were all laughing loudly by the time it came to Mart’s turn again.

“You started this,” Honey told him. “You’ve got to say the lot, and add a new one.”

“I went to New York today,” said Mart.

“What did you buy?” asked Di, almost bursting with laughter.

Mart began by putting the prophylactic in his pocket, then tried on sexy lingerie, cracked a whip, took a swig from a bottle of bourbon, applied some haemorrhoid cream, thumbed the pages of the Kama Sutra, painted his chest with chocolate body paint, practiced shooting with a gun, then injected himself with an illicit drug and passed out on the floor.

“I’m dead, by the way,” he explained, as the others cheered. “So, if you manage to get all the way around the circle again, you can count me out.”

From there, it was not long until midnight and, after seeing the New Year in, they went upstairs together. As soon as they left the family room, the tension of the last few days came back to them and it was with some uneasiness that they separated for the night.

Honey rose early the next morning. Before doing anything else, she nervously checked the whole house, although she had no idea for what she might be searching. Outside, the ground was covered in a deep layer of fresh snow. After drawing a deep breath to ease her apprehension, she looked out through the doors and windows on the ground floor, and knew that no one had been out that morning. The snow was completely undisturbed.

Satisfied, she returned to her room and started gathering the items she needed for her morning shower. Suddenly, she froze. It wasn’t there. It just had to be there. Whoever it was could not possibly know how important it was, could they?

She began to search frantically. “Oh, where is it?” she muttered aloud. “It must be here somewhere. It just has to be.”

“Wha–?” Dan asked sleepily, awakened by her increasingly loud movements. “Honey?”

“It’s not here,” she wailed, starting to cry. “They’ve taken it.”

“What’s ‘it’?” Dan asked, sitting up. “Honey?”

“The ring.” Her voice was little more than a strangled whisper. “His ring.”

Dan’s face took on a frozen quality. “I don’t know why you brought it anyway.”

“You don’t understand!” she yelled. “I’ve got to find it. I need to find it right now.”

There was a soft tap at the door. “Everything all right?” Jim’s voice asked, from outside. Honey threw the door open and almost knocked him over, so eager was she to talk to him.

“Oh, Jim, you’ve got to help me find it,” she pleaded. “They can’t know what it means.”

“Okay,” he agreed, rubbing her back in what he hoped was a comforting way. “Just tell me what it is I’m looking for.”

Suddenly, Honey looked uncertain. “I don’t want to tell you.” Her brother’s face stayed impassive. “I can’t tell you. I can’t tell anyone.” Then, she realised that Jim was looking past her to Dan’s miserable face in the bedroom behind her. “Oh, all right. It was a ring. A plain gold ring.”

“And where did you last see it?”

“Here,” she indicated, leading him inside. “It should be right here.”

Jim took in the chaos that Honey had created in the last few minutes and sighed inwardly. It would be difficult to find such a small object in the enormous mess the room now contained. “Well, let’s get this cleaned up to begin with,” he suggested, suppressing another sigh. “Why don’t we clear a space over here and put things in it, one by one, as we check that the ring isn’t caught up in them?”

It took more than an hour to go through the whole room. At the end of it, all three agreed that the ring was most definitely not there. Honey sat down on the bare mattress, stripped of all bedding, and began to cry once again.

“It will turn up,” Dan soothed, pulling her close. “Don’t worry about it, Honey. We’ll find it.”

“It was definitely in here last night when I turned off the light.” Her voice when she spoke was muffled against his chest. “You know what that means, don’t you? Someone came in here when we were asleep.”

“Or when I was asleep and you were… wherever it was you went this morning.”

“Downstairs,” she whispered. Then, “Oh! But, you know what that means, don’t you? They must have still been here then. No one had been outside. Oh, Jim, can you please go and check? See if there are any footprints outside the doors or windows.”

Jim nodded and left. A few minutes later he returned, looking grim. “You’re right, Honey,” he said. “No one’s been in or out since it last snowed. I talked to one of the security guards and he said it hasn’t snowed in close to twelve hours.”

“Then, if someone deliberately took it, they’re still here,” Dan deduced. He remained silent for several moments before saying, “We should lock the place down. No one in or out until this person is caught.”

“I’ll go and tell the chief of security,” Honey offered, suddenly looking more hopeful. “And I’ll stick something across the openings of the outside doors and initial them, so we know if anyone opens them.”

Dan shook his head. “I’ll do it,” he decided. “Why don’t you go take that shower. You’ll feel better for it.”

She nodded, gathered her things and went into their ensuite.

“What are you thinking?” asked Jim, when the door had closed behind her.

“I don’t like this. I can’t help thinking that one of us is in danger and I’m afraid that it’s her.”