Page 20 of One Last Goodbye

Hugo laughs, and I roll my eyes as I walk into the kitchen. Sophie looks stressed for the first time since I’ve known her. She rushes to and fro, issuing instructions to two frightened young housemaids who don’t seem to know whether to fear the rambunctious guests outside or the frazzled cook inside. If I had the choice, I would remain to help her rather than going on a wild goose chase to find my employer.

Indeed, Sophie attempts to elicit my help. "Mary, I'm so sorry to ask, but could you help me? I've just stepped away for a fewminutes, and everything's gone to Hell." She glares at the poor housemaids, who shrink back from her fury. “Could you help me refill the drinks and snacks at the pool? We’re out of liquor and nearly out of crisps, and you know how bloody much Americans love their crisps.”

“I wish I could,” I reply honestly, “but I’m afraid Catherine got to me first.”

“Catherine? What’s she want?”

“She wants me to find her husband.”

Sophie stares blankly at me for a moment. Then, she throws her hands up in exasperation. "Well,Idon’t know where he is. I’ve barely seen him this whole evening.”

Were it not for the chaos I’ve witnessed so far, I would be hurt by her abruptness. As it is, I only sympathize with her. “Hold on, Sophie. As soon as I find him, I’ll come back to rescue you.”

She sighs and offers me a somewhat guilty smile. “Thank you. I’m not normally like this, I promise. This is just what happens when I’m given two bloody hours’ notice to plan a damned party.” She shakes her head and turns to the handmaids. “What are you two standing around for? Liquor! Crisps! To the pool!”

The young women move as though whipped. I think of asking Sophie to go easy on them, then decide it’s best if I leave her alone for the moment.

I return to the living room and approach Keller, who’s managed to free himself momentarily from the insatiable Veronica. “Have you seen Frederick?” I ask.

“Fred? He went to the boathouse to have a smoke. Catherine hates the habit, so he sneaks it out there when he can.”

I nearly roll my eyes. How typical. “Thank you, Thomas. Shall I scold him on Catherine’s behalf when I see him?”

“I’m sure Catherine will handle that herself when she has the chance,” Thomas says drily. “Besides, he’ll be guilty enough to be caught. I assume Catherine sent you to summon him?”

“You assume correctly. The poor children will be wondering where I’ve gone.”

“No doubt they will still be arguing over the movie when you get back. Don’t worry. They’re kids. Time doesn’t exist for them.”

We share a chuckle at that, then I leave him to the party.

The boathouse is in front of the estate, but due to a quirk of the home’s layout, it’s most easily accessed through a path that begins at the back of the house. I pass a few rooms where the more amorous partygoers have found time to indulge their lusts. Most of them are kind enough to close the door.

As I approach the lake, I feel my heartbeat quicken. Images flood my mind of Annie flailing in the water, my mother struggling to hold her under, my screams as I protest but stand still and do nothing, my father’s shout of fear when he returns home—

I blink and realize I’m standing stock still in front of the boathouse. Sweat pours down my neck and forehead, and my breath comes in quick, halting gasps.

GoddamnEleanor Strauss. Why did she need to bring that up? And why did Dr. Strauss look into my medical history without telling me? What did she hope to gain by that?

“Damn it, I’mnotafraid of water! My parents are dead, and Annie…”

The horrible thought occurs to me for the first time that Annie might have visited our hill overlooking the ocean before she disappeared. She might have fallen into the water and drowned. Her body might have been carried out to sea and that could be why there’s no evidence, nothing to find to give me closure.

“Damn it,” I whisper. “I’m done with this.”

I stalk into the boathouse and call, “Frederick? Your wife wants…”

My voice trails off. The boathouse houses a sixty-foot yacht and a variety of smaller boats. The door opens to a platform that is raised above the surface of the water allowing one to step easily from the platform onto the deck of the yacht while an elevator provides access to a lower floor where the smaller boats are stored.

Frederick used the upper floor to step onto the deck of the yacht. At some point after, he was shot through his head. His blood and brain matter splatter the hatch to the yacht’s bridge while his body lies sprawled on the deck.

CHAPTER TEN

I have been a confirmed spinster for most of my life, but in my college days I dated here and there. One of my boyfriends was a newly minted police officer. He took me on a ride-along, I believe, only because he fantasized about making love to me in his cruiser. Being as silly as any young girl, I am happy to oblige.

I remember asking him about the lights on police cars, specifically why they are red and blue. He told me it’s because they are easily visible in the daylight.

I don’t know why this comes to mind now. It’s after midnight, and that amorous escapade with a college beau isn’t the only time I see police lights.

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