Haunting at Remington House. Laura V. Keegan

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СКАЧАТЬ with the view of the ocean from the balcony.

      “I never met the people who lived here before you,” Sara said. “Do you know anything about them?”

      “No. No one’s told me anything about them. I never thought to ask, though. I found a few pictures of them on the shelf in the living room. They seemed odd, something strange about their eyes—cold and . . . I can’t explain it. Gave me the creeps.” Tom smiled. “But they seem to have taken excellent care of the house and property. That’s a positive!”

      Sara returned his smile, then said, “Vivian talked about them once in a while. Apparently she tried to get them to come for dinner on several occasions. They had some high-society connections, so she was eager to get to know them. They told Viv they seldom left the house. The brother was too ill.”

      “Yeah, he certainly looked it in the pictures I found.”

      “The second or third time they refused her offer, Vivian took it as a personal insult and didn’t ask them again. She said she assumed that they felt socially superior, and if that was the case, they were not welcome in her home. I was always curious about the couple, probably because they were so reclusive and because I never got to meet them. I actually only saw the two of them once. They were getting into Joe’s taxi at the train station, back from a trip out of the city. Joe was one of the few people who ever spent time with them. I’m sure he told you he worked for them on and off.”

      “Joe said he worked on the house. He didn’t seem to know much about them personally. I got the impression he was on a work-only basis with the Lindemans. No social interaction,” Tom said.

      “Did you know that they died here—in this house?”

      “What? No!” Tom was visibly upset, is brow furrowed, his brown eyes narrowed and focused on Sara. “What happened?”

      “Apparently it was a murder-suicide. It was kept very quiet. Mannie, Vivian’s cook, was our only source of information. I don’t know that she’s a particularly reliable source. But she’s the best we had! Anyway, she heard the story from the sheriff’s sister, so we have to assume it’s at least partly true. It seems that Helen shot her brother, then several days later, shot herself. They found both of their bodies in the attic. Helen left a suicide note explaining her brother, Gabriel, was in unbearable pain from his cancer. He begged her to end his suffering. After much agonizing, she did. And then, unable to forgive herself, she took her own life.” Sara stared at Tom, her violet eyes guarded.

      “Not what I wanted to hear happened in my house. Damn! I didn’t know anything about it until now.”

      Sara twisted a chestnut-brown curl around her index finger. “Sorry to be the one to break the news to you. If it’s even true. Personally, I prefer to ignore Mannie’s account and take a more romantic view of their deaths.”

      “How can anyone take a romantic view of a murder?” Tom asked, surprised that she would say such a thing.

      Sara smiled and continued, “I like to think they weren’t brother and sister at all but lovers who were separated for years. Then one day fate stepped in and their paths crossed. For reasons that shall remain a mystery, perhaps because of their families or maybe because one of them was married, they were never able to be together. Finally, after years of separation, they knew they could no longer be apart.”

      “You have quite an imagination, Sara!” Tom laughed softly.

      Ignoring him, Sara continued, “They moved to this small town, to this isolated house, so they could live the rest of their lives in peace, away from the rest of the world that had treated them so unfairly. Then, when the man became ill, unable to bear the thought of being torn apart again, they ended their lives.” Sara looked at Tom, watching to see how he would react to her tale, “Well?”

      Tom was uncomfortable. This talk of death was disquieting, especially knowing they died right here in his house. Sara watched him intently waiting for his response. He answered, “I agree your version is the more preferable. Two lovers, beaten once again by fate, laugh in her face and secure their own eternity together. And why not? Didn’t they have the right after the lonely years spent apart—never knowing if the other was dead or alive, or happy or living in turmoil? Or— maybe Helen Lindeman did murder him. Perhaps because she realized that she loved him more than he loved her. Perhaps she even laughed when she pulled . . . ”

      “Tom! Don’t. Stop!” Sara exclaimed, reaching out and grabbing his hand. “You’re ruining my romantic story. You’re as bad as Mannie. Let’s go back downstairs and see how Jimmy is doing.” She dropped Tom’s hand, started to turn away.

      “Sara, wait. I’m sorry. I don’t know why I lashed out like that. I didn’t mean to offend you. I . . . I don’t know what I was thinking. Forget what I said.” What the hell is wrong with me? What possessed me to go on such a cruel tirade?

      Sara was standing at the bottom of the attic stairs. Tom let his hand rest on her shoulder. She smelled of delicate roses and sea air. Turning her to face him, Tom gently kissed her. She felt small and vulnerable in his arms, as if she might break if he held her too tightly, as if she might easily be destroyed if she could but guess his horrid sin. Selfishly he held on to her and felt comfort and solace. Quite possibly he thought he felt the beginning pangs of love and passion for this woman. “Sara,” he whispered into the soft silkiness of her hair.

      Did she feel the same? She hasn’t pulled away from him. Her kiss was as passionate as his. Wasn’t it? Or would he open his eyes and find he’d only imagined she felt as he did—only inane assumptions of a man crazed, possibly even mad, from guilt? A man haunted and tormented by the agony of unrequited love? But—if he was imagining that moment, it was better than the hell he’d been living, and he didn’t mind.

      Sara spoke his name softly, her voice floating on the air. Tom inhaled the delicate scent of her perfume, felt her arms around him. As he opened his eyes and looked into her violet eyes, she smiled. This is real. Tom smiled back.

      “Sara? Mr. Gardner? Are you up there?” Jimmy called from the bottom of the stairs.

      “Yes. Tom was showing me around the house. Come on up,” Sara shouted. Reluctantly, Tom released her as Jimmy bounded up the stairs and down the hall.

      “I’ve been looking all over for you. Thought maybe you went down to the beach or something. Anyhow, were you listening to me? How did you think I played that last song?”

      “You’re a natural, kid.” Tom playfully ruffled the boy’s unruly, red hair. “In fact, you did so well, I think by Christmas you’ll probably be able to make your debut. That is, if you promise to come over and practice as often as you can. What do you think about that, champ?”

      Jimmy beamed. “You bet I will. I’ll figure out something to tell Mother. She’s always glad to have me out from under foot anyway. And Billy’s friend Alan is coming next week, so nobody will even notice if I’m not around. I promise I won’t get in your way. I’ll stay in the living room and practice. Okay?”

      “I don’t mind your being around one bit. My sister and her family will be here next week. I have a feeling they’ll be very happy to have you here. In fact, my niece, Lizzie, will be thrilled to have someone to play with, even if it has to be a boy.” Tom winked at Jimmy. “Come on, let’s go down to the kitchen and have something to drink. I think there are chocolate chip cookies, too.”

      While Jimmy ran ahead, Sara and Tom stood together for a moment, not wanting to end their СКАЧАТЬ