“Not very well,” Judith said. “They’re hidden by the mist.”
“Just as well. Along the entire wall on both sides, there were stone spikes where they used to put the heads of their enemies to frighten anybody else who meant them harm. A fine idea, don’t you think?”
“I think it’s gruesome,” Judith said. “And I’m getting cold. I thought you were going to show me the inside of the castle.”
Chuckie cocked his head to one side. “Oh. Then…if you insist.” He started for the area he’d indicated was the original great hall. “Can you see the smaller towers?”
“I’ve seen them before,” Judith said. “I can’t see much of anything now except for the courtyard and the walkway.”
“The floors were mainly wood,” Chuckie said. “They were covered with rushes in the beginning and later overlaid with carpets, but the wood rotted, so it was torn up in the guest section.” He stopped by a narrow door with iron hinges and removed a small keychain from the pocket of his khaki slacks. “Do you know why this is locked?”
“Not really,” Judith admitted. “I doubt that you have much trouble with burglars.”
“To keep the prisoners in, of course.” Chuckie laughed merrily. “This smaller tower holds the dungeon. And the torture chamber. That’s my favorite place. Come on.”
“Ah…” Judith didn’t budge. “Can we skip that part? I’m not really interested in barbarity.”
Chuckie scowled and stamped his foot. “I thought you wanted to see my secret places.”
“Not if they’re…unpleasant. I should go back to meet my cousin. We haven’t yet had dinner, and frankly, you’re spoiling my appetite.”
Chuckie waved his fists. “I thought you liked me!”
Judith was slowly backing away, hoping she wouldn’t fall over some unseen obstacle. “I like you,” she insisted, though she wasn’t sure it was true. “But I don’t like tales of cruelty and suffering. I get upset.”
“Then you won’t know my secrets!” Chuckie asserted, his voice rising in pitch.
Fearing that he might have a seizure, Judith smiled. “Tomorrow my cousin and I will have a picnic with you if the weather’s nice. Would you like that?”
“No.” Chuckie’s voice dropped as he began to sulk. “I don’t like that other woman. She has an angry face. Yours is kind, like Beth’s and Moira’s. Go away. I’ll play with the rack in the dungeon.”
“Have fun,” Judith said, and turned toward the main walkway. “See you tomorrow.”
“Maybe.”
Judith heard Chuckie slam the tower door behind him. In spite of herself she shivered. Pity mingled with revulsion. Chuckie was a very strange young man in many ways.
She was almost to the guest entrance when she heard footsteps behind her. Had Chuckie changed his mind? Not wanting to turn around, Judith quickened her pace.
Whoever was following her also moved faster. She was almost to the door when she heard a voice:
“Allow me. That door is heavy.”
Judith finally turned around. She saw Will Fleming emerging from the mist with a faint smile on his long face.
“You must be one of the guests,” he said, removing his gloves. “I saw you at Mass this morning.” He opened the door and let Judith enter first. “I don’t think we met officially. I’m Will Fleming, the unworthy man who’s married to Marie.”
Judith put out her hand. “Yes. I was chatting with Marie and Beth a few minutes ago. They’re in the drawing room.”
Will was taking off his navy raincoat. A package the size of a toddler’s shoe box wrapped in brown paper fell to the floor with a clunking sound. “Sorry,” he murmured, picking up the parcel. “I was afraid I’d be late to dinner. It’s a nuisance to have to bring work home on the weekends—but there it is. A global economy never rests. Will you be joining us?”
“No,” Judith replied. “My cousin and I had a late lunch. We’ll dine later, probably in our rooms. It’s very good of Mrs. Gibbs to do the cooking despite her grief.”
“Indeed,” Will agreed, cradling the package. “They’re a wonderfully old-fashioned pair. Philip is fortunate to have them at Grimloch.”
“Apparently their son and his wife are quite different,” Judith remarked. “I haven’t heard if they’ve been notified of their son’s tragedy.”
“Hardly surprising,” Will said, taking off his mackintosh. “They prefer not to be found.”
“Aging hippies?”
Will’s chuckle seemed forced. “Let’s say they find it best to keep moving.” He nodded to Judith, and headed down the corridor.
When Judith returned to Renie’s room, she found her cousin reading a mystery novel.
“Research,” Renie said, putting the book aside. “I’m betting that the LAPD detective catches the killer before you do. Where’ve you been?”
Judith explained how she’d visited with Beth and Marie before running into Chuckie. “He’s very disturbed—and disturbing,” Judith said. “I wanted him to show me the castle, but he spent most of the time dwelling on the awful things that used to happen here.”
“‘Used to’? As opposed to happening since we got here?”
“You know what I mean.”
“I do, and speaking of awful, we were going to call our mothers, remember? Your cell phone or mine?”
Judith shrugged. “We can each use our own. But remember, at home it’s almost noon. My mother will be about to have lunch.”
“Mine, too.” Renie got out her cell. “Let’s see if these things will work inside the castle. I have doubts after our first failure.”
Renie stayed on the bed; Judith took her phone to the window embrasure. This time there was static, but she heard the ring at the other end.
And more ringing. Gertrude refused to pick up the phone until the caller was ready to hang up—or pass out. Finally Judith heard her mother’s raspy voice, snarling an unwelcoming “Hello.”
“How are you?” Judith asked.
“Who is this?” Gertrude demanded. “Whatever you’re peddling, I don’t want any.”
“It’s me, Mother—Judith.”
“Speak up, young man. I’m deaf.”
“Mother! I’m on a trip, remember?” Judith was practically screaming. She saw Renie motioning for her to lower her voice.
“I can’t hear you, Mom,” Renie was saying. “Are you sick?”
“A drip in December?” Gertrude said. “The only drip I know of is my daughter’s dim-bulb husband. You want to talk to my daughter?”
“Did you call the doctor, Mom?” Renie asked as she rolled over onto her stomach. “What kind of pain?”
Judith tried to open the window to see if the reception would be better. But the panes were sealed shut. She moved toward the garderobe and slipped inside. “Can you hear me now?” she asked just as Renie said in alarm, “What ambulance?”
Judith shut the garderobe door. “I said—”
“Lunch is here,” Gertrude interrupted. “Mmm…tuna sandwiches with the crusts cut off, deviled eggs, strawberries from California, and oatmeal raisin cookies right out of the oven. You’re a doll, Arlene.”
Judith could barely hear her neighbor’s voice in the background asking who was on the phone.
“Nobody,” Gertrude said, and rang off.
Judith swore under her breath. It was pointless to call back. Her mother would be eating lunch, an inviolable occasion. At least the old lady sounded in fine fettle, which apparently was more than could be said for Aunt Deb. Judith exited the garderobe to find Renie tugging at her unmanageable chestnut hair.
“It’s probably gas,” Renie said in a testy voice. “Mom, you feel puny every time I go more than five miles from Heraldsgate Hill. It’s nerves. You’re trying to make me feel guilty. It won’t work.” She put her hand over the speaker part of the phone. “It does work, but I won’t let her know it,” she whispered to Judith, who’d come to sit on the bed. “No,” Renie told her mother, “I’m not taking you to the doctor tomorrow. Ask one of your friends. You’ve got dozens of them.”