Hugo stood there, deciding on his next move. There was something amiss, he thought, something odd that he couldn’t quite put his finger on. And then he realized how quiet it was. For all the cars in the parking lot, the woman who’d just come in, the servants downstairs preparing for a meal, there was no sound up here at all. The only thing he could think to do was listen at a few doors, though the idea made him feel more like a voyeur than a cop. That’s what happens when you don’t have a plan, he thought.
He started forward, his feet silent on the rug, his ears pricked for sound, and just as he reached the first set of double doors to his left, one flew open and a figure stepped out. They stood face-to-face for several seconds before Hugo was able to speak.
“What the hell are you doing here?” he said.
The diminutive figure shrugged. “I’m guessing the same thing as you.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
She had let her hair down and changed clothes, putting on jeans and a cashmere sweater — which seemed odd because she must have hurried up here.
“Let’s sit over there,” she said, indicating the velvet sofa at the top of the stairs. She turned to make sure the door to her room was closed properly, and Hugo tried not to notice how well her jeans fit. He’d been wrong about her being rail thin.
They headed to the seating area at the top of the stairs, walking in silence, and when they sat Hugo was surprised to see anger on her face.
“Did you find him?” she asked.
“Not yet. From your question, I’m guessing you didn’t either.”
She didn’t answer, just looked at him with her watchful green eyes.
Hugo took a breath to ease his frustration. “Merlyn, I need to know what’s going on. I need to find him before he gets himself in trouble.”
“What kind of trouble? What aren’t you telling me?”
“Plenty, I’m afraid. And I’m not understanding what you think you are protecting him from.”
“You, I suppose.”
Hugo sat back. “OK, let’s do some information sharing. I’ll start. I want to find Dayton Harper because I’m supposed to be looking after him until his criminal charges here are resolved. I’m worried because his wife is dead, and he’s in a fragile state of mind. And because I have no idea where he is or what he’s doing. Your turn.”
“What do you want me to tell you?”
“You said you don’t know where he is, and I believe you. But I want to know about your relationship with Ferro and Dayton, how well you knew them.”
She nodded. “That all?”
“No. I want to know what this place is.”
“OK.” She chewed her lip for a second. “You remember what I said about the Cork Hotel? The word I used?”
Hugo thought for a second. “Yes, you said it was ‘discreet.’”
“Right. Same goes here, but more so. This is a private residence that is used for certain … groups to enjoy. To rent out.”
“Groups?”
“Yes. I’m sorry but I can’t be much more specific than that.” She watched him for a moment. “Have you heard of the Viles, or the Society of Janus?”
“No, can’t say I have,” said Hugo.
“Didn’t think so.” She shrugged. “Google them, you’ll see what kind of people I’m talking about. Good people who share particular interests. All sorts.”
“This isn’t helping me much, Merlyn. Why would he come here?”
“Same reason everyone comes here. For privacy and yet to share with others, to feel accepted, and to have some fun.”
“Fun? Jesus, Merlyn, his wife just died, how the hell could he—”
“No, Hugo, calm down. I didn’t mean it that way. Before she died, that’s why he came. Why they came.”
“Then tell me, was he here today?”
She sat back, moving her body away from his in what Hugo recognized as a subconscious effort to hide something.
“Whatever you’re not telling me, Merlyn, that’s fine. But I need to know if he was here today, I need to know that.”
“No,” she said. “I haven’t seen him.”
Hugo didn’t believe her, or at least wasn’t convinced. She was hiding something and he needed to find out what it was. “You know, you never asked me how Ginny died.”
“Didn’t have the chance. If I had, would you have told me?”
“Probably not, but I will now. She was found hanging in a graveyard in central London. I found her.”
Merlyn’s mouth dropped open. “Hanging? A graveyard? Oh, Jesus, I didn’t know.” Her head sank into her hands and then she sat up and hugged herself. “That’s … unbelievable.”
“Yes, it is.” Hugo filled her in on the details, then added: “If she was murdered, which is possible, whoever killed her might be looking for Harper.”
She held his eye for a moment, then stood. “Come with me.”
It was behind the stone barn, a neatly manicured cemetery enclosed by an intentionally ramshackle wall, carefully constructed to replicate the kind of churchyard found in any English village. Or Hollywood ghost story. Overhead, the night sky played along, its watchful stars peeping down at them through spectral wisps of black cloud, and a cold breeze crept up behind them to brush Hugo’s cheek.
Merlyn pushed open the wooden gate that, of course, creaked, and they walked along a gravel path between randomly placed headstones and concrete crosses. Ahead, right in the center, was a mausoleum.
“I assume there aren’t actually people under all these stones,” Hugo said.
“No, of course not. See that,” she pointed to the mausoleum, “it leads down to a special chamber.”
“And all this is for?”
“Play acting,” she said. “Not just sex, I know what you’re thinking. People hear the word fantasy and just assume it’s about sex, and it’s not. Not always. Sometimes it’s just being someone else, being someone you can’t be in your regular life.”
“And being someone else is good?”
“We’re all hiding things, Hugo. For the longest time, gay people had to hide it, but they’re not the only ones. People are into spanking, bondage, infantilism.” She shrugged. “You name it, people are into it. And even though everything’s consensual, the vanilla world doesn’t understand and, usually, doesn’t want to. Here people can truly be themselves, that other self the world doesn’t approve of. And experiment, learn more about themselves.”
“Push boundaries, try new things,” Hugo said, nodding.
Merlyn stopped and looked up at him, a twinkle in her eye. “So you do understand. A little, anyway.”
“I’m trying,” Hugo said. But before he could ask another question, his phone buzzed in his pocket. He ignored it for a second but then pictured Pendrith sitting in a dark lay-by. He fished it out and looked at the screen. He’d missed a call from his wife, Christine.
“You get lots of missed messages out here,” Merlyn said. “Reception’s not great in the countryside, right here anyway. And they block cell coverage in the house. A privacy thing.”
Hugo nodded and decided to call Chris back later. He smiled at the thought. Sorry darling, I’m busy talking to a pretty, young girl about adult role playing in a fake cemetery. He tucked the phone back in his pocket and looked at Merlyn. “I think you were going to tell me about Dayton Harper.”