The Sugar Hill Collection Page 7

  The heavy ring of keys weighed down my pocket, but I liked the feel of them. Mrs. Roberts, the old housekeeper, never allowed me to carry the keys. She’d say I was too forgetful, too irresponsible, but I knew the truth—she wanted to keep me out of that room. And I wanted to be there. How badly I wanted to be there. How many times had I peeked through the keyhole only to see a figure move past the doorway? How many times had I heard the woman’s voice calling his name? The name I couldn’t remember now. Aggravating woman. But now the old housekeeper was dead, and Miss Anne surely would not be too far behind.

  Yes, carrying the keys gave me a sense of power—no, that wasn’t the right word. Carrying them gave me a sense of destiny. Things were finally happening. And about time, too. After twenty years of closed doors and stuffy rooms, I could open them all. Let the air move, let the spirits move. And they so wanted to move.

  I could hardly believe the phone call I’d received this morning. “Dinah, prepare the house. Avery Dufresne is coming home. Remember to use people on the list and only people on the list.”

  “Which suite will she stay in, Miss Anne?”

  I heard the old lady sigh as if she were both exhausted and aggravated with my stupidity. Well, I was no mind reader, was I? “Let her choose, Dinah. For now, let us prepare the room with the yellow roses. Have all the rooms ready for guests. I imagine she will have quite a few visitors in the beginning.”

  “Open all the rooms, Miss Anne?”

  She paused on the line. I wanted to hear her say it. After all the fuss she made, she had to open that room now, didn’t she?

  “Yes, all the rooms, Dinah. But you clean the Mirror Room yourself. Don’t let anyone else in there. We don’t need any…trouble.”

  “Surely, ma’am. I will clean that one myself.” I couldn’t help but sound chipper. I hung up the phone, grabbed a dust cloth and made a beeline for the room in question. I loved that room. The Mirror Room, they called it in the twenties. Maybe even before that, but I couldn’t be sure. The history was murky. But this new woman, she would know, wouldn’t she? She would have the skills needed to see the truth and would not fear it. She’d have the ring! I watched her on television almost every night. She was lovely and smart. She would be a suitable match for Sugar Hill.

  I walked across the red and gold empress carpet runner that led to the bottom of the stairs. I felt like Dorothy traveling down the Yellow Brick Road. I experienced an uncanny feeling of youthfulness as I practically jogged up the stairs despite the fact that my fiftieth birthday was a memory. I sailed across the landing and turned left to go into the Mirror Room. Finally, no more peeking through keyholes. Nobody calling out, “Come now, Dinah. Don’t dawdle.”

  I could sit in the room, stare into the mirrors—there were dozens and dozens of them—without any complaints. I could have tea there if I chose to! I could even dance about and twirl like I did when I was young in my father’s sweets shop. My hands shook as I slid the key into the cast-iron lock. I turned it and heard the thick clunking of the lock turn. How easily it opened, even after all this time. How long had it been since I had been in here? Ten years? Eleven, maybe? And that had been only for a moment or two. But now, Mrs. Roberts couldn’t stop me or smack my hand. She couldn’t command me to leave and make me swear to stay out. I turned the knob on the wooden door, and it swung open slowly without a creak. Dusty morning light filled the room. It bounced from mirror to mirror, filling the space with a wonderful glow. How could anyone lock this room away?

  The room had an odd, oblong shape, and the longer side was lined with six massive windows that overlooked the dense woods below. The windows’ heavy blue drapes pooled at the bottom, tied back with gold cord that had overly large tassels at the ends. Mrs. Roberts liked to keep them closed, but try as she might, she couldn’t. The spirits here did not like them closed. She used to pull into the driveway and stomp into the house as mad as a wet hen.

  “You’ve been messing around in that room, haven’t you, Dinah?”

  “What room do you mean, Mrs. Roberts?” It would always be the same answer.

  “You know what I am talking about, girl.”

  “No, Mrs. Roberts. It’s locked, and I don’t have a key.”

  “Then why are the curtains pulled back, Dinah?”

  “I don’t know, ma’am, but it weren’t me that done it,” I would continue to protest, but she never believed me. So unwilling was Mrs. Roberts to believe that she wanted it that way. That it was her room and not Mrs. Roberts’, and she would do things the way she wanted. Now here I was in her room, and I knew she did not mind. I raised my hands to show I meant no harm to the place. I respected her and her room. The curtains were opened, the dust spinning about and catching the light. I would never close them again. Yes, this room would have to be cleaned. The mirrors needed to shine, to catch the light, so she could see and be seen.

  Yes, this was the way it should be now. This was the way she liked it. A place for everything and everything in its place.

  With gusto I began polishing the mirror closest to me. It had a gold frame with cherubs carved at the top. I rubbed at the grime. This would take work, but I had the time.

  I had been waiting for this.

  And so had she.

  Chapter Seven – Avery

  Shoving the door on the photographer’s foot, I sprayed the pepper spray out the narrow gap in the door. “Get out!” I shouted desperately. Would this craziness never end? He was the second one that had infiltrated my building and made it to my door. My wound stung and my body felt weak, but my adrenaline was pumping. I felt the pepper spray hit my own eyes, and I was blinking wildly now and trying not to breathe it in. That would make it worse. The paparazzi knew I was out of the hospital—that I was home now. They knew where I lived, and everyone wanted a photo of my slashed neck and face. I couldn’t believe this! To top things off, News Quarter had placed me on paid leave during my “recovery time,” even though I never agreed to that or had a discussion about it with anyone.

  “Please! I’m leaving! Stop spraying me!” the young man yelled at me.

  “Don’t come up here again, or next time it won’t be pepper spray!” The elevator opened, and the man darted into it wailing as Tenille stepped out. Her hand immediately went over her mouth.

  “What the hell is going on here?” she said behind her cupped fingers. “Cops are in the foyer. Are you okay? Did he hurt you?”

  “Help me, Tenille. I got pepper spray in my eyes.” I reached for her blindly.

  “What? We need water. Take my hand—can you see it? Here…I’ll take you to the sink.”

  “Lock the front door first, please.”

  I held on to the wall and waited for her to return. My face was on fire. Great! Not only had I been sliced and stabbed by a psycho—I pepper-sprayed myself. It was time for something to change. The attack had happened two weeks ago, but I felt like I was stuck in a nightmare. Every noise, every sound raised my alarm bells.

  “This way, Avery. I’ve got you.” We made it to the bathroom, and I leaned over the sink and splashed water in my eyes about a hundred times. While we were there, someone banged on my door.

  “What now?” I asked, peering at the door through swollen eyes. “Get my gun!”

  “I can take care of this. Just calm down.” Tenille shoved her hand in her purse and pulled out a tiny pearl-handled derringer. I had no idea she owned a gun.

  “Don’t kill anyone, Tenille!” I called after her as I wiped my eyes furiously with a clean white towel. I could kind of see now, but my eyes were still screaming hot.

  “It’s the cops, Avery! I’m letting them in!”

  “Go ahead! I’ll be out in a second.” I let the hot water run and leaned over the sink with a towel on my head, hoping the steam would help get rid of the spray in my eyes. It didn’t really work, but when I lifted my head back up, I could see the same words someone had written on the mirror just after I got home.

  GO HOME, AVERY.

>   The words melted away, and the letters turned into clear streaks of water and slid down the mirror. I wiped them away with the towel, hoping that would finally get rid of them. I looked at my reflection in the blurry mirror and couldn’t believe what I saw. It looked like a swarm of bees had stung my eyes repeatedly. Like I had lost a boxing match. I knew the swelling would go down eventually but not anytime soon. I decided to “man up” and go see the cops. I picked up my tube of pink lipstick and put some on before I met them. I figured it might help me look less crazy. I wasn’t sure anything would, but it was worth a try.

  I heard a tapping on the door. “I’m coming out now. Give me a second.”

  “Miss Dufresne, do you need medical aid? I can call an EMT up here.”

  “No, I’ve got it.” I suddenly felt tired. Did I want to deal with the police right now? What had they done for me so far? I had received only a few vague phone calls and nothing from the district attorney. It was beyond frustrating. “You know, can we do this another time? I’m…I’m not really up for this right now.”

  I heard the man shuffle behind the door. “Ma’am, we have to talk now. The man you sprayed is complaining that you assaulted him. As crazy as it is, we have to investigate. Could you come out, please? I will make it as quick as possible.”

  I opened the door and stepped outside. “You’re right. That does sound crazy. I can’t believe the police would even entertain this guy’s complaint. He tried to force himself into my home. God knows what would have happened. You’ll understand that I am a bit sensitive about this kind of thing now.”

  He politely asked me a few more questions. On his way out, he said, “I am sorry you have to go through this, ma’am.” Suddenly he seemed human, not just a suit with an attitude. He had unusual light brown eyes and dark hair, a flattering combination. Before all this, I might have found him attractive. Now I felt self-conscious about my swollen eyes and raging red, foot-long scar. I pulled the robe tighter. I wanted to hide myself from him and the rest of the world.

  “Is there anywhere else you can go? Somewhere the paparazzi can’t find you?”

  Tenille took my hand and put her other hand on my arm. “He’s right, Avery. You can’t stay here. If that guy got past the doorman, any crazy can. Not to mention the crazy guy that the police haven’t caught yet. No offense.”

  “None taken,” the young detective said, but I didn’t quite believe him. “Whatever you do, do it quickly, okay? It’s a madhouse down there. I’ll wait around until you make a decision, but then you’ll be on your own. Do you have your own security? Someone who can help you manage these situations?”

  “I haven’t needed that until now, Detective…”

  “It’s Detective Richards. Let me find a card.”

  As he retrieved a card I said, “No, it’s just me and my friend here. I guess I can make a few phone calls.”

  “Avery, you should go to the cabin. Go stay for a while. I’ll have Kevin stock the pantry for you, and maybe Amy and I can come up this weekend. Or you can hang out by yourself.”

  “That might be the thing to do until you get your security team in place. For many reasons.”

  The detective’s last statement made my skin crawl.

  For many reasons…

  Could the guy who assaulted me come back? What was there to stop him? The jerk of a doorman? For what I paid in rent, this should never have happened.

  “All right, Avery, stop thinking so hard. It’s a done deal. You are going.”

  “Fine, I’ll go to the cabin,” I said. “Let me pack up some stuff.” Tenille hugged me, and even Richards appeared relieved.

  I would be glad to get out of here. It was time for a break, a real break. I had to get a handle on my life, patch things up with Candace and move forward. I could do this if I could just think. I grabbed the toiletries bag out of the linen closet and began filling it up with essentials like my toothbrush, toothpaste, facial cleanser, mascara and my lip…

  “Oh my God,” I said aloud. Someone had written GO HOME, AVERY in large letters on the mirror with lipstick. The Y in AVERY looked like a bloody streak down the glass. I picked up my broken lipstick from the counter and stared at it. I couldn’t understand what was happening. The words were in red, but my lipstick was pink. I didn’t even own a red lipstick. Wait, was that lipstick or something else? For the second time today, I screamed.

  Detective Richards and Tenille burst into the bathroom. She said, “What is it, Avery? Oh my God! What happened? Is someone in here with you?” My heart was pounding so loudly in my chest that I could barely hear her speaking.

  I showed her my lipstick and pointed at the mirror. “Get me out of here, Tenille. I have to go now.”

  “All right,” she said softly. She stared at the words on the mirror as if she were seeing a living thing. “How did…?”

  “I don’t know. I didn’t see anyone slip in here.”

  Richards touched the substance with his fingers and sniffed it. Finally he spoke up, “Are you sure you aren’t taking any kind of medication, Miss Dufresne?”

  “What? If you think Avery did this herself, you’re crazy.”

  “Well, Miss Dufresne, how do you explain it?”

  I sat on the hamper and stared at the mirror. What could I say? Could I have done this? Was I totally losing it? Unless there was someone else in here, it had to be me, right?

  “I can’t explain it. I don’t know what to say.” They stood there awkwardly while I sat frozen to the spot, rereading the message.

  “Let me check something.” The handsome detective left us alone, I assumed to search the apartment. I could hear him move from room to room and then call someone on his phone. Thankfully, I couldn’t hear what he said about me.

  “Tenille, I can’t go to the cabin.”

  “You sure as heck can’t stay here, Avery. Not with all this happening. I don’t understand why someone would deliberately torment you like this. This is just crazy. If you don’t want to go to the cabin, come stay with me. Nobody will know you are there. We’ll put you in a disguise until this all blows over.”

  “I would not put you or Amy in danger. No, there is only one thing left to do.”

  “What’s that?”

  “I have to go home.”

  “This is your home, Avery.”

  “No, I have to go to Belle Fontaine. It’s time.”

  I walked out of the bathroom and fumbled through my purse looking for the slip of paper I’d found there a few days ago. At some time, unbeknownst to me, Miss Anne had put the note in my purse where she knew I’d find—and apparently need—it. I grabbed my cell phone and called the number. A man answered.

  “Hello, this is Avery Dufresne. May I speak to Anne Dufresne, please?”

  “Yes, Avery. Just one moment.”

  “Hello?” The elderly lady sounded frail but cheerful.

  “Hi, Miss Anne? This is Avery.”

  “Hello, Avery. How may I help you?”

  “I am calling to let you know that I am coming home.”

  She did not seem surprised at all. It was as if she knew all along I would come to Belle Fontaine. “When can we expect you?”

  “I will be there in two days, if I can get a flight. Can someone pick me up from the airport? I don’t think I can do the drive right now.”

  “Yes, I will send my driver to pick you up. Just text us the details of your ticket.”

  “Thanks.” I hung up the phone, and Detective Richards joined us.

  “Hey, I’ve searched the apartment, and there is no sign that anyone has been here but us.” He didn’t believe me that I hadn’t done this, and that bothered me.

  “You know what, I think I’m okay, Detective. I will be leaving the city soon, if that’s okay.”

  “Sure. I have no reason to keep you here. Out of sight, out of mind, as they say. Give the news hounds some time to cool their jets. We don’t need you or anyone else getting hurt.”

  With my decision came a stra
nge peace. The panic and fear vanished, at least for the moment. “I’ll leave the security up to you, then. It is going to take me a day or two to get my stuff together, but after that, I’m gone. I don’t know when I will be back, unless it’s for the trial.”

  “Avery, this is kind of a quick decision, isn’t it? This is just someone’s sick joke. You don’t have to leave Atlanta, do you? What about your job?”

  “I know this isn’t like me; I plan everything. But I have to do this, and not because someone left me a message on a mirror. I just have to. It’s the only thing that makes sense right now.”

  As she hugged me and I held her, the feeling of peace remained. Detective Richards watched me as if any moment I would confess to scribbling on my own mirror. After a few minutes, I managed to get them out the door. I called the doorman and gave him explicit instructions not to let anyone else up here, not even a deliveryman, unless I called him first. He apologized profusely and promised to do so.

  I locked the door and chained it. I was alone in the apartment with someone or something that wanted me to “go home” badly. I was never one to believe in ghosts, although I had done my share of reporting on spooky houses during Halloween as a cub reporter for Daily Atlanta. I never saw a ghost or anything that would lead me to believe that a person or place could be haunted.

  Now, I was a believer. I wasn’t crazy. I wasn’t on medication beyond the occasional pain pill, and I hardly took those anymore. I didn’t write those words, and neither did Tenille or Detective Richards. Someone was trying very hard to get a message to me. I had to listen.

  I grabbed the house phone and sat on the couch with my day planner. I made a number of phone calls, first to Jen at News Quarter. It was awkward at first, but I could tell she was genuinely concerned about me. I assured her I was all right, that I was embracing the vacation and would keep in touch. We agreed on a two-month sabbatical, and I hung up feeling good about the conversation.

  The next phone call wasn’t that friendly. Candace was furious that I hadn’t called her and refused to see her. I finally dropped the bomb on her. “I’m letting you go, Candace.”