Carol O’Connell - Winter House

„She’s hiding, isn’t she?“ Not waiting for a response, Cleo rose from her chair and quit the room, followed by Lionel.

Nedda was left alone and lonely. The fantasy of her homecoming was in ashes. She pulled the tarot deck from her pocket and bowed her head as she spread the cards on the table, looking there for hope and finding the burning tower in every arrangement of painted images. An old woman had given this deck to a very young Nedda, tapping the box illustration of the hanged man and saying, „Memento mod, a reminder of your mortality.“ It had been a warning then, but the child had failed to recognize it as such.

Charles Butler politely ended his long-distance telephone call to Susan McReedy in the state of Maine, then replaced the receiver in its antique cradle and shrugged his apologies to the two homicide detectives seated on the other side of his desk. „Sorry. Miss McReedy wasn’t very helpful.“

„What do you think?“ asked Riker. „Is the lady holding out?“

„Oh, definitely,“ said Charles. „The fact that she was suspicious and guarded would indicate as much. And she had a few questions of her own. Where did I meet the redheaded woman? What name did she go by now? And how did I know the dead man was called Humboldt? She wasn’t very happy when I didn’t give her any answers.“

„You’re a shrink,“ said Riker. „Can’t you give us more than that?“

„Based on a telephone conversation?“ Charles sighed. He hated the word shrink, and it would not apply to him. Although he had the proper credentials and a special interest in abnormal bents of mind, he had never had a private practice and never treated a single patient.

Mallory leaned forward. „McReedy lied to Pinwitty, didn’t she?“ It was a mistake to encourage her idea that he was a human lie detector. Her belief was founded on the fact that he could always tell when she was lying. However, this time she was correct. Ten years ago, Miss McReedy had lied in her interview with the author. The proof was all here in the folder that lay open on his desk. Pinwitty had been a word-for-word recorder of conversations.

„Well, if we begin by assuming this woman wanted to mislead Pinwitty -“

„She did,“ said Mallory.

„Fine. Then the redhead who killed Humboldt was young, not middle-aged. I’d say the mystery woman’s hair was naturally red, not dyed. Otherwise Susan McReedy wouldn’t have made a point of mentioning that small detail – while pretending to forget the woman’s name or what had become of her. Rather difficult to misplace a local murderess in a small town described as a truck stop. And her defensive posturing on the phone might suggest a protective relationship with the missing redhead.“ He shrugged to say that was all he had. „So you’ll be going up to Maine to interview her?“

„No,“ said Mallory. „She ‘11 call you back. And when she does, you’ll get more out of her than we would.“

„And you know this how?“

„She didn’t brush you off,“ said Riker. „She asked a lot of questions. That means you’ve got something she wants.“

„And she’s wanted it for a long time,“ said Mallory.

„Good logic.“ Charles turned to the window, looking up to a blue October sky and wondering where his own logic had flown. How could he have been so far off the mark in his initial assessment of Nedda Winter? „I nearly forgot. I gave Miss McReedy a date for the stabbing. I was off by two days, and she corrected me. I think that was a slip on her part. What’s her profession? A teacher, something like that?“

„A librarian,“ said Mallory. „Retired.“

„Close enough. So Nedda Winter was a fourteen-year-old child when Humboldt was stabbed to death. You really believe that she – “

„Yeah,“ said Riker. „Everything fits. Ice picks seem to be her lifelong weapon of choice.“

Mallory leaned far back in her chair, and Charles was immediately on guard. If she were a cat, her tail would be switching like mad.

„You like Nedda Winter, don’t you.“ This was not a question. She was making an accusation, for Miss Winter was now solidly in the enemy camp. Mallory also turned a cold eye on Riker, no doubt suspecting him of the same treason.

„I do like her,“ said Charles. „Can’t say I thought much of the rest of Nedda’s relatives.“ Though Bitty certainly deserved his pity.

„You know it’s a dysfunctional family,“ said Riker, „when the one you like the best is a mass murderer.“

nedda’s body remained at rest, there was no anxious wringing of hands, nor was there any furtive sign of panic – though she was alone.

The new housekeeper, the latest in a parade of transient hires, was out grocery shopping, and Bitty was off on some errand. Nedda had no idea where her brother and sister had gone. Lionel and Cleo had simply walked out the door without a word to her. And why not? She was dead to them. One did not consult with the dead about the day’s plans. The sadness of this slight never showed in her eyes. She continued to behave as if she were constantly being observed from all quarters of every room and would not betray any emotion that might be noted or charted.

Poor Bitty.

Her niece must have had great hopes for the first family reunion. Nedda recalled the startled faces of Cleo and Lionel on the day they had visited the hospice. What a grand surprise that had been. Bitty had dramatically thrown open the door to the private room and exposed their long-lost sister, whom they had always believed to be – hoped to be – dead. True horror had set in after their barrage of questions which only a true sister could have answered. Finally, Cleo and Lionel had been convinced that Nedda was no grifter, no fraudulent heiress, and they had asked, almost in unison, „Why did you come back?“

Nedda’s joyful face had frozen into a fool’s grin, and she had been trapped in that expression until her brother and sister had quit the room. How mad she must have seemed to Bitty in that next moment. Anguished crying – foolish smiling.

Mallory turned her small tan sedan eastward into the center lane of Houston at the optimum time for the greatest flow of commuter traffic. Riker sat beside her unaware that anything was amiss in their relationship.

She braked to a full stop and killed the engine. Vehicles in flanking lanes whizzed by, the drivers craning their necks at the odd sight of her stationary car in the middle of rush hour when all New York motorists went insane en masse. The yellow cab behind her screeched to a halt, and a long line of cars behind that one were also unable to change lanes. Mallory only stared at the windshield, as if checking it for spots and bugs, unruffled by the song of the city – drivers honking, putting great feeling into their horns, leaning on them for maximum noise, and the rising lyrics of shouted obscenities. In peripheral vision, she watched Riker’s head swivel in her direction, silently asking, What are you doing?

„You’re holding out on me.“ She never raised her voice to be heard over the hell choir of honking and screaming, and this forced Riker to lean toward her, straining to hear every word.

Good.

She had his attention now. „When Pinwitty mentioned Humboldt’s name, I know you recognized it, but you didn’t get it from a book or a – “

„Oh, sure,“ said Riker. „I know all of Stick Man’s names.“

Bastard!

While she waited for him to elaborate on this little throwaway bombshell of his, the trapped cars were stacked up all the way back to a grid-locked intersection. The horns had doubled their number and volume, and now a new note was added to the mix. She could hear the angry, tinny slams of compact cars and the heavy-metal sound of trucks as drivers left their vehicles, intent on laying some blame and taking some satisfaction out of her hide.