Jan Burke - Goodnight, Irene

I swallowed hard. “What makes you think that?”

“I found something he wrote to one of those men who died in the car crash. About a bomb.”

“Elinor, get away from him. Call the police.”

“No! I can’t trust the police department. He owns Bredloe in Homicide and a dozen others. I have to get this to someone who can be trusted. And he can’t see me doing it. I don’t want him to suspect anything until someone honest can arrest him. No one is here now-he’ll be gone for at least an hour. Can you come out here? I’m at the estate. I’ll give the note to you and you can give it to your friend in Homicide. Maybe he’ll know what to do.”

My mind was whirling. Captain Bredloe-who knew I was staying with Lydia-on the take from Hollingsworth?

“Please, Irene! I don’t know when I’ll get another chance like this. He has Markham watching me all the time. This is the first time Markham has taken him somewhere without me.”

“Okay, Elinor. Stay calm. I’ll see what I can do.”

I hung up and called the police department. I asked for Frank.

“He’s not in,” a voice said on the other end. “You want to leave a message?”

“Just tell him Irene called.”

I scribbled a hasty note to Lydia telling her I was going out to the Sheffield Estate, to tell Frank if he called back.

I raced out of the building, jumped into the car and headed down to Shoreline Drive. Five-o’clock traffic was at its worst, and I felt myself break into a cold sweat as I inched my way out of downtown. Finally I reached a more open stretch of road, and drove like a madwoman to make up for lost time. As I approached the road that ran along the woods, I slowed a little.

What the hell was I doing? I had to be crazy to be coming out here alone. On the other hand, I thought of Elinor’s pleading. I couldn’t let her down. I would try to get her to leave with me. Anything would be better than staying there with someone as ruthless as Hollingsworth.

I was down to a cautious creep as I approached the gate. Its arm was raised and the guardhouse empty. The whole place seemed deserted. It was a spooky contrast to Friday night. I got out of my car and was locking the door when a voice not three feet away from me said, “What are you doing here?”

I turned to see Andrew Hollingsworth staring at me.

WHERE’S ELINOR?” I asked.

“And I asked you what you are doing here.” It was then I noticed that he looked very peculiar. He was covered in sweat and his eyes were darting nervously between me and the house as he closed the distance between us. I started to move to the other side of the car. He lunged out to grab me, but I ducked his movement and he went sprawling.

I took off running. He got up and came after me, but I made it to the woods. I darted in and around the trees that bordered the road, not looking back but just going for all I was worth. At some point I slowed just long enough to glance back. I couldn’t see him. I kept running.

I hid behind a large tree and caught my breath. I looked back, and this time I had a fairly clear view of the house. Andrew Hollingsworth was walking with his back to me, toward the house. My breath came in sharp, stabbing gulps. I felt dizzy. What had gone wrong? Hollingsworth must have come home unexpectedly. But I didn’t see any sign of Markham anywhere. What had he done with Elinor? Or what would he do, now that he had seen me?

I started moving cautiously toward the road. I wanted to follow it out, but I didn’t want to be out on it. I knew that the tower would afford Hollingsworth a perfect view of the road itself. If I stayed in the woods, he might not see me.

I tried to remember how far the road went before there was another house or building, and felt dismayed. By the time I got anywhere, even if I ran, Hollingsworth could be long gone. He might even be getting a car now, suspecting the direction I would be headed.

As if to confirm these thoughts, I heard the sound of a racing car engine. I lay down and looked out at the road. The sound came closer, and I realized that it was coming into the estate, not from it. My relief turned to horror when I saw that the car was Pete Baird’s. Unaware of any danger to himself, Frank had come after me. The car flew by, and I helplessly watched him disappear from view. I had to try to get back to the house and warn him before Andrew Hollingsworth found out he was here. I ran back through the woods. My legs felt shaky but I forced them onward. As I came within view of the house, I froze and dropped to the ground.

A group of people was making its way into the house by the side door off the barbecue patio. Even from the back, I recognized them.

Frank was first, with his hands raised. Then Elinor.

Then Andrew, with a gun.

IFELT SICK. I was quivering with fear and exhaustion, but I had to think of something. Maybe I could get inside the house and use the phone. But would anyone get here fast enough to save Frank and Elinor?

I looked out at the cliffside. Could I be seen or heard by someone below on the beach? Not likely. I noticed some ships out on the water. Maybe I could do something to attract their attention. Something that would also distract Andrew Hollingsworth and give Frank and Elinor a chance to escape.

Suddenly I remembered the propane tanks and the newspapers in the basement. If no one was in the hallway, I could probably get down there long enough to start a good-sized fire, one that could be seen from the water. It would be risky for Frank and Elinor, but with luck it would provide enough of a distraction for them to get out safely.

I crouched low and made my way to the side patio. I leaned up against the wall of the house. The kitchen windows were closed, but I could hear voices-mainly Andrew’s, but I couldn’t make out what he was saying. If they were in the kitchen, it would be hard to sneak into the basement without being seen or heard. I couldn’t think of any other way into the house that would be any more quiet, so I went ahead and slowly turned the knob on the door leading into the house.

I slowly pulled the door open and was relieved to see the door to the kitchen was closed. I opened the basement door and went softly down the stairs. It was dark, but a little light came through a small window. My eyes got used to it and I found the propane tanks. I looked around the room for items that would burn.

I found newspapers and some matches. I opened both propane tanks just a crack, so that the hissing would not be loud enough to attract attention. If I went upstairs and tossed a match down here as I left, I figured I would have the distraction I was looking for. I was on my way up the stairs when the door suddenly opened.

I saw the gun first. Then I realized Elinor Hollingsworth was the one pointing it at me.

“Thank God you’re safe!” I said, feeling relieved.

“Oh, you’re the one who’s in danger. Come on up and join your friend. You’ve been making enough noise down here to wake the dead.”

She laughed a strange laugh, still pointing the gun. I finally caught on.

“Don’t try anything foolish, Irene. I’m an expert with firearms.”

I walked up the stairs and she prodded me into the kitchen. Andrew held a gun on Frank. I guessed from Frank’s empty shoulder holster that Elinor had his. Frank looked over at me, and for a moment we exchanged a look of mutual fear for one another. He forced a smile and said, “Come on in, Irene. We can wait here and watch the Hollingsworths get arrested.”

“Shut up!” Andrew said.

“Now, now, Andrew,” said Elinor, cool as ice. “There aren’t going to be any arrests. And even if I believed for a moment that the police were on their way, I have the comfort of knowing that these two will not live to see their would-be rescuers. Stand a few feet away from Mr. Harriman, please, Irene. The two of you will be very much together soon.”