45
Jack sat at the kitchen table, blinking frequently, unable to fully comprehend what had happened here this morning.
“Gran,” he kept saying. “Gone. And I slept right through it.”
“Jack,” Annabel said, pouring him more coffee, “there was nothing you could have done. She fell and hit her head. She didn’t suffer long.”
His eyes shot up at her. “The police chief seems to think there might have been more to it than that.”
“Yes,” Neville said, sitting across from him, “he was questioning all of us as if we’d killed her.” He paused. “Or rather, as if Priscilla had killed her, and taken off.”
“That’s crazy,” Annabel said. “Why would Priscilla kill Cordelia?”
Neville fixed her with his eyes. “It does seem crazy. But then where is Priscilla? She’s nowhere in the house!”
“Her coat is still hanging in the foyer, and it’s too cold to go outside without it.” Annabel turned to Jack. “Where is the key to the attic?”
Her husband looked at her without comprehension. “The attic?”
“It’s the only place I wasn’t able to check. It’s locked.” She met Jack’s eyes and held them. “Did you and Priscilla go up there last night?”
“Me . . . and Priscilla?” he asked.
Neville stood. “Yes,” he said. “Come on, man. This is no time for games. Whatever happened last night happened. For now, who cares? Just tell us what you know about Priscilla!”
“Indeed,” came another voice. “I’d like to know that, too.”
They all looked up. Chief Richard Carlson had just walked into the kitchen.
“I let myself back in through the front door,” he said. His deputy was behind him, and behind him was Chad Appleby. “I’d like your permission to search the house,” the chief said. “I’d like to see if we can find some clue to the three missing persons.”
Jack, still sitting at the table, glowered.
“Do you have a search warrant?” he asked.
“Jack!” Annabel was horrified. “We have nothing to hide! If they can find something to explain where Priscilla and Paulie and Zeke went, then let them search!”
“I’d have to add my encouragement to that as well,” Neville said. “It seems highly unlikely right now, but if they can find Priscilla up in that attic, she and I might still make a plane bound for the sunny skies of Florida later this afternoon.”
Jack just shrugged. “Sure, go ahead. Search the place.”
Richard Carlson stood looking at him. “When I came in, you were being asked what you knew about Priscilla Morton. Is there anything you can tell us?”
Jack covered his face with his hands. “Why is everyone badgering me? My head is killing me!”
“Mr. Devlin,” the chief said, “we are just trying to understand what happened here this morning, and to locate three missing people.”
Jack stood. His hands were running through his hair. “Okay, so maybe Priscilla and I had a little too much to drink last night. That’s not a crime, is it?”
“No, it’s not,” the chief assured him.
“But then she went one way and I went another,” Jack said, not looking at any of them. Instead, he stood at the back door, gazing out into the woods.
“You didn’t take her up to the attic?” the chief asked.
Jack spun around, his face furious. “I don’t even know how to unlock the goddamn attic door!”
“Zeke usually carries the keys,” Annabel said. “But it’s the one place I was unable to check this morning.”
“We’ve got to get in there,” Neville said. “Maybe Priscilla is in there.”
“And Paulie, too,” Chad Appleby said from behind the chief.
“We might have to break the door in,” the chief told Annabel.
She nodded.
“Go right the fuck ahead!” Jack shouted, turning around to look out the back door again.
“All right, let’s go,” Chief Carlson said, and the five of them, minus Jack, made their way across the parlor toward the steps to the attic.
No one thought to examine the fireplace further, or to look down its ash dump.