Lady in White Page 19

  "That's true."

  "You and the other staff will be found positions elsewhere, so no one will suffer."

  "It just gets better and better." His heart did feel lighter at the prospect of leaving the sordid mess behind.

  "I'll confer with my colleagues, and we should have a definite decision by tomorrow night. I needn't remind you the press shouldn't get word of any of this."

  "No, you needn't."

  "Good. Talk to you soon, John."

  "Bye."

  * * * *

  As they left the archives, Martin debated whether to tell Caroline her sister had plans for her, but discarded the idea. Claudia was her own woman, and there was no way he was going to interfere in her schemes.

  Caroline stood on the sidewalk and gestured down the road. "I'm parked down there," she said, seeming reluctant to leave.

  "I'm on the lot at the side," he replied.

  "Oh. Good." She gave him a sweet smile, and two blooms of pink appeared on her cheeks above her scarf. "I'm glad you've forgiven me for what happened yesterday."

  "There was nothing to forgive," he said gently. "I know what happened, and I know why."

  "Thanks." She gave a little shrug then impulsively leaned forward and gave him a peck on the cheek. "I'll see you soon, Martin."

  "I look forward to it." As she turned to go, he said, "Take care, Caroline."

  She flashed him another sweet smile. "I will."

  He watched until she got into her car, before turning to find his own. The afternoon was fading and the temperature was dropping again. New ice crunched under his feet as he made his way to the SUV and got in. Looking up at the archive building, he pondered on what they'd learned that afternoon and sighed. Dialing Claudia's number on his cell, he felt his spirits lighten at the sound of her voice. "Hi, lover! How's it going?"

  * * * *

  As she drove home through the early stages of the rush hour, Caroline got a phone call. She glanced at the screen but didn't recognize the number. Unwilling to accept a wrong call or a sales pitch, she declined the call and kept driving. Two minutes later, her phone rang again with the same number. Taking advantage of a stop light, she answered.

  "Caroline? It's Doctor Burwell."

  "Oh, Doctor! You called earlier."

  "I did, but you declined my call." His voice was laden with good humor, but he sounded tired.

  "Sorry, I didn't recognize your number; I thought it was a call center or something."

  "It's okay. This is my cell number. Listen, Caroline, things have taken a turn for the worse at the clinic."

  "I heard about the suicides from Martin."

  "Well, there's more." He related the events of the day as she drove, and she sensed his mixed sadness and relief when he spoke of the closure.

  "I guess it would be for the best, Doctor," she said when he'd finished.

  "Yeah. Caroline, we're not at work; you can call me John, you know."

  "I'd like that," she said, smiling.

  "Good. If this closure goes ahead, you may as well take the next few days off, to rest and really get over that medication."

  "I feel fine, honest."

  "I'm sure you do, but you may as well have the time off anyway. You've worked very hard since you joined us, and you didn't take Thanksgiving Day either. You could use a little 'me' time."

  "Guess I could, at that."

  "And…I was wondering…"

  "Yeah?"

  "As we'll no longer be working together…"

  She chuckled, feeling a rush of warmth to her face as she sensed what was coming and hardly believing it. "John, you want to ask me something, don't you?"

  "I do," he laughed. "I'm asking you for a date. Would you like to go out with me sometime?"

  Delight blossomed in her heart. "Well, I think I can find time somewhere. My nice, handsome boss just let me have some days off!"

  * * * *

  Claudia walked into the apartment to be greeted with a broad smile and a kiss from Marty. "Mm-mm! I can get used to this!" she said, stroking his cheek and pecking him on the lips.

  "You'll have plenty of time to do so," he said, fondling her butt.

  She felt his hardness growing against her and a matching moistness spring to her pussy, but reluctantly pushed away from him. "I want to drag you into the bedroom and ravish you, but I'll have to take a rain check. We've got to go see Caroline, and then I'm taking you to a steakhouse I know."

  "Ah, so that's why you didn't want me to make dinner." He winked. "I thought you'd grown tired of my cooking!"

  "Never, sweetheart!" She pecked him on the cheek as she brushed by and began taking off her coat. "I'm so thankful I've got a guy in my life who actually likes that kind of thing." She hung up her coat, and grinned. "Good food cooked by someone else, and a tiger in the bedroom! What gal can ask for more?"

  "I'm happy to oblige on both counts!"

  * * * *

  She showered and changed before heading into the sitting room. A plain manila folder lay on the table, and she glanced at it. "What's this?"

  Martin came out of the bedroom, doing up his tie. "It's part of the stuff I got from the archives today." He came up to her and slipped his hands about her waist. "Caroline helped me out there by channeling the lady in white."

  "Did she, indeed?" She stared up at him. "I know you're careful about all that, but how did she feel?"

  "Nervous at first, but she did a bang-up job. We now know the lady's name to be Winifred Morgan. She was planted in the asylum as a patient in the 1930's to expose the systematic abuse that went on there."

  "Ugly!"

  "Very! I'll spare you the details. Working through Caroline, she picked out three files, one on herself, one an inquiry report on the abuse." He gestured at the folder. "And this one on the pavilion."

  "That's cool. So you're getting somewhere?"

  "I think so. Looking through them raised a few points, and I'll need to think it all over. There is one puzzle." He opened the folder, drew out the photograph of Samson and gave it to her. "Someone wrote a cryptic note on the back."

  "What awful writing!" she said, peering at it, "but I can just make it out. Was this Biblical strongman one of us?" Her nerves tingled, and she looked up wide-eyed at him. "Marty, it's a question I've seen before."

  He blinked. "You have? Where?"

  "I'll…tell you in a moment," she said and picked up a ballpoint. Writing on a leaf of his notepad, she spelled out the name Samson then wrote the letters again in a different order. "The clue is in the name Samson. Rearrange the letters and you get…”

  "Masons!" He stared at the answer and then looked closely at her. "Was this Biblical strongman one of us? Was he a mason?"

  "Exactly."

  "And you knew the answer?"

  "Ah, yeah." She took his hand and toyed with the fingers. "Would it shock you to know I was involved in a secret society when I was a teen?"

  He cocked his head, his face alight with curiosity. "You were in the Freemasons?"

  "No, no; another outfit called the Carpenters Movement. They split from the Freemasons back in the eighteenth century. They use that question as a kind of shibboleth. My Uncle Winfield's a member; Dad used to be." She looked at him sidewise. "Are you a Freemason, Marty?"

  "No."

  "But you might deny it if you were!"

  He smiled and stroked her hair. "I won't keep anything from you, love. Yes, I was approached and asked to be a member; the British Civil Service is riddled with Freemasons." He shrugged. "I mean that in the pleasantest way, of course."

  "Of course!" she said gravely, and kissed him.

  "Mmm! But I declined; I've got my own views on things."

  "Okay."

  He wrapped his arms around her again and held her close. "Now, what about you, Claudia Mackenzie, fount of a thousand and one surprises? How come you were involved with this mysterious Masonic splinter cell?"

  She chuckled. "You make it sound terrible! No," she went on
, "I was an Overland Girl. It was part of the Carpenters Movement."

  "And the Overland Girls are what, exactly?"

  "They're a charitable fundraising sorority. It began back in the Civil War days. With so many men being called away to fight, it was thought there'd be a shortage of help on the farms. As a patriotic act, the Carpenters decided to find a way to utilize the resources of the young daughters of members in the cities and towns. The idea was to teach them the ways of farming and get them to take over some of the less strenuous tasks on the land.

  "It didn't really work. Most town girls don't adapt too well to country ways, there were a whole raft of scandals, and that part of the idea was quickly shelved. As it turned out, they weren't needed anyway. Plenty of men avoided the draft, or the work was done by those too injured in battle to fight any more. Those and new mechanization took care of the labor shortage. The Overland Girls turned to fundraising instead, and that's the way they stayed."

  "It kept you out of mischief?"

  "Oh, heavens, no!" She winked then frowned as memories began to surface. "No; there was a lot of trouble not so long ago. It's why my dad left the Carpenters."

  "What kind of trouble?"

  She gave him a twisted smile. "The usual kind you get when pubescent girls mix with older guys."

  "Ah, I see. Was Caroline an Overland Girl?"

  The question set off a moment of alarm, itself a fossil of a long-dead crisis. "No, thank God! We quit the whole thing just before she was old enough to join, so the issue never rose. Anyway, that's all in the past." She gestured to the folder, eager to change the subject. "I'd guess there's a link between the Carpenters Movement and that place."

  "I'll look at it later," he said, glancing at his watch. "For now, I think we'd better be making tracks to your parents' place."

  "Okay. It's time to start putting my controlled explosion idea into practice!"

  * * * *

  Jay felt a glow of satisfaction as Thelma read his article, her normally severe features softened by good humor and the waning daylight entering the window of her tenth floor office. "You did good, Jay," she said. "I'm sorry I threw out your last piece."

  "Not a problem, Thelma," he said, feeling magnanimous. "You were right, it wasn't any good; it just wasn't complete."

  "Indeed." She gave him a sharp look and he throttled back on his enthusiasm, remembering how sensitive she was to bullshit—and how much power she wielded. "As it is, you can keep on this storyline as long as it takes to run it down. Two suicides in one day?" she mused aloud. "There's something fucking weird going on in that place."

  "Yeah, and if you take the presence of that Brit ghost-hunter into account, it gets weirder yet."

  "I'm not sure we can run an article on the paranormal, Jay," she said. "That kind of thing is just too fucking weird for our readership."

  "Thelma, the readers don't have to believe it," he said with a smile. "All they really need to be told is that someone involved in that clinic does."

  She fixed him with a level stare, and then, slowly, she began to smile. "Y' know, you got a point there."

  * * * *

  Andrew Mackenzie gave them a guarded welcome when they arrived. Claudia offered her cheek to be kissed in a perfunctory manner, and Martin saw the frown on her father's face. "We're not stopping long," she told her dad, "just long enough to talk to Caroline."

  "You could stay for dinner," he said in a mild tone.

  "Thanks, but we're eating out. I promised Marty a steak." She looked around when they entered the sitting room. "Where's Mom?"

  "She's attending a parents' meeting at the school."

  "Oh." She looked at Martin. "You stay and talk; I'll go speak to Caroline."

  "Okay, dear." He blew her a kiss, and she gave him a half-smile in return.

  "So, how are you settling in?" Andrew asked, breaking the awkward silence that fell after her departure.

  "We're doing just fine," he replied equably. "Although I have to say I'm looking forward to finding a place of our own. Living in temporary accommodation has its drawbacks," he added, thinking of Mrs. Ellis.

  Andrew fixed him with a hard stare from beneath heavy brows. "You haven't changed your mind about staying here?"

  "Not at all. I should be able to stay for Christmas, possibly New Year, and then I'll have to return to the UK. Once I settle my affairs over there, I'll be back."

  "Uh huh."

  The awkward silence fell again, and Martin could just pick out the sound of voices coming from the other part of the house.

  * * * *

  "You got a date?" Claudia exclaimed, staring at her sister.

  Caroline flushed and shrugged. "Yeah, with John Burwell. We've got to fix a time, but there's no problem. He won't be my boss any more; the center's closing down. John said it probably won't even reopen once the cops are done, due to all the trouble there."

  "So it's John, already?" Claudia said archly, sitting on the foot of the bed.

  Caroline chuckled and flushed a deeper red.

  "When was the last time you dated, honey?" Claudia asked.

  "It was quite a while back." Caroline frowned. "I think it was Timothy Lockwood, from my last year in college."

  "You've had no one since then?" She stared at her. "I figured you'd be beating the guys off with a stick whilst I was in New York!"

  "No, I'm not like that, Claudie!"

  "I know, dear. Look, are you still committed to the silver ring thing?"

  "Oh, yes!" Caroline spread her hands. "I just don't think it right for two people to have sex outside marriage."

  "I'd love to know when that idea got into your head," she said.

  "That part's easy." Caroline looked her in the eye and lowered her voice. "It was after all that trouble you went through with the Overland Girls. I was young, but I had good hearing when you talked it over with Dad."

  "Oh, honey!" The lingering exasperation she felt melted away and she clasped her hand and patted it. "Nothing happened to me!"

  "I know, and I'm sure glad! But you talked about those other girls, and it all sounded so horrible I made up my mind there and then not to go down that route."

  "You don't mind that Marty and I are living together?" she asked quizzically. "Not that it'd make any difference, but I'd hate for you to feel awkward around us."

  "Oh, no! It's your choice, and I can see you two are made for each other." She looked at her shyly. "Are you going to marry him?"

  Claudia felt her face grow warm at the thought. "I hope to do just that. He hasn't asked me, and I won't ask him. It's something we'll talk over when the time is right."

  "He's nice. I like him." Caroline bit her lip and lowered her eyes.

  "He's a real nice guy, and I'm lucky to have him in my life. As for what happened," she said, reaching out to Caroline and gently raising her chin with a finger, "we've forgiven you."

  "I'm glad. Martin told me this afternoon that you weren't holding it against me, and it's a real weight off my mind."

  "Good. There's one thing, though." She reached into her pocket and drew out the domino mask. Caroline gasped and clapped her hands to her mouth when she saw it. "You left this behind at our place."

  Caroline took it and fingered the fabric, her face bright red.

  Claudia gestured to the computer, sitting on the desk in the corner of the room. "Cyber-sex may feel good, but I think it's eating you up, Caroline."

  "I haven't done it for two days," she said and held up the mask. "It's the reason I didn't know I'd mislaid this." She stroked it one last time, then folded it and laid it aside. "After I made a fool of myself in front of Martin, I realized I was doing the same with strangers."

  "I'm glad to hear you say so! How long have you been cybering?" she asked, fascinated in spite of her qualms.

  "About two years. Some guys get to be regulars, and ask me to meet up with them." She made a cut-off gesture with her hand. "I just don't go there. The simulated sex was enough for me. It stimulated
my mind, Claudie, as well as my body. It let me figure out what sex is all about without having to be with a guy."

  "The ultimate safe sex."

  "Yeah, guess so." She shifted in her seat as if uncomfortable at the probing, but nodded. Claudia could see the blush spreading on her face. "I genuinely thought it'd make a good project for my studies. If I'd known what it would lead to, I'd never have begun!"

  "I can understand that." She took her sister's other hand and squeezed it. "Caroline, you're exposing yourself to sexual activity without gaining authentic physical relief."

  "I…" she began, and swallowed. "I do achieve orgasm."

  "Using your fingers and a vibrator."

  "Yeah. If I use a dildo, I'd break my hymen."

  "I see."

  As they talked she felt the idea of a controlled explosion had even greater appeal, and the thought that Caroline would be dating opened the possibility even further. "What about John?" she asked. "You know him well from work. Would you sleep with him?"

  "No!" Caroline flushed and twisted the silver ring on her finger. "No," she said in a quieter voice. "He's nice, and I really like him. But I won't allow him to sleep with me."

  "Okay. Caroline, you're a healthy woman. You need sexual relief like most of us; yet your beliefs keep you from actually experiencing it! You can't remain frustrated like this; it'll eat you up, maybe expose you to another experience like the one you had with Marty."

  "Oh, my God!" she said and sighed. "I don't want that kind of thing to happen again. But I'm not giving up my ideals!"

  "No one's asking you to," she said gently, and stroked her head, "but there are ways and means."

  "What do you mean?"

  "I've got a few ideas, is all," she said, rising to her feet. "I'll tell you soon. In the meantime, I got a date with a man and a steak."

  * * * *

  She returned to the sitting room to find Martin and her dad watching TV. Emeril was performing his usual culinary miracles on the screen, and the sight made her feel hungrier yet. "Time to go, lover," she said, taking Marty's hand and pulling him to his feet. "G'night, Dad. We'll see ourselves out."

  "Claudie, wait up!" he said, getting to his feet.