So Dead, My Love Page 7

  Samantha suddenly noticed that the music had switched to Enigma and that conversation was at a height. Edmund was leaning over closer to her ear.

  “You must realize that I tried to add just a bit of sensationalism to that chapter on the Karnovs. I only had the city records and newspaper accounts to go by.” He was looking at her apologetically. “So let’s just keep this a trade secret between you and I. It was strictly my opinion, going by what I had on hand.”

  They both moved toward the wall, away from the din of the guests. Her heart was racing, partly because this was all bringing her closer to Lara Karnov and partly the effects of the tequila. Somewhere, someone had burst into a song and dance number.

  Samantha tried to tune it out. She had pretty much understood all that Furrows had told her. The Karnovs made an appearance in his book only as spice. A little oregano here, a little Karnov there. Write anything to make it more exciting and sell it. Well, he had done his job on her. Samantha looked down at her drink and realized that she had made quick work of it.

  Excusing herself from Furrows, she made an attempt to head for the food. A dull hunger had been tugging at her insides.

  Unfortunately, she didn’t get very far. From behind, she heard the least desirable voice imaginable to her. Edna Peabody was practically screaming her name.

  Samantha wanted so badly to just keep on walking and avoid the nightmare. If she had had a few more margaritas, it would have been a breeze. Instead, she turned around, a half smile frozen on her face. Edna Peabody wasn’t alone.

  “My goodness gracious,” Peabody’s mouth was moving at the speed of light, her fat cheeks jiggling. “It’s impossible to hear anybody with all this commotion.” She waved a thick hand in the air. The man standing beside her was familiar to Samantha. His eyes were intent on her, an amused look peeking through.

  “Samantha, honey I want you to meet Doctor Kendall. Stephen.”

  Of course, how could she forget. Samantha smiled and pointed to her perfectly healing forehead. “Doctor Kendall had the misfortune of seeing me at my worst.”

  “Oh, you know each other?” Peabody’s eyes lit up and if ears could stand on end, Edna Peabody’s would have looked much like a couple of hound dogs’ tails. Stephen Kendall put out his hand for Samantha.

  “I’m happy to see that you’re back to your lovely self again.”

  Okay, so it was a compliment, she told herself. “How very kind, Dr. Kendall,” she said as she took his hand and let go quickly, “but flattery won’t get me back into your hospital.”

  “Oh, it’s Stephen to you dear,” Mrs. Peabody interjected. “This is the new young man in town that I wanted to speak to you about. He just joined the church so I invited him tonight to get a chance to meet everyone.” Peabody’s smile was permanently plastered on her round face like a bloated Joker from Batman. She turned to Kendall. “You know, Stephen, single, eligible young people are at a premium here on the Isle. Mostly we old folks like to marry people off. Of course, there’s some like Carmen…”

  Peabody leaned closer to Samantha, almost whispering, but loud enough for Stephen to overhear.

  “You really should pick your friends more carefully, dear.”

  Samantha wasn’t the least amused by this conversation and wanted out. She didn’t want the gay issue to explode here. Where was Carmen?

  “Excuse me, Stephen, Mrs. Peabody, but my stomach has been dying to try out some of that delicious food.” She moved quickly away, not looking back at Peabody or Stephen. Yes, it was rude, but so was Edna Peabody. If she’d gone on anymore about Carmen, Samantha would have belted her one.

  Finding her way to the kitchen was no problem and she was delighted to find that no one had found Carmen’s special shrimp. As she dipped them in the extra marinade, she thanked Carmen silently for this delicious dinner. Now what she really needed to make this just perfect was another margarita. Taking four more of the tangy shrimp in a small dish, she made her way to the bartender.

  The evening was going well. She felt good. No guilty feelings about anything. No remorse or anxiety to cloud her euphoria. Was it the alcohol? She didn’t care what it was. She found herself missing Carmen. She realized she hadn’t seen her since that guy had called her inside.

  Samantha was standing at the bar, new margarita in hand, when she heard the loud, agitated voice across the room. She could see Gillian Haskell with Carmen in the dark hallway leading to the bedrooms. Carmen had Gillian by the shoulders. No one seemed to want to interfere. They either weren’t paying attention or didn’t want to notice.

  Samantha walked over to both of them, catching a surprised Bob Holder in the process of trying to get her attention. Samantha walked quickly by, ignoring him.

  Gillian looked terrible. She had dark stains from her mascara down her cheeks. There was the stench of alcohol surrounding her.

  “Carmen, is everything alright?”

  “Yeah, Sam. Gillian went a little hard on the vodka tonight, that’s all.” Her tone was tense.

  “You can kiss my ass, darling Carmen. You know damn well what that fucker did!” Gillian blurted loudly. She was bitter, angry. She wanted out of Carmen’s hold. She flung her head back hard. “That bastard wants it all, dammit. The bookstore!” She was almost yelling.

  Samantha felt helpless. She had found herself in the middle of something she didn’t understand. Carmen held on to Gillian even tighter. She brought her face close to Gillian’s.

  “Gillian, this is not the time or the place.” Her voice was an urgent whisper. “Go to my room and lie down. Relax. I’ll get you something to eat and some coffee.”

  “No, I won’t lie down.” She broke away from Carmen. “What I need is another drink.” Gillian brushed past Samantha.

  Samantha inched even further into the shadows of the wall. Where was John Haskell? She could see some of the guests looking and then turning away, whispering to each other. Some however, were blatantly nosy. Mrs. Peabody was ear to ear with her husband and Bob Holder had a rather befuddled look, taking sip after sip of whatever he was drinking. Carmen pulled Samantha close by the elbow and whispered.

  “This is between you and me, Sam. Not another soul needs to know.” She hesitated and sighed, shaking her head slightly. “John left Gillian. He wants a divorce. He’s somewhere in California and from what I’ve been able to get from Gillian, he wants the bookstore in the deal.” She stopped, her eyes looking deeply into Samantha’s.

  For the first time since she had met her friend, Samantha didn’t know what to say. There was something in Carmen’s eyes she couldn’t put a finger on. All she knew was that Carmen was severely affected by this. She hadn’t realized that she and Gillian were so close.

  “Is she going to be all right, Carmen? She looks pretty smashed.”

  “I think she’s been drinking since last night.” Carmen whispered, looking back into the party crowd, spotting Gillian at the bar. “She’s going to stay here with you tonight, right? You can’t let her drive home like that.”

  “Oh she’s not going anywhere.” Carmen was leading Samantha back out to the party. “Don’t let this spoil your evening, Sam. This is something personal that Gillian shouldn’t have brought here.” There was a faraway, disturbed sound to Carmen’s voice.

  Samantha suddenly realized that the glass in her hand was almost empty and that she was starting to feel the effects.

  Bob Holder came up to them, a hesitant smile plastered on his face. “Samantha. Carmen. I’ve finally got the both of you cornered.” He was still holding his drink. “I was looking forward to seeing you again, Samantha.”

  First name basis already, thought Samantha. Amazing what a few drinks can do to the human defenses. Samantha couldn’t muster a word. All of a sudden, none of this mattered. Holder didn’t matter. Gillian didn’t matter. Being here didn’t matter. Well, Carmen did. She always did. Carmen smiled.

  “Listen, Bob, I have to tell you, Samantha’s work on the bank painting is marvelous. I’ve
seen some of her initial canvas work.”

  Why was it so important for Carmen and people like Carmen to always be on top of things? They never wanted to drop their public persona or appear less than human. Bob Holder nodded.

  “Oh, I’m sure it will be more than suitable for the bank and the commissioners. Samantha is highly regarded and came with excellent recommendations.”

  He was smiling blandly, nodding with half closed eyes. He reminded Samantha of those plastic bobbing head dolls people place in their car rear windows.

  Samantha could have told him she was painting a pig with a red pepper stuffed in its mouth to hang in his precious bank and he would have continued nodding and smiling, agreeing to it without question. He was that drunk.

  “Good to see you, Mr. Holder.” She turned back to Carmen. “I need a change of scenery. It’s getting very stuffy in here.”

  Samantha smiled politely and disengaged herself. She left and headed toward the veranda. The cold was better than this. She wanted to leave but she didn’t want to disappoint Carmen. Her decision was made for her, however.

  As she worked her way through the living room where most of the guests were, someone grabbed her arm firmly.

  “Hey, Samantha, hold on a second.” It was Stephen Kendall.

  “Dr. Kendall.”

  “Nope. Stephen, remember?” He had a big grin on his face. Blond and blue-eyed, he wouldn’t have been considered a bad-looking guy for most women with an eye for such things. Unfortunately for him, Samantha wasn’t one of them.

  “Okay, Stephen. Look, I was just going out for some fresh air.”

  He raised an eyebrow. “A bit cold, don’t you think?”

  All she wanted was to get away from contact of any kind. What she really wanted was to get back home. Back to Lara Karnov. Not only that, but Samantha had a feeling this guy was entertaining a definite interest in her. That was something she didn’t want.

  “Actually, I think I’ve had a bit too much to drink and need to clear my head,” she said and attempted to move away. He held on to her arm.

  “Hmm, I feel a bit woozy myself. Not used to doing this.” He held up his half empty glass. “I haven’t had this much to drink since my intern days at Yale.” His eyes were a shade on the red side.

  “No, what I meant was I want to be alone at the moment, if you don’t mind?” She was trying not to be too rude. She needed to get away from him, except he wouldn’t let go of her arm.

  “Hey, Sam.” Carmen’s voice from behind was a welcome intrusion. “I was looking for you.”

  God bless her. As always, her savior. Carmen eyed Stephen Kendall intently as she walked up.

  “Carmen, I think I probably should be going.” Samantha almost whispered as she inched closer to her friend. Kendall let his hand drop.

  Carmen put an arm around her. “You okay to drive home?” She looked at Samantha, then back at Kendall.

  “Oh yes, I’m fine. It’s Gillian you need to worry about.”

  “She’ll be all right.” A shadow crossed Carmen’s face.

  “Listen, Carmen,” Stephen Kendall said, “Thank you so much for having me here tonight. I look forward to being of any help in the future.” Kendall put out a hand.

  He and Carmen shook hands, and then he turned back to Samantha. “And Samantha, I enjoyed seeing you again. I hope you won’t be too shy to drop in for a visit at the hospital.” He gave Samantha a friendly smile and walked away.

  Carmen was still holding on to Samantha.

  “Sam, this guy isn’t hitting on you, is he?” Her eyes were still on Kendall as he rejoined Pastor Peabody.

  “He’s a typical, horny guy, Carmen. You know, new in town, wants to hit on all the eligible females in sight.”

  “Sam, why don’t you just tell the guy he’s got the wrong plumbing? You know, big dykes don’t go for blonde boys.”

  Samantha wasn’t prepared to jump out of the closet and into the prying eyes of Bayton Isle just yet. She didn’t want her life to be the topic of gossip as Carmen was. Her life had been a semi-closeted affair.

  “C’mon, Carmen, I want to be in control of all my senses when I hit him with that one.” She smiled and gently nudged Carmen. Carmen smiled back and kissed her gently on the forehead.

  “Go on home, honey. Drive carefully and get some rest. And thanks for coming.” She hugged her one last time and went off to mingle with what was left of her party guests.

  As Samantha drove home, the thoughts of the evening all seemed to fade away in the warm comfort of her car’s interior. Only one thought remained persistent. Lara Karnov. In order to get to Lara she had to find Karnov Mansion and Tamara Weissman.

  She yawned, finally starting to feel the effects of the night. She turned off her radio, the sound of the wind whistling through the convertible windows the only thing sharing space with Lara Karnov in her thoughts.

  Chapter 8

  Nothing could have stopped her from heading out in search of Karnov Mansion. Not the bank commission and their painting, not her book covers, not even the approaching harsh Maine weather. It was cold outside Saturday morning. Cold and windy. The sky was a dark shade of pewter.

  The estate was so well hidden that it was hard to imagine anything living beyond the overgrown road. Piper’s Road wasn’t much of a road and unless you were looking for it, you’d easily drive right past the narrow, dirt path that wind up the cliff like a winding snake. No wonder she’d never spotted it before and why it wasn’t even on some of the maps.

  The grounds surrounding Karnov Mansion were bleak with tall, looming trees hiding most of it from sight. The house sat atop one of the highest points on the Isle. Pulling onto the narrow, rock-strewn driveway, Samantha noticed that the whole place lacked greenery or flowers of any type. The image left a lifeless impression of gray, much like the stones of Karnov House.

  The ground was littered with decaying leaves and what remained of hedges adorning the front of the house were more like clawing, empty limbs. To anyone but Samantha, the place would have been desolate and bleak, but to her, it held an unnamable allure. The house was an overpowering presence on the surrounding land.

  The wind was picking up and Samantha felt the growing chill deepen, even through her trench coat. She wrapped it tighter around her waist turning up the collar. The sound of the waves crashing on the rocky waters below was so loud that she could almost feel the icy touch of the spray on her face.

  Walking up towards the mansion, she couldn’t suppress a shiver, for the autumn leaves that lay like a harvest carpet at her feet, seemed to stir and run ahead of her, leading her to the door of Karnov Mansion.

  As she reached the house, she caught a noticeable odor. It smelled sour but she couldn’t figure out what it could be. The door was large and weathered. It had been beautiful at one time, she thought. In fact, the entire estate must have been an elegant sight in its heyday.

  Suddenly, standing there in front of that door, Samantha was struck with a vision. Pictures raced through her brain, pictures that had never been part of her memories before. She clearly saw the Karnovs sitting at a large wooden table, somber tapestries hanging against the high walls, the table filled with food. And in the center of them all, holding court like a queen, was Lara Karnov. In her vision, Samantha was truly there, like an invited guest looking on. Had she been here before?

  She saw Lara turn, a crooked, knowing smile on her gaunt face and look directly at her. Her eyes were on fire! They burned through Samantha, the shock so real and so intense that Samantha had to look away, but not before she saw that every piece of food on their table had been covered in blood and some of the Karnovs sneered, like ghouls at a feast, blood dripping down their chins.

  Samantha shook herself free of the disturbing image, only to find the door in front of her open. Had she knocked? She couldn’t remember. A young man in faded work clothes and hair down his forehead stood looking hesitantly at her, eyes searching nervously around.

  “I’m look
ing for a Tamara Weissman. Does she live here?” “Yes. Come in please.” He was soft spoken, polite.

  He moved aside and ushered her in. It was dark inside, so dark that

  when he closed the door behind her, Karnov House seemed to literally swallow the sun. It smelled musty, like a house closed up too tight and not allowed to breathe. She was in a foyer, carpeted in dark, faded patterns of browns, greens and black. There was a dimly lit staircase to her right, barely showing off the gold-framed portraits staring down at visitors.

  Dark Shadows , thought Samantha, not able to suppress a slight smile. She loved that show. She remembered rushing home after school, refusing to speak to her family or friends, planting herself firmly in front of the TV and losing herself in the world of Barnabas Collins and Angelique, the witch who loved him. Angelique had given much for Barnabas. She had given her soul.

  Breaking free from her thoughts, she realized that the young man in front of her was just standing there, an expectant look on his unkempt face.

  “I’m here to see Tamara Weissman. Is she available?” “I don’t know. I would have to check.”

  “I came at her request.” Samantha handed him the rumpled note

  she’d been keeping from the hospital. He took it quickly from her hand and looked at it, not understanding at all what it should mean.

  “Um, Miss Weissman is very sick. Can you wait in the sitting room while I go up and check with her?”

  Samantha nodded, waiting for him to escort her to wherever the sitting room might be. She hadn’t come this far to be put off. If Tamara Weissman was too ill to see her, then she would go to see Tamara Weissman.

  He walked towards two closed, decoratively carved mahogany doors facing the staircase and opened them, revealing a magnificent Victorian era sitting room. The room was darkly paneled with wainscoting in stripes of garnet and green. The floor-to-ceiling windows were adorned with delicate sheer drapes.

  A fireplace took center stage with a sofa and two chairs covered in rich burgundy and reds, which added a rather dark mood. Portraits hung in every large space on the walls.