Chief Cobb was brusque. “You went outside. You saw Jimmy Hume. Why didn’t you tell us?”
“Jimmy wouldn’t hurt anybody.” Her voice was shaky, but her tone fierce.
“You might be interested to know that Mr. Hume had already told us he was outside.”
It was as if a chill pervaded the room.
The chief glanced at Margo. “You claimed Shannon never left the house. Did you hear her leave? Or return?”
“I was outside, too.” Margo talked fast. “I heard the front door. I followed Shannon. She wandered down to the pool and then she came back. That’s all she did. She didn’t go near The Castle. I saw her go inside our house and in a few minutes I came in.”
“Where was Jimmy Hume?” The chief’s tone was conversational.
Margo’s eyes flickered. “I don’t know. I didn’t see him.”
Shannon reached out, took her mother’s arm. “Mom, it’s all right. I walked toward the gazebo. That’s when I saw Jimmy. But he was walking away from me. I almost called out, but I didn’t.” She looked toward him and tears spilled down her cheeks. “I was afraid you wouldn’t ever want to talk to me again. Jack was amazing, but you’re the only one who matters to me. Last night I wanted to talk to you so much, but I was afraid you would be mad at me.”
Jimmy’s face softened. “It’s okay, Shannon. Everything’s okay.”
I hoped that would be true for them now.
The chief turned toward Clint Dunham. “You were on The Castle grounds as well.”
Again, as in the afternoon, Clint Dunham said nothing, his lips pressed tightly together. His heavy face held a look of dumb misery and furious anger.
Cobb massaged his cheek with the knuckles of his right hand. “Mr. Dunham, you saw a woman near The Castle.” The chief’s voice was flat. It was not a question. It was a statement.
Silence settled in the room, a silence heavy with fear.
Cobb looked grim. “Who did you see?”
Dunham made no response.
A quick peal sounded.
Chief Cobb pulled a cell phone from his pocket. He glanced, tapped, apparently read a text. He lifted his head. Power emanated from him. “We’ll go upstairs now. A great deal of new evidence has been uncovered today. In fact, we will be making an arrest shortly. In conjunction with that and before we proceed further here, I will ask you to accompany me to the third floor. We expect the arrival of a witness, who has interesting information.” He walked to the hall door, held it wide.
“What kind of nonsense is this?” Clint Dunham slammed a hand on the table.
Gwen reached over and gripped his arm. Her violet eyes were wide and frightened. She didn’t speak.
Clint took a breath of aggravation. “None of this has anything to do with us.”
“Please, Clint.” She clutched his arm, tugged. Perhaps she hoped their cooperation would indicate innocence. Perhaps she was willing to do whatever they were asked to shift attention away from them.
No one else spoke. Chairs squeaked against the floor. Footsteps sounded.
Evelyn Hume led the way, moving with unerring accuracy through the door, walking to the stairs. She rested her hand lightly on the banister and started up.
At the base of the stairs, Diane clung to Jimmy’s arm. “I don’t like this. Jimmy, why we are going up there? If they ask us to go out on the balcony, I won’t go. I can’t bear thinking about Jack and those steps.”
“It’s okay, Mom. Let’s get up there and get this over with.”
I flowed above them.
Evelyn was the first to reach the third floor. She peered myopically down the hallway at the officers lining the hallway, four on each side. For an instant, her pace slowed, then she lifted her head and moved forward.
Diane clung to Jimmy’s arm, whispered, “Why are they here? Jimmy, what’s going to happen?”
Jimmy spoke quickly. “I don’t know, Mom.” His voice was even, but his face was strained.
Shannon drew in a sharp, harsh breath. “Jack came this way.” Her face crumpled.
Margo slid an arm around her daughter’s shoulders, glared angrily at the chief. “What is this macabre exercise supposed to prove?”
“Guilt.” His answer was quick, sharp, and hard.
Gwen Dunham looked at her husband with despair.
Clint blustered, “This has nothing to do with us.”
Alison Gregory’s eyes glittered, possibly from anger, possibly from excitement.
Chief Cobb led the solemn group midway down the broad, marble-floored hall. He gestured at the paintings hanging on either side. “These are some of the finest paintings in the Hume collection.” He stopped in front of the Metcalf painting with its brilliant red poppies. On close inspection, the red of the poppies drew the eye instead of the pale blue water of the river. The intermingling of white poppies added a dramatic accent.
“At the seance”—the chief sounded matter-of-fact—“Laverne Phillips said: ‘…bright red poppies in a field…sharp
