CHAPTER NINE

The next day, the Jensen's host a party. Hugo is there, along with Veronica, Dr. Strauss and Thomas Keller along with at least thirty additional guests. I am not invited to this party, and I am grateful for that. If I see Dr. Strauss again, I am likely to tear her eyes from their sockets.

Instead, I spend time with the children. They are allowed to join the party if they wish, but not surprisingly, they don't find the prospect of watching their parents and their friends and associates getting drunk on cocktails and champagne enjoyable.

So, we retire to the theater and enjoy snacks while watching the most recent superhero movie. I'm not a fan of the genre, but there's something to be said for mindless action movies.

Ethan is the most excited I've ever seen him. He spouts endless facts about the different heroes, mostly the comic issues he owns that features them and what particular version of each hero is represented in the movie. Apparently different comic book "runs" change certain details of heroes, and the movies select the versions that best fit their plot.

Olivia spends most of the time on her phone, but when two particularly attractive young men are on the screen, I notice her paying very close attention. During these moments, she'll irritably hush Ethan and gaze longingly at the actors' eyes while they perform their stunts or make their speeches. It's an innocent puppy love, and my heart warms toward both of them to see them acting like young people. I truly hope they can avoid the pitfalls that turned their parents to such a depressing life as they lead now.

The movie ends, and I tell Olivia to pick the next one while I get more snacks from the kitchen.

"Aww, she's gonna pick some dumb romance movie," Ethan complains.

"When you aren't a baby anymore, you'll understand that not all entertainment has to be people wearing tights pretending to shoot laser beams at each other."

"Not a single person in that movie wears tights," he protests, "and I'll bet the movie you pick shows people getting naked."

"It will not," I interrupt, "or I will change it to a more appropriate movie. However, I wouldn't mind seeing a good romantic comedy."

Olivia grins triumphantly at Ethan, who rolls his eyes and pulls out a video game tablet. I forget which one. Video games were in their nascency when I was a child, and one had to go to an arcade to play them. I preferred libraries myself.

I head to the kitchen. Unfortunately, this means I must navigate my way through the living room and dining room. If you have never experienced a wealthy person's party, consider yourself lucky. It is as though people forget how to behave with decorum and decency.

I suppose I'm being too harsh. Lasciviousness and drunkenness aren't exclusive to the wealthy after all. Still, I can't help but wonder what value people get in these displays.

Veronica is in the living room, escorted by Thomas Keller. She is clearly drunk and flirting rather shamelessly with him. Thomas, to his credit, has his wits about him and deftly deflects her advances while maintaining conversation with several other guests I don't recognize. He meets my eyes and gives me a brief, exasperated look. I stifle a smile at that.

The dining room is somewhat calmer than the living room. Catherine and Hugo are there, deep in conversation. Hugo nods politely at me. I return his nod and hurry to the kitchen, pointedly ignoring Strauss's cordial greeting.

"Mary?" Catherine calls. "Could I ask you a favor?"

I turn to her. "Yes? What is it?"

"Could you find Frederick for me, please? He's been gone for over an hour. We've been waiting for him to return so we could discuss something together."

I blink. "You want me to find him?"

"Could you? He likes you. He'll listen to you."

I don't follow her train of thought at all. She must be drunk because what she's said makes absolutely no sense. "Listen to me about what?"

"About coming back to the party," she replies, as though that was the most obvious thing in the world.

"Well… What should I say?"

"Tell him that we're all waiting for him."

She's irritated now. Clearly, I'm a fool who can't understand even the simplest of instructions. "What should I do about the children?" I ask.

She asks. "For God's sake, Mary, they're not babies. They'll be fine for a few minutes. There will be plenty of snacks left over after."

She's too drunk for me to feel offended by her clumsy attempt at insulting me. "Very well," I say. "I'll see what I can do."

"Thank you so much," Catherine replies, giving me an exaggerated bow.

Hugo laughs, and I roll my eyes as I walk into the kitchen. Sophie looks stressed for the first time since I've known her. She rushes to and fro, issuing instructions to two frightened young housemaids who don't seem to know whether to fear the rambunctious guests outside or the frazzled cook inside. If I had the choice, I would remain to help her rather than going on a wild goose chase to find my employer.

Indeed, Sophie attempts to elicit my help. "Mary, I'm so sorry to ask, but could you help me? I've just stepped away for a few minutes, and everything's gone to Hell." She glares at the poor housemaids, who shrink back from her fury. "Could you help me refill the drinks and snacks at the pool? We're out of liquor and nearly out of crisps, and you know how bloody much Americans love their crisps."

"I wish I could," I reply honestly, "but I'm afraid Catherine got to me first."

"Catherine? What's she want?"

"She wants me to find her husband."

Sophie stares blankly at me for a moment. Then, she throws her hands up in exasperation. "Well, I don't know where he is. I've barely seen him this whole evening."

Were it not for the chaos I've witnessed so far, I would be hurt by her abruptness. As it is, I only sympathize with her. "Hold on, Sophie. As soon as I find him, I'll come back to rescue you."

She sighs and offers me a somewhat guilty smile. "Thank you. I'm not normally like this, I promise. This is just what happens when I'm given two bloody hours' notice to plan a damned party." She shakes her head and turns to the handmaids. "What are you two standing around for? Liquor! Crisps! To the pool!"

The young women move as though whipped. I think of asking Sophie to go easy on them, then decide it's best if I leave her alone for the moment.

I return to the living room and approach Keller, who's managed to free himself momentarily from the insatiable Veronica. "Have you seen Frederick?" I ask.

"Fred? He went to the boathouse to have a smoke. Catherine hates the habit, so he sneaks it out there when he can."

I nearly roll my eyes. How typical. "Thank you, Thomas. Shall I scold him on Catherine's behalf when I see him?"

"I'm sure Catherine will handle that herself when she has the chance," Thomas says drily. "Besides, he'll be guilty enough to be caught. I assume Catherine sent you to summon him?"

"You assume correctly. The poor children will be wondering where I've gone."

"No doubt they will still be arguing over the movie when you get back. Don't worry. They're kids. Time doesn't exist for them."

We share a chuckle at that, then I leave him to the party.

The boathouse is in front of the estate, but due to a quirk of the home's layout, it's most easily accessed through a path that begins at the back of the house. I pass a few rooms where the more amorous partygoers have found time to indulge their lusts. Most of them are kind enough to close the door.

As I approach the lake, I feel my heartbeat quicken. Images flood my mind of Annie flailing in the water, my mother struggling to hold her under, my screams as I protest but stand still and do nothing, my father's shout of fear when he returns home—

I blink and realize I'm standing stock still in front of the boathouse. Sweat pours down my neck and forehead, and my breath comes in quick, halting gasps.

God damn Eleanor Strauss. Why did she need to bring that up? And why did Dr. Strauss look into my medical history without telling me? What did she hope to gain by that?

"Damn it, I'm not afraid of water! My parents are dead, and Annie…"

The horrible thought occurs to me for the first time that Annie might have visited our hill overlooking the ocean before she disappeared. She might have fallen into the water and drowned. Her body might have been carried out to sea and that could be why there's no evidence, nothing to find to give me closure.

"Damn it," I whisper. "I'm done with this."

I stalk into the boathouse and call, "Frederick? Your wife wants…"

My voice trails off. The boathouse houses a sixty-foot yacht and a variety of smaller boats. The door opens to a platform that is raised above the surface of the water allowing one to step easily from the platform onto the deck of the yacht while an elevator provides access to a lower floor where the smaller boats are stored.

Frederick used the upper floor to step onto the deck of the yacht. At some point after, he was shot through his head. His blood and brain matter splatter the hatch to the yacht's bridge while his body lies sprawled on the deck.