Fire From Heaven: Dead Cold Mystery 9 Read online

  “I know, goddammit!” He snarled, “Do I look like an ignorant…” He trailed off, stood, and made his way to the sideboard, where he retrieved four bottles of red wine and brought them to the table, while his wife returned to the kitchen to get potatoes and vegetables. Don distributed the wine. Stuart and the Colonel started to pour. As Don sat, Stuart looked at me and said, “Just because we don’t understand it, Detective, it doesn’t mean it isn’t real.”

  I nodded. “I couldn’t agree more, Stuart, but it is equally true that we should not project explanations onto things we don’t understand, just to try and get them to make sense. And I fear that is what is going on here. Danny’s death was inexplicable. And though your book, Don, makes a very powerful case for the existence of extraterrestrials, it does not, actually, explain Danny’s death.”

  May said, “But neither did the police.”

  I smiled at her. “But the police left the case open. They didn’t close it with an unproven theory.”

  Don said, “And you think that is what I have done.”

  I nodded. “I don’t think it’s what you’ve done. It is what you have done. And proof of that fact is that, without any of you knowing any details about Jane’s murder, you are all attributing her death to the same cause as Danny’s.”

  The kitchen door opened again and Jasmine returned with another tray, bearing large dishes of potatoes and vegetables. She laid it on the table, looked at May and made a mock cross face. “Ahh! May! You didn’t start dishing out pie! Naughty May!”

  May covered her face and laughed too. “Oh, Jasmine! I am so sorry!”

  I looked up at Jasmine and smiled, and in that moment I caught her staring at Don. She frowned a moment, then her eyes went wide, her face went white, and she screamed hysterically. Next moment, her eyes rolled back in her head and she dropped backward onto the floor, dragging the tray with her, scattering dishes, potatoes, and vegetables in a shattering crash.

  NINETEEN

  Dehan was on her feet, moving to help Jasmine. Paul was right behind her. Within a second, the colonel followed with Stuart on his heels. May had pushed back her chair and was staggering backward to her feet, screaming. But she was staring at where Jasmine had collapsed on the floor, so I was pretty sure what had scared her was Jasmine’s face—not what had scared Jasmine.

  Dehan was barking orders at everybody to stand back and give her space. I turned to look at Don. He hadn’t moved. He still had his sullen scowl on his face. The only change was that his breathing had grown deeper and faster. He swiveled his eyes to look at me.

  I said, “Is this a trance?”

  He nodded. I stood and walked over to where Jasmine was lying on the floor trembling. I touched Dehan on the shoulder and said, “Let’s get her to the sofa. She may have something to tell us.”

  We moved in a solemn procession over to the fire. As I laid Jasmine on the sofa, May announced importantly that she was going to run upstairs and get a blanket. Nobody answered her, and after a moment we heard her heels hammering up the wooden stairs and along the landing. Jasmine was now giving the odd tremble, but her breathing was becoming slow and shallow. There was a deep sigh, almost a groan, from the table and Don got to his feet. He came over and stood looking down at his wife.

  “Please,” he said, “sit. They are about to communicate.” He lowered himself into a chair. “Paul, perhaps you would dim the lights.”

  As Paul went to turn down the lights, May clacked back down the steps carrying a blanket. She strutted purposefully over and covered Jasmine, making sure she was tucked in properly and her feet were covered.

  “May…?” It was Don.

  She turned to look at him.

  He said, “We’re waiting. Would you take a seat, please?”

  She gave the blanket one last tuck and went to sit next to her husband on the other sofa. Paul joined them. We waited.

  Ten minutes passed, with only the sound of the logs crackling and spitting in the hearth. Then there was another sound: the sound of slow, deep breaths, six in total, and then a voice that was not recognizable. It was neither male nor female, but it was deep and resonant, and it came out of Jasmine.

  “Jane not here.”

  I looked at Dehan. She didn’t meet my eye. She was staring hard at Jasmine. Jasmine’s head flopped on one side, like she was deeply asleep, and a small snore escaped her lips. Then the voice again, with the weird impression that it did not belong to the body it was coming from.

  “We have chosen Jane. But Jane not here.” Another thirty seconds of silence, then, “Paul.”

  Paul sat forward. He looked drawn, ashen in the flickering light of the fire. He drew breath to speak, but Don raised a hand. Paul looked at him and he shook his head.

  The voice came out of Jasmine again. “We have now chosen Paul. Paul will come to us. At middle of night, at twelve o’clock, he will come to the meeting of three paths, five hundred meters from here. He will know the place. We will give him message for the world.”

  She seemed to slump again, taking long, slow, deep breaths. Paul was staring at Don. He looked scared. The voice spoke again.

  “We have chosen Paul as our messenger. We have chosen Donald as the rock on which we build. There will be other messengers. The world will hear our message. The time has come, now.”

  She began to tremble again, her legs kicked, and her head thrashed from side to side. I saw May’s hands go to her mouth and then Jasmine went still. After a moment, she turned away, toward the back of the sofa and suddenly, she was just a sleeping woman, and a shadow seemed to lift from the room.

  Almost immediately, Paul said, “Don?”

  Donald stood and went to the sideboard. He poured himself a brandy and returned to sit by the fire. “What do you want me to say?”

  “Are they going to kill me?”

  Don shook his head. “How should I know? I don’t…” He sighed and shook his head a second time. “No. No, I don’t think so.”

  “You don’t think so?”

  A spasm of irritation contracted Don’s face. “Danny was killed because he didn’t go…”

  I interrupted him. “You don’t know that.”

  He glared at me. “What? What are you talking about? It’s obvious!”

  “No it’s not.” I gave a small, humorless laugh. “That’s an inference you’ve drawn. It’s part of the mythology of your group and your readers. But it was never established as a fact. You have no proof of that and, I’ll go even further, you haven’t even any evidence, let alone proof.”

  May snapped, “Haven’t you just seen the evidence with your own eyes? Really, detective, it is like talking to the wall!”

  I ignored her and turned to Paul. “If you are in fear for your life, Paul, don’t go. Let’s be clear about this. Two people have died: Danny, twenty years ago, and Jane less than twenty-four hours ago. What connected these two people?” He shook his head. I said, “Two things: this group and you.”

  He swallowed. “What are you trying to tell me?”

  “I’m offering you a reality check, Paul. Please think this through. Danny died in very peculiar circumstances which seemed inexplicable. That led you, amongst others, to conclude that he was killed by aliens. Twenty years later, precisely when we start up the investigation again, the woman you broke up with the night Danny died—because she was in love with Danny—gets murdered. That is one hell of a coincidence. But this time there is no indication of alien activity. This time it is clearly the work of a human being…” I paused, giving him time to process what I was saying. “Now you are being asked to go out into the middle of the forest, at midnight, to receive a message for humanity from the alleged aliens whom you believe killed Danny. What I am telling you is, be smart and don’t go.”

  Stuart was staring at me like I had just told him Bugs Bunny was behind the murders. “I don’t believe what I am hearing. Are you seriously suggesting that Jasmine is somehow engineering this? Because that is the inevitable conclusi
on of what you have said.”

  “At this stage, Stuart, I am not suggesting anything. What I am doing is pointing out that there are several factors connecting the victims with Paul, and I am saying that Paul would be wise to be careful. Can you argue with any of that?”

  Don sighed loudly. “Paul, you must be guided by your own lights. There is a lot of common sense in what Detective Stone is saying, but equally I would say that every one of us here tonight knows that Danny was killed because he did not go to the rendezvous. I have lived with the guilt of that fact for twenty years and I am not going to make the same mistake again. You must do what you consider to be the right thing. And forgive me for being blunt, but the consequences of that choice will be on you, not on me.”

  I watched Paul carefully. He sat forward with his elbows on his knees, staring hard at the flames wavering in the fire. Finally, he said, “What time is it?”

  Don glanced at his watch. “It’s fifteen minutes before nine.”

  Dehan was watching me, chewing her lip. She was about to speak when the colonel said, “Let me go with you, Paul.”

  It was Don who answered. “No. None of you seems to understand! The reason Danny was killed was because he did not stick to the instructions!”

  I cut across him. “Once again, Don, you have absolutely no evidence to support that claim. Now let me make something clear to everybody in this room. We are not in the jurisdiction of the 43rd Precinct here, but Detective Dehan and I have the authority to act to prevent a felony in any part of the state of New York. So I am going to tell you exactly what is going to happen. Detective Dehan is going to stay here and keep an eye on everybody in this room. And if you insist on going to this meeting, then I am going to come with you…” I looked around at them, one by one, and added, “And be in no doubt that if I have to use lethal force to prevent a homicide, I will do so.”

  May pulled herself erect. “Now you are threatening to kill us?”

  Dehan turned on her. “Are you planning to kill somebody, May?”

  “Of course not!”

  “Then we won’t need to use lethal force to stop you, will we!”

  There was sudden movement from the sofa and Jasmine turned to face us, yawning and rubbing her eyes. She looked around, frowning. “What… Donald, darling…?”

  He spoke without looking at her. “You had one of your episodes. You had better go up to bed.”

  She sat up. “I am so sorry. Did I ruin the evening? Did you eat the pies…?”

  Donald looked at May. “May, would you mind…?”

  “Of course!” She scowled at me and Dehan. “I’ll be glad to get away from here. I don’t think I can stomach much more of this stench of bacon!” She stomped over to Jasmine and helped her to her feet. “You OK, honey?”

  Jasmine smiled at her. “Yes, of course, thank you so much. Just very sleepy.”

  They proceeded slowly up the stairs and along the galleried landing to the right to what I gathered was the master bedroom. There they went inside and closed the door.

  I turned to look at Paul. “I am not enforcing the despotic laws of a police state, Paul. We have very reasonable grounds to believe that a homicide might be committed. Frankly, I don’t care if it’s committed by aliens or humans,” I gestured at him. “You yourself are afraid for your life.” I gestured at Don. “Don is worried you might be killed. I don’t think there is anybody in this cabin who is not worried you might be killed if you go out there. So you tell me. What do you think my duty is as a New York police officer?”

  Colonel Hait was nodding. “There is no question, you are absolutely right, Stone. I cannot argue with that.”

  Paul sighed. “I hear you. You’re right. It’s obvious. But still…” He looked at me and shrugged. “I would rather go alone.”

  I shook my head. “Not going to happen. Forget it. Not on my watch.”

  Don grunted. “We seem to have reached something of an impasse.”

  Dehan shook her head. “No impasse. It goes down the way we say or it doesn’t go down at all.”

  Stuart snorted and shook his head. “And you say this is not a police state! Yet here you are, ordering us around and threatening us with violence!”

  Dehan turned to look at him and for a moment I thought she was going to smack him around the back of the head. Instead, she said, “I don’t give a damn about your politics, Stuart. All we want to do is keep your sorry ass from getting killed, and catch your son’s murderer. I’m sorry if that runs counter to your damned ideology!”

  He had the good grace to look troubled, but before he could answer, the door opened upstairs and May came out on her short, powerful legs and came clacking down the stairs again.

  “She is resting peacefully.”

  She said it like she had pulled off something nobody else could do. She sat next to her husband, with a little waggle of her head, and almost simultaneously Don levered himself to his feet with a grunt and a sigh.

  “Well, Paul, the choice is yours. I am exhausted, so I am going to retire for the night. I wish you good luck, whatever you decide.”

  Paul stood, too. “It seems history is repeating itself,” he said. “There is no point in my going if you are going to be there wielding a gun, Detective. Who knows, maybe it’s for the best. I think I’ll retire too.”

  I stopped him. “Paul, at what time did you come up to the cabin today?”

  He stared down at me, momentarily taken aback. “I came up early this morning, with Don and Jasmine. I guess we set out at seven, got here about eleven thirty.” He shrugged. “They can confirm that for you.”

  I nodded. Colonel Hait stood then, muttering, “I’ll be turning in, too!” And as if on cue, Stuart and May followed suit.

  Stuart glanced at me and Dehan and said, sourly, “You certainly make your presence felt, don’t you?”

  I smiled at him and stood too. In a loud voice, I announced, “Detective Dehan and I will take it in turn to keep watch. We’ll sleep on the sofas.”

  Nobody answered. They all filed up the stairs and made their way to the various bedrooms. The doors closed one by one, and within a few moments the house was silent.

  TWENTY

  Dehan and I sat staring at each other across the bearskins. There was absolute silence from the upper floor. Dehan stood and came to sit on the rug in front of the fire, where we could talk quietly without being overheard upstairs. She held out her hands to the flames and the rich orange light played on her face. For a moment I regretted that we were there professionally.

  “Stone, none of this makes any sense. If Paul is our man, why is Jasmine telling him to go out in the forest in the middle of the night?”

  I nodded to show I agreed, then shook my head and shrugged to show I didn’t know the answer to her questions. I added, unhelpfully, “Somebody is playing a very deep game.”

  She studied my face a moment. “That trance…” She turned back to the fire. “I’m no expert, but that looked pretty real to me.”

  I agreed. “I’ve seen people hypnotized before a few times, and when a person goes into deep trance you get a few signs: Their pulse slows right down, their breathing becomes very shallow and slow, slightly shorter on the intake than on the exhalation, and the skin goes kind of soft and pasty. They are things that are impossible to fake because they are autonomic responses. She displayed all of them. She was in a trance.”

  She stared at me again, knitting her brows, shrugged with just one shoulder and said, “Why do you know that? Normal people don’t know that kind of thing, Stone.”

  “When you’re sixty-five million years old, like me, you learn all kinds of useful things.”

  “OK, I guess that makes sense.” She turned back to the fire. “So why… Sorry, so what is inducing these trances in Jasmine? Or who is inducing these trances?”

  “That is what I hope we are going to find out tonight.” After a moment, I added, “It’s going to be a long night. I’ll take first watch till two, then we’ll
swap.”

  She smiled at me and nodded. “Anything, anything happens, and you wake me. You got that, Mr. Diplodocus?”

  I stood and she lay on the sofa. I picked up one of the bear skins and laid it over her, hairy side down. She grinned and I kissed the tip of her nose. “It’s Mr. Tyrannosaurus. Get it right.”

  She chuckled and within five minutes she was deeply asleep. I grabbed a couple of hefty logs from the basket and stoked up the fire, then I cocked my pistol, helped myself to a generous slice of pie and poured myself a glass of whiskey. On the bookshelves, I found a volume of O. Henry’s short stories and settled myself to wait for whatever was going to happen.

  The time passed very slowly. The immensity of the room, the heat from the fire, and the lazy crackle and spit seemed somehow to dilate every minute into an eternity. By eleven o’clock, the lines in the book were beginning to cross and I felt I had sandbags on my eyes. I put down the book, stood, went to the kitchen, and splashed my face with cold water. I tested the kitchen door, found it locked, and slipped the key in my pocket—something, I told myself, I should have done earlier.

  I then went back to the cavernous living room, did a couple of circuits, gazing up at the landing, and noticed for the first time the glint of moonlight from the doors onto the terrace.

  I climbed the steps and tested the door. It had a dead bolt at the top and another at the bottom. They were both pushed to. I tried them and they were stiff and noisy. Nobody could open them without my hearing them. I peered through the glass. The moon was in its first waning, vast and bright as a spotlight, reflecting off the wood on the terrace, tinting the turquoise sky almost green and making stencils out of the tops of the giant pine trees. Unconsciously, I scanned the sky for UFOs. Then sighed and made my way down the stairs again.

  I checked Dehan. She was still sleeping. I sipped my drink and looked at my watch. It was eleven thirty.

  At eleven fifty, I climbed the stairs again, strolled along the galleried landing listening for sounds of movement, looked out onto the terrace, and saw and heard nothing. At ten past twelve, I went back down the stairs, wondering. I checked on Dehan, checked the front door, then checked the kitchen. All was well, and that worried me, because it shouldn’t be.