Goodnight, Irene

What the hell was I doing? I had to be crazy to be coming out here alone. On the other hand, I thought of Elinor’s pleading. I couldn’t let her down. I would try to get her to leave with me. Anything would be better than staying there with someone as ruthless as Hollingsworth.

I was down to a cautious creep as I approached the gate. Its arm was raised and the guardhouse empty. The whole place seemed deserted. It was a spooky contrast to Friday night. I got out of my car and was locking the door when a voice not three feet away from me said, “What are you doing here?”

I turned to see Andrew Hollingsworth staring at me.

44

WHERE’S ELINOR?” I asked.

“And I asked you what you are doing here.” It was then I noticed that he looked very peculiar. He was covered in sweat and his eyes were darting nervously between me and the house as he closed the distance between us. I started to move to the other side of the car. He lunged out to grab me, but I ducked his movement and he went sprawling.

I took off ru

I hid behind a large tree and caught my breath. I looked back, and this time I had a fairly clear view of the house. Andrew Hollingsworth was walking with his back to me, toward the house. My breath came in sharp, stabbing gulps. I felt dizzy. What had gone wrong? Hollingsworth must have come home unexpectedly. But I didn’t see any sign of Markham anywhere. What had he done with Elinor? Or what would he do, now that he had seen me?

I started moving cautiously toward the road. I wanted to follow it out, but I didn’t want to be out on it. I knew that the tower would afford Hollingsworth a perfect view of the road itself. If I stayed in the woods, he might not see me.

I tried to remember how far the road went before there was another house or building, and felt dismayed. By the time I got anywhere, even if I ran, Hollingsworth could be long gone. He might even be getting a car now, suspecting the direction I would be headed.

As if to confirm these thoughts, I heard the sound of a racing car engine. I lay down and looked out at the road. The sound came closer, and I realized that it was coming into the estate, not from it. My relief turned to horror when I saw that the car was Pete Baird’s. Unaware of any danger to himself, Frank had come after me. The car flew by, and I helplessly watched him disappear from view. I had to try to get back to the house and warn him before Andrew Hollingsworth found out he was here. I ran back through the woods. My legs felt shaky but I forced them onward. As I came within view of the house, I froze and dropped to the ground.

A group of people was making its way into the house by the side door off the barbecue patio. Even from the back, I recognized them.

Frank was first, with his hands raised. Then Elinor.

Then Andrew, with a gun.

45

IFELT SICK. I was quivering with fear and exhaustion, but I had to think of something. Maybe I could get inside the house and use the phone. But would anyone get here fast enough to save Frank and Elinor?

I looked out at the cliffside. Could I be seen or heard by someone below on the beach? Not likely. I noticed some ships out on the water. Maybe I could do something to attract their attention. Something that would also distract Andrew Hollingsworth and give Frank and Elinor a chance to escape.

Suddenly I remembered the propane tanks and the newspapers in the basement. If no one was in the hallway, I could probably get down there long enough to start a good-sized fire, one that could be seen from the water. It would be risky for Frank and Elinor, but with luck it would provide enough of a distraction for them to get out safely.

I crouched low and made my way to the side patio. I leaned up against the wall of the house. The kitchen windows were closed, but I could hear voices-mainly Andrew’s, but I couldn’t make out what he was saying. If they were in the kitchen, it would be hard to sneak into the basement without being seen or heard. I couldn’t think of any other way into the house that would be any more quiet, so I went ahead and slowly turned the knob on the door leading into the house.

I slowly pulled the door open and was relieved to see the door to the kitchen was closed. I opened the basement door and went softly down the stairs. It was dark, but a little light came through a small window. My eyes got used to it and I found the propane tanks. I looked around the room for items that would burn.

I found newspapers and some matches. I opened both propane tanks just a crack, so that the hissing would not be loud enough to attract attention. If I went upstairs and tossed a match down here as I left, I figured I would have the distraction I was looking for. I was on my way up the stairs when the door suddenly opened.

I saw the gun first. Then I realized Elinor Hollingsworth was the one pointing it at me.

“Thank God you’re safe!” I said, feeling relieved.

“Oh, you’re the one who’s in danger. Come on up and join your friend. You’ve been making enough noise down here to wake the dead.”

She laughed a strange laugh, still pointing the gun. I finally caught on.

“Don’t try anything foolish, Irene. I’m an expert with firearms.”

I walked up the stairs and she prodded me into the kitchen. Andrew held a gun on Frank. I guessed from Frank’s empty shoulder holster that Elinor had his. Frank looked over at me, and for a moment we exchanged a look of mutual fear for one another. He forced a smile and said, “Come on in, Irene. We can wait here and watch the Hollingsworths get arrested.”

“Shut up!” Andrew said.

“Now, now, Andrew,” said Elinor, cool as ice. “There aren’t going to be any arrests. And even if I believed for a moment that the police were on their way, I have the comfort of knowing that these two will not live to see their would-be rescuers. Stand a few feet away from Mr. Harriman, please, Irene. The two of you will be very much together soon.”

“Let me guess,” Frank said. “Looking at old Andrew quiver and quake here, I’d lay money you were the one who killed that girl.”

“Of course I was. Do you think I was going to let some little white trash strumpet from Arizona spoil my wedding plans? And Andrew was going to marry her! Can you believe it?”

A pained look crossed Andrew’s face. Elinor smiled and went on.

“She shows up in town one night, tells him that she’s pregnant. She says it was from his visit to her on spring break. That was rather naughty of you, wasn’t it, Andrew?”

Andrew’s eyes glazed over, as if he had mentally withdrawn from us.

Elinor smirked. “She tells him she’s written a letter to her cousin, naming the father-to-be. What does he do? He tells her he’ll make an honest woman of her!”

Elinor hooted over this. “He came to tell me we would have to break off our engagement. I told him not to worry, to leave it all to me. And convinced the little whore that she should meet me under the pier and the rest has been history in this town for thirty-five years.”

“Not exactly,” I said, finding my voice.

She shot a hard look at me.

“What did you do with her hands and feet?”

Andrew blanched, but Elinor cackled.

“Oh, that was inspired. What better place for a pair of feet than at the end of a pair of legs?”

“She buried them under the Las Piernas cliffs,” Andrew said quietly.

Frank and I looked at one another.

“As for the hands, well, I made a very special wedding present of them to my dear husband.”