Krewe Of Hunters: Crimson Twilight Part 5

"A hunch?" Kelsey asked her seriously.

They tended to pay attention to gut feelings. But, of course, everyone was wondering if Jane wasn't influenced by the circ.u.mstances here at the castle.

"We'll get images of everyone in the house and send them to the main office," Sloan said. "They can find out things about the past by just running searches, and it will be much easier for them to do that than us."

She smiled. "Yes, please. And maybe we can take a walk right before dinner and see if we can chat with any of the locals."

"The locals?" Kelsey murmured.

"Local ghosts," Jane said. "Who knows just what they might know?"

Chapter 5.

"How is everyone doing?" Emil Roth asked as they entered the Great Hall.

He was there before them and held a crystal decanter of something dark in his hand. He waved it about as they entered. Jane thought he might have been there imbibing for some time.

"Brandy," he said, "anyone want to join me?"

"Club soda with lime?" Sloan asked him.

"Wise man," Roth noted. "Since people seem to trip down stairs around here. It's best to keep a clean and sober mind. I, however, will just crawl up the stairs. It's hard to trip when you crawl."

He set down the decanter and poured a soda for Sloan, but as he handed the gla.s.s over he was looking at Jane. He shuddered, then smiled. "I'm sorry. So sorry! Really. It's just you do bear a strange resemblance to Elizabeth Roth."

"Resemblances can be strange, of course," Jane said. "But sometimes it just depends on what angle an artist gave to a rendering."

"You know a lot about art?" he asked her.

"Jane is a wonderful artist," Kelsey said.

"I'm a forensic artist," Jane said.

He shuddered again. "You draw or paint dead people?"

"Sometimes. But, sometimes, I paint the living. When they're missing, if they have amnesia, if we need to get their images out to the public for a reason."

He gave a slightly sloppy smile. "So you could sketch me?"

"Certainly," she told him.

"Ah, yes. You could, but would you?" he asked.

"If you wish," she said.

"How rude of me. A tragic day. It should have been your wedding. And here I am, asking you to sketch me."

"I don't mind at all," Jane said.

"I'll run up and get your sketch pad," Sloan offered.

Emil lifted his gla.s.s to Sloan. "Don't run, not on those stairs."

"I'll be careful," Sloan promised.

"Do you need an easel? Is there something else I can get you? Draw what you really see, too, okay? I don't need to be flattered and I'd like a true image."

Logan pulled out a chair at the table for Jane as he told Emil, "Jane has a unique talent for catching expressions and what makes a person an individual. I'm sure what you'll get is honest."

Jane laughed softly. "I won't try to be unflattering."

Emil drew out the chair across from her. "Am I good here? Do you need more light?"

"I'm fine. As soon as Sloan brings down the pad, we'll be set to go," she promised.

"Please," Emil told Logan and Kelsey, "help yourselves to drinks. I believe Chef will send someone in with hors d'oeuvres soon."

"Thank you," Kelsey told him. "Jane?"

"Diet cola, thanks," Jane said.

"Ah, nothing more exciting?" Emil asked her.

"We're just not feeling all that festive, I guess," Jane said.

Sloan arrived with her sketch pad and a box of pencils. She smiled and thanked him.

"Ready when you are," Emil told her.

"I've already begun," she said.

"You're not drawing."

"But I am studying your face," she said softly.

"Ah," he said. "Should I pose? Lean in? Rest my chin on a fist?"

"No," she told him, picking up a pencil.

She began to sketch. To her amazement, she thought that it was one of her best, and quickly so. She changed pencils frequently, finding light and shadows. She caught his youth, something of a lost empathy in his eyes, and a world weariness he might not have expected. She also caught a bit of the handsome young Renaissance man. Or, perhaps, a rich kid adrift because he could probably be more than what the world seemed to expect of him. When she finished, she hesitated, looking at him.

"May I?" he asked.

"Certainly," she told him.

He took the drawing and studied it for a long time. "Could I possibly have this?"

"Of course," Jane told him.

"May I snap a phone pic of it?" Logan asked him. "It's really excellent. I'd love to have it, too."

"Yes, definitely," Kelsey said.

Mrs. Avery came walking into the room, her lips pursed. She seemed unhappy that Emil appeared to be enjoying his guests. Perhaps she was just unhappy that he was there at all.

"Will you have hors d'oeuvres soon?" she asked politely.

"Yes, we will, Denise. But, first, come here. You must see this!"

"Really, Emil-" Mrs. Avery began.

"Oh, come, come, Denny! Come over here and see this. You must sit, too, if Miss Everett is willing. I'm quite astounded by the likeness she created of me." Emil said.

"I have business-" Mrs. Avery began.

"Yes, yes, you do. You work for me. Sit for a spell. Jane, will you?" Emil asked.

"If you wish."

"Will this take long?" Mrs. Avery asked.

"Five minutes," Sloan said.

Jane thought there was something firm in his voice. He used a tone she knew, though it wasn't often directed at her anymore. People complied with that tone.

Mrs. Avery sat.

She began to sketch and caught the woman's high cheekbones and thin lips. Because it seemed that the sketch was coming out a little too harsh, she set a tiny stray curl upon the forehead and down the face. The sketch caught the true dignity of the woman, but softened her as well. Jane was surprised to see Denise Avery's face as she studied the drawing.

She looked up at Jane with a smile. "That's really nice. Thank you."

"And she'll let you keep it, Denny," Emil said. "After Logan snaps a pic, that is."

"I would love to keep it. Thank you," she said.

Before she could rise, Chef stuck his nose and then his body into the Great Hall. "May I begin with the service?"

"Oh, not until Miss Everett does a sketch," Mrs. Avery said. "Come, sit!"

Jane looked at Sloan.

He grinned at her with pleasure. Logan, she knew, would get a snapshot on his camera of every shot. That night, he'd get every drawing, along with names, to their base. Then they'd know if everyone was who and what they claimed to be.

Before they were done, she'd sketched everyone working at the castle except for the two maids who only came in from nine to five-Sonia Anderson and Lila Adkins. Before she finished with everyone, she asked Chef to bring in the hors d'oeuvres. And as he and his a.s.sistants, Harry Taubolt and Devon Richard, served the food, Sloan began speaking with them. By the time she was done with her last sketch for the night-that of Scully Adair-it was agreed that they would all-guests, owner, and employees-eat together that night in the Great Hall.

"It's nice to be together," Scully told Jane, sitting beside her.

The food was all on the table and they pa.s.sed things around.

It had all gone surprisingly well.

"Considering the fact that a man died here just hours ago," Devon Richard said.

"An accident," Harry said. "It's awkward, isn't it? I mean, none of us really new the reverend, so we can't mourn him as if we lost a friend. And yet, he died here, and we're having dinner."

"People still have to eat," Mrs. Avery said.

"Yes, I know. And work and breathe and go on. It's just that I feel we should be mourning," Avery said.

"And things shouldn't go on as if they were so normal," Phoebe Martin said. Then she laughed uneasily. "Of course, this isn't normal. I've never dined in the Great Hall before."

"This is our way of mourning," Emil Roth said, and they were all quiet for a minute.

"We should say something," Chef announced. "I mean, it doesn't feel right. It just doesn't."

Sloan stood. He'd wound up across the table from Jane. "Shall we join hands."

They rose and did as he suggested. Sloan said a little prayer for Reverend MacDonald ending with, "May he rest in peace, a good man. He'll reside with the angels, certainly."

"Thank you," Emil said when he sat.

"The hall is quite something. But, I can see why you like to eat in your room, Mr. Roth, when you're here alone," Mr. Green said. Even he had been called in for a sketch and dinner. "Of course, I do remember the days when the family was alive and cousins came from many different places, old aunts and uncles, too. Then, the place was alive with laughter, kids running here and there."

A silence followed his words.

"The castle is still a happy place," Mrs. Avery snapped. "You should hear the people when they come here. They love to laugh and to s.h.i.+ver! And our overnight guests are always delighted. Why, we have some of the best ratings to be found on the Internet."

"I wasn't implying that it wasn't happy," Mr. Green said. He looked quickly at Emil Roth. "I certainly meant no disrespect."

"None taken, my man," Roth said. "I say, pa.s.s the wine, will you, Phoebe? And do fill your gla.s.s first."

Phoebe looked at him, plucked up the wine, looked at him again, then poured herself a large gla.s.s.

Emil smiled at her and waited patiently.

Jane made a mental note that one of them would definitely make sure he got up the stairs okay that night. But as the wine flowed, the conversation became more casual. And when Chef and Harry headed to the kitchen to return with the dessert, Jane slipped away, determined to step outside for a few minutes. She headed out to the front. There were dangerous cliffs in the rear of the property, and she didn't intend to become a victim of the castle herself. She walked down toward the caretakers cottage where Mr. Green lived, then kept going, toward the guard house and Mrs. Avery's home.

She turned and looked back at the castle and saw the windows to her own room. They'd left the lights on. She stared upward for several seconds before her breath caught.

Someone in the room.