Free A Killer Closet by Paula Paul Page A

impossible to know whether or not anything was following them. Although there still would have been late-day summer sunlight in the city, it was growing dark in the mountains, where the light was obscured by both the steep terrain and the towering trees.
    Before long, they reached the first inevitable crossing of the stream where it ran across the road. Irene switched on her lights and could see that the water was flowing swiftly. She stopped, uncertain about how deep the water might be and whether they should attempt to cross.
    “You can drive through the water,” Harriet said. “I’ve been across it dozens of times with George and never seen it impassable.”
    “Dozens of times?” Adelle almost choked.
    “Oh, yes. They always had lovely weekend parties,” Harriet said. “You’ve been, haven’t you?” There was no hint of smugness in Harriet’s voice.
    Adelle sat up a bit straighter and lifted her chin. “Why would anyone want to spend a weekend in such a remote place? I’m sure there must be bears and panthers and worse.”
    Irene could not allow herself to think of bears and panthers now, as she edged her car toward the stream. She felt the front tires sink into what had to be mud, but she pushed harder on the gas pedal and moved the car forward. Water sloshed under the car, and Irene was certain she could feel it moving sideways. She was afraid they would float downstream and end up…where? Tumbling over a waterfall? She kept her foot on the gas, feeling the front end rise slightly as she drove over a rock.
    More mud. Tires sinking. More pressure on the gas pedal. At last she sensed that the tires were on firm ground.
    She breathed a sigh, ready now to face bears or panthers or whatever. Anything except a blue sedan, which, she was happy to see, was not in sight.
    “It’s only a few more miles. Maybe three or four at the most.” Harriet was obviously trying to be encouraging. “Just stay on this road.”
    Adelle was leaning forward in her seat, gripping the back of the front seat. “It’s hardly a road! It’s a primitive trail. Poor Susana, having to live like this.”
    Irene watched her speedometer and noted that they were barely averaging fifteen miles per hour because of the rocky, bumpy road and the frequent switchbacks as the trail wound itself around the mountain. The automatic headlights came on and cast eerie shadows on rocks and trees. Twenty minutes later, they all saw the huge shape looming in front of them.
    “That’s it!” Harriet said. “Isn’t it beautiful?”
    As they drew closer, Irene saw that it was, indeed, beautiful. Even Adelle sucked in her breath in astonishment. The house, built entirely of granite rocks hewn from somewhere in the Sangre de Cristo range of the Rocky Mountains that surrounded it, had gabled windows and multiple chimneys. A carefully tended lawn graced the front and sides, and native ponderosa pines towered in profusion in the grassy area and all around the house.
    “It looks gothic,” Adelle said.
    “
Architectural Digest
called it ‘rough-hewn elegance,’ ” Harriet said. “But wait until you see the inside.”
    Irene had shut off the motor but was still sitting in the car. She felt an odd reluctance to go inside. “It must have cost a fortune to build.”
    “To be sure,” Harriet said.
    “Some people have more money than brains,” Adelle said.
    “Well, let’s go inside,” Irene said again. “You do have the key, don’t you, Harriet?”
    Harriet assured Irene that she did have they key as all three of them got out of the car. They stood together, staring up at what Irene couldn’t help thinking of as a beautiful monster.
    “I can’t understand why Susana would give
you
a key,” Adelle said.
    “Well, she was a dear, close friend.” Harriet placed they key in the lock of the enormous and heavily carved double door.
    “And I wasn’t?” Adelle said.
    Harriet switched on a light, revealing a massive grand staircase of what appeared