“No.” Tired from standing but not wanting to move any closer to my brother, I sat on the cool cement floor.
“I knew that she didn’t love me and never did. I was just someone she used to pass the time,” he muttered. “But when I found out that she was engaged, I lost it. I thought I was over her. All those equations and theorems I put in my head pushed her out. But now, I know I wasn’t over her, I was just distracted from thinking about her. With her face splashed on the front page of the paper announcing the wedding, I couldn’t be distracted. I didn’t expect to feel that way when I heard about her wedding. I’m not a total idiot; I knew she was bound to get married some day. I wish I didn’t feel this way about her.”
“I didn’t think—”
“You didn’t think at all, India. You knew that I’d find out about the wedding, the social event of the summer.” His teary voice didn’t veil his anger. He stood up. “You should have told me, to at least prepare me. You could have done that much.”
I was fixed to the floor.
“So, I went to the Blocken house, the last place in the world I’d ever want to go, only to find my sister there, laughing and socializing with the family that I was never good enough for, that she was never good enough for.”
“Maybe I shouldn’t have agreed to do it when she asked. I wasn’t thinking about you and her. I was thinking about her and me. She is my friend . . .” It was all I could say. Mark would not understand how Olivia pulled me in with childhood memories, why I didn’t think of him before agreeing to be a bridesmaid. He wouldn’t understand why Olivia’s use of creepy Brad Coldecker had changed my mind.
Mark stepped back and laughed hollowly. “You mean she was your friend. She’s dead, India, dead. Do you understand that? She’s not marrying anyone now.”
My stomach dropped and tears welled in my eyes. “Mark, no. You didn’t.”
“I didn’t what? Tell me what I didn’t do.”
I stood. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—”
“Did I kill her? Isn’t that what you want to know? No. But thank you for your sisterly faith. Did I see her on campus yesterday? Yes. I couldn’t believe that she actually came to see me. But she wasn’t alone.”
“Who else was there?”
“I didn’t see anyone. I only heard her talking to someone. Since she wasn’t alone, I went back to my office and waited for her to come to me. After a half hour, she never showed, and I went to the fountain and found her.” His voice trailed off.
“What were they talking about, Olivia and this other person?” I said Olivia’s name for the first time since I’d found Mark in my studio.
Mark swallowed hard. He walked directly to my easel and kicked it over. Both easel and canvas clattered to the floor. We both looked at the damage. The sharp edge of the metal easel had torn a five-inch gash into the canvas just above Olivia’s head. With a moan, Mark pushed past me and fled the room.
After a moment of paralysis, I followed him. At the front door, he struggled with lock and bolt.
“You have to tell the police what you heard.” I said, frightened by his behavior but also terrified for him. “You have to. If you don’t, even if they can never prove that you attacked her, people will still think you had something to do with it. You have to prove them wrong.”
He continued to wrestle with the door. His mania made it impossible for him to manipulate his hands correctly.
“Don’t you want to be cleared, Mark?”
I heard the mechanical click as the bolt recessed into the wooden door frame. Mark threw open the door and was gone.
Chapter Fifteen
I tried Carmen’s cell phone number but only got her voice mail. A quick rap battered my door. I peered through the peephole and saw just the crown of Ina’s white permanent.
“India Veronica Hayes, you open this door to an old woman.” Her head bobbled aggressively. “I’ll get louder. I’ll wake up the whole street from their Sunday naps.” More quietly, she added, “And anyway, Dearie, I’m your landlord, so I have a key.” She waved my apartment key over her head where she knew I could see it. It dangled from a three-inch-wide blue glittered shamrock.
I opened the door. “Home invasion, Ina?”
She sniffed. “What’s that unbelievable racket I heard through my wall?”
Ina had changed from her Sunday morning green suit into pink capri pants and matching tank top.
The loose skin under her upper arm waved as she shook her index finger at me. “What on earth is going on over here? First, I see you peel out of the driveway without waving hello, when Juliet is in the car with me of all things. Then, I overhear you screaming like a crazed banshee. It was all I could do not to come busting in here when all that yelling was going on.”
Ina shuffled further into the room. I shut the door behind her. Wouldn’t want to wake those Sunday nappers. She perched on the edge of the rocking chair, feet dangling above the floor.
“Spill it,” she ordered. “Man trouble got you, honey? I tangled with some of that in my day. Tell me the problem, Ina has the answer. I’ve been on this earth a lot of years, and I’ve learned a thing or two about handling a man. How do you think I managed not being saddled with a husband and a screaming brood of my own?”
Ina took a breath, and I jumped in. “It’s Mark.”
“Oh, I see. It’s about Olivia, is it? The accident was a terrible thing. Juliet had all the juicy gossip about it. And did she ever lord that over me, seeing how my tenant was at the scene of the crime yesterday and neglected to tell me the biggest news flash since Stripling got city-wide sewer.”
The migraine threatened to resurface. “I didn’t deliberately not tell you.”
Ina blinked, probably trying to digest the double negative. She’d placed me on the defensive and retarded my grammar.
“Is that why that bloody Englishman was over here yesterday? About Olivia?”
“Yes. I don’t have time for this. Mark ran off.”
Ina cocked her head to the side and her face softened. “I’m sure he’s fine, lassie. Maybe he went over to the hospital to visit Olivia.”
“Olivia’s dead.”
Ina covered her mouth like a heroine in a silent film. My phone rang. Irritation replaced the horror etched on her face. She scowled when I picked up the phone.
It was Carmen. “I’ve had about enough of your cryptic voice messages, India. What’s this about Mark?”
With Ina listening opened-mouthed, I told Carmen about Mains’s visit after church and finding Mark in my apartment. For once, Carmen listened without interruption.
“Okay, first relax. Mark’s probably at his office taking his frustration out on that five-hundred-dollar calculator of his. Try not to worry.”
“He was livid.”
“He needs time to cool off. You can’t canvas Stripling trying to find him. He wouldn’t—he won’t do anything stupid. Mom and Dad are at the Chaulkers for the afternoon. Wait until they get home. The last thing Mark needs right now is them on his case. He obviously wants to be alone, and you know as soon as Mom finds out she’s going to be all over him. I’ll call Mom and Dad later in the afternoon.”
Carmen’s strategic planning provided me the illusion of safety.
“How are you?” Sisterly concern inflected her words.
I choked for a second and turned away from Ina, who was still on the edge of her seat. Her expression was equal parts concern and barely contained excitement.
“I’m fine.”
“Do you want me to come over?”
“No, don’t bother. Ina’s here.”
Carmen laughed. “I’m sure she’s doing her best to comfort you.”
“Of course.”
An hour later, when Ina realized I wasn’t going to rush out the door in search of Mark or take her other suggestion and visit the mourning Blockens, she stomped out the door, claiming that she was missing a program about Irish folk singers on the public television station.