Fantasies Collide, Volume 5 by Kristine Kathryn Rusch

Author:Kristine Kathryn Rusch
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: WMG Publishing

Two

Timothy watched her leave. Greta still moved like a young girl. Up close, though, her body gave her away. Her skin was wrinkling, softly, adding an elegance to her features, but the elegance was one of age. She was old, for a dancer, especially one who still practiced the art, but she was strong.

Greta was strong.

Timothy turned toward the balcony. Even now, he could feel the chill from that night. It had been cold when Karl died. Near freezing, although it was spring. When Timothy arrived, he found Greta, her hands shaking, still hovering near the phone. He had walked through the open glass doors, past the plastic patio furniture with its fringed umbrellas, past the deck chairs, Karl’s portable record player, and the small television set where they had watched The Wizard of Oz because Karl loved watching Ray Bolger dance. The concrete structure seemed almost a mile long and Timothy walked it inch by agonizing inch, knowing that when he reached the wrought-iron railing, he would have to look down.

The railing still seemed to vibrate, but the trembling was caused by the cold and his own fear. Timothy touched the iron gently.

The imitation gaslight on the courtyard four and a half stories below illuminated Karl’s mangled, twisted body. Karl, who had never made an ungraceful motion in his life, looked like a young boy who had tried his first tour en l’air, tripped, fallen, and refused to try again. Timothy wanted to whisper, “Get up, Karl, it’s all right,” but knew that Karl would never get up and everything would not be all right. Karl had died, and, in the living room, Greta washed her hands together like Lady Macbeth.

Timothy shivered. He’d tried to argue with Greta when she wanted to return to Grayson Place, but she wouldn’t listen. She wanted to do the anniversary event, wanted to do it here, and nothing he could say would change her mind.

She hadn’t been back to Grayson Place since the night Karl died. Even though she had inherited the mansion with Karl’s estate, she had let Timothy take care of it. He rented it out to friends and dancers, keeping it in constant use, but he hadn’t returned either. Not since the night he had decided to lie for her, the night before he first spoke to Greta’s attorney, two weeks after Karl died and almost a year before Timothy actually testified at the murder trial.

“Mr. Masson?”

The brunette, the new one, the one Sebastian was dallying with, stood at the door. Timothy frowned, but couldn’t recall her name.

“My room is cold,” she said.

The whole place is cold, Timothy thought, but said, “The thermostat is on the baseboard heaters. You’ll have to turn it up.”

“It’s up all the way and the heaters are warm.” She shrugged. “But the room itself is freezing.”

Timothy sighed inwardly. More and more, managing this company meant playing nursemaid. If he were a little more trusting, he would hire someone to do this part of the job, the road work, and the day-by-day scheduling.

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