Legacy Of Terror

anyone can see. So it must have been a hitchhiker who forced her into the drive without getting out and then tried to kill her.”
    Elaine remembered his adamancy that one of the family was the guilty party, and she wondered at this sudden switch. Could it be attributed to his stroke-weakened mind? Or was it something utterly different than that-was it wishful thinking? Rand had offered a good out. The faceless hitchhiker. If we could believe in that, she thought, how much easier.
    “What I recommend for you, my dear,” Jacob continued, suddenly having recovered his composure and good humor, “is a walk about the grounds, a bit of sunshine and clean air-as clean as we can get this close to a city.”
    “Look who's the nurse now,” she said.
    But when she had finished her morning duties with him, she decided that his suggestion was not to be laughed off. She did feel as if she needed to get out, to shake off the clinging oppressiveness of the old house.
    Five acres of grounds can be, she discovered, a great deal of land, especially if it is broken up by shifts in geographic contour and by stands of pines and willows which give it the illusion of a forest. All of it was well tended and crossed by flagstone walkways which wound even through the trees, through the cool, heavy shadows that did not seem ominous as the shadows in the house had. She had wandered about for nearly an hour before she came to the low, stone wall which separated the Matherly estate from their wealthy neighbors.
    As she followed the wall, watching the birds wheel across the early summer sky and feeling somehow reborn in the glow of sunshine and the fresh air, she eventually noticed the neighboring house. It was not quite so large as the Matherly place, but a formidable dwelling in its own right. It was in the colonial mode, of red brick with many large windows and white shutters, high balconies and white pillars. The grounds were well landscaped, though smaller than the Matherly estate. She liked it, she thought, more than the house in which she now lived, for it was a terribly functional home. It was squared and simple, as colonial houses had always been, and not larded over with fancy pieces of stonework and gables and multi- leveled, multi-angled roofs.
    As she walked further, she saw the patio, a simple brick affair which was surrounded by a knee-high brick wall A man and a woman were lying on cots, sunbathing. They were, Elaine supposed, in their middle forties. The wife was still trim and attractive, while the husband had allowed himself the luxury of an expanded middle. She looked away from them, not wanting to be nosy, and had gone another twenty paces before they called out to her.
    When she turned, she saw that the woman was sitting up on her cot and waving.
    She waved back.
    “Come over for a drink,” the woman said.
    “Is there a gate?”
    “Another fifty feet along,” the woman said. Her husband had sat up by this time, and he was nodding agreement.
    She found the gate, crossed through, and went over to the patio.
    The neighbors were Mr. and Mrs. Bradshaw, Syd and Shiela. Before she could even introduce herself, they had to get the subject of the drink settled. They were surprised that she only wanted a coke, but let it rest when they couldn't persuade her to have Scotch or a gin and tonic. The Bradshaw butler, a young, rather handsome man named William, delivered the drinks on a silver tray, along with a variety of prepared snacks. When that was done, Shiela and Syd were ready to settle down to some conversation.
    If she had realized what the nature of the conversation was going to be, she would never have crossed through the gate in the stone wall.
    “You're Jacob's new nurse, I believe,” Shiela said. She was a brown-haired, dark-eyed woman, with a lot of freckles on her face which somehow added to her pixie beauty rather than detracting from it.
    “That's right,” Shiela said.
    “Poor Jake,” Syd put in. “He was so active, so vital before his stroke. Too much cholesterol. That's what leads to circulatory problems, you know. Blood clots, heart attacks, the whole works.”
    “He still is vital,” Elaine said, possessed of a strange urge to defend the old man before this somewhat loud couple.
    “You'll have to excuse Syd,” Shiela said. “He's a nut on the cholesterol subject”
    Elaine looked at his overweight problem and decided it was mostly the result of liquor. Far better, she thought, to have achieved the added pounds through extra