Act Three, Part One

What a waste of a day, Jim thought as he strolled around the perimeter of the hotel eying any and all who came into view. He'd divided his time between searching for the final missing Apple and discreetly watching out for the man upon whose face Miss Hippolyta had supposedly left fresh scratches. Among other things, Jim had asked for the aid of Dermot Parrish and his security guards to keep watch for the marked man, but if anyone had seen him, no one had yet informed Jim.

A carriage was just rattling off away from the front entrance of the hotel as Jim rounded the corner. Jim caught a glimpse of Artie walking into the building with the enchanting figure of Miss Atalanta on his arm. With a brief smile at his partner's alacrity to seize on this chance at becoming better acquainted with the young lovely, Jim stepped a bit quicker, intending to catch up with Artie.

And then he saw a loiterer detach himself from the shadows of a corner to casually follow Artie inside. Jim's eyebrow quirked. Artie had a tail? Well, now Artie's tail could have a tail as well. Quietly Jim joined the end of the impromptu parade.

…

It was no surprise to Artie that Miss Hippolyta had taken over the Bracewell suite once more, locking her sister out. In fact, he barely missed a beat in steering his companion on down the hall toward his and Jim's suite instead. "Looks like you'll be our guest a bit longer, Miss Atalanta," he said as he fished in his pocket for his hotel key.

"It's… it's all right, Mr Gordon. The company is far more pleasant," she said softly.

He glanced at her, catching the troubled look on her face. Poor kid! How would she ever make it now, with neither mother nor father to act as a buffer between her and her sister? He found the key and pulled it from his pocket.

"And besides," the girl continued, "I did so want to ask you abou… M-mercy! Wh-wh-what is that?" She pointed at the floor.

What could have startled the girl, Artie wondered. He looked down, only to discover belatedly that in taking the hotel key from his pocket, he had also dislodged a handkerchief which now lay at his feet. And not his own handkerchief, either. With an inward wince he recognized it as the lacy lavender cloth he'd found near Prof Bracewell's body. Swiftly Artie bent and scooped it up, intending to tuck it away into a deeper pocket. "Oh, it's nothing," he said easily, hoping Miss Atalanta wouldn't also recognize it.

His hope was in vain. She caught at his hand before he could get the hankie out of her sight, her eyes like saucers as she stared at the bit of cloth, looking for all the world as if she'd seen a ghost. "Wh…" she stammered, "where d-did you g-get that?"

"Oh, I just found it somewhere, that's all," he smiled, still endeavoring to put her at ease. He at last got the hankie put away, then opened the door and steered her to the sofa. "Let me get you a glass of water," he offered.

She drank gratefully, then gave him a quick sheepish smile. "I… I'm sorry, Artemus. I m-may call you Artemus, mayn't I?"

He smiled back. "Of course. That would be perfectly fine."

"It's just… oh, it's been such a h-horrible day, Artemus! First to learn the t-t-terrible thing that happened to F-father, and then to endure P-polly's n-n-nastiness. And now that!" She dropped her face into her hands and began to weep.

"That?" Artie sat down by the distraught young woman and offered her his own handkerchief.

With a shake of her head, Atalanta produced that lacy pink cloth of her own and set about soaking it.

Artie sat by her side, feeling the usual male discombobulation in the presence of feminine tears. Hoping to put an end to the waterworks, he made a new attempt at conversation. "Miss Atalanta, what do you mean by 'that'?"

She sniffled and glanced up at him. "The… that hankie you have. The one you say you f-found."

"Oh, that that! But what about it?"

"Well, it's my… my, uh…" Abruptly she lifted her chin and looked him in the eye. "It's my sister's!" she declared.

"Hippolyta's?" Artie pulled out the lavender cloth and unfolded it to look at the large embroidered H surrounded by lilacs. Well, he thought with sinking heart, that confirmed his and Jim's suspicions about the hankie's origin. "But why are you crying?" he asked. After all, Atalanta didn't know where he'd found it!

"B… because you… you wouldn't say wh-where you'd gotten it, and you tr-tried to make me think that, that nothing was wrong. But if there really was nothing wrong, y-y-you would have told me where it came f-from! So that means there is something wrong — and that it has to do with P-p-polly!"

"Ah…" Artie found himself momentarily speechless in the face of female logic that had somehow, by means of a path that seemed — from the view point of his own masculine ratiocination — to have traveled in labyrinthian loop-de-loops and corkscrews, and yet had managed to arrive at the conclusion that Hippolyta's handkerchief being in Artie's possession was a piece of damning evidence indeed. Grasping at straws in an attempt to distract Atalanta once more, he said, "You, um… you were about to ask me a question a few minutes ago, just before I, er, opened the door."

"J-just before you dropped the hankie, you mean!" she retorted.

"Uh… well… Yes… yes, that's true." Slowly he refolded the hankie in question along its precisely ironed-in right-angle creases, then slipped it back into his pocket. "But the question," he added. "What did you wish to ask me?"

"I…" She twisted her own lacy handkerchief around her fingers, her sweet lower lip quivering in her distress. "I wanted to know what you and P-polly were t-talking about in the c-c-cab. You kept trying to get her to hush, and obviously whatever it was about, you didn't want me to know. And I… well…" She dabbed her eyes and blinked up at him. "I… I think there are too many secrets being k-kept from me, Artemus. What is going on? What was Polly talking about? And how does her handkerchief have anything to do with it?" Hesitatingly she reached out a hand and laid it over Artie's. "P-please, Artemus! P-please, d-don't hide the truth from me!"

Artie looked into those big, gorgeous, tear-rimmed blue eyes, hemmed, attempted to haw, then gave up and told her of his and Jim's suspicions.

…

The man on Artie's tail had looked disappointed to discover that the agent had only escorted the prettier sister up to his own suite. With a frown the stalker glared at the closed door for a moment, then turned the glare towards the Bracewell suite as well. "This ain't gettin' us nowhere closer to that danged Apple," he muttered to himself. "Already searched both those suites! Thought followin' them agents around would lead us to the Apple, but that ain't workin' either!" He gave a snort of exasperation, then added, "Great. Better report in, I guess." He turned back to the stairs and started down, never noticing the flash of movement just before he reached the stairs, nor the pair of hands that were grasping, of all things, two of the newels from the outside. No, he just kept on going, arrived at the next landing, turned the corner there — and thus he also missed seeing a body rise up slowly from the outside of the balustrade. After a quick look around, Jim West vaulted back over the banister onto the stairs to hurry silently after the departing stalker. That man was planning to report in to someone, and Jim had every intention of discovering who that someone was, confident that such knowledge would at long last break this case wide open!

…

Miss Atalanta was using her hankie again. "Th-th-then… then you and M-mr West… you think P-polly is behind everything? Th-that she st-stole the Apples, and she also m-m-mur… Oh!" With a wail she disappeared into the hankie's lacy depths.

"I'm so sorry," Artie murmured, slipping a comforting arm around her shoulders, only to find a moment later that she had fallen against his chest, still crying. "Now, now," he tried again, starting to feel very conflicted by the presence of such a lovely young woman in his arms. "Ev… uh, everything's going to work out in the end. You'll see."

"But… but…" She lifted her face to look up into his — so close she was, so very close! "But if she k-killed Father and tried to blame me for it, what's to stop her from k-killing me too?"

"Ah… Well, that's my job, and Jim's. We'll be right here to…"

"But you were right here for F-father too, and you weren't able to keep him from being k-killed!"

Why did everyone insist on repeatedly pointing that out? "Yes, but this time we'll be on our guard all the more. No more little trips by yourself in the middle of the night, the way your father…"

Atalanta shook her head. "But she lured him away while you weren't l-looking! No, no, she's too clever for us! She's always b-been the clever one. She'll find a way to get at me, I know she will! And b… besides that…" She shook her head again and burrowed her cheek against his chest, sobbing anew.

"Sh, sh," said Artie, gently stroking her blonde locks. "Besides what, Miss Atalanta?"

"Oh… It's… it's Lana, you know…" she murmured demurely.

"Besides what, Lana?" he asked again.

"Well…" She shifted slightly, snuggling closer. "It's just that y-you — and, and Mr West, of course — are only here for the r-rest of the conference. Then you'll go b-back to your regular lives and leave me all alone with… with the terrible beast that my sister has become. And then I'll have no one to protect me from her! She'll… she'll k-kill me for sure!" Again she burrowed against him in tears.

"Now now, no, she won't," he spoke reassuringly.

"But how can you know that?" she cried. "How can you be sure? She's a m-monster! She'll kill me for sure, and there's nothing anyone can do to stop her! I could… I could try to run away, to hide from her, but she'd surely find me! One day, some day when I would least expect it, suddenly she'd be there, suddenly she'd kill me, and there's not a thing that anyone can…"

Her eyes widened with horror and she flung a hand over her mouth. "Oh!" she whispered. "Un… unless… but no, th-that's horrible!"

"What's horrible, Lana?"

She stared up at him, those big blue eyes filling with tears yet again. "She… she couldn't k-kill me if she were already… Oh no, I c-can't even bring myself to say it!"

"If she were already… What?" he pressed.

But she only shook her head. "No! No, I can't say it! It was horribly wicked of me to have even thought of it! P-please, Artemus, just f-f-forget about it. I shouldn't have said a thing." She shuddered and rested her cheek against his chest once more.

"If she were already what?" he asked again, lifting her chin so that she had to look him in the eye.

She gave a watery smile and shook her head. "No. No, you're such a dear, sweet man. A g-good man! You'd never do such a thing, not even to save an innocent life from a wicked k-killer." Softly she touched his cheek, then stretched up and kissed him gently where her hand had touched. "You're such a wonderful man, Artemus, and I'm so weak and foolish. I should never have even thought such a thing, much less said anything." Again she kissed him.

But this time it was on the lips.

"Please, Artemus," she whispered, drawing back from him barely an inch, "just forget about everything I said. It was a terrible idea. I could never ask you to do such a thing, and of course you would never do it."

"Do, ah… do what?" he murmured even as she pressed her luscious lips against his once more.

"Why, kill Polly so that she can't kill me! It was a terrible thought; please forgive me for thinking it." Again she kissed him.

"K… kill Polly!" He gave a laugh. "Now, how would I even go about doing that?" And he surrendered to yet another of her delicious kisses.

"Oh…" she whispered between kisses, "suppose you invited her to dinner… not here, but in her suite… you could sweet-talk her, try to get out of her where she's hidden the last Apple, the one she stole during the trip here… and once you know that, you could… you could put something into her drink… something to make her fall asleep and never wake up again… something quiet… painless… easy." She gave him still another kiss, then laughed. "Oh, but of course you'd never do such a thing!" She dimpled at him and brushed her fingers over his cheek. "Oh, Artemus, you darling man, I feel so safe with you!" Another kiss, and she sprang up from the sofa. "Oh, but do pardon me, darling, while I, er, freshen up a bit." A lingering smile she bestowed upon him, then tripped off to one of the bedrooms, turning to give him a fond glance and a waggle of her fingers just before she disappeared beyond the door and closed it behind her.

For a long moment Artie sat there, staring after her. Then he drew in a deep breath, blew it out, and muttered to himself. "Something in her drink, something to make her fall asleep, and…" Slowly, as if hypnotized, he arose and went to rummage in his luggage amongst the bottles of chemicals he'd brought along with him.