As Lydia stacked the dishes in the dishwasher, she recalled the broken pieces of a bird she’d seen in the garbage some weeks ago. The figure must have belonged to Peg! There had been a dedication of some sort on the base, though now she couldn’t remember the words. Something romantic. Had Peg gotten nervous when she’d picked up the figurine for fear Lydia would see an inscription on the base?
When Lydia returned to the bedroom, Peg was nowhere to be seen. A toilet flushed behind the closed bathroom door. Curious now, Lydia lifted the bird closest to her and read the dark scrawl at the bottom: “To My Magpie from Her Hawk.” She set it down and was standing in the doorway when Peg opened the bathroom door.
“I’ll be on my way, then,” she said, hoping Peg wouldn’t notice how breathless she sounded.
“Any news of the murder investigation? Has anyone been arrested?” Peg asked as she climbed into bed.
“No.” Lydia wouldn’t tell her Andrew Varig had argued with Marshall the night of his death or that Roger Patterson was an old hand at fraud and embezzlement. It wasn’t her information to share. “The police are checking out every possible lead. I’m sure they’ll find the murderer soon.”
“Did you tell Detective Molina your suspicions regarding Viv Maguire?”
“I didn’t get a chance,” she admitted.
“Any word from your sister?”
“Not yet. Samantha’s so busy with her own work, I doubt I’ll hear from her for another few days.”
Peg let out a harsh laugh. “I wouldn’t bother pestering her, if I were you. You already know Viv’s from Chicago, that she might have killed her husband, and she was after Marshall to marry her.”
“Which doesn’t mean she killed Claire and Marshall.”
“Are you defending her?” Peg demanded.
“Of course not!” Lydia retorted. “I dislike the woman, but I’ve no proof she’s a murderer.”
“Use your common sense!”
Lydia had had enough. She’d come over to be a good neighbor, but she refused to put up with abuse. She eyed Peg sternly. “Do you know something about Viv and Marshall you haven’t told me?”
Peg lowered her gaze. “No, not really.”
“Because if you do, it’s your responsibility to tell the police.”
“I thank you for telling me my civic duty.”
“I think I have that right since you’ve tried to make me your messenger girl!”
Peg’s rabbity eyes widened in astonishment. She’d never seen this side of Lydia. “Sorry,” she mumbled. “I’m feeling awful.”
Was being sick making Peg overreact to everything? Or had she seen something connected to the murders and was afraid to tell the police? Come to think of it, she’d been terribly jumpy these last few days. Lydia remembered Barbara’s words about Peg’s changeable moods and decided it was time to leave.
“I’ll let you rest now. Which drugstore is filling your prescription? I’ll pick it up for you.”
“Don’t bother. I’ll have it delivered. Thanks for your help.”
Lydia opened her mouth to repeat her offer, but her neighbor’s closed expression warned her it wouldn’t be welcome.
“Okay, then. Feel better.”
Lydia shivered as she hurried home. Peg DiMarco was a strange bird, all right, with a collection of magpies given to her by a lover. Who was her lover? Lydia racked her brain, but couldn’t remember ever seeing her neighbor act romantically with any man at Twin Lakes. The man Peg cared for and occasionally saw probably lived back in Indiana.
* * *
December was a busy month for holiday parties, and Carrington House was doing a brisk business. Thursday and Friday Lydia found herself hopping from one festive affair to another when she wasn’t making phone calls and trying to make a dent in her pile of paperwork. She barely had time to nibble on a few appetizers for lunch, let alone spare a thought for the dire events at Twin Lakes. As though to make up for this neglect, the murders filled her mind with the force of a gale wind as she drove home Friday afternoon. Home? Lydia frowned. Twin Lakes certainly wasn’t the secure and quiet haven she’d hoped it would be. She looked forward to the Women’s Club outing that evening.
Caroline called to say she’d be coming by for Lydia in half an hour.
“I’m looking forward to seeing the film,” Lydia said. “It got wonderful reviews.”
“I’m glad we’re seeing a comedy. It will take our minds off the murders,” Caroline said. “Speaking of which, we’re forming a telephone chain for residents who live alone and anyone else who’s interested. Would you like to be part of it?”
“Probably. Tell me more.”
“Everyone calls three residents between seven and ten each evening. Between ten and ten-thirty each caller reports back to ‘headquarters.’ If you can’t reach a party, someone else will try after that. If you plan to go out in the evening, like tonight, you’ll have a number to call before and after you go out.”
“Sure, I’ll be part of the chain,” Lydia said. “It sounds like a practical plan.”
Caroline laughed. “I’m glad you approve. It’s my baby.” She gave Lydia the name of three women to call. “However, they’re all coming to the movies and out to dinner with us tonight, so you start this tomorrow evening.”
Barbara and Shari Morgan were in the car with Caroline when she pulled into Lydia’s driveway. A police car drove by as Lydia exited through her garage door. Officer McKlusky waved and called out, “Enjoy your evening, Mrs. Krause.”
“How nice to have an in with our local police,” Barbara commented.
Caroline and Shari laughed knowingly. Lydia grinned and said nothing as she climbed into the backseat. Their teasing made her feel years younger. She was grateful to her new friends for including her in their circle. Over the years, her demanding work schedule had caused her to lose touch with most of her female friends. She vowed not to let that happen again.
Caroline stopped in the circular driveway in front of the horse statue. “We’ll wait here for the others. We’re four cars, sixteen women.”
“A nice-sized group,” Shari commented.
“A few more would have come,” Barbara said, “but they have difficulty reading the subtitles.”
“A few others won’t leave home because of the murders,” Caroline said.
“You’d think they’d welcome the chance to get away from Twin Lakes,” Lydia said.
“Katherine’s pulling in behind us,” Barbara said. “And June is right behind her.”
“Did you remember to get the cell phone numbers of someone in each car?” Shari asked.
“Natch,” Barbara affirmed. “I have them all. Here comes Dorothy. We can leave now.”
It was a twenty-minute drive to the town where the movie was being shown. The four women discussed the upcoming Twin Lakes holiday party.
As their car joined the fast-moving traffic of the Long Island Expressway, Caroline said, “The police told the board we lose our police car patrol after tonight. They don’t have the manpower to keep it up.”
“No big loss,” Barbara said. “I don’t think a cop car circling the grounds can prevent another murder.”
“I’d say it’s a deterring factor, in conjunction with our own patrol car making rounds day and night.” Caroline moved into the middle lane, then added, “If I were the murderer, the patrol cars would make me think twice before I offed another victim.”
“Stop scaring me!” Shari said. “What makes you think more people will be killed?”
“I don’t think any of us is in danger,” Lydia said, more to calm Shari’s fear than because she was certain the killing was over. “The murderer must have had a grudge against the Weills.”
“Is that what your handsome detective told you?” Barbara asked. “Fill us in.”
Sol was handsome, but he was far from being hers. “If you’re referring to Detective Molina, he hasn’t told me anything. I’m as much in the dark as you are.”
There was a minute’s silence, then Caroline said, “Keep this to yourselves, and I’m not saying Viv Maguire did it, but the police brought her in for questioning today.”
Lydia’s heart began to race. Maybe it would all be over soon. “What new evidence have they found?”
“Our neighbors, Tony and Rose, left early Sunday morning for some sort of retreat, so they first found out about Marshall when they returned home Wednesday night. Tony told the police he saw Viv speed by in her car late Saturday night when he was out walking the dog. She was driving toward Marshall’s house. He waved as she passed, but she ignored him.”
“She was out with Marshall that evening,” Lydia said, “but he cut their date short because he had to meet someone.”
Barbara laughed. “It sounds fishy, and I bet Viv didn’t like it one bit. She must have gone over to check out her competition.”
The other women nodded.
Shari said, “One of three things happened: Viv killed Marshall, she saw him being killed, or she came upon the body and ran away.”
“There’s the chance she peered through a window, couldn’t see anything and left,” Lydia added.
“Maybe,” Caroline said. “There’s also the possibility she heard Marshall and the murderer talking outside his house.”
Lydia thought for a minute. “In which case, she would have seen him.”
“Or at least noticed an unfamiliar car in the driveway,” Barbara suggested.
“There wouldn’t be any car,” Shari said. “Whoever planned to murder Marshall would have come on foot.”
“Or would have gotten Marshall to pick him or her up. But then why did they go back to Marshall’s house?” Barbara asked.
“Because the murderer didn’t want the body or traces of the crime found at his house, silly,” Caroline said.
“Well, excuse me,” Barbara said. “I’m not used to thinking like a murderer.”
The others laughed. The topic of conversation turned to holiday plans. Lydia said little. Barbara’s comment about not thinking like a murderer echoed in her head. Someone in Twin Lakes was now a murderer and thought like a murderer. Claire’s murder had involved the use of her car, which meant the plan had occurred to the killer sometime that evening. Marshall’s demise had been plotted with care. The hint of an idea niggled at the edge of her thoughts, but try as she might, it remained beyond her mind’s reach.
Twenty-One
Lydia reclined against the well-cushioned seat of the movie theatre, and gave herself up to the soothing darkness. A lassitude overtook her once the previews began. Surrounded by fellow members of the Women’s Club, their cell phones shut off as requested by the management, she felt snug and safe from the upsetting events at Twin Lakes. She sighed as the accumulated tension of the last few weeks fell away from her neck and shoulders.
The movie, a clever French romantic mystery, captured her attention with the discovery of a corpse in the opening scene. When the handsome detective appeared, Barbara nudged her and made her smile. Of course, Jeanne, the heroine, was gorgeous and young—of her daughters’ generation. The foolish girl kept putting herself into dangerous situations. At one point she nearly got herself killed doing something Lydia considered an act of downright stupidity. But for the most part, she admired Jeanne’s spunk and smarts. She was clever, the way she tricked the murderer into revealing a small but important fact that linked him to the crime.
That was it! The incident in the movie triggered what she’d overlooked—the nugget of information pointing to the identity of the Twin Lakes’ killer. Lydia gasped at the realization. Barbara threw her a questioning glance, which she dismissed with a shake of her head. The connecting factor wasn’t something the murderer had slipped up on, but one Marshall had inadvertently revealed.
She’d noticed it at the time, of course, but then it had no meaning. Now, knowing what she knew…
She whispered to Barbara she was going to the ladies’ room and slipped out of her seat. She had to tell Sol what she suspected. If she was right, the police would be able to prevent another murder.
In the deserted lobby, she called his cell phone and got instructions to leave a message.
“Hi, it’s me, Lydia. I’m at the movies now with the Women’s Club and something in the film we’re watching made me realize…” She paused, not wanting to ramble on unnecessarily. “Anyway, if you look at the list of names that Marshall gave me you’ll see—” Her voice suddenly sounded different. The tiny box in the right-hand corner of her phone screen held one bar, indicating her phone had little power. The “call ending” sign appeared. Damn! She’d remembered to leave her phone on for Merry’s sake, but had forgotten to recharge it.
Lydia glanced down at her watch. The movie was ending in fifteen minutes. She returned to her seat. Surely, nothing would occur between now and the time she got back to Twin Lakes. She’d call Sol the moment she walked through the door.
Afterward, the women lined up to use the ladies’ room, then gathered in the lobby to review directions to the restaurant several blocks away. Once again in Caroline’s car, the four women discussed the film as they rode along. Though Shari drew a parallel between the murder in the film and those at Twin Lakes, no one pursued the subject.
Surprisingly enough, Lydia relaxed and enjoyed herself over dinner. The restaurant, which served northern Italian cuisine, was decorated like an outdoor café, reminding her of the delightful repasts she and Izzy had shared when they’d toured Italy.
She ordered a salad and a veal dish, and found herself chatting with two elderly women she’d never met. They were lively and highly entertaining as they regaled her with wild stories of their European adventures. When it was her turn, Lydia enjoyed watching their eyes widen with admiration then crinkle with laughter as she related a few tales of her own. Bella, the elder of the two women—a slip of a thing close to eighty—mentioned she’d be leaving for Florida in a few weeks and invited Lydia to stay with her at her condo.
“Well, thank you. I may very well take you up on that, Bella,” she answered in jest.
“Please do. This is a genuine offer. I’ve a beautiful guest room, don’t I, Dorothy?”
Her friend nodded enthusiastically.
“I have plenty of friends, young and old.” Bella eyed Lydia appreciatively. “Believe me, all the men will be dying to meet you.”
To Lydia’s relief, no one brought up the subject of the murders. It was as though the sixteen women had made an unspoken pact to thoroughly enjoy their evening out and not think about the terrifying events in their midst.