Don't Cry Now (29 page)

“That I'm in the wrong jurisdiction.”

“What?”

“It's a long story. Captain Mahoney wasn't there. I'll have to try him again later.”

Caroline stood up, walked to her kitchen, returned with her portable phone. “Try him now,” she said.

Bonnie punched in the number for the Newton police station, told the operator she wanted to speak to either Captain Mahoney or Detective Kritzic, was told they were still out, did she want to leave a message?

“Give them this number,” Caroline said, and Bonnie did as she was told.

“Thank you. I hate imposing on you this way.”

“Christ, you're amazing.” Caroline shook her head. “Someone's trying to kill you and you're worried about being an imposition. Do me a favor—don't worry. I'm delighted for the company. Besides, you obviously can't go home until you sort this out. You and your daughter will sleep here tonight.”

“I can't do that.”

“You can, and you will.”

“But your husband….”

“I didn't say you could sleep with him.”

Bonnie smiled, almost managed a laugh. “I can't stay here forever.”

“I didn't say forever either.” Caroline squeezed in beside Bonnie on the chair. “But if someone close to you is trying to kill you, then you can't go home until the police figure out who it is. Besides, you obviously need a few days to rest and recuperate. Should you be in a hospital?”

“No,” Bonnie lied. “I have some pills.” She indicated her purse on the floor beside her feet.

“Okay then, it's settled. You'll stay here, at least until tomorrow.”

Bonnie checked her watch. “There's a friend of mine I'd like to call,” she said. “Would you mind?”

“Call anyone you like.”

Bonnie punched in Diana's number at home. It was answered on the first ring.

“Diana?” Bonnie said, grateful to hear her voice.

“Bonnie, is that you?” Diana shouted into the receiver. “Where are you?”

“I'm with a friend,” Bonnie told her, alarmed by her friend's voice.

“Rod's been calling here every five minutes,” Diana told her. “He's absolutely frantic. I've never seen him like this. He's beside himself. He says you just disappeared.”

“I haven't disappeared.” She pictured her husband, imagined him barking questions into the phone, her brother and her stepson hovering nearby, listening. “How's your bathroom?” she asked suddenly.

“I beg your pardon?”

“Your bathroom. I know that Sam was working hard to finish it before you got back.”

“It's fine,” Diana said, clearly distracted by the sudden twist in the conversation. “He still has a little left to do, but it looks great.”

“And how was New York?”

“It was okay,” Diana said dismissively. “Bonnie, what's going on? Rod says he went out for a few hours, and that when he left, you were so sick, you could hardly stand up. When he came home, you weren't there. No note as to where you went, nothing. He's going crazy with worry.”

“Diana,” Bonnie interrupted. “Listen to me. I'm all right. I'm safe now.”

“
Now?
What are you talking about?”

“Someone's been poisoning me.”

“Poisoning you? Bonnie, you're talking crazy.”

“I'm not crazy. I had blood tests taken. They show a high level of arsenic in my system.”

“Arsenic?”

“Someone's been adding arsenic to my food.”

Diana's voice dropped to a whisper. “Rod?”

“I don't know,” Bonnie said after a pause. She could feel Diana shaking her head in astonishment.

“I don't believe it. I
can't
believe it,” Diana said. Then, “Where are you?”

Bonnie glanced at Caroline. “At a friend's.”

Caroline smiled.

“What friend?” Diana asked.

“I think it's safer if I don't tell you,” Bonnie said, suddenly understanding the things her brother had told her. If her brother was who he claimed to be, that is.

“Safer?”

“If you don't know where I am, then you don't have to lie to anyone. You can't be persuaded or tricked….”

“I'm not easily tricked, Bonnie,” Diana said.

Unlike me, Bonnie thought.

“Have you talked to the police?”

“Not yet.”

“But you're sure about this? I mean, it couldn't have been an accident?”

“How does one accidentally swallow arsenic?” Bonnie asked.

There was a slight pause. “All right, look, what do you want me to say to Rod?”

“I don't want you to say anything.”

“Bonnie, are you kidding? He'll be calling here in two minutes. You just want me to pretend I haven't heard from you?”

“I'll speak to Rod.”

“You will? When?”

“I'll call him now.”

“What will you say?”

“I don't know. I'll think of something.”

“This is crazy, Bonnie,” Diana said. “I feel so helpless. There must be something I can do.”

Bonnie thought of Diana's apartment in the city. She couldn't impose on Caroline's generosity indefinitely. “There might be,” Bonnie told her. “After I've spoken to the police, I'll have a better idea of my options. I hope,” she said, and almost laughed. “Look, I'll call you first thing in the morning.”

“You promise?”

“I promise.”

“Because I won't move from the phone until I hear from you.”

“I'll call you first thing.”

“You're sure you're all right?”

“I'm not sure of anything,” Bonnie admitted. If you couldn't trust chicken soup, what could you trust? she thought. “I'll call you,” she said, pressing the button to disconnect, then immediately punching in her home phone number.

Rod answered before the first ring was completed.

“Rod….”

“Bonnie, where the hell are you? Are you all right? Where did you go?” he said, the words running together, like colors bleeding into one another in the wash.

“I'm all right.”

“Where are you?”

“I'm with Amanda,” she said, sidestepping his question. “And I won't be home tonight.”

“What?”

“I'm sorry I made you come home early from Florida, Rod.”

“You're sorry you made me come home early? What are you talking about?”

“I'll talk to you tomorrow, Rod.”

“Bonnie, wait, don't hang up.”

“I'll explain everything tomorrow.”

“Bonnie….”

Bonnie turned off the phone, handed it back to Caroline, wondering if tomorrow she'd be any further ahead.

I
t was almost ten o'clock the next morning when Bonnie woke up in bed alone. Amanda, who'd been curled into a warm little ball beside her all night, was gone. Bonnie looked around the large white room—white carpet, white lace curtains, white bedspread. She checked the white en suite bathroom—white tile, white tub, white towels. Amanda wasn't there.

“Amanda?” she called out, slipping on the white terry cloth robe Caroline had left at the foot of the bed, padding out of the room in her bare feet. “Amanda?”

She continued down the wide hallway, past several closed doors, listening for any sounds, hearing muffled voices coming from the room at the end of the hall. She approached quietly, leaning against the door, feeling it open.

“Mommy!” Amanda sat, fully dressed, her hair freshly brushed, in front of a large-screen television set. “Caroline let me watch cartoons.” She pointed at the screen where one animated figure was clubbing another animated figure over the head with a large piece of spiked wood. “And she gave me two bowls of Corn Pops for breakfast. And chocolate milk.”

“Two bowls of Corn Pops? Aren't you lucky.”

“She said to be very quiet so you could sleep in.”

“I hope you don't mind,” Caroline said, coming up the hallway, looking wonderfully healthy in a pale
lavender sweatsuit. “You were sleeping so soundly, I didn't want to disturb you.”

“I can't believe I slept so late,” Bonnie said.

“You look much better for it,” Caroline said. “Can I get you something to eat?”

“I'm not sure I'm ready for solid foods.”

“Not even a piece of toast? I make a mean piece of toast.”

“Okay. Toast sounds good.”

“And tea?”

“I don't think I'll ever drink tea again,” Bonnie said truthfully.

“How about some orange juice?”

“Orange juice would be great.”

“Good. It'll be ready in two minutes.” Caroline peeked in at Amanda. “How are you doing in here, kiddo? Can I get you some more Corn Pops?”

Amanda giggled. “I had two bowls,” she announced proudly.

“You did? How did that happen? Lyle usually doesn't let anybody share his Corn Pops.”

“How does Lyle feel about our being here?” Bonnie asked as Amanda returned her attention to the cartoons. “I mean,
really
.”

“You heard what he said last night. You're welcome to stay as long as you like.”

“That's very generous, but why should he put up with strangers in his house? He doesn't even know me.”

“He knew Joan. He wants to see her killer brought to justice as much as I do.”

Bonnie looked to the floor, saw her bare toes wiggle back. “I should call the police,” she said.

“I'll get your breakfast ready.”

Bonnie called Captain Mahoney. He wouldn't be in until noon, she was told. Again, Bonnie left a message, stressed its urgency. Wasn't there some way of reaching the captain before then? Doubtful, she was told, this being a Saturday. Perhaps someone else could be of assistance.

“What did he say?” Caroline asked, as Bonnie walked into the kitchen, took a seat at the kitchen table.

“He won't be in till noon.”

Caroline deposited two pieces of toast on a plate in front of Bonnie, along with some butter, raspberry jam, and marmalade. Then she poured a tall glass of juice and handed it to Bonnie, watching while she took a sip. “Drink up,” she instructed. “You don't want to get dehydrated.”

“Thanks.”

“Did you take your pills?”

“A few minutes ago.”

Caroline laughed. “I'm starting to sound like my mother.”

“She must be a lovely woman,” Bonnie said sincerely.

“Thank you. She was.” Caroline paused. “So, what do you think? Is that, or is that not, the best piece of toast you ever tasted?”

Bonnie obligingly took a bite. “Most definitely the finest piece of toast in creation.”

“Try the raspberry jam. I made it myself.”

Bonnie scooped a small bit of jam onto her toast.
And don't eat anything you don't see prepared in front of your eyes
, she heard Dr. Kline intone solemnly. Immediately, she lowered the piece of toast to the plate. What was she thinking? Did she seriously think that Caroline Gossett was trying to poison her too?

“Something wrong?”

Bonnie took a deep breath. “No, nothing.” She bit determinedly into the piece of toast, savoring the rich raspberry flavor on the inside of her mouth, then swallowing. Ultimately, she decided, she had to trust somebody. “I should call my friend,” she said, picturing Diana waiting nervously for her call.

Caroline handed her the phone. “I'll be in the other room.”

“You don't have to leave,” Bonnie told her, grateful for the company, listening as the phone rang once, then
twice, then three times. “I'm probably dragging her out of the bathroom,” she said nervously, letting it ring another six times before finally giving up, then trying again. “Maybe I dialed the wrong number,” she said, knowing instinctively she hadn't, but trying it again anyway. “I guess she must have gone out for a few minutes.” After telling Bonnie she wouldn't budge from the phone until she'd heard from her? Without putting on her answering machine?

“Maybe she's in the shower,” Caroline offered.

“That's probably it,” Bonnie agreed readily, patting her own unwashed hair. “And actually, that's not such a bad idea. If you wouldn't mind….”

“Please, be my guest.”

Bonnie rose unsteadily to her feet.

“But finish your toast and juice first,” Caroline advised. “Something tells me you're going to need all the strength you can get.”

 

Bonnie stood under the shower's hot blast and watched herself disappear in a cloud of steam. Not that there was much of her left to disappear. She'd lost at least ten pounds, possibly more, and her ribs protruded awkwardly from underneath her small breasts. Her legs looked like sticks, not much fleshier above the knees than below. Prepubescent, almost. Twiggy returns, Bonnie thought, with her haunted eyes and painted on lower lashes, her close-cropped hair, and her sunken chest. Maybe Twiggy hadn't been naturally skinny after all. Maybe she'd painted on those exaggerated lashes because her own had fallen out. Maybe she'd adopted the boyish waif hairdo when her once lustrous locks had turned to straw. Maybe she'd been suffering from arsenic poisoning.

Bonnie laughed, shampoo snaking its way from her hairline into her open mouth. She spit it out, laughed again, massaged her head with forceful fingers.
I'm gonna wash that man right out of my hair
, she sang softly, then wondered why on earth she was singing. Her whole life
was falling apart, someone was trying to kill her, she didn't know whom she could trust, and here she was singing in the shower. The arsenic must have already seeped into her brain.

She thought she heard something, waited until she heard it again, shut off the water when she realized it was a tapping at the bathroom door. “Yes?” she called out, wondering if she'd heard anything at all.

“Bonnie,” Caroline called back, opening the bathroom door a crack, letting a gust of cool air inside. Bonnie felt it wrap around her torso, like a towel. “I'm sorry to bother you, but I thought I should call you right away. It's Captain Mahoney—he's on the phone.”

 

Bonnie barely had time to dry off and get dressed before Captain Mahoney was at the front door. She told him everything, the words pouring from her mouth like boiling water from a kettle—the way she'd been feeling the last few weeks, her visit to the doctor, the results of her blood tests, the certainty that someone had been poisoning her, the uncertainty of who it was. “I found some rat poison under Joan's sink,” she told him.

“You were there?”

“Yesterday.” She caught a glimmer of surprise, then impatience in his dark eyes. He fidgeted on the seat beside her, pretended to be studying the tall nude sculpture in front of the piano in Caroline Gossett's living room. Caroline was teaching Amanda how to make papier-mâché in the basement. Lyle had disappeared first thing in the morning to play golf.

“You touched it?” he asked, resignation clinging to his words like a stubborn tickle in the throat.

“Yes.” Bonnie understood without needing to be told that her careless hands had probably destroyed whatever chance the police might have had of discovering fresh prints somewhere on its surface. “I'm sorry. I wasn't thinking.”

He scratched the side of his head. “Everyone's a detective,” he muttered.

“Like my brother?” Bonnie asked, waiting for his response, receiving none. “Is he who he says he is, Captain Mahoney?”

“Your brother is not a suspect in Joan's murder,” Captain Mahoney replied cryptically.

“Is he a police officer?” she pressed.

“I couldn't say.”

“Couldn't? Or won't?”

“Your brother is not a suspect in this case,” he repeated.

Bonnie nodded. “Then it's safe for me to contact him?”

“It's safe,” he told her, as grateful tears filled her eyes.

“Thank you,” she said. “I didn't know which way to turn.”

“Looks like you turned in the right direction,” he said, eyes scanning Caroline's living room.

“I was lucky. Caroline's a wonderful woman.”

“Good friends are hard to come by.”

“Oh my God, I forgot about Diana,” Bonnie said. “She must be half crazy by now.” She stood up, ran into the kitchen, grabbed the phone, punched in Diana's number.

Again the phone rang once, twice, three times. She was about to hang up, dial again, when it was suddenly picked up.

“Oh good, you're there,” Bonnie said, not waiting for Diana's hello. “I called before, but you must have been in the shower.”

“Who is this?” The male voice on the other end of the line was flat, expressionless, although vaguely familiar.

A cold sweat broke out across Bonnie's upper lip. Her breath caught in her throat, refused to budge. “Who's this?” she asked in return.

“Detective Haver of the Weston police,” he answered. “Who am I speaking to, please?”

“Detective Haver?” Bonnie repeated, picturing the dark-skinned police officer she'd talked to at Amanda's day care center after the incident with the blood.

Captain Mahoney appeared at her side. “I'll take it,” he said, and Bonnie handed him the phone without further prompting.

She watched as Captain Mahoney's eyebrows furrowed, shaping his face into a frown. She listened as his voice lowered almost to a rasp, heard him whisper, “Yes, I see. What time was that?” She saw him shake his head, balancing the phone between his ear and neck as he reached into the back pocket of his pants and pulled out his notepad, jotted something down. “Do you mind if I come out there, have a look around?” she heard him ask before putting down the phone.

“There's been a homicide,” he told her directly, as she grabbed for the kitchen counter.

Bonnie could barely bring herself to speak. “No,” was all she could ultimately manage.

“A neighbor just made a positive identification a few minutes ago.”

“Please, no,” Bonnie said.

“I'm afraid your friend is dead,” Captain Mahoney said solemnly. “She's been shot.”

“Diana was shot,” Bonnie repeated, refusing to believe the words she was hearing, the words she was speaking.

“A single gunshot through the heart.”

“Oh God. Oh God, no. My poor Diana.” Bonnie's eyes traveled restlessly around the kitchen, stopped on the charcoal drawing of the mother and newborn child. She wanted to grab her own child and run, run as fast and as far away as she could. “Is there any chance it could have been prowlers? Or maybe Diana's ex-husband? She was married twice, you know. Married and divorced. Maybe it was one of them, or someone else she knew. There was never a shortage of men around. I mean, this doesn't have to have anything to do with Joan, or with me, does it? It could just be one of those awful coincidences, one of
those perverse twists of fate. Couldn't it?” Bonnie asked, desperately wanting this to be the case, although she knew it wasn't so.

“A neighbor saw a car screeching out of her driveway at around ten o'clock this morning,” Captain Mahoney said. “He got concerned, walked across the street, saw her front door was open, went inside, found her sprawled out on the floor of her living room.”

Bonnie tried very hard not to picture her closest friend lying dead on her living room floor. It couldn't be, she thought. There had to be some mistake. Diana was such a complex human being, so intense and complicated, so full of energy and contradictions. It was impossible that someone could rob her of that intensity with anything as simple as a bullet to the heart. “Did the neighbor get a good look at the person in the car?” Bonnie asked.

“No. But he did get a good look at the vehicle.”

“What kind of car was it?” Bonnie asked, hearing the answer almost before Captain Mahoney spoke it.

“A red Mercedes,” he said.

 

“We've assigned several police officers to guard the house,” Captain Mahoney was saying later, although he had to say it several times before it finally sunk in what he meant. “They'll be in an unmarked car a few houses down the road. As well, we'll have someone out back, just in case. And we've put a tap on your phone should he try to contact you.”

“Contact us?” Bonnie asked.

“You never know.”

“I know my brother didn't do this,” Lauren insisted from her seat at the dining room table, her arms sprawled haphazardly across the table top, her head dangling loosely from her neck, like a marionette whose strings had been severed.

They'd been sitting this way for what seemed like hours—Bonnie, Rod, Lauren, Nick, Captain Mahoney, Detective Haver, their bodies defeated, their arms and legs
akimbo. Bonnie thought of another occasion several weeks ago, when another small group had been gathered around this table, only then it had been Haze instead of Detective Haver, Sam in place of Captain Mahoney. And Diana, Bonnie thought, picturing her friend, her eyes as blue as a tropical sea.