In the Event of My Death (13 page)

Monica’s gaze shot to her. “What things?”

“A porcelain figurine. My
yearbook
.”

Laurel’s breath left her. “Your yearbook?”

“Yes. The one with the memorial page dedicated to Faith.”

“Did you leave your door unlocked?” Monica asked.

“Of course not! With all this going on? Do you think I’m crazy?”

“And there was no sign of breaking and entering.”

“No.”

Laurel frowned. “What was the figurine like?”

“It was a gift from my grandmother—lady carrying an umbrella and wearing a long, frilly gown. It was beautiful and valuable and Faith always loved it.”

“Oh, God,” Laurel moaned. “Now I vaguely remember it. It came from France. Didn’t you have a name for it?”

“Bettina.” Crystal took another sip of her drink. “Monica, have you found out anything yet?”

“No, although I’m seriously considering that Zeke Howard might be our culprit.”

“
Zeke!
” Crystal squawked before Monica and Laurel shushed her. “How could Zeke kill someone who lived in New York?”

Monica sighed. “Crystal, you persist in thinking New York is halfway around the world. Manhattan is just a little over four hundred miles from Wheeling. You can drive it in six hours.”

“But Zeke’s an
old
man.”

“He’s barely seventy and he’s not an invalid.”

Laurel nodded. “He can also drive and he’s crazy. Didn’t anyone tell you what happened at my store yesterday?”

“Yes, Denise did.”

The doorbell rang again. In a moment, Neil Kamrath walked hesitantly into the room. Laurel glanced at Kurt. His face grew still and white. Even Crystal drew back slightly, as if in distaste. Only Wayne and Monica seemed genuinely pleased to see him. Wayne clasped his hand in a hearty shake and Monica mumbled, “My goodness, you were right, Laurel. He
has
improved with age,” before she put on her dazzling smile and walked with a seductive sway toward Neil.

Crystal shook her head. “Monica and Faith. They never met a good-looking guy they didn’t like.”

Introductions were being made. Laurel could tell Neil’s smile was forced and it completely disappeared when he met Kurt’s hard stare. Laurel’s temper rose. Kurt knew nothing about her suspicion that Neil might have killed Angie. Maybe, like many people in this town, he blamed Neil for Faith’s death. But even though he thought she committed suicide, certainly Kurt realized one person isn’t responsible for another taking their own life. If he didn’t, his immature thinking was not only disappointing, it was downright annoying. Kurt was not a stupid man, but he was acting like it.

Fearing his chilly welcome might send Neil out the door in ten minutes, Laurel went up to him. “Hi, Neil. I’m glad you decided to come.”

He smiled warmly. “I wouldn’t have without your encouragement.”

“I’m glad I had so much influence.”

“Well, it doesn’t seem appropriate for me to be here when my father’s dying.”

“Wayne said he’s in a coma,” Laurel reminded him gently. “He wouldn’t be aware of you even if you were sitting by his bed. Besides, your life has to go on, Neil.”

He looked at her gravely. “That’s what everyone kept saying after Ellen and Robbie died. I didn’t necessarily believe it then, and I’m even less sure now.”

“Neil—”

“Never mind.” He smiled. “Talk about a party pooper. I’ll try to work up a little Christmas cheer, although it’s hard with your boyfriend glaring at me.”

“Kurt’s a good man, but he can be stubborn and irrational. Just ignore him.”

Laurel glanced up to see Denise urging Audra toward the piano. I promised Audra I’d help, Laurel thought. “Excuse me, Neil,” she muttered.

“Now, honey, everyone would enjoy hearing you play ‘Jingle Bells.’”

“But Mommy, I don’t want to.”

“I think she looks a little tired.” Denise glanced at Laurel in surprise. “And flushed.” Laurel put her hand on Audra’s cool forehead. “You do feel a bit warm.”

Denise’s look of surprise turned to one of anxiety. Oh, this isn’t fair, Laurel thought guiltily, but Audra’s big brown eyes were filled with gratitude.

“Warm!” Denise repeated, putting her own hand on Audra’s forehead. “I think you’re right. Wayne!”

Audra rolled her eyes at Laurel. In a moment Wayne stood beside them. “What’s the problem?”

“Laurel thinks Audra might have a fever. You check and I’ll get the thermometer.”

Denise disappeared. Wayne touched Audra’s forehead, then grinned. “Talked Laurel into saving you from playing, didn’t you?”

Audra nodded. “I’m sorry,” Laurel said. “I was only trying to help.”

“Quite all right,” Wayne told her. “I keep telling Denise that forcing children to play when they don’t want to makes them hate the piano even more.” Denise reappeared with the thermometer. “Sweetie, I think she’s okay,” Wayne told her, “but it’s past her bedtime and she didn’t feel well a couple of days ago.” He kissed Audra’s cheek. “Off to bed with you.”

Audra looked disappointed, but it was a trade-off. Bed or concert. Laurel thought she’d prefer bed.

Fifteen minutes later Denise returned from upstairs. The noise level had increased as several guests made frequent trips to the bartender. Laurel saw that Neil looked as if he were ready to depart when Monica descended on him, all flashing eyes and long, exposed legs. Laurel wasn’t sure if Monica’s intent was to glean information or flirt.

A woman whose name Laurel didn’t remember cornered her to harangue about how overpriced she thought the Flower Basket was and hint that she might consider throwing a little business toward Damron Floral. Laurel knew this business would probably amount to two or three orders a year, for which she was supposed to simper with happiness. The woman seemed insulted by her tepid reaction and moved away.

Laurel glanced at Kurt talking animatedly with a striking young blonde. Crystal sat by herself eating chocolate walnut bread and looking desolate. Denise was in earnest conversation with a dark-haired woman who appeared about eight months pregnant. Just like Claudia, Laurel thought. My sister is supposed to give birth in a few weeks and I’m not excited. I don’t even want to go see her at Christmas. What’s wrong with me?

The room suddenly seemed smoky, close, and loud. She’d suggest going home, but she had the odd feeling that if she left, so would Neil, and Monica might not have the chance to get valuable information from him. Besides, Kurt looked like he was having a marvelous time with the blonde. She supposed she should be jealous, but she wasn’t.

Abruptly she found herself reaching for Wayne’s arm as he walked by. “I know Audra didn’t want to play, but how about you? I’d love to hear a few songs.”

Wayne looked pleased. “Is this a genuine request, or are you just being polite?”

“I’m just being polite,” Laurel said lightly.

“Oh, well, I don’t care. You made the mistake of asking.”

He walked to the piano and Laurel clapped her hands for attention. “Tonight the gifted hands of our favorite surgeon will turn to his second greatest talent as a pianist.” A lot of people laughed, clapped, and walked toward the grand piano.

“My repertoire is limited, so I don’t take requests,” Wayne said solemnly. “I only play what I know. I’ll start out with something nice and easy. ‘Even Now’ by Barry Manilow.”

Laurel had only heard him play once and had forgotten how good he was. Even his voice was good—not polished and professional, but good. Denise stood behind him, casually sipping eggnog, but her eyes gleamed. How lucky she’d been to find him, Laurel thought. Denise, Wayne, and Audra made as perfect a family as one could imagine.

When he finished, someone yelled, “Bravo! More!”

Wayne ducked his head. “If you insist.” He started “Every Little Kiss” by Bruce Hornsby. Someone began clapping along, and in time the living room was filled with the sound of the piano, Wayne’s voice, and nearly everyone clapping.

By the end of the song, most of the guests were in high gear. A few freshened drinks, some moved away from the piano while others drew nearer. Laurel didn’t even see Kurt. By now the living room was crowded by people ready to cut loose and really have fun.

Laurel raised her voice over the din. “I know you don’t like requests, but I’m going to make one anyway. How about ‘Great Balls of Fire’?”

Denise threw her a playful glare. “Audra put you up to that, didn’t she?”

“She just said it was one of Wayne’s favorites, and I’m dying to see if he can do the mule kick with the bench.”

“Denise won’t let me,” Wayne laughed. “But I’ll do the rest with every bit of Jerry Lee’s spirit I can manage.”

In a moment mild-mannered, plump, balding Dr. Wayne Price turned into a rock star with a vengeance. A few people were so carried away they began dancing. Laurel couldn’t take her eyes off Wayne’s flying fingers. Jerry Lee, you don’t know it but you’ve got some real competition in Wheeling, she thought in delight, feeling young and happy for the first time in weeks. From nowhere an unfamiliar man grabbed her and began whirling her around the living room.

Wayne was winding the song to a dramatic close when suddenly a woman screamed. Apparently some of the guests either didn’t hear her or thought she’d just gotten carried away because they kept dancing and clapping. Wayne, however, lifted his hands from the piano keys and jumped up so forcefully the bench went flying backward. His eyes were fastened on the curving staircase.

Laurel pushed her partner away and swung around. On the staircase stood Audra in pink pajamas. She gripped a slender plastic fashion doll and below her huge, terrified eyes a wide piece of silver duct tape covered her mouth.

By now most people realized something was wrong, becoming motionless and staring at the child. Wayne and Laurel bolted across the living room, reaching her at the same moment.

Gently Wayne pulled the powerful tape from his daughter’s chalky face. “My God, honey, what happened?” he whispered.

“A ghost came to my room,” Audra said in a flat voice. “A ghost in a long white gown with long curly red hair. The ghost put a hand over my mouth, then the tape. It said my mommy didn’t deserve to have me. Then it gave me this.”

She held out the doll to Laurel. It had long red hair and was naked except for a heart locket on a chain hung around its slender neck.

Denise rushed up, enfolding her rigid child in her arms. “Sweet Jesus,” she gasped. “What’s happened?”

Laurel took the locket from the doll’s neck and turned it over, although she really didn’t have to. She recognized it but read the engraving anyway. “F. S. H. Faith Sarah Howard.” She looked at Denise. “This is the last gift Faith’s mother gave her before she vanished.”

1

Laurel wasn’t aware of Kurt crowding in beside them until she heard his voice. “Audra, where did the person go?”

“It wasn’t a person. It was a ghost. It said so.”

“In a man or a woman’s voice?”

Audra looked uncertain. It was her first expression except for stark fear. “I don’t know. It sort of whispered.”

“Where did it
go
?” Kurt persisted.

“Out of my room. Down the hall.”

“The back stairs!” Laurel said.

While Denise and Wayne cuddled their terrified daughter, Laurel led Kurt to the kitchen. It was empty. The back stairs were against the west wall, the bottom step about ten feet from the back door, which stood open nearly an inch. Kurt grabbed a towel off the counter, grasped the doorknob with it, and pulled the door open. The small back porch was dry under its roof. The remaining snow on the back lawn bore a multitude of footprints.

“What do you think?” Laurel asked.

“I think our ‘ghost’ is long gone.”

“But who—”

“Mary or Zeke. Who else would have Faith’s locket?” A muscle flexed in Kurt’s jaw. “I’m going to call the city police and tell them to get over here while I go out to see the Howards.”

“Shouldn’t you wait here for the police?”

“If I wait, Zeke or Mary could destroy evidence. Besides, we dealt with Zeke before.”

“And got nowhere.”

“We did the best we could,” Kurt said harshly. “And I’m damn well going to find out if either one of them have come here and terrified this child.”

When they returned to the living room, half the guests were gone. Wayne was saying good night. Laurel didn’t see Denise or Audra and guessed she’d taken the little girl back to her room. Crystal and Monica lingered near the piano. “Will you two meet me at my house so we can talk?” Laurel asked.

Crystal looked fearful. Monica’s eyes hardened. “You’re going to badger us about going to the police, aren’t you?”

“I’m not going to
badger
you. I’m going to appeal to your good sense. Monica, you’re a lawyer. What would you advise a client in these circumstances?”

“To keep his mouth shut.” Monica set down her drink. “I’m leaving now. Crystal, unless you want to get yourself in a hell of a lot of trouble and make sure you lose Chuck for good, I suggest you do the same.”

Laurel touched Crystal’s icy hand. “Crystal,
please…
”

“I…I can’t.” Crystal’s gaze dropped. “I’m sorry. I know you’re disappointed in me, but Chuck—”

“Chuck is
gone
,” Laurel said roughly. “Keeping quiet about Faith’s death won’t bring him back to you but it might get you killed.”

“I
won’t
talk to the police. I
can’t
!”

Crystal rushed toward the front door, tears running down her cheeks.

2

Laurel knew talking to Denise was hopeless. Even if she agreed it was time to go to the police, she was too upset over Audra to do anything tonight. Besides, Laurel had already made up her mind.

Kurt dropped her off at home before heading for the Howard house. As she fitted her key in the lock, she looked at him. “Will you stop by after you’ve seen Mary and Zeke?”

“If we have to bring one of them in, it could be late.”

“I don’t care. I really need to talk to you.”

He looked at her piercingly. “Are you
finally
going to tell me what the hell has been happening for the past week?”

She paused. “Yes, Kurt. I’ll tell you everything.”

He kissed her on the forehead. “Good. I hate it when you shut me out, especially when I know you’re scared or unhappy. We’ve been friends since you were seven.”

“I was forced on you by Faith.”

Kurt smiled. “Chuck and I weren’t the pushovers we seemed. We may have been only eight, but we knew a couple of good-looking girls when we saw them.” Laurel laughed, thinking of herself with her tangle of unruly hair and missing front teeth. “I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

Laurel had left two lamps glowing in the living room. April and Alex raised their heads and looked at her sleepily from their cushions in front of the fireplace, so apparently nothing had happened during the evening to upset them. Denise had been the victim tonight, although Laurel would rather have come home to find some harmless decoration on her door than to see Audra so frightened. Whoever had dressed up as a ghost to frighten a helpless little girl needed to be flogged, Laurel thought fiercely.

Could it have been Zeke or Mary? Laurel wondered as she put more logs in the fireplace. It would have been so easy to come in the kitchen door, slip up the back stairs, and disappear unnoticed since the caterers had simply delivered the food earlier, not stayed to serve.

As the fire grew, Laurel sat down on the couch, thinking. There was so much commotion in the living room, it would have been just as easy for a guest to slink away for a few minutes. She closed her eyes, trying to picture the scene. Had she seen Neil Kamrath? No. She was sure of it. Had he taken advantage of the confusion to escape as he’d clearly intended to do earlier before Monica cornered him? Or had he gone outside where he had a robe and wig stashed, then gone upstairs?

She drew up her legs and wrapped her arms around them. The thought of Neil dressing up in a robe and wig and carrying around a doll wearing Faith’s locket seemed absurd, but Audra and Denise had been horrified, and horror was Neil’s stock in trade. Didn’t he make his living by dreaming up scary senarios?

But she’d been the one who argued fervently with Crystal and Kurt about the difference between imagination and reality. Just because a writer’s topic was horror didn’t make him crazy.

Laurel wasn’t sure how long she’d sat staring into the flames, her thoughts racing, when Kurt knocked on the door. When he walked in, she saw that his cheeks were pink from the cold and the slacks of his new suit were damp and dirty above his dulled shoes.

“What happened?” Laurel asked.

“When I got to the house, no one was home. Lights on, but no one came to the door. I was getting ready to leave when I heard Mary calling, ‘Papa! Where are you?’ I went toward the voice. I found her half frantic. She said she went in to check on Zeke to see if he was sleeping okay and he was gone. We searched the woods and finally found him sitting against the trunk of a tree, talking.”

“Talking to whom?”

“To Faith and Genevra. I didn’t remember, but Mary said Genevra was her mother.”

“Yes. What was he saying?”

“Something about Genevra not deserving her children, about Faith being taken unfairly, a lot of stuff like that.”

“Kurt, Audra said the
ghost
said her mother didn’t deserve her.”

“I know.”

“Where is Zeke now?”

“At home in bed.”

“At
home
!

“Laurel, I can’t arrest someone for sitting in the woods talking to themselves. There wasn’t any evidence. Of course by the time I found him at least an hour had passed since someone scared Audra. But get this—Mary wouldn’t let me search the house without a warrant. She was adamant.”

Laurel raised an eyebrow. “Sounds like she has something to hide.”

“I thought so, too. She told me to leave so she could call a doctor for Zeke.”

Laurel suddenly became aware of how exhaused Kurt looked. “Sit down. Do you want something to drink?”

“A beer.”

She hurried into the kitchen and retrieved a can and a glass, although she knew he’d probably ignore the glass. When she came back in the living room, he’d slipped off his wet shoes, his head propped against the back of the couch, his legs stretched toward the fire. “Your poor suit,” she murmured.

“Think the dry cleaners could do anything with this mess?”

“I’ll take the slacks to the place I use. They work miracles.”

“Great. I’d hate to see my new suit ruined after one wearing.” He grinned. “My mother never even got to see me in it.”

“We should have taken a Polaroid before we left this evening.” A Polaroid. The picture of Angie’s battered body. There was no putting this off any longer. “Kurt, I said I was going to tell you what’s going on.” He looked at her seriously. “It all began thirteen years ago with the death of Faith Howard.”

Her heart pounded as she told the story, starting with the formation of the Six of Hearts, their growing interest in witchcraft, and finally the night when Faith, drunk and reckless, had stuck her head in a noose and slipped off the stool. The fire. Then their flight from the barn. Finally their silence.

She’d expected a look of disbelief or even horror on Kurt’s face. There was nothing but a tightening of his jaw, a slight twitch under his left eye. “Kurt, what are you thinking?” she asked in a small voice.

“I’m not thinking,” he said stonily. “What does all this have to do with what’s going on now?”

He looked at her as if he didn’t know her, didn’t
want
to know her, and for a moment she felt as if she couldn’t go on. But she had to.

The next part of the tale came out almost without emotion. She told him about the evidence found in Angie’s house—the six and the heart drawn on the mirror in blood, the judgment card beside her body. She told him about the photos she, Monica, and Crystal had received, getting the Polaroid of Angie to show him. “Then there was the ramming of my car, the funeral wreath, the heart painted on my door. Crystal says someone has been in her house and taken her yearbook and a valuable figurine Faith always loved. Finally there was tonight with Audra. Denise, Crystal, and Monica don’t want to tell the police about Faith’s death. They said they’d deny everything if
I
told, but I can’t sit back and let a child be terrorized or risk someone else being killed.”

Her hands were icy and trembling when she finished. Kurt finally switched his dark gaze from her face to the fire. His body was totally motionless. Laurel waited as long as she could, then finally burst out, “Say something!” He remained silent. “Kurt, if you want to tell me I’m a horrible human being, a coward, a liar, if you just want to
yell
at me, do it! But
please
don’t sit here like the Sphinx. Your silence is driving me crazy.”

“Seems to me you understand silence pretty well.”

She’d begged him to talk. His words felt like a slap in the face, but he was right.

“I know we were wrong, Kurt, and I’m not going to excuse us by saying we were young and scared. We were, but we all knew better. What we did was wrong, but we
didn’t
kill Faith. It was an accident.”

“You all got her drunk and talked her into doing something stupid, and it cost the life of her and her baby.”

They hadn’t talked Faith into anything. Everyone except Monica had tried to dissuade her from putting her head in the noose, but Laurel wasn’t going to make excuses. Kurt wasn’t in the mood to listen anyway.

“What are you going to do?” she asked softly.

“There’s nothing I can do for Faith and the baby.”

“I know that, Kurt. I meant about this killer who seems to be trying to avenge her.”

“I don’t know yet. I’ll try to get more information from the New York police department, although I don’t expect them to be too cooperative, especially since Monica was privy to information she shouldn’t have had. But they might be interested in what I have to tell
them
.” He sighed. “I have to go.”

He slipped on his shoes and walked stiffly to the door. Laurel followed. “Kurt, will I hear from you tomorrow?”

“I don’t know,” he said absently. “Good night, Laurel.”

He didn’t touch her, never even met her eyes. She’d taken him for granted for months, but as she watched his back retreating toward his car, her throat tightened. She felt as if she’d lost her best friend.