When he finally reached Eve, Keith’s hands were slippery with sweat. She answered the phone on the first ring. “Rory?” Her voice was low and sultry.
“No. This is Keith Webster.”
“Oh. Hello.”
He heard the change in her voice. “How’ve you been?” he asked.
“Fine.”
He could sense her impatience. “I—I’d like to see you.”
“I’m not seeing anyone. If you read the papers, you’ll know my brother-in-law was murdered. I’m in mourning.”
He wiped his hands on his trousers. “That’s what I want to see you about, Eve. I have some information you should know about.”
“What kind of information?”
“I would prefer not to discuss it on the telephone.” He could almost hear Eve’s mind working.
“Very well. When?”
“Now, if it’s convenient.”
When he arrived at Eve’s apartment thirty minutes later, Eve opened the door for him. “I’m very busy. What did you want to see me about?”
“About this,” Keith Webster said apologetically. He opened a manila envelope he was clutching, took out a photograph and diffidently handed it to Eve. It was a photograph of herself.
She looked at it, puzzled. “Well?”
“It’s a picture of you.”
“I can see that,” she said curtly. “What about it?”
“It was taken after your operation.”
“So?”
“There’s no scar on your forehead, Eve.”
He watched the change that came over her face.
“Sit down, Keith.”
He sat opposite her, on the edge of the couch, and he could not keep from staring at her. He had seen many beautiful women in his practice, but Eve Blackwell totally bewitched him. He had never known anyone like her.
“I think you’d better tell me what this is all about.”
He started at the beginning. He told her about his visit to Dr. Harley and about the mysterious scar, and as Keith Webster talked, he watched Eve’s eyes. They were expressionless.
When Keith Webster finished, Eve said, “I don’t know what
you’re thinking, but whatever it is, you’re wasting my time. As for the scar, I was playing a little joke on my sister. It’s as simple as that. Now, if you’ve quite finished, I have a great deal to do.”
He remained seated. “I’m sorry to have bothered you. I just thought I should talk to you before I went to the police.” He could see that he really had her attention now.
“Why on earth would you go to the police?”
“I’m obliged to report the attack George Mellis made on you. Then there’s that business about you and the scar. I don’t understand it, but I’m sure you can explain it to them.”
Eve felt the first stab of fear. This stupid, dreary little man in front of her had no idea what had really happened, but he knew enough to start the police asking questions.
George Mellis had been a frequent visitor to the apartment. The police could probably find witnesses who had seen him. She had lied about being in Washington the night of George’s murder. She had no real alibi. She had never thought she would need one. If the police learned that George had almost killed her, it would give them a motive. The whole scheme would begin to unravel. She had to silence this man.
“What is it you want? Money?”
“No!”
She saw the indignation on his face. “What, then?”
Dr. Webster looked down at the rug, his face red with embarrassment. “I—I like you so much, Eve. I would hate it if anything bad happened to you.”
She forced a smile. “Nothing bad is going to happen to me, Keith. I haven’t done anything wrong. Believe me, none of this has anything to do with George Mellis’s murder.” She reached out and took his hand. “I would really appreciate it very much if you would forget about this. All right?”
He covered her hand and squeezed it. “I’d like to, Eve. I really would. But they’re holding the coroner’s inquest Saturday. I’m a doctor. I’m afraid it’s my duty to testify at that inquest and tell them everything I know.”
He saw the alarm that appeared in her eyes.
“You don’t have to do that!”
He stroked her hand. “Yes, I do, Eve. It’s my sworn obligation. There’s only one thing that could prevent me from doing it.” He watched her leap to the bait of his words.
“What is that?”
His voice was very gentle. “A husband can’t be forced to testify against his wife.”
The wedding took place two days before the coroner’s inquest. They were married by a judge in his private chambers. The mere idea of being married to Keith Webster made Eve’s skin crawl, but she had no choice.
The fool thinks I’m going to stay married to him.
As soon as the inquest was over, she would get an annulment and that would be the end of it.
Detective Lieutenant Nick Pappas had a problem. He was sure he knew who the murderer of George Mellis was, but he could not prove it. He was confronted by a conspiracy of silence around the Blackwell family that he could not break through. He discussed the problem with his superior, Captain Harold Cohn, a street-wise cop who had worked his way up from the ranks.
Cohn quietly listened to Pappas and said, “It’s all smoke, Nick. You haven’t got a fucking bit of evidence. They’d laugh us out of court.”
“I know,” Lieutenant Pappas sighed. “But I’m right.” He sat there a moment, thinking. “Would you mind if I talked to Kate Blackwell?”
“Jesus! What for?”
“It’ll be a little fishing expedition. She runs that family. She might have some information she doesn’t even know she has.”
“You’ll have to watch your step.”
“I will.”
“And go easy with her, Nick. Remember, she’s an old lady.”
“That’s what I’m counting on,” Detective Pappas said.
The meeting took place that afternoon in Kate Blackwell’s office. Nick Pappas guessed that Kate was somewhere in her eighties, but she carried her age remarkably well. She showed little of the strain the detective knew she must be feeling. She was a very private person, and she had been forced to watch the Blackwell name become a source of public speculation and scandal.
“My secretary said you wished to see me about a matter of some urgency, Lieutenant.”
“Yes, ma’am. There’s a coroner’s inquest tomorrow on the death of George Mellis. I have reason to think your granddaughter is involved in his murder.”
Kate went absolutely rigid. “I don’t believe it.”
“Please hear me out, Mrs. Blackwell. Every police investigation begins with the question of motive. George Mellis was a fortune hunter and a vicious sadist.” He saw the reaction on her face, but he pressed on. “He married your granddaughter and suddenly found himself with his hands on a large fortune. I figured he beat up Alexandra once too often and when she asked for a divorce, he refused. Her only way to get rid of him was to kill him.”
Kate was staring at him, her face pale.
“I began looking around for evidence to back up my theory. We knew George Mellis was at Cedar Hill House before he disappeared. There are only two ways to get to Dark Harbor from the mainland—plane or ferryboat. According to the local sheriffs office, George Mellis didn’t use either. I don’t believe in miracles, and I figured Mellis wasn’t the kind of man who could walk on water. The only possibility left was that he took a boat from somewhere else along the coast. I started checking out
boat-rental places, and I struck pay dirt at Gilkey Harbor. At four
P.M.
on the afternoon of the day George Mellis was murdered, a woman rented a motor launch there and said a friend would be picking it up later. She paid cash, but she had to sign the rental slip. She used the name Solange Dunas. Does that ring a bell?”
“Yes. She—she was the governess who took care of the twins when they were children. She returned to France years ago.”
Pappas nodded, a look of satisfaction on his face. “A little farther up the coast, the same woman rented a second boat. She took it out and returned it three hours later. She signed her name Solange Dunas again. I showed both attendants a photograph of Alexandra. They were pretty sure it was her, but they couldn’t be positive, because the woman who rented the boats was a brunet.”
“Then what makes you think—?”
“She wore a wig.”
Kate said stiffly, “I don’t believe Alexandra killed her husband.”
“I don’t either, Mrs. Blackwell,” Lieutenant Pappas told her. “It was her sister, Eve.”
Kate Blackwell was as still as stone.
“Alexandra couldn’t have done it. I checked on her movements the day of the murder. She spent the early part of the day in New York with a friend, then she flew directly from New York up to the island. There’s no way she could have rented those two motorboats.” He leaned forward. “So I was left with Alexandra’s look-alike, who signed the name Solange Dunas. It had to be Eve. I started looking around for her motive. I showed a photograph of George Mellis to the tenants of the apartment house Eve lives in, and it turned out that Mellis was a frequent visitor there. The superintendent of the building told me that one night when Mellis was there, Eve was almost beaten to death. Did you know that?”
“No.” Kate’s voice was a whisper.
“Mellis did it. It fits his pattern. And that was Eve’s motive—vengeance. She lured him out to Dark Harbor and murdered
him.” He looked at Kate, and felt a pang of guilt at taking advantage of this old woman. “Eve’s alibi is that she was in Washington, D.C., that day. She gave the cab driver who took her to the airport a hundred-dollar bill so he would be sure to remember her, and she made a big fuss about missing the Washington shuttle. But I don’t think she went to Washington. I believe she put on a dark wig and took a commercial plane to Maine, where she rented those boats. She killed Mellis, dumped his body overboard, then docked the yacht and towed the extra motorboat back to the rental dock, which was closed by then.”
Kate looked at him a long moment. Then she said, slowly, “All the evidence you have is circumstantial, isn’t it?”
“Yes.” He was ready to move in for the kill. “I need concrete evidence for the coroner’s inquest. You know your granddaughter better than anyone in the world, Mrs. Blackwell. I want you to tell me anything you can that might be helpful.”
She sat there quietly, making up her mind. Finally she said, “I think I can give you some information for the inquest.”
And Nick Pappas’s heart began to beat faster. He had taken a long shot, and it had paid off. The old lady had come through. He unconsciously leaned forward. “Yes, Mrs. Blackwell?”
Kate spoke slowly and distinctly. “On the day George Mellis was murdered, Lieutenant, my granddaughter Eve and I were in Washington, D.C., together.”
She saw the surprised expression on his face.
You fool
, Kate Blackwell thought.
Did you really think I would offer up a Black-well as a sacrifice to you? That I would let the press have a Roman holiday with the Blackwell name? No. I will punish Eve in my own way.
The verdict from the coroner’s jury was death at the hands of an unknown assailant or assailants.
To Alexandra’s surprise and gratitude, Peter Templeton was at the inquest at the county courthouse.
“Just here to lend moral support,” he told her. Peter thought Alexandra was holding up remarkably well, but the strain showed in her face and in her eyes. During a recess, he took her
to lunch at the Lobster Pound, a little restaurant facing the bay in Lincolnville.
“When this is over,” Peter said, “I think it would be good for you to take a trip, get away for a while.”
“Yes. Eve has asked me to go away with her.” Alexandra’s eyes were filled with pain. “I still can’t believe George is dead. I know it has happened, but it—it still seems unreal.”
“It’s nature’s way of cushioning the shock until the pain becomes bearable.”
“It’s so senseless. He was such a fine man.” She looked up at Peter. “You spent time with him. He talked to you. Wasn’t he a wonderful person?”
“Yes,” Peter said slowly. “Yes, he was.”
Eve said, “I want an annulment, Keith.”
Keith Webster blinked at his wife in surprise. “Why on earth would you want an annulment?”
“Oh, come on, Keith. You didn’t really think I was going to stay married to you, did you?”
“Of course. You’re my wife, Eve.”
“What are you after? The Blackwell money?”
“I don’t need money, darling. I make an excellent living. I can give you anything you want.”
“I told you what I want. An annulment.”
He shook his head regretfully. “I’m afraid I can’t give you that.”
“Then I’m going to file for divorce.”
“I don’t think that would be advisable. You see, nothing has really changed, Eve. The police haven’t found out who killed your brother-in-law, so the case is still open. There’s no statute of limitations on murder. If you divorced me, I’d be forced to…” He raised his hands helplessly.
“You’re talking as though
I
killed him.”
“You did, Eve.”
Her voice was scornful. “How the hell do
you
know?”
“It’s the only reason you would have married me.”
She looked at him, filled with loathing. “You bastard! How can you do this to me?”
“It’s very simple. I love you.”
“I hate you. Do you understand that? I despise you!”
He smiled sadly. “I love you so much.”
The trip with Alexandra was called off. “I’m going to Barbados on my honeymoon,” Eve told her.
Barbados was Keith’s idea.
“I won’t go,” Eve told him flatly. The idea of a honeymoon with him was disgusting.
“It will look strange if we don’t have a honeymoon,” he said shyly. “And we don’t want people asking a lot of awkward questions, do we, dear?”
Alexandra began to see Peter Templeton for lunch once a week. In the beginning, it was because she wanted to talk about George, and there was no one else she could discuss him with. But after several months, Alexandra admitted to herself that she enjoyed Peter Templeton’s company immensely. There was a dependability about him that she desperately needed. He was sensitive to her moods, and he was intelligent and entertaining.
“When I was an intern,” he told Alexandra, “I went out on my first house call in the dead of winter. The patient was a frail old man in bed with a terrible cough. I was going to examine his chest with my stethoscope, but I didn’t want to shock him, so I decided to warm it first. I put it on the radiator while I examined his throat and his eyes. Then I got my stethoscope and put it to his chest. The old man leaped out of bed like a scalded cat. His cough went away, but it took two weeks for the burn to heal.”
Alexandra laughed. It was the first time she had laughed in a long time.
“Can we do this again next week?” Peter asked.
“Yes, please.”
Eve’s honeymoon turned out much better than she had anticipated. Because of Keith’s pale, sensitive skin, he was afraid to go
out in the sun, so Eve went down to the beach alone every day. She was never alone for long. She was surrounded by amorous lifeguards, beach bums, tycoons and playboys. It was like feasting at a wonderful smorgasbord, and Eve chose a different dish each day. She enjoyed her sexual escapades twice as much because she knew her husband was upstairs in their suite waiting for her. He could not do enough for her. He fetched and carried for her like a little lapdog, and waited on her hand and foot. If Eve expressed a wish, it was instantly gratified. She did everything she could think of to insult him, anger him, to turn him against her so that he would let her go, but his love was unshakable. The idea of letting Keith make love to her sickened Eve, and she was grateful that he had a weak libido.
The years are beginning to catch up with me
, Kate Blackwell thought. There were so many of them, and they had been so full and rich.
Kruger-Brent, Ltd., needed a strong hand at the helm. It needed someone with Blackwell blood.
There’s no one to carry on after I’m gone
, Kate thought.
All the working and planning and fighting for the company. And for what? For strangers to take over one day. Bloody hell! I can’t let that happen.
A week after they returned from their honeymoon, Keith said apologetically, “I’m afraid I’m going to have to go back to work, dear. I have a lot of operations scheduled. Will you be all right during the day without me?”
Eve barely managed to keep a straight face. “I’ll try.”
Keith was up and out early every morning long before Eve awakened, and when she went into the kitchen she found he had made coffee and laid out all the breakfast things for her. He opened a generous bank account in Eve’s name and kept it replenished. She spent his money recklessly. As long as she was enjoying herself, Keith was happy. Eve bought expensive jewelry for Rory, with whom she spent almost every afternoon. He worked very little.
“I can’t take just any part,” he complained to Eve. “It would hurt my image.”
“I understand, darling.”
“Do you? What the fuck do you know about show business? You were born with a silver spoon up your ass.”
And Eve would buy him an extra-nice present to placate him. She paid Rory’s rent and bought him clothes for interviews, and paid for his dinners at expensive restaurants so that he could be seen by important producers. She wanted to be with him twenty-four hours a day, but there was her husband. Eve would arrive home at seven or eight o’clock at night, and Keith would be in the kitchen preparing dinner for her in his “Kiss the Cook” apron. He never questioned her about where she had been.
During the following year, Alexandra and Peter Templeton saw each other more and more often. Each had become an important part of the other’s life. Peter accompanied Alexandra when she went to visit her father at the asylum, and somehow the sharing made the pain easier to bear.
Peter met Kate one evening when he arrived to pick up Alexandra. “So you’re a doctor, eh? I’ve buried a dozen doctors, and I’m still around. Do you know anything about business?”
“Not a great deal, Mrs. Blackwell.”
“Are you a corporation?” Kate asked.
“No.”
She snorted. “Bloody hell. You don’t know anything. You need a good tax man. I’ll set up an appointment for you with mine. The first thing he’ll do is incorporate you and—”
“Thank you, Mrs. Blackwell. I’m getting along just fine.”
“My husband was a stubborn man, too,” Kate said. She turned to Alexandra. “Invite him to dinner. Maybe I can talk some sense into him.”
Outside, Peter said, “Your grandmother hates me.”