"She may have. The book wasn't at the shop." Tony retrieved the paper from Mark, who was holding it by the tips of his fingers, his lips curled in disgust. "This is proof of malice-"
"Malice?" Mark's hair stood up in agitated tufts. "This is sick."
Tony looked uncomfortable. "I didn't realize how it would affect you. Guess I've become hardened; some of the things I see make this look like a harmless joke. Sorry, Karen."
"It isn't only the photograph," Karen said. "It's the total accumulation. I feel as if I've been walking blindly along, doing my thing and trying not to get in people's way-assuming I was on solid ground-and all of a sudden I look down and see there is nothing under my feet except a narrow plank over an abyss. And someone is sawing the plank. I've never deliberately hurt anyone…"
The movement Mark made was so slight no one except Karen noticed it; it affected her like a bolt of lightning that cast a sudden garish illumination into dark corners of her mind. She had never thought of her actions as hurting Mark himself, only his pride-his ego. There had been no commitment broken…At least that was what she had believed.
"Sure, I know that," Tony said. "You're a natural victim, that's all."
It was Cheryl, not Karen, who exclaimed in indignant repudiation. Karen was struck speechless by this second burst of enlightenment. She felt as if someone were not only sawing the plank on which she walked, but knocking down all the protective walls she had built up. Was she really a natural victim, the helpless object of random violence, the scapegoat for resentment and hatred she had done nothing to deserve? The idea was humiliating and repellent.
Tony had tried to redeem his error by explaining.
"Most women are passive victim types…" This had only enraged Cheryl more, and they got into a heated argument which Tony ended by snapping, "Nobody would ever accuse you of being passive."
"Leave him alone, Cheryl," Karen ordered.
Cheryl looked at her in surprise, and subsided. Tony let out a martyred sigh. "Thanks, lady. As I was about to say-with the obviously mistaken intention of relieving everybody's mind-the robbery was an inside job. Your friend Rob tried to make it look like a break-in, but it was a clumsy effort that wouldn't fool a baby. Now he's disappeared. One of the other tenants in his building saw him go out last night about midnight. He was carrying a couple of suitcases."
Frowning and unconvinced, Mark continued to tug at his hair. Tony added, "He has a record. Petty larceny, procuring, immoral acts-"
"What kind of immoral acts?" Cheryl asked, her eyes bright with curiosity.
"Uh-you know. The usual."
"Porno films and dirty photographs," Mark said, his tight lips relaxing into a half-smile. "She's of age, Tony, you don't have to be so prim and proper. How about drugs?"
"He used 'em. But we never picked him up for dealing."
"Burglary? Breaking and entering?"
"No."
"Assault? Armed robbery?"
"No. Now look, Mark, I know what you're getting at and I'm here to tell you it doesn't mean a damned thing."
"It's the wrong profile," Mark insisted. "You used the word passive-that's the word for little Robbie and his little misdemeanors. He wouldn't have the guts to break in here or attack Karen."
"You don't know what he would do. That's the trouble with you armchair detectives, you think real life is like the cases you read about, all neat and tidy and tied up with a ribbon."
They glowered at one another. Tony's brows were drawn down until they almost met in the middle of his forehead; Mark's face showed the familiar dark mantling of anger. This wasn't one of their usual friendly arguments; Karen could almost feel the tension between them.
Mark turned his head slightly. His eyes met Karen's for a brief, electric moment before he looked away and made a visible effort to control his temper.
"I'm not trying to tell you your job, Tony, but there are some big gaping holes in your theory. If Rob decided to take off after robbing the shop, why didn't he do a thorough job of robbing it? According to Karen, none of the major items were taken, only odds and ends. He knew how to turn off the alarm; he could have pulled a truck up to the back door and loaded it. Why leave the most valuable pieces?"
"You said it yourself," Karen replied, before Tony could speak. "He's a coward. He was afraid he'd be seen."
"Whose side are you on?" Mark demanded.
"Tony's," Karen said.
"I knew this woman had brains," Tony said, relaxing. "You have a point, Mark, but again you're assuming this guy was behaving rationally. After we've talked with the owner-"
"You're about to have that pleasure," Karen said, as the doorbell set up an angry, persistent clamor. "That sounds like Julie. I thought she'd come here looking for me. Somebody hold on to the dog."
She never knew whether the request was deliberately ignored, or whether Alexander's escape was accidental. He arrived on the scene just in time to turn Julie's angry greeting into a scream of pain. It was Mark who removed the culprit and sent him flying with a whack on his hairless rump.
Mark's appearance halted Julie's outcries. Smiling and brave, she allowed herself to be escorted to the kitchen, and accepted a beer.
"You can't blame me for being upset," she said plaintively. "Karen understands; she knows how I am.
Darling-" She fumbled for Karen's hand and clasped it tightly. "Darling Karen, I'm so relieved you weren't hurt. That was my first thought: Thank God Karen wasn't there, she might have been hurt."
Karen freed her hand. "It's not likely that I would be at work in the middle of the night."
"Oh," Julie murmured. "Was that when it happened?"
"So we assume," Tony answered. "Do you mind answering a few questions, Ms. Kerchak? It's not official procedure, but since we're both here…"
"Do call me Julie." She smiled at him, lips tremulous, lashes quivering. "And please ask any questions you like."
At first Julie refused to believe Rob was the thief. She defended him so vehemently that Karen wondered again whether their relationship was more intimate than she had believed.
Yet Julie's arguments were not those of an infatuated lover. "He might sneak things into his pockets-he's done it before-but he wouldn't risk his job. He's got a soft deal with me and he knows it, lots of perks on the side…"
"Like meeting wealthy women customers," said Mark.
Julie's lids veiled her eyes. "That's not my business. I tell you, Rob will turn up in a few days. He's gone off with one of his women, that's all."
"The locks weren't forced," Tony said. "Who else had keys?"
"Why, no one. Except Karen, of course…" Her indecisive tone and the quick, sidelong look she gave Karen virtually amounted to an accusation.
No one spoke. Cheryl was crimson with anger, but Tony's hand on her shoulder kept her quiet. After a moment Julie threw up her hands. "I'm so upset I don't know what I'm saying. I won't sleep a wink tonight, I just know I won't. I'm afraid to go home. What if someone is there, waiting-"
"I'll take you home if you like," Tony said.
"Oh, would you? That is so sweet of you. I'd appreciate it more than I can say. Good night, all. Karen, I'll see you tomorrow."
Karen cleared her throat. Even after Julie's latest outrage she felt some qualms about what she was planning to do, but Tony's casual comments still rankled. A helpless victim type, was she? Not if she could help it.
"You won't see me tomorrow. I quit, remember?"
"Quit? Oh, but Karen-"
"I quit three times."
"I thought you were joking. You didn't take those things I said seriously, did you? Karen, you know how I am!"
"You also fired me. Right after I quit the first time."
"Oh, Karen." Julie clung to her hands. "You can't leave me in the lurch. You can't abandon me when I need you."
"I'll try to help you out now and then, until you find someone else. But I can't come in tomorrow. I'm busy."
Julie looked as if she were choking on the words she had to hold back. It was Tony's presence that restrained her; taking the arm he had not offered, she drooped and clung her way out of the house.
Cheryl immediately opened the back door. "Place needs airing out. What a bitchy broad! I was afraid for a minute you were going to let her talk you into going back to work."
"I'm not quite as big a sucker as everyone seems to think," Karen said shortly.
"Hey, I didn't-"
"I know. I wasn't referring to you." But even Cheryl had a protective big-sister attitude at times. That could be charming-if one wasn't overly sensitive about one's passivity. Mark did not protest. Instead he said mildly, "She's the kind of friend immortalized in the classic saying about not needing enemies. Has she really been out of town the past week?"
"I have no reason to suppose she was lying," Karen said.
"Right. Well, Tony will find out."
"Is that why he was so gallant about offering to take her home?" Cheryl asked.
"It wasn't because he's wild about her company. She's not his type." Mark spoke abstractedly, as if his mind were on something else.
"Well, if it was her, she'll be too tired to try anything tonight," Cheryl said. "And if it was Rob, he's long gone. Looks as if we can get a good night's sleep, Karen."
"Is that a hint?" Mark asked, without moving.
"No, just an announcement. You two can sit here all night if you want. I'm going to bed."
Mark got to his feet. "What's on the schedule tomorrow?"
"Virginia," Cheryl said with a grin. "Not all of it, just as much of it as we can cover. Why, were you about to make us an offer?"
"Just curious. Drive carefully, hmmm?" He gave her a quick kiss on the cheek and nodded casually at Karen. "Good night."
Karen stayed in the kitchen when Cheryl went to the door with Mark. He had made it clear he wasn't interested in her company. Why was he so determined to deny Tony's theory? Tony was the professional; and Tony felt sure the trouble was over. Rob and/or Julie were certainly the most likely suspects. It was almost as if Mark wanted her to be afraid.
OCCOQUAN,
the town in Prince William County Cheryl had mentioned, was charming-small in size, fronting directly on the river, with a disproportionate number of craft and antique shops. According to Cheryl, its other advantages included restaurants with liquor licenses and lots of salads on the menu.
"That's important," she insisted, when Karen laughed at her. "I went antiquing a couple of times with some of those high-class Washington women-friends of Mark's, being nice to his poor relation-and I'm telling you, they consider the day a dead loss if they can't get their booze at lunchtime."
However, the only available building had no living quarters attached and the structure was in poor repair. They left their names with the realtor and inspected a few other properties in nearby towns before heading northward, following a route Cheryl had mapped out.
Shortly before noon they were in Leesburg, which Karen remembered as a quiet country town with a number of fine eighteenth-century houses. It also had several antique shops and restaurants that met Cheryl's specifications. However, Cheryl was pessimistic about their chance of finding anything in their price range.
"Loudon County is getting fashionable, which means expensive. There's a new shopping mall in Leesburg, one of those restoration projects like Harborplace and Faquier Square; that will drive prices up too."
They found one house that tempted both of them. Though the original structure was much older, turn-of-the-century additions had turned it into a late-Victorian gem with a wide veranda supported by white pillars and a profusion of gingerbread trim. The third floor had been converted into a separate suite with its own kitchen and bath, and there were two other bedrooms in an annex that overlooked a sunny, tree-shaded yard. The moment Karen saw the twin drawing rooms, one on either side of a wide, handsome hall, she knew they were the perfect ambiance for her gowns and linens. They were so like the mental image she had formed that she had an eerie sense of deja vu.
The owner didn't think he wanted to rent. He had not quite made up his mind, but he was in a hurry to sell and would give them a price they couldn't refuse.
"We should have known it was just a come-on," Cheryl said disgustedly, as they drove away from the realtor's office. "These people will do anything and say anything to get you into a house. They think you'll fall in love with it and forget it doesn't meet any of your specifications."
"It almost worked, didn't it?" Karen, in the passenger's seat, twisted around for a last look as they passed the house. Wicker furniture and ferns on the front porch, she thought; in fine weather we could have dressed-up dummies sitting in the chairs, like ladies having tea.
Dressed-up dummies reminded her of her plundered wardrobe and the case Tony had mentioned. It was not a pleasant thought. At least they had passed a quiet night, with not so much as a growl from Alexander to alarm them. It must have been Rob, she thought. I wonder where he is now.
Cheryl glanced wistfully around as they drove through the quiet streets toward the highway. "It's a pretty town. I bet the schools are good, too."
"Maybe we could afford to buy."
"No, we couldn't." Cheryl gave her an affectionate smile. "I was just dreaming out loud. Doesn't cost anything to dream. What do you say we head south on Route 15? Then we can take 50 back to the Beltway."
Karen glanced at the map. "I hope you aren't dreaming about finding a place in Middleburg. Even in my day it was a haven for the horsy rich."
"It's even more so now. But it can't do any harm to look. Maybe one of the nearby towns will have something."
Almost the first thing they saw in Middleburg was a little shop specializing in vintage clothing. The owner was not overly gracious; either she spotted them as prospective competitors or she was unimpressed by their rumpled appearance.
"You shouldn't have asked her about her overhead," Karen said, as they walked along the street toward a realtor's office. "That was a dead giveaway."