The Way You Look Tonight (21 page)

The pain grew in Sally's jaw and the hand pressed upward, blocking her nose. She made noisy attempts to get her breath and whimpered again behind the hand. ‘Word that you regained consciousness traveled through the hospital like wildfire, and I've made it my business to have contacts in this town, thank goodness. Otherwise, there could have been a disaster. Oh, I know you've refused to talk to the police so far,' the awful, caressing voice went on. ‘I know they've been here, but you won't speak. But they'll wear you down. At least, they'd wear you down if you were still alive. But unfortunately for you, your luck has run out.'

He forced her head back. She looked up at the face, but couldn't focus on the features. All she really saw was the gleaming switch-blade knife in front of her eyes. ‘Not my usual style, but under the circumstances—'

Sally kicked violently and tried to scream, her voice rasping in her throat. Then the door flew back, light flooded the room, and a nurse exclaimed, ‘What in the world—'

Sally saw a white-jacketed figure hurl itself across the room. The nurse flung out her hands, grabbing at the man's shoulders. His arm shot forward and buried the switch-blade in the nurse's abdomen. With a soft moan, she crumpled. He darted from the room. Sally expected a great commotion in the hall, but there was nothing except the ordinary sounds. Stunned and gasping, Sally stared at the fallen nurse a moment, her mind numb until she saw blood seeping across the floor from beneath the woman's body. Then Sally pressed the buzzer, over and over, until help finally arrived.

Christmas Eve arrived with a flurry of snowflakes that sent the children into whoops of delight. ‘White Christmas, white Christmas!' Kimberly chanted. ‘Daddy said it'd be a white Christmas!'

Deborah had already placed the gifts from her and Steve under the tree, her throat tightening when she saw the tags that read ‘From Mommy and Daddy'. The black and white wool sweater she'd bought for Steve remained unwrapped, hidden away in her own sweater drawer. She had no idea what Steve had gotten for her, if anything. Maybe he had planned on buying something right before Christmas, and then it had been too late.

Determined to make the evening a festive occasion in spite of Steve's absence, she'd invited Pete and Adam as well as Barbara and Evan to join the family. The family, she thought, now seemed to consist of her, the children, and Joe. A week ago that possibility would have seemed ludicrous.

She pushed the thought out of her mind and buttoned the red satin blouse she'd bought two weeks ago along with the white dress she'd worn to the party. Before going downstairs, she checked to make sure her black wool pants were free of lint and dog hairs, and fastened a thin gold chain around her neck. Gazing at herself in the mirror, she saw the faint shadows under her eyes which concealer didn't hide, and cheekbones that stood out more sharply than usual. She'd lost four pounds since Saturday night. Defiantly, she pulled a pair of dangling gold earrings with red rhinestones from her jewelry box and clipped them on, pleased with the flashy gaiety they conveyed. She owed it to the children to forget about Steve for a few hours and make their favorite night of the year a happy one.

When she went downstairs, she took a deep breath and smiled. The house smelled of evergreen, cherry pie, and the gingerbread house she'd labored over all afternoon, painstakingly decorating it with white icing and jelly beans. She lighted several fat candles she'd placed around the living room, then went into the kitchen to assemble a refreshment tray and check if there was enough ice. Had it been less than a week since Steve had complained that they'd run out of ice, she'd gone out to the freezer in the garage to retrieve a bag, and come back in to find Steve, white and shaky-handed, talking curtly on the phone? She closed her eyes. ‘Not tonight,' she whispered. ‘Don't think about that tonight.'

Ten minutes after everyone arrived, Deborah realized with a mixture of dismay and irritation that Evan and Barbara were furious with each other. Barbara was overly merry, almost giddy. Evan's forced smiles came out as grimaces. They never touched, never met each other's eyes. Wonderful, Deborah thought glumly. Apparently the tension she'd sensed when she'd sent Barbara home the other night had only escalated. Everyone in the room except the children noticed. Joe watched expressionlessly, Pete threw them wary looks, and Adam openly gazed at them with a gleeful glint in his eyes, as if he thought this dull gathering might turn out to be interesting after all.

The evening limped along with the adults struggling to make pleasant talk while Barbara kept interrupting with stridently bright comments followed by high-pitched laughter, usually cut short by an acerbic burst from Evan. After the first half-hour, Joe caught Deborah's eye and winked. She had to force herself not to laugh, although she was increasingly annoyed with the bickering lovers.

The children played, blissfully unaware of the stress in the air. They ran the train under the tree, pointed out their red stockings which Deborah had hung on the mantel, and anxiously asked everyone if they thought the fireplace was big enough for Santa's landing. ‘He's
real
fat, you know,' Kim solemnly told Pete, who assured her with equal gravity that Santa was very flexible and could get into anyone's fireplace, or even use the front door.

She and Steve always allowed the children to open one present each on Christmas Eve. Kim selected a long one wrapped in red with a gold bow and squealed happily when she withdrew a beautiful golden-haired bride doll nearly as tall as herself. ‘Her name is Angie Sue Robinson,' she announced promptly. ‘She's marrying a rich man with a lot of mansions and an airplane.' Brian selected a slightly smaller package but seemed equally happy with his ‘Strobe Robot.' ‘My grandmother always got me licorice,' Pete said. ‘I hate licorice.'

Deborah laughed. ‘Where
is
your grandmother this year?'

‘Her closest friend Ida fell and broke a hip. Grandma is convinced Ida will never be able to walk again unless she is there to oversee her medical treatment. I suggested Adam and I spent Christmas with her, but Adam had some plans for Christmas Day. We'll go up next weekend.'

Adam didn't look too happy at the prospect. Deborah knew he loved his grandmother, but at fifteen, weekends had too much potential to be spent sitting around a grandmother's house.

Kim scrambled under the tree until she found a wrapped gift for Scarlett. The children laughed as the dog eagerly tore off the wrapping paper and triumphantly withdrew a giant beef-basted chew bone. ‘
That
should keep her busy for a while,' Adam commented as the dog retreated to the corner and began furious, noisy gnawing.

‘Now you, Mommy,' Brian said.

‘Don't you want me to wait until tomorrow?'

‘Nope. We have presents for tonight
and
tomorrow.'

They brought her two clumsily wrapped presents, each bearing approximately half a roll of Scotch tape. From Brian she received a Coke can decorated with Christmas stickers and bearing holes in the top.

‘A pen holder,' he told her.

‘It's beautiful!' Deborah exclaimed.

‘We had to make stuff 'cause Daddy was gonna take us to buy your gifts,' Brian went on sadly.

‘I like this much better than a gift from the store,' Deborah assured him.

Kim had wrapped red felt around a piece of foam rubber and fastened it with paste. ‘Pin cushion,' she said simply.

Deborah enthused over the gifts as did everyone else. The children seemed happier than they had for days, and later, when Deborah put them to bed, Brian even allowed her to kiss him.

Before everyone else left, Deborah handed out gifts amid pleased protestations. ‘Don't worry, the gifts are by no means extravagant. Just little remembrances. Besides, you all seem to think I didn't see you slipping gifts under
my
tree.'

‘We all brought fruit cake,' Evan said, his first pleasant remark of the evening.

‘That's great,' Deborah laughed. ‘Unlike a lot of people, I
love
fruit cake.'

Pete and Adam were the first to leave, Pete reminding her again to call if she needed anything. A few minutes later, Barbara asked half-heartedly if Deborah wanted her to stay. ‘It isn't necessary,' Deborah said, longing for a moment alone with Barbara to ask what was wrong between her and Evan. ‘Joe's doing a great job of looking after us.'

Barbara looked relieved, and Deborah knew she was deeply troubled. Otherwise, she would never have left her alone another night. They didn't have the intensely close friendship a lot of women had with each other, but they had great loyalty.

Five minutes later Evan and Barbara were back. ‘Car won't start,' Evan said tightly. ‘We'll have to call a cab.'

After three phone calls, however, he announced they couldn't get a cab for at least an hour. ‘I'll take you home,' Joe said. ‘That is if Deborah doesn't mind being alone for half an hour.'

Deborah took one look at Barbara and Evan's stiff, angry faces and knew that within an hour it would be all-out war. ‘I'll survive. It's not even very late.'

Silently the three of them trooped out to Joe's car. Deborah locked the door behind them and set to work cleaning up the paper, ribbons, and wads of tape left on the floor, then washing the dishes left by her guests. Finally she fixed a snifter of brandy and sat down in front of the fire, wondering if things would ever get back to normal in this house. Even her attempt at a pleasant Christmas Eve had failed because of Barbara and Evan. Normally she would have been concerned, but tonight she was only annoyed that they'd dragged their troubles into her home. As if she didn't have enough to worry about…

The phone beside her armchair rang. Steve's mother home from Hawaii? she wondered. Or worse, maybe the police with bad news. She picked up the receiver. ‘Hello?'

There was a long sigh, then the familiar husky, disguised voice said, ‘Merry Christmas, Deborah.'

Her hands turned icy, but this time she didn't slam down the receiver. ‘Who is this?' she quavered.

‘You know who it is. Did you have fun tonight? You certainly had enough men around you.'

‘Men?'

‘Well, I wouldn't call one of them a man. But you know those raging teenage hormones. He'd probably be happy to bed you.'

Although she was alone, Deborah's cheeks turned crimson. The hand holding the receiver involuntarily jerked toward the cradle, but she forced herself to stop the motion. She swallowed. ‘You must mean Adam.'

‘I must.' He paused. ‘I have to go now. Enjoy your Christmas.'

He hung up and Deborah sat motionless, holding the receiver and barely breathing. Finally she, too, hung up. Rigid with fear, she stared at the Regulator clock ticking calmly above the couch until Joe finally returned.

‘Where the
hell
have you been for the past hour?' she demanded.

Joe's eyes widened. ‘Barbara and Golden Boy aren't cohabiting tonight. I had to take them to their respective apartments. God, they're mad at each other.' He looked at her closely. ‘What happened?'

‘I got another call. He wished me a merry Christmas.'

‘Is that all he said?'

‘No. He also said I should have enjoyed the evening because I had so many men around me, and that even the teenager would probably be happy to
bed
me.'

‘Holy shit.' Joe dropped his jacket on to the couch and sat down, leaning forward with his hands hanging down between his knees. ‘It probably came from a pay-phone, but not the same one that was used last night. That one is being watched.'

‘But the police can't watch every phone in the city. That means I could keep getting these calls.'

‘Did you recognize his voice?'

‘No, but it was so distorted. All I could tell was that it belonged to a man.'

‘What about speech patterns?'

‘I've never heard Steve talk about “bedding” someone, but then I've never known anyone but a character in books or movies use the expression, either. Nothing else stood out.'

Joe watched her quietly for a moment. Then he said, ‘I'm getting you another brandy and myself a whiskey and water. Be right back.'

While he was out in the kitchen, Deborah went to the hall closet and took out a heavy sweater. Her hands were trembling and she felt as if a block of ice had lodged in her stomach.

Joe returned quickly with the drinks. She took a sip of brandy and leaned her head against the back of the chair. ‘Dear God, is this ever going to end?'

‘It's only been a few days, although it seems like a lifetime.'

‘He was watching us again, probably from the O'Donnell house.'

‘Maybe, but he didn't call from there. That would be too easy to trace. Besides, the police are keeping a closer eye on that place since you saw someone in the window. I don't think someone could come and go as easily as they used to.'

‘What about the man who rented it? Who
is
he?
Where
is he?'

‘The police don't know yet. Or if they do, they're not saying anything.' The doorbell rang. ‘Oh great,' Joe snarled. ‘
Now
what?'

‘Joe, who would be stopping by now? It's ten o'clock.'

Joe looked at her. ‘Wait a minute.' He left the room, then came back holding his gun. ‘You stay behind me. I'll answer the door.'

Deborah's palms suddenly grew wet. How absurd it seemed to have an armed man answering her door. Still, she couldn't have answered it herself, not after that phone call.

She hovered in the hall while Joe yelled, ‘Who's there?' through the closed, windowless door.

‘Delivery,' a young male voice yelled back.

‘Who sent you?'

‘Dale Sampson of Dale Sampson Deliveries,' a young male voice answered. ‘I'm Dale.'

‘I've heard of him,' Joe whispered to Deborah.

‘What are you delivering?' he called through the door.

‘I don't know, man. It's something in Christmas paper. Weighs three or four pounds. And it's
cold
out here.'

‘Leave it on the porch,' Joe ordered.

‘Hey, I'd love to, but I got a policy. Somebody's gotta sign for it.'

‘Who is the package addressed to?'

‘Oh, jeez,' Dale Sampson said in disgust. ‘Wait a minute. There's a tag. I can barely see it. Ever think about putting a stronger bulb in this porch light? Deborah Robinson. That's what the tag says.'

Joe looked at Deborah. ‘Want to take a chance?'

‘He sounds far too young to be Artie Lieber.'

Joe nodded and unlocked the door, holding the gun behind him. A thin young man of about nineteen stood shivering on the front porch. He thrust a medium-sized package at Joe. ‘If this is a bomb or something, I wish you'd hurry up and take it.'

‘I don't hear any ticking,' Joe said calmly. ‘Sorry to give you such a rough time, but this is an unusual hour to be delivering Christmas presents.'

‘You're tellin' me. But that's why I got the job. The big companies in town don't deliver to private homes at this hour. Not cost effective, they say.' He grinned. ‘That's why young entrepreneurs like me get the extra work.'

Joe set the package down on the hall table and took the clipboard Dale held out to him. ‘Who asked for this special delivery?'