The Way You Look Tonight (24 page)

‘Speaking of unhappy couples, I wonder how Barbara and Evan are doing?' Deborah mused as she scrubbed the roasting pan with a steel-wool pad.

‘She'll be calling later to give you a full report.'

‘Not on a tapped phone. Maybe she'll come by.' Deborah stopped scrubbing and looked at Joe. ‘I've been so concerned about taking Barbara away from Evan, I haven't even considered your love-life. I hope my problems aren't causing trouble for you.'

Joe grinned. ‘Are you asking if I have a jealous girlfriend? No. There are a couple of women I see occasionally, but that's it. I haven't been serious about anyone since Lisa back in Houston.'

‘I'm sorry, Joe.'

‘It was years ago. I'm over it.'

‘Are you happy?' she asked impulsively.

Joe considered the question. ‘I'm not happy and I'm not unhappy.'

‘Sounds boring.'

‘Sometimes. Any more dishes, Mrs Robinson?'

‘Not for about an hour. The children will be ready for a snack then.'

Joe laid down the dishtowel and looked at her. ‘Do you know how proud Steve was of you and the children?'

Deborah stared. ‘Proud. Of
me
? I don't think so.'

‘He was. He didn't talk about you very much, but when he did, he got a certain look in his eyes.'

‘And now you think he might be trying to kill me.'

‘I guess that is a hard one to swallow. And I only said the Strangler
might
be Steve. But Deborah, whoever the Strangler is, he's very complicated.'

‘So is Steve,' Deborah said. ‘He's smart. Dedicated.' She paused. ‘And troubled.'

Joe nodded. ‘I know. That's the part that worries me. I always thought the trouble was caused by what happened to Emily. Now I'm not so sure. I can't forget Pete saying some people thought
Steve
attacked Emily. Would they think that just because Lieber said so? Or had people noticed something unusual about his relationship with his sister?'

‘I guess that's something we'll never know.' Deborah looked out the kitchen window at the patches of white that remained from last night's brief snowfall. ‘We
can
know if we go to Wheeling and talk to some people.'

‘You want to go to Wheeling?'

‘Yes, I think I do.'

‘Deborah, the Emily business happened a
long
time ago.'

‘But people remember that kind of thing. There has to be someone with more answers than Pete has.'

‘And what if you find out more about Emily's assault? What does that have to do with now?'

‘You know the FBI thinks Steve might have attacked Emily. They believe the pattern was set then. I think that has a great deal to do with what's happening now.'

‘Maybe you're right,' Joe said. ‘But maybe you'd just be opening up a whole can of worms and regret it later.'

‘At this point I'd rather know something awful for certain than know nothing and tear myself apart with doubts and questions. I want to go to Wheeling,' Deborah said determinedly. ‘I want to go tomorrow.'

Five

As Deborah predicted, Barbara did want to talk with her, but not over the phone. She arrived at seven o'clock looking haggard and thin, her eyes red-rimmed from crying. Joe tactfully disappeared to the basement to play with the children while Barbara accepted a drink and sat on the edge of the couch, too nervous to relax against the back cushions. ‘I'm the worst friend in the world,' she began dramatically. ‘With all you're going through, I haven't been here for you. And now I'm here to talk about my own problems.'

‘You were here when I needed you most,' Deborah said mildly. ‘You
do
have a job and your own life with Evan.'

Barbara's dark eyes filled with tears. ‘
What
life with Evan? I hardly see him any more. Deborah, he's been so strange lately. He makes excuses to get away from me. The evening you sent me home to spend a romantic night with him, he picked a fight about my not wanting to put up a Christmas tree of all things! Oh, God, I don't know what to do.'

‘You can calm down for starters.' Barbara took a sip of her Scotch and soda and looked expectantly at Deborah, as if awaiting more advice. ‘I don't know Evan very well. I've been around him for years, but we always stuck to small-talk, so I can't give you any insight about how his mind works. All I know is that everything seemed fine the night of the Christmas party. Maybe he's just upset about Steve.'

‘He
is
,' Barbara said. ‘He even…well, never mind.'

‘He even what?' Deborah demanded, hating it when people started to tell her something obviously important then broke off.

‘Well…he's begun to think maybe Steve
is
the Strangler.'

‘Oh, really?'

‘Deb, please don't look like that. You've wondered yourself. I've seen the doubt in your eyes.'

How could she deny it after her reaction to the jewelry this morning? She wasn't going to tell Barbara about the wedding bands and earrings, though. She didn't want to endure a hundred questions. She also didn't want to think about it any more that day.

‘I suppose we've all considered the possibility that Steve is the Strangler,' she said neutrally.

Barbara took another sip of her drink. ‘At first Evan thought it had to be someone Steve worked with because that person would know Steve's routine, be able to set him up.' She said this last in a rush and Deborah blinked at her. That particular possibility hadn't occurred to her. She'd focused only on Steve and Artie Lieber. ‘Frankly, I've begun to wonder…'

‘You've wondered what?'

‘If he was right. If Steve isn't the killer, then it
could
be someone he works with. And Evan has been acting so bizarre.'

‘You think
Evan
might be a serial killer?'

‘It crossed my mind,' Barbara said abjectly. ‘Of course, Joe's been acting a little odd, too.'

Deborah looked at her in astonishment. ‘Joe? What odd thing has he done?'

‘He's become your watchdog.'

Aware that Barbara's voice, its normal volume raised through tension, was probably floating down to the basement through the furnace ducts, Deborah cut her off. ‘Barb, Steve was
…is
Joe's friend. Joe is protecting his friend's wife and children.'

‘That's what I told Evan, but he wasn't convinced. At least, he acted like he wasn't.' She looked away, biting on a thumbnail, then burst out, ‘Evan picked the fight about the Christmas tree the night that Morris woman was murdered. What if he was just trying to get away from me so he could…so he could…'

‘Rape and strangle a young woman outside a bar? You can't really believe that.'

Barbara's gaze dropped. ‘Deborah, do you know that Evan and I have
never
been together on a night when one of those women was murdered? I keep a diary and I went through it last night. That's how I know for sure. And the O'Donnell house was rented to someone named Edward King. Evan Kincaid. E. K.'

Deborah gaped at her. ‘Barbara, do you know how flimsy all this sounds? It's as if you
want
to believe Evan is guilty. Is that preferable to thinking maybe he just doesn't want this relationship any longer?'

Barbara's eyes opened wide as if she'd been slapped. ‘That was a
vile
thing to say.'

‘And what you're implying about Evan isn't? Barb, you're my dearest friend, but you're going off the deep end because Evan has been edgy and distant for a few days.'

Barbara gave her a long, hard look. ‘You're mad because I haven't been staying with you, so you're trying to hurt me.'

‘That's absurd.'

Barbara set down her drink and stood. ‘I can see I came to the wrong person with my problem.'

‘Oh, Barb, get off your high horse. I'm your friend and I'm not trying to hurt you, but you're letting your imagination run away with you. I have to tell you what I think.'

‘Thank you for your learned opinion,' Barbara said stiffly. ‘I'll be going now.'

‘Barbara,
please
don't act this way—'

Her words were cut off by the slamming of the front door.

Deborah leaned forward and put her head in her hands. She was still sitting that way when Joe walked into the room. ‘You have more important things to think about than Barbara's tantrum.'

‘You heard,' Deborah said, lifting her head.

‘Every word, including those about my own suspicious actions.'

‘I'm sorry.'

‘Don't be. And Barbara shouldn't be either.' Deborah lifted her eyebrows in surprise. ‘You were a little hard on her, Deborah.'

‘But you heard the accusations she was throwing around. They were dangerous.'

‘Deborah, we don't know who The Dark Alley Strangler is,' Joe said gravely. ‘Is it dangerous or is it
smart
to consider all the possibilities?'

‘But she thought that you, or even
Evan
, could be guilty.'

‘And just how well do any of you really know me? As for Evan, well, I thought she made some pretty good points.
He's
the one who brought up the angle of Steve's being set up by someone he worked with. I figure he was trying to throw suspicion on me, maybe because he really suspects me, but maybe he did it to deflect suspicion from himself. And it's quite a coincidence that he and Barbara have never spent the night together when a murder has taken place. Remember, all except the last one happened on a Saturday night. Isn't that when people usually go out on a date or spend the night together? And what about this “E. K.” business? Don't ask me why, but people have a tendency to pick assumed names with the same initials as their real names. Also, those checks to the realty company come from a Charleston bank. As you said when you first heard about Edward King, why would someone rent a house and leave it vacant, especially someone who probably lives in this city?'

‘Stop,' Deborah said, rubbing her temples. ‘I feel like I'm floundering around in quicksand. I can't think about the possibilities because there are too many and they're too frightening. For now all I can concentrate on is Steve and Emily and Artie Lieber.'

‘Then you still want to go to Wheeling tomorrow?'

‘More than ever.'

‘And you still want me to take you?'

‘Yes,' she said firmly, although later in bed she kept hearing him say, ‘And just how well do any of you really know me?'

One

‘How well do any of you really know me?'

Deborah shut her eyes. I will not think about what he said, she told herself. Joe is not a killer and neither is Evan. ‘But you're not so sure about your own husband, are you?' her mental voice intoned derisively.

She glanced at the clock: 6.30. If they left by eight, they could be in Wheeling well before noon. That would give them plenty of time to do what she wanted and get back around nine o'clock.

The night before, she had called Pete to ask if he would look after the children for her. She had refused to say why because of the phone tap, although she knew she and Joe would probably be followed. At least she didn't have to provide an itinerary, though. If the FBI wanted to follow, they'd just have to keep up with her and Joe.

The children were unaccountably cranky. ‘Where are you goin'?' Kim kept asking. ‘How come we can't go?'

‘It's a long trip,' Deborah told her. ‘You wouldn't have any fun.'

‘But Pete doesn't have any toys at his house,' Brian said.

‘We'll take toys. Now quit grousing and get your clothes on. And I expect you to behave today.'

She left them griping in their room while she packed up some of the toys they'd received for Christmas. Pete had also agreed to keep Scarlett. Deborah didn't like leaving her alone all day, and she knew the dog would help entertain the children. Along with the children's toys she collected Scarlett's food and water bowls and her yarn tug-of-war toy. The huge beef-basted chew toy would stay at home because it sometimes left stains, and Pete had expensive rugs.

By 7.30 they were pulling up in front of Pete's large white colonial home less than a mile from Deborah's. She'd always admired the house, especially because Pete had tried to maintain the colonial feel with carefully selected antiques. Joe waited in the car while Deborah took the children and Scarlett, straining at her leash, up to the door. Pete greeted them and ushered them into the living room, where sunlight poured in through a Palladian window, making the furnishings of saffron and cream even brighter.

‘Pete, this is so nice of you,' Deborah said, removing the children's coats.

‘It's no problem whatsoever. I do wish you'd tell me what's going on, though.' She hesitated, and Pete abruptly said, ‘Children, why don't you set Scarlett's dishes in the kitchen, wherever you think she'd like. I'll be right in to fill her water bowl.'

The kids looked at each other. ‘They don't want us to hear,' Brian said owlishly, and they marched off with the dog trailing behind.

‘They don't miss much, do they?' Pete said, smiling. ‘I remember Adam at that age. Hope and I resorted to spelling. We kept it up for a year before we realized he could spell remarkably well.'

‘I don't think Kim and Brian can, but I don't have the patience for spelling today,' Deborah said. ‘Joe is taking me to Wheeling.'

Pete's eyes flickered. ‘Wheeling? Whatever for? To see Emily?'

‘Among other things. I have this feeling, Pete, that somehow what's going on now is connected to what happened to Emily all those years ago.'

‘How could that possibly be?'

‘I'm not sure,' she evaded, then saw the knowledge in his eyes. He knew she was wondering if Steve had indeed attacked his sister.

‘Deborah, I don't think this is a good idea,' he said sternly. ‘Lieber is still on the loose. Besides, what I think you're hoping to find the truth about happened a
long
time ago. The trail is cold, as they say on those police shows.'

‘Maybe not. Maybe there's something everyone else missed.'

‘And you're going to find it in one day?'

‘I hope so.'

Pete sighed. ‘Deborah, I can't help saying I'm a bit worried about you going off with Joe. He seems nice enough, but—'

‘What do we really know about him?' she finished automatically. ‘I trust him. He's been a tremendous help. And so have you.' Impulsively, she flung her arms around Pete and hugged him, her eyes filling with tears. He stiffened in surprise, then relaxed and patted her back.

‘Deborah, you're really not in shape for this trip.'

She pulled away, wiping her face. ‘I'm okay. Besides, I
have
to go. If I don't find out anything, then I don't. But at least I'll know I tried.'

Pete lifted his hands in resignation. ‘I suppose I can't stop you.'

‘But you can help me in one more way. What was the name of Steve's girlfriend, the one who provided him with an alibi for the time of Emily's attack?'

Pete's eyes flickered, then he frowned. ‘Deborah, I can't remember. He hadn't been seeing her for long and I think she moved away after high school. Let's see. Jane? Joyce? Something like that, but neither of those sound exactly right, and the last name is completely gone.'

‘Oh well, I guess it's not that important.'

‘I'm sorry. But there is one stop I'd like you to make if you have time, and that's at my grandmother's house. I missed seeing her over Christmas and I want to make sure she isn't overdoing the Florence Nightingale act with her friend Ida.'

‘Of course, Pete. I'm sure we can work in a short visit.'

‘Wonderful. I'll jot down the address.'

Before she left, Adam came downstairs, his hair as rumpled as his tee-shirt and jeans. ‘Where are the kids?' he asked abruptly.

‘The kitchen,' Deborah told him.

‘And you brought the dog?'

‘Yes.'

He smiled. ‘Great. I've got a big day planned for them.'

‘Maybe Deborah doesn't want them to run around all day,' Pete said. ‘Kimberly did have that cough.'

‘She's okay now, isn't she?' Adam asked.

‘She's much better. Just don't let her overdo it.'

‘I'll take good care of both of them,' Adam said, looking into her eyes.

Deborah was touched. How many fifteen-year-old boys would so happily assume responsibility for two little children?

‘Don't you worry about a thing,' Pete said, handing her an index card bearing his grandmother's address. ‘Adam and I will watch over the children. And Deborah – even though I don't have much faith in this mission of yours, good luck.'

Two

Deborah and Joe hardly spoke until they drove out of Charleston and headed north. Deborah kept searching her mind for topics of conversation and coming up blank. She knew her mouth was pressed into a grim line, but she couldn't relax. Finally Joe said, ‘It's too quiet in here,' and pushed a CD into the player. A moment later guitar sounds followed by those of a haunting flute filled the car before The Marshall Tucker Band broke into ‘Can't You See'. Deborah hadn't heard the song for years and after a few seconds realized her foot was bobbing along to the rhythm. She caught Joe's eyes on the moving foot. Then, suddenly, he burst out with ‘Can't you see what that woman's been doin' to me?' in a strong singing voice. She smiled and a moment later began singing with him. They followed with ‘Heard It in a Love Song', then ‘Searchin' for a Rainbow', both exaggerating western twangs until, laughing, Deborah said, ‘Sorry, Joe, that's the end of my Marshall Tucker repertoire.'

‘Well, I learned something about you,' Joe said, turning down the volume. ‘You're a closet rock star.'

She blushed but nodded. ‘I remember one night when I was fourteen I stayed overnight with my friend Mary Lynn. She had hundreds of cassettes, and while her parents were out to dinner we put on a concert in her bedroom. I've never been so mortified in my life as I was when her parents opened the door and I was standing on Mary Lynn's bed belting out “Stayin' Alive” into a hairbrush.'

Joe threw back his head and laughed. ‘My brothers and I started a band. We got two gigs – a family barbecue and my sister's sixteenth birthday party. After the party I heard one of my sister's friends, a girl I had a huge crush on, say, “If they think they're good, they've been out in the sun too long. Jack knows about five notes, Joe sounds like a dying cow, and Bob looks like he's having some kind of seizure.” '

‘That must have hurt,' Deborah giggled.

‘We were devastated. No world tours. No adoring groupies. No
Rolling Stone
covers. Then we thought about what a pain all that rehearsing was and abandoned our musical futures.'

‘So you became a policeman and I became a secretary.'

‘And the music world lost two of its brightest lights.'

They continued chatting lightly about their childhoods for the next two hours, and Deborah felt the tightness leave the muscles of her back. Then the sun disappeared and Deborah's tension returned as a slate-blue sky pressed down on them. By the time they entered the Wheeling city limits, her hands were trembling. ‘Have you ever been here?' she asked Joe.

‘No.'

‘I only came once with Steve to see Emily. I've never even been to the historic district.'

‘What's there?'

‘Shops and restaurants built during the Victorian era. Oglebay Park is here, too. November through early February they have a light festival with around five hundred thousand lights in the shapes of things like snowmen and wreaths. Steve said we'd bring the children up this year right before Christmas—'

Her throat contracted and she stifled a sob that startled her as much as it did Joe. He reached over and patted her hand. ‘Take it easy, Deborah.'

She swallowed hard. ‘I'm sorry.'

‘Want to go home?'

‘No. I can't. I don't understand my own certainty that I'm going to find something out here. Maybe it has to do with the fact that Steve only brought me here once even though I asked repeatedly to come. He didn't want me here.
Why?
Because he didn't want to drag his new life into his old one? Or because he was afraid I'd find out something?'

‘Deborah, I'm not trying to talk you out of spending the day here. You just looked a little shaky for a minute.'

‘I'm all right.'

‘Good. Where's our first stop?'

‘The nursing home to see Emily.'

Three

Artie Lieber was on the move. Christmas Eve he removed a blue Toyota from a driveway and exchanged the license plate with that of a station wagon he found parked by a curb three blocks away. He made himself endure Christmas Day in his motel room, sitting through one saccharine Christmas special after another. He could remember watching such shows with his little Pearl so long ago. He wondered if she watched them with her kid.

At last evening came and he made a pass by the Robinson house, feeling relatively safe in his new car. He'd seen that short-haired woman he'd spotted the day after Steve Robinson's disappearance storming out of the door. She'd paused by her car and stared at the big two-story brick place across the street. With a start he knew what she was looking for. Well, she wouldn't see it. No face in the window now, baby, he thought with satisfaction. But she had a determined expression he didn't like. She wasn't one to leave things alone. She was the type who'd go snooping, and that wouldn't be too smart of her.

Now it was the morning of 26 December. He'd always found Christmas depressing and he was glad it was over. He ran a razor over his chin, noting that except for that damned tic around his eye he was still a good-looking guy. And he was
whole
. They hadn't broken him in prison. Not by a long shot. He was a man of action and he was mad at himself for wasting so much time waiting, spying, playing games. Now it was time to get going again. Now it was time to get things done.

Four

The smells of medicine and illness assailed Deborah as she and Joe approached the nursing-home reception desk. A harried-looking nurse with short, gray-laced blonde hair and a peevish expression glanced up. ‘Yes?'

‘We're here to see Emily Robinson.'

The nurse's dark eyes grew wary. ‘Miss Robinson isn't allowed visitors at the request of her family.'

‘I made that request,' Deborah said. ‘I'm her sister-in-law.'

The nurse's eyebrows shot up. ‘You're Steve's wife?'

‘That's right. You know my husband?'

‘Yes. I'm Jean Bartram. Didn't he ever mention me?'

‘No, I'm sorry, he didn't.' Jean looked even more peevish. Deborah had an absurd impulse to apologize for Steve, but controlled herself. ‘Could we see Emily?'

Jean's eyes narrowed. ‘If you want to visit Emily, I have to see some identification. Ever since all this news broke about your husband disappearing, reporters have been pestering the life out of us, trying to get a picture of Emily, passing themselves off as family members. And I've never seen you before.'

Deborah was outraged that reporters had been attempting to get to Emily. What did they expect? A statement from her concerning the possible whereabouts of her brother?