Don't Close Your Eyes (25 page)

Lily’s attention quickened. “I think he left the note to throw off the police, to make them think some nut killed my sister. He was a psychologist—it’s the kind of thing he would think of.”

Natalie was taken aback. She hadn’t liked Warren, but she knew he was extremely bright. If he were capable of killing Tamara to get rid of her, the murder would be care

fully plotted. He’d already lied about his alibi for the night of the murder. He’d even somehow coerced someone into verifying the alibi. But why had he invented an alibi in the first place? Simply because he had no alibi and he was afraid he would be the number-one suspect? Or because he was guilty?

“If Warren killed Tamara, then who killed Warren and Charlotte?” Natalie asked evenly as the simmering hatred in Lily’s eyes alarmed her.

“I don’t know. I don’t care. If I’d had any idea what Warren had been doing to my sister …”

“You’d have killed him yourself?”

Lily blinked and her expression grew guarded. “Now you think I’m a murderer? Natalie, I would have felt like killing him, but feeling and doing are different things.”

For the first time in their long friendship Natalie felt a flicker of doubt about Lily. She hated the feeling. Would she be having it if Nick Meredith hadn’t raised the possibility that Lily had killed Warren and Charlotte? Lily looked at her questioningly, and she realized she hadn’t responded.

“I understand how you must have felt about Warren,” Natalie said quickly. Then she thought of the other possible killer she had discussed with Nick. “How is Alison doing now that her beloved is dead?”

“Last night she was moving around like she was in a trance,” Lily said, her face growing defenseless again. “Warren’s father Richard stopped by. He has acquired this very young, flashy wife since you met him at the wedding. He also brought along his hulking younger son Bruce. Richard had already had a few too many drinks before they arrived, then he started in on Dad’s brandy. He acts mad at Warren for getting killed.”

“Well, they say anger is one of the stages of grief.”

“It isn’t that kind of anger. He was ranting and raving about how this was typical of Warren—he never showed good sense. What the hell was he doing with that Bishop woman? Did we all know about the affair? Did we all know what a complete ass Warren was making of himself? He was

shouting and glaring at all of us. Alison started to cry. Her whole body shook. Viveca left with her. As soon as they were gone, Richard said Alison looked crazy. His wife told him to hush, but he just got louder and drank more and went on about what an idiot Warren was.”

“I remember Richard Hunt from Tam’s wedding. I thought he was awful.”

“We all did. Thank goodness we haven’t seen much of him and probably will never see him again after this mess is cleared up. As much as I detested Warren, I could see why he turned out the way he did.”

“He certainly set off Alison for the evening,” Natalie said, clumsily steering the conversation back to the direction she wanted. “Do you think she’s worse?”

Lily looked away for a moment. “Yes. I hadn’t really thought about it, but she’s different than she was when Dad and Viveca began seeing each other.”

“Do you think she’s capable of violence?”

“Violence? Well, I’ve seen her throw a couple of tantrums that were pretty scary. She’s stronger than she looks and her temper is fierce. She’s been wandering around at night. I know Viveca is really worried.”

“Alison is very unstable. And she had a wild crush on Warren.” She paused. “Lily, Alison probably saw Tam as a rival.”

Lily’s eyes widened. “Do you think Alison might have killed my sister?”

“Maybe. And as for Warren—well, with her rival out of the way, Alison could have thought Warren would turn to her. But he didn’t, of course. He ran straight to Charlotte.”

“He did, didn’t he? Two nights after his wife was murdered, he was with his mistress.”

Lily suddenly sounded vague, detached. Was it because she’d been profoundly shocked by the possibility that Alison killed Warren? Or was it because she knew Alison had not murdered him?

Natalie had brought no clothing suitable for a funeral. How could she have guessed a two-week visit home would include the murder of one of her closest friends? She’d never known anyone who was murdered. But no matter how she had died, the rituals of death would be observed for Tamara.

Natalie was never an enthusiastic shopper, but when she tried on clothes at the slightly antiquated local department store, she had to choke back tears. Lily never shopped for clothes in Port Ariel, but Tamara did. In a few months she might have stood in this dressing room trying on maternity tops. She would have been so happy.

Finally Natalie chose a short-sleeved black dress for the visitation and a navy blue suit for the funeral. She knew she would wear each outfit only once. The associations with Tam’s death would always be too strong.

When she arrived home she felt as if she’d run a marathon. A telephone encounter with Kenny, the unnerving meeting with Jeff Lindstrom, a visit to Lily’s, and a dreaded shopping trip had all occurred before three o’clock. To top it off, her head still hurt ferociously. She took two more aspirin and went to her bedroom, stripping to her underwear and slipping beneath the sheet and coverlet. Sleep came with the abruptness of a door slamming in her face.

“Coming to see me tonight?” Tamara asked. She sat in a wicker rocker, a filmy white gown flowing around her. On a small table beside her glowed a Tiffany-shaded lamp throwing soft colors over the perfection of her profile. Then the light brightened, and Tamara turned her head full face

toward Natalie. The skin was checkered with bloody gashes, her eye sockets were empty. “Look what’s happened to me, Natalie,” she said sadly. “Just look what’s happened.”

Natalie jerked up in bed, her heart throbbing, a strangled scream tearing at her throat. Alarmed, Blaine leaped onto the bed and leaned forward to lick Natalie’s sweaty face. She put her hand on the dog’s sleek head. “It’s all right, girl,” she murmured. “A horrible dream, that’s all.”

She swung her legs to the side of the bed and glanced at the clock. Five-fifteen. Less than two hours until Tamara’s wake.

If Kenny were here he would be trying to cheer me up, she thought. He would be saying that Tamara had been happy in her twenty-nine years of life. He would tell me that everyone has a time to go and it was simply her time to go and that one shouldn’t mourn over what fate has decreed.

He would be annoying the hell out of me, Natalie thought abruptly. Kenny never wanted to face the dark side of life. He’d never had the need. Nothing awful had ever happened to him. Her life had been different. No slick, superficial phrases had been able to wipe away the realization that her mother had walked away from her and barely looked back. She’d faced heartache and loss when she was young and although the experience had been rough, it had challenged her to do some deep thinking that Kenny had escaped.

A bit stunned by her realization, she absent-mindedly took another quick shower and dressed for the visitation, dusting powder over her face and adding some blush and lipstick to hide her pallor. The black dress made her look somber. She slipped on her watch and added small silver filigree earrings. Silver filigree earrings. She’d given Tamara dangling filigree earrings and one had fallen from Jeff Lindstrom’s pocket this morning. Had Tam been wearing the earrings the night she was murdered? As soon as possible she had to tell Nick Meredith about Jeff and the earring. She hoped he would come to the wake.

At quarter to seven she headed to Leery’s Funeral Home. The parking lot sat full of cars. Natalie opened one of the

double doors and stepped in on incredibly thick forest-green carpet. Doleful organ music reverberated through the rooms. A tall, thin man with thick silver hair and melancholy expression descended on her. “Leonard Leery,” he said just above a whisper. “This is my establishment.”

“I know, Leonard. I’m Natalie St. John.”

He squinted, then blushed. “Natalie! I didn’t recognize you.”

“It’s been a long time.”

“Yes. Not since Grace Peyton died.” His melancholy expression intensified. “Oh, my, this is just awful. Dear Tamara. Such a fine woman. Oliver and Lily are devastated.”

A short, plump woman appeared beside him. Leonard and Loretta Leery had always reminded Natalie of Jack Sprat and his wife. “Natalie, you sweet thing!” Leonard winced at his wife’s fluting voice. “How slim you are!”

Natalie wished she could say the same for Loretta. Her black skirt was stretched tightly over a substantial girdled derriere and huge ruffles decorated her gray blouse, giving her the look of a pouter pigeon. She’d dyed her gray hair a brassy copper color and swept it up in a mass of hairspray stiffened curls. “What do you think of my hair?” she asked, preening.

Leonard saved Natalie by saying softly, “Dear, I don’t think now is the time to be discussing hair color.”

Loretta smiled good-naturedly. “Lenny’s right as always. I have the finesse of a rhinoceros. You go sign the guest register, Natalie. Then I’ll show you your basket of flowers. They aren’t the biggest, but they’re one of the prettiest!”

Leonard blushed again. Loretta, wafting clouds of Opium perfume, hustled Natalie over to the register and then into the “slumber room.” Candles glowed everywhere. “Here they are!” Loretta called cheerily as she stood beside a basket of glads and orchids. “The only basket like it! The mayor sent a dinky little planter—I’d be embarrassed—but the governor sent three dozen roses!”

“Oliver Peyton is close friends with the governor.”

“Yes. The family’s blanket was all carnations. I was sur

prised. Cheap. Doesn’t make a good impression. I would have expected something like that from Warren, but Oliver?”

“I think carnations were Tamara’s favorite flowers.”

“Still…” Loretta said meaningfully. Then she frowned. “Of course, I shouldn’t be throwing off on Warren even if I didn’t care for him. Charlotte is another matter. I love Muriel Bishop. One of the sweetest women on this earth even if she is a bit dim. But that girl! Spoiled rotten. I told Muriel over the years, ‘Muriel, you’re spoiling that girl!’ but she always gave that weak little smile and said, ‘She only listens to her Max.’ Max! Now there’s a role model! No wonder Charlotte was so insufferable. Of course we’ll be taking care of her. Do you think Paul Fiori will come to the funeral? Wouldn’t that be exciting! Charlotte’s coffin will be open, not like poor Tamara’s. I tell you, Natalie, when they brought Tamara in I took one look at her and ran out of the room crying!”

“Loretta!” Leonard stood behind his wife, flushing to the roots of his exquisite silver hair. “Dear, I really could use your help with the mourners.”

Loretta winked at Natalie. “He just wants me to quit blabbing, but I know you and I understand each other.” Natalie wondered what would make her think so, although in spite of Loretta Leery’s loose tongue Natalie had always liked her. “You’re so much like your father, Natalie,” Loretta said. “Thank goodness you take after him and not your mother.”

Leonard turned fuchsia and looked as if he were going to pass out. Natalie almost laughed, marveling that someone as proper as Leonard, a mortician no less, had ever married the egregious Loretta, especially in his line of business. The only answer must be love, she decided. A great deal of love.

Loretta took her Opium-scented self over to another group while Leonard drooped back to the door. Natalie wondered if he’d ever walked jauntily, or had trudged solemnly even in the days of his youth, practicing for the time when he would inherit the family undertaking business.

“I didn’t think she’d ever leave.”

Lily stood beside her. She wore a dark blue long-sleeved dress and had skinned back her gleaming blond hair with a

bow at her neck. She’d lost weight and with no makeup or jewelry, she’d also lost her glamour. Even her hazel eyes lacked their usual sparkle. Natalie felt a wave of pity and pushed down the treacherous doubts she had had earlier in the day about her best friend.

“Loretta is never at a loss for words,” Natalie said, “but she means well.”

“She’s a sweetheart. Tactless but a sweetheart. She doesn’t approve of the casket blanket I chose, but Tam loved pink and white carnations. Simple and unassuming.” She rolled her eyes. “I sound like Warren talking about wine.”

“No, Warren would have used words like piquant, impertinent, imposing, provocative.” Lily grinned with a trace of her usual mischievous self. “Where is your father?” Natalie asked.

“He fell apart when we first came in. Viveca took him into a back room and I was sent away.”

Bitterness edged her voice. Natalie had thought Lily resented Viveca because she was so different from Grace Peyton. Now she wondered if Lily might be jealous because Viveca had become so important to Oliver. Lily liked responsibility. She liked having her father and her sister lean on her. Now Tam was gone and Oliver had turned to Viveca, who would do everything she could to control him. It seemed to be working. He depended on her more and more. Natalie knew this would not have happened to her father. Andrew St. John would never let someone dominate his life.

“Please tell me Alison isn’t here,” Natalie murmured.

Lily shook her head. “Wish I could oblige. She’s swathed in black, and I do mean swathed. She came in wearing a black lace mantilla on her head. She looks like something from the nineteenth century.”

“Ariel Saunders?”

“Good call. She’s definitely playacting.”

Natalie lowered her voice to a whisper. “Are you getting any sense that she might have been responsible for Tam’s death?”

Lily’s eyes darkened with fury at the thought, but she

hesitated. “I honestly can’t say. She doesn’t look or act guilty, but then she looks and acts so weird all the time, who could tell? I’m keeping an eye on her, though. I hope you will, too, when she finally emerges from seclusion with Viveca and my father. In the meantime, I’d better circulate. Looks like this dreadful little ceremony has been dropped in my lap.”