If Looks Could Kill (42 page)

“I can’t believe any of this,” she said, tossing the phone in her bag. “I feel responsible. Clyde met Heidi through me. I
should have seen it. There was a time when I could tell just by looking at them if two people were fucking each other, but
it seems I’ve totally lost the knack. How did Leslie find out, do you think?”

“I don’t know. Things certainly didn’t seem right between them, and she probably suspected
something
was wrong. And you know how people are. They leave clues sometimes, wanting to be caught. Maybe that’s what Clyde did. Or
Leslie may have done some snooping when she felt a change in his attitude or behavior.”

“I can’t believe she
murdered
Heidi, though. There are other ways to deal with infidelity.”

“But you can’t make a man fall out of love with someone. I have a feeling Heidi wasn’t just a fling for him. My guess is that
he was nuts over her—just think of the jewelry. I’m sure he was the one who bought those pieces. We also know how obsessed
Leslie was over Clyde. Just think of how she reacted when she thought you were flirting with him. If she found out he was
in love with Heidi and suspected he was about to dump her to
be
with Heidi, she may have thought her only option was to totally eliminate Heidi from the face of the earth.”

“But how did you figure it all out?”

As we drove along dark country roads, I took her through most of it, from the discussion with Jack about misdirection to the
petal in the Jiffy bag.

“God, how diabolically clever,” Cat acknowledged. “I know Leslie’s a control freak, but I never pegged her as creative.”

“And the real beauty of her plan is that because she was so close to the action, she could nudge us along in our thinking.
She confirmed that the candy box had been in the hall, and if you hadn’t remembered, I’m sure she would have volunteered it.
She brought up the similarity to Tucker Bobb’s death. It was probably her who tipped the
Post
off to the connection.” “Wait,
is
there a connection to Tucker Bobb?” “No, I just think she used that to throw everyone off. Though I’d never heard the mushroom
theory, it was apparently floating around. I really believe Tucker Bobb’s death is a whole other story.”

“Do you think Leslie really meant to hurt
you
?” “It was no accident,” I said angrily. “She wanted me dead or out of commission. When I started at
Gloss
I made certain people were aware of my problem with peanuts—I’m sure Leslie knew. The thing is, Leslie needed to shut me
up because I was getting too close to the truth. First she tried to scare me with hang-ups and that Kiss on my desk. She also
tried to monopolize my time by crashing my article into August. I should have suspected something when Polly wasn’t aware
it was being moved. The other night, at her apartment, I told her I was going to continue pursuing the Heidi theory, that
one of Heidi’s boyfriends may have killed her. That must be when she decided to do something more decisive. Of course, she
would have claimed it was a horrible accident. It also sounds like she’s been unraveling lately. For all we know, she’s bonkers.
I bet
she
sent the cookies to Patty Gaylin—just to keep everyone confused.”

When we got back to the farmhouse, we found Tyler conked out on the library couch and Jeff pacing, desperate for details.
It was a relief to know he was neither an adulterer (at least as far as I knew) nor a murderer. I talked for a while but eventually
told Cat to take over with what I’d shared with her. I felt overwhelmed with exhaustion. I wanted to be in a bed. Cat hugged
me good night at the door of the library, a kind of bear hug I rarely got from her.

“You had a call, by the way,” Jeff said, handing me a slip of paper as I started to walk from the room. “A friend of yours,
Jack. I hope it was okay to mention you were in the ER.”

“
Really?
Sure, that was fine,” I said.

“He said to call, no matter when you got in.”

I trudged up to the red-and-white guest room, feeling like a rag doll, and sank onto the bed. Fighting the urge just to let
sleep overwhelm me, I picked up the phone on the bedside table and dialed Jack Herlihy’s number. I could have waited until
the morning but I had a yearning to hear his voice, to have someone so wise make me feel safe. When he answered it was clear
that I’d woken him, but he didn’t sound as if he minded.

“Are you okay? What’s going on?”

I poured out the story, letting down my guard in a way I hadn’t even done with Cat. Once I even started to cry, though I took
a breath and calmed myself. I didn’t want to come across like a total wuss. He listened, asked questions, said things to comfort
me, just as I’d suspected he would.

“Look,” he said finally. “When are you coming back?”

“I’ve got to come in tomorrow to talk to the police. Who knows how long that will take.”

“Why don’t we get together later then and talk about this some more.”

“You aren’t going to bill me, are you?”

“We’ll see,” he said, laughing. “Maybe we can work out a barter arrangement. Should we have dinner then?”

“Okay. That would be good.” I really meant it, and this time I’d be in no rush to leave.

By the time I hung up, the urge I’d been fighting to succumb to a catatonic state had dissipated. I lay on the bed, without
even pulling down the covers, and let things swirl around my brain. I thought of the magic trick Jack had mentioned, the one
with two scarves. I thought about how many things were like that—not what they seemed. Flying objects weren’t really hurled
by poltergeists. The candy for Cat had really been meant for Heidi. Miss Totally-in-Control Leslie had gone totally out of
control. Perfect marriages were never perfect. Cat, who people said couldn’t be trusted, had saved my life. And maybe Jack
really
was
my type after all.