In the Event of My Death (10 page)

“Yes, but he wasn’t speaking in general. He prefaced the verses with my name. He said it twice. He was talking exclusively to me.”

“Do you think he could have been driving the car that rammed you?”

“I know he drives. That’s how he got to the store. But Mary also drives and she was making odd references about Faith this morning. We
must
go to the police.”

Monica gave her a hard stare. “
No
.”

“Why not, for God’s sake? Are you blind to what’s going on? What about Angie? What about
me
? You supposedly came here to
help
us.”

“I did. I
am
.”

“Oh, are you? What exactly have you done? We know just about as much about this killer as we did last night.”

“It’s only been one day, Laurel. I can’t work miracles.”

Laurel reached out and touched the small poinsettia on their table. “I know.” She looked into Monica’s vivid green eyes. “That’s why I think if we don’t get help, I may be joining Angie very soon.”

“No you won’t. We’ll get to the bottom of this
without
police intervention.”

“You’ve always been so sure of yourself, Monica. It’s gotten you in trouble before.”

Monica looked at her steadily. “I’m not going to the police, Laurel. Neither are the others. If you go, you go alone, and I doubt very much if they’ll believe you when the rest of us claim we don’t know what the hell you’re talking about.”

3

Denise pulled in front of the small green house and hurried up the walk. Before she reached the door, it opened. A small, blue-haired lady smiled at her.

“Sorry I’m late, Miss Adelaide,” Denise said. “I got hung up at the grocery store.”

“That’s quite all right, dear.” Adelaide Lewis motioned her inside with a slightly tremorous hand. Denise had never noticed a tremor before. “Audra has just been sharing some cookies with Hannah and me.”

Denise stepped into the small, crowded living room. The scent of violet sachet was almost overwhelming. Hannah Lewis sat behind a silver tea service. She smiled weakly, looking pale beneath her carefully applied rouge. Denise knew there was three years’ difference in age between the sisters. Everyone they met knew it immediately because Adelaide was quick to inform them she was the younger. Nevertheless, they seemed almost identical—frail, chatty, fluttery creatures who should have lived a century ago and insisted on being called “Miss Adelaide” and “Miss Hannah.”

Audra was halfway through an oatmeal cookie. “How did it go today, honey?”

“Okay,” Audra mumbled.

Miss Adelaide ran a loving hand over her piano. “She had a bit of trouble with ‘Beautiful Dreamer.’ I think perhaps she wasn’t putting her heart into it.”

Audra looked abashed. “I’m sorry.”

“My dear, don’t feel bad,” Miss Adelaide said. “I’m sure with plenty of practice you’ll turn into a perfectly competent pianist.”

Competent, Denise thought in disappointment. Not gifted.

“I’ll see that she practices more.” A look of misery crept over Audra’s beautiful little face. She hated practicing.

Denise paid Miss Adelaide. The sisters detained them in one of their long farewells, then Denise and Audra stepped outside, each taking a deep breath. “It’s so hot and smelly in there,” Audra complained as they got in the car.

“It doesn’t smell bad. They just go a little heavy on the violet sachet. Fasten your seat belt, honey.”

As they pulled away from the house, Audra said, “I don’t see why I have to take piano lessons.”

“When I was your age, I longed to take piano lessons but my family couldn’t afford them.”

“Why do
I
have to take lessons just because
you
wanted to? I don’t want to be a piano player. I want to be a doctor like Daddy.”

“Your father plays the piano.”

So far this argument had stopped Audra cold, but Denise didn’t think her luck would continue. Audra was too smart. Soon she would point out that being a pianist had nothing to do with being a doctor.

“The sisters were all shook up when I got there,” Audra volunteered, her argument temporarily defeated.

“What were they upset about?”

“They wouldn’t tell me, but they were whispering about some crazy man and the Bible and Laurel and someone getting hurt. Is that your friend Laurel, the one who has April and Alex?”

Oh, Lord, what was this all about? Denise wondered, her hands tightening on the wheel. Who was the crazy man? Had something happened to Laurel?

“Mommy, I asked if that was your friend Laurel.”

“I don’t know. It could be another Laurel.”

Audra frowned. “I sure hope Laurel’s okay. I liked her a lot, and I
loved
April and Alex.”

Last Christmas, when Laurel decorated for their party, she had stopped by with her dogs in the back seat of her car. Audra rushed to see them. They were too frightened to venture onto a strange lawn, so Audra climbed into the back seat and they’d covered her with kisses. Denise counted to five, knowing what could come next.

“I wish I had a dog,” Audra said right on cue.

“I’m afraid of dogs.”

“Mommy, we
need
a dog.”

“What for?”

“To tell us if burglars are trying to get in.”

“We have an alarm system.”

“A dog would be better.”

“Well, we’ll see.”

“That means no.” Audra’s lower lip crept out a fraction.

“Audra, please don’t be petulant.”

“I don’t know what that means.”

“Don’t
pout
,” Denise snapped, still wondering what the Lewis sisters were discussing.

“All I asked for was a little dog,” Audra said in a tiny, heartbroken voice. Denise knew Audra was playing her better than she would ever play the piano, but it usually worked.

“Cheer up, baby. I promise I’ll talk to Daddy.” Audra remained silent. “Do you know what came in the mail today? A Christmas card addressed to Miss Audra Price.”

Denise could tell Audra wanted to hold on to her silence, but she couldn’t stand it. “Was it from Grandma and Grandpa?”

“No. C’mon, Audra, do you have a boyfriend you haven’t told me about?”

Audra grinned. “Buzzy Harris.”

“
Buzzy!
I certainly hope that’s a nickname.”

“I think so, but I don’t know what his real name is. He told me I was a babe and tried to kiss me on the playground last week.”

“Tried to kiss you! You didn’t tell me that.”

“I don’t tell you
everything
, Mommy. He’s real cute.”

“Cute or not, you’re only eight and too young to be kissing boys.”

Clearly Audra hadn’t even heard her. She was too excited about perhaps receiving a Christmas card from some dashing third-grade Lothario named Buzzy Harris.

Denise turned into the driveway of her two-story colonial house. She hadn’t wanted to move back to Wheeling—she and Wayne clashed several times over the move before she finally relented—but she did love this house. It was imposing, twice as large as anything they could have afforded in Chicago, and Wayne had insisted it be professionally decorated. Denise worried about the expense, but Wayne was always more
dégagé
about money than she and insisted. “You didn’t want to live in Wheeling, but you came because I wanted to,” he’d told her. “The least I can do is give you a beautiful home in return.”

Even when she’d suggested going back to work as a nurse, he’d objected. “I know you’d rather stay home and be a full-time mom, so that’s what you’re going to do.” How did I ever get so lucky? Denise often thought. I don’t deserve Wayne or Audra, but I’ll devote my life to them. It’s the least I can do to make up for mistakes in the past. To make up for
the
mistake.

Audra hopped out of the car and ran for the front door, her long, wavy chesnut brown hair bouncing. Denise often thought Audra was the most beautiful child she’d ever seen. Another miracle, because Denise didn’t think either she or Wayne was particularly good-looking. “Hurry up, Mommy!” Audra called as Denise lifted a bag of groceries from the back seat. “I want to see my Christmas card!”

“Hold on for a minute. It’s not going anywhere.”

Denise shifted the groceries to her left arm and put the key in the door. As soon as it opened, Audra dashed to the entrance hall table where Denise placed the mail. Denise carried the grocery bag into the kitchen while Audra sorted the letters. “Here it is!” she squealed with delight in the other room.

After a few moments she appeared in the kitchen doorway looking puzzled. “Mommy, I don’t know who sent this. I don’t even understand some of the words.”

An icy finger touched Denise’s spine. She closed the refrigerator door and went to Audra, taking the card from her.

On the front was a picture of an old barn layered with snow. It looked remarkably like the Pritchard barn before fire had half destroyed it. She opened the card. There was no formal printing—only a typewritten verse:

1

When Laurel got home, she once again cursed the garage opener that wouldn’t work. She’d meant to pick up a battery on her way home but had forgotten it during the drama of Mary’s injury. It wasn’t completely dark. She parked as close to the front door as possible, looked around, gripped her canister of Mace, then made her dash. She had the key ready for the lock when she was pulled up short.

A large red heart blazed across the pale oak of her front door.

Laurel drew in her breath and reached out a tentative finger. Spray paint, completely dry. It could have been there for hours.

Numbly she unlocked the door and went inside. The dogs rushed to her, jumping and barking. She looked at the afghan. Once again it lay in a heap on the seat of the couch. The dogs had been at the window, watching whoever painted the heart. They’d even left nose prints on the glass.

“I wonder what Kurt is going to say when he sees
this
,” she muttered. “I feel like Hester Prynne in
The Scarlet Letter
.”

Laurel relocked the door, threw down her coat and purse, and went into the kitchen to make coffee. She felt cold to the bone, her hands frigid. A week ago her biggest worry had been thinking of a way to escape a trip to Florida for Christmas. Now she feared for her life. It seemed incredible, unreal. But if she wanted to make sure of its reality, all she had to do was look at her front door.

She rubbed a hand across her forehead. How much longer could she keep all of this from Kurt? How much longer
should
she? Monica said by keeping silent they were all protecting their reputations, but at what cost? Their lives?

The dogs sat looking at her expectantly. “You want dinner, don’t you?”

She fixed each a can of food, fresh water, and set out a few biscuits for dessert. At least there was nothing wrong with
their
appetites. Even though she’d eaten meagerly at Wilson Lodge, she wasn’t in the least hungry. Her stomach felt so tight it couldn’t hold one bite of food.

The phone rang. She knew who it was before she picked it up. “Hi, Kurt.”

“What are you? Psychic?”

“No. I just figured you’d had time to talk to Mary.”

“You’re right. She didn’t have much to say. I asked her to press charges against Zeke for assault and battery.”

“Good.”

“Not good. She said she’d have to think about it.”

“
Think
about it! I can’t believe it after what he did.”

“I’ve seen this a hundred times in domestic disputes. A man beats his wife half to death, she calls the cops, then refuses to press charges. Nine times out of ten, he turns around and does it again.”

“What are the options?”

“To get a mental hygiene warrant. That would at least put old Zeke in a psychiatric ward for a while for observation and treatment.”

“He definitely needs it. How is Mary feeling?”

“A lot worse than she’s letting on.”

“I should visit her this evening.”

“No,” Kurt said firmly. “You need to stay inside tonight. It’s not safe for you to be out.”

“But I think Zeke was the person who rammed my car and hung the wreath on my door, and he’s in jail tonight.”

“We don’t
know
he rammed your car. We won’t be checking out his car until tomorrow. For now I want you to be extra cautious. Besides, I don’t think Mary feels like having company. You can see her in the morning.”

“Okay,” Laurel said resignedly.

“You still mad at me about Kamrath?” he asked.

“I’m sorry about that,” she hedged. “I was just upset about Mary. You haven’t forgotten about the party tomorrow night, have you?”

“No. I’ll pick you up around eight.”

“Great, Kurt. And thanks for calling me about Mary.”

When she hung up, she breathed easier. Obviously Kurt wasn’t planning on stopping by this evening. Maybe she could do something about the artwork on her door before tomorrow night.

Still cold, Laurel had just poured a second cup of coffee when the dogs began barking. In a minute someone knocked on the door. She hovered near it, wishing she had a peephole. After the second knock, she called, “Who is it?”

“Denise.”

Laurel was shocked when she opened the door. Denise looked frightened half to death, her lips pale, her eyes wide. She started to step in, then stopped when the dogs continued barking. “Will they bite?”

“No. They don’t know you and they’re scared.” Laurel knelt and petted each dog. “It’s all right, you two. This is a friend.” They quieted but continued staring at Denise. “Could you say something to them? Dogs react to your fear.”

Denise looked flummoxed for a moment, then managed woodenly, “Good dogs. Pretty dogs.”

Hardly inspired, Laurel thought, but some of the tenseness left their bodies. “I think we’re okay now. Come in and sit down. Do you want coffee?”

“No, I’m too nervous already.”

“It’s decaf and you look like you could use something hot. I’ll be right back.”

“Laurel, please don’t leave me with these dogs.”

“You’ll be fine.” When she returned with a mug of coffee, April and Alex sat on the couch with Denise, studying her intently as she watched them gingerly. “See, I told you they wouldn’t hurt you.”

“Not so far, but dogs don’t like me.”

“That’s because you’re afraid of them, although why I’ll never know. You’ve never been bitten, have you?”

“No. But when I was little I saw a movie where a person was mauled. It scared me to death. Audra loves dogs. She was talking about these two just today.”

“How is she?” Laurel asked, sitting on a deep, comfortable chair across from the couch.

“Fine. Well, actually she’s confused. She got a Christmas card today. She was so excited. Then she opened it…”

“Oh, God,” Laurel gasped. “It wasn’t the photograph of Angie, was it?”

“No. That would have been much worse, but this was bad enough.”

Denise reached in her purse, withdrew the card still in its envelope, and handed it to Laurel. She noted the neatly typed name and address, the lack of return address, and the local postmark. “Open it!” Denise snapped. Laurel looked at her. “Sorry.”

“It’s all right.”

Laurel pulled the card from the envelope and studied the picture. “It looks like—”

“The Pritchard barn,” Denise said. “I’m sure that was no accident.”

Laurel opened the card and read the verse aloud:

“Well?” Denise demanded. “Isn’t it awful?”

“It’s tricky. No actual threat. Nothing overtly frightening to a child.”

“But frightening to
me
.”

“That’s the idea. What better way to scare you than to make you feel the killer is reaching out to your child?”

“Do you think that’s what he’s doing?”

“I think the killer is supposed to be the ‘wraith’ in the night, and you can’t miss that all the letters of ‘Faith’ are capitalized,” Laurel said solemnly. “Someone knew Audra wouldn’t understand this but you would.”

Denise put her head in her hands. “Oh, dear Lord, what am I going to do? Take this to the police?”

“Not unless you’re willing to tell them
everything
.”

“I
can’t
. I
won’t
tell them everything!” Denise raised her head, her gray eyes stormy. “And you’re not going to tell them everything, either!”

Laurel’s tone hardened. “Don’t tell me what to do, Denise.”

“If you tell them, I’ll deny it. Monica will, too.”

“Well, that’s just great,” Laurel said in disgust. “What do you intend to do? Take an unsigned Christmas card with an odd but nonthreatening verse to the police?”

“Yes.”

“What do you expect them to do with it?”

“Find out who sent it.”

“How?”

“Fingerprints.”

“Denise, do you have any idea how many people have touched this envelope?”

“What about the card?”

“You, Audra, and I have touched it. If there were any other prints, they’d probably be smeared. If they weren’t, it would still be impossible to track down the guy unless he has a criminal record, an armed service record, or worked in law enforcement or a place that requires prints for security purposes. Denise, think about it. The police aren’t going to all the trouble to track down someone like that over a weird Christmas card!”

Denise closed her eyes. “Okay, I get it. What would
you
do?”

“Go to the police if I could get any of you to back up my story.”

“Monica and I have more to lose than you do.”

Laurel drew back. “Do you consider Crystal’s and my lives so worthless?”

“No, no of course not.” Denise raised her hands helplessly. “Oh, God, Laurel, I’m so upset I don’t even know what I’m saying.”

“But you won’t go to the police.”

“Only to take the card.”

“Which would be useless unless they Knew the whole story, what the implications of this card might be.”

“So what else can I do?”

“You know that by not going to the police, we’re playing with fire, don’t you? We’re playing with our
lives
. You might be playing with your
daughter
’s life.”

“I don’t want to hear that!”

“I don’t care if you want to hear it or not, Denise, it’s true.”

Denise shook her head violently. “No. I won’t go, Monica won’t go, and I don’t think Crystal will go, either. She’s too scared. So I’m asking you again, what else can we do?”

Laurel was furious, but she fought to rein in her emotions. Yelling at Denise would get her nowhere. She took a deep breath and said calmly, “The only option is simply to try to find out on our own who might be doing all this. I can tell you that after today, I consider Zeke Howard a definite contender.”

Denise leaned forward. “Audra had her piano lesson with Adelaide Lewis this afternoon and she said the sisters were whispering about a crazy man and someone getting hurt and your name.”

“It was quite an afternoon and the Lewis sisters were witnesses.” She told Denise about Zeke bursting into the store shouting Bible verses and finally slamming Mary into the shelves. “She’s in the hospital with a concussion and a bad cut on her scalp.”

“That’s terrible,” Denise said a bit halfheartedly. She barely knew Mary. “What exactly did Zeke say?”

“I can’t remember all the Bible verses. God’s wrath, destruction, all directed toward me. When he was shouting at Mary, though, he talked about Faith being taken before her time and that she gives him directions about how to protect himself against those who hurt her.”

“Those who hurt her?” Denise echoed faintly. She took off her glasses and rubbed her eyes. “Could he know about the Six of Hearts?”

“Mary told me she kept all of Faith’s things and her father has been going through them lately. Maybe there were letters or a diary. Of course, that means Mary could know, too. It seemed to me she was making some strange references to Faith this morning.”

“What kind of references?”

“Just emphasizing that she’d kept
everything
of Faith’s. It was probably nothing.”

“I don’t think we should dismiss anything as ‘probably nothing,’” Denise said. “Speaking of which, why is there a red heart on your door?”

“Someone has been busy.”

Denise raised her eyebrows. “You sound awfully calm.”

“It’s not the first time someone has been messing around here. The other night I came home from Wilson Lodge to find a funeral wreath on the door.”

“Good Lord! Who could have put it there?”

“The same person who painted the heart.”

“Then it couldn’t have been Zeke or Mary. He’s in jail and she’s in the hospital.”

“Denise, it’s completely dry. It could have been there all day. Zeke didn’t get to the store until three-thirty. He could have done it before he came, and for the first time in a year, Mary was half an hour late this morning. She could have painted it after I left for the store.”

“Has Kurt seen it?”

“No, and I’m going to have a hell of a time explaining it, especially after the wreath, which he
did
see. Also, when I was coming back from the lodge, someone rammed my car. Several times. They almost made me wreck. Kurt knows about that, too.” Laurel leaned forward. “Denise, I don’t see how we can keep all this quiet much longer.”

Denise set her untouched coffee on an end table. “I have to be going now,” she said coolly. Laurel was stunned. Hadn’t Denise heard anything she’d said? If so, she intended to ignore it. She stood. “You’ll be by tomorrow with the decorations, won’t you?”

Laurel thought of pursuing the subject of going to the police, but she knew it was useless. Denise had taken all she could handle and she was putting up a blockade as impenetrable as rock. She wasn’t going to budge on this point. “Yes, Denise,” Laurel said tiredly. “I’ll be at your house around eleven.”

Denise looked at the dogs. “Would you mind bringing them? Audra asked specifically.”

Laurel smiled. “Okay, but I’m not sure I’ll be able to get them out of the car. Remember last year?”

“It doesn’t matter. She can get in the car with them. She loves them.”

Laurel spoke gently. “You know, Denise, your family is welcome to visit anytime and Audra can play with the dogs to her heart’s content.”

Denise’s gray eyes filled with tears. “We were so close, weren’t we?” Laurel nodded and Denise reached out and touched her hand. “I promise that if we all come out of this situation alive, things are going to be like they used to be. I miss you so much.”

Laurel watched Denise walk to her car, her own eyes filling with tears because she knew things could never be like they used to be for the remaining Six of Hearts, even if they did come out of this situation alive.

2

Crystal sat in her tiny living room trying to concentrate on a magazine article entitled “How to Keep Your Man Interested.” According to the author, all it took was the right perfume, some tantalizing lingerie, and dreaming up a few cutesy ways to initiate sex such as leaving a seductive note saying “There’s a surprise for you in the bedroom” for him to find when he came in from work.