Missing Marlene (17 page)

“I don’t get it,” Ginny said. “You taught Gilbert in high school but you know that his girlfriend of the past few months is a slut?”

“Yes,” Doris replied, “because his aunt is a friend of mine. We help at the Senior Center together. Silvana Mariano—you know her?”

Ginny shook her head.

“Silvana’s sister Anna was Gilbert’s mother. Anna died a long time ago—a terrible fire in her house. Gilbert’s little sister was also in the house and died. Gilbert was seven when it happened. Horrible tragedy.”

“What about the husband?” Jane asked.

“Never any husband,” Doris said. “Silvana, Anna’s only sister, was the only one who could take Gilbert. She did the best she could, but he gave her a terrible time. Police always finding him taking drugs or breaking into stores. A bad boy—period. In his junior year of high school he dropped out. A year later he left Silvana’s house. She doesn’t like the boy, but she watches over him as best she can, in honor of her sister’s memory.”

“And Silvana told you Gil was dating Marlene?” Jane asked.

Doris nodded. “She said Gil told her Marlene kept after him till he’d have her.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I thought you probably knew. And if you didn’t, all the better.”

“Why is that?”

“I told you. He’s a bad boy. He was in my class two years in a row. Worst boy I ever taught—when he came to school. Most kids, they do pranks, kid stuff. But not this boy. When he was sixteen he raped a fourteen-year-old girl from Boonton. Just when it looked as if Gilbert would be sent away, the girl retracted the story, said it was dark and she wasn’t sure it was him.”

Doris chuckled ruefully. “Handsome boy, though, handsomest boy I ever taught. All the girls had crushes on him, from fat homely Helen Wichowski to beautiful Noreen Tyler. But Gil wasn’t interested in high-school girls. Silvana told me that when he was seventeen he was already dating women in their thirties and forties.”

“A gigolo,” Louise said.

“You might say that,” Doris said. “They liked him because he was handsome and dangerous and probably one hell of a lay.”

“Doris!” they all exclaimed.

Doris shrugged. “He always looked older than his age, too.”

“Okay,” Rhoda said, “so these older women liked him. But what did he see in
them?”

“Money, of course,” Doris replied. “He was always after money—from women, drugs, robberies, any way he could get it.”

“Why was he always after money?” Ginny asked.

“Some people just are,” Doris said. “It isn’t that Silvana was so poor. She had a lovely home up in the hills and a big expensive car. Silvana’s husband was an executive at Johnson & Johnson. Gilbert didn’t want for anything.” She shook her head. “Some people are just always after money.”

“I heard he once killed a man over some money in Newark,” Jane said.

“So you
do
know about him,” Doris said.

“Only a few choice bits.”

“Never heard that one,” Doris said, “but I’d believe it in a minute.” She fixed Jane with a piercing gaze. “Shame on you, Jane, for letting Marlene get involved with a boy like that.”

“Doris,” Louise broke in, “that’s hardly fair.”

“No, no,” Jane said, “Doris is right. I am ashamed. I disliked the girl intensely and therefore took no interest in what she did on her own time.”

“I hear you’re taking an interest in her now,” Doris said.

“Who told you that?”

“Silvana. She said Gilbert was asking her about you.”

“About
me?
Why?”

“Gilbert said you were asking around town about Marlene, asking if anyone knew where she’d gone.”

“That’s right.”

“He told Silvana that he and Marlene broke up just before Marlene left town.”

Jane nodded. “So he told me.”

“You don’t believe him?”

“I don’t know what I believe,” Jane said.

“Pray he’s telling the truth,” Doris said, raising one eyebrow meaningfully, and took another bite of coconut bread. Then she returned her attention to her knitting.

The room was uncomfortably quiet, the clicking of knitting needles the only sound.

Jane was the last to leave.

“I hope you didn’t let Doris upset you,” Louise said, handing Jane her coat. “She has such a big mouth.”

“Not at all.” Jane slipped on her gloves. “Doris was right—though it’s hard to have the truth thrown in your face.”

Louise pecked her on the cheek. “Now you be careful driving home. We’ll see you in a couple of weeks.”

“Definitely. Tell Ernie good-bye and thanks.”

“Will do,” Louise said, and gently closed the door.

The night had turned bitingly cold, though there was no wind. The sky was clear, a three-quarter moon riding among a trillion stars. Beautiful, Jane thought as she got into her car. She drove around the circular drive and down the lawn toward the road.

A deep fatigue overcame her and she yawned mightily. The clock said 11:45. As soon as she got home she’d have a quick shower and crawl into bed.

She passed between the posts and turned left onto Plunkett Lane. It was nearly pitch-black in the woods, despite the moon, and Jane switched on her high beams. The harsh light gave the trees a ghastly surreal quality, as if they had been frozen in action. Slowly she navigated the road’s twists and curves.

She slammed on the brake. A car blocked the way. It sat diagonally across the road, its rear to the right, its front to the left. It was an old white Monte Carlo, not a car she recognized. She wondered whether it might belong to Ginny or Rhoda or Doris. Rhoda would never drive a car like that, but Ginny or Doris might. Either of them might have borrowed this car. Jane gave the horn a little toot, but the car didn’t move, and no one got out. She beeped again twice, louder this time.

Whoever it was must have broken down here. Had the car hit a tree? Jane couldn’t tell. If it had, the driver might have been hurt. She might be at the wheel, in need of help.

Jane unbuckled her seat belt and got out. As she approached the driver’s door of the Monte Carlo, she realized there was no one inside. The driver must have gotten out and gone for help. Perhaps she’d run out of gas. But if she’d gone for help, Jane reasoned as she walked back to her car, she would have gone to the inn, yet Jane had seen no one on the road. Unless the driver didn’t know about the inn and had walked in the other direction. But she must have known about the inn, because her car was pointing back toward town, which meant she’d passed the inn on her way here.

But where had she been coming from? The only thing at the end of Plunkett Lane was smelly old Hadley Pond. It didn’t make sense.

Whoever the car belonged to, Jane couldn’t get past it. She could never turn around on this narrow road, and she couldn’t very well back up all the way to the inn. Should she walk? Wait for whoever owned the car to come back?

A hand clamped on her shoulder.

She screamed and spun around.

Gil Dapero stood only inches from her. He wore jeans and a black windbreaker zipped to the neck. On his face was the faintest smile.

“You wanted to see me?” he said.

Her heart pounded painfully. She spun around and yanked at the car door, but his hand was on it, holding it closed. When she tried to pull harder, he leaned against it.

She turned to run, but immediately he clamped his hand tight around her wrist and held her there.

“Let go of me.”

“Not till we have a little talk.”

“I have nothing to talk to you about.”

He slammed his other hand against the car door, making her jump. “Yes you do!” he yelled in her face. “The cops have been all over me because of you, and I don’t appreciate it. Just what is your problem, lady? Why’d you tell them I hurt Marlene?”

“I didn’t tell them that,” she said, her voice low.

“What
did
you tell them?”

“That you and Marlene were—involved.”

“WERE! WERE! You sure you made that clear? Somehow I don’t think so.” His face was so close to hers she could smell his breath, not unpleasant but sweet. His black brows came together as he scrutinized her face. “Why do I get the idea you got it in for me, bitch? I tell you it’s over between Marlene and me, and you tell the cops to go after me.”

“I do know it’s over,” Jane said, bringing herself up straighter, “and I know why.”

“Oh yeah?”

“I know about the tape of Marlene. I know how you felt about it.”

He laughed in her face. “Then you know she was a pervert.”

“No,” she said. “I don’t equate lesbianism with perversion.”

“She said she wasn’t really a lesbo,” he said, shaking his head. “She said she only made it with that old broad to get enough money out of her so we could run off together. She said she knew how important money was to me. She had the money part right, but she chose the wrong way to get it.

“She begged me not to dump her. She told me she could get a lot more. I kept telling her no, but she wouldn’t take no for an answer. She couldn’t get it through her stupid head that I wasn’t interested in no dyke, that no matter how much money she got, it wouldn’t matter. She promised she’d be back with so much money I’d have to forgive her.”

“But she never came back.”

“Now you’re getting it.” He smiled, bringing his face close to hers again. He looked her up and down appraisingly. “You’re not bad—you know that? A little old, but not bad. Nice eyes. Pretty brown hair . . .”

“Auburn.”

“Mm. But you don’t really do it for me.”

“No?” Now she brought her face close to his, as if she were going to kiss him. “What does it for you, Gilbert?” she asked huskily. “Bullying girls? Cutting people with beer bottles? Killing people in Newark?”

She brought her knee up hard into his balls.

“Ah, jeez!” he cried, and doubled over.

She yanked open the car door, threw herself in, pulled the door shut, and slammed down the lock. Then she quickly reached over and locked the other doors. She fumbled in her coat pocket for her keys, and as she did she saw Gil straighten and stagger toward her. She turned the key in the ignition and the engine roared to life. Putting the car in reverse, she rested her arm on the back of the passenger seat and stepped on the gas. The car shot backward and, faster than Jane would have thought possible, she negotiated the road’s turns. At the same time she used her forearm to lean on the horn, letting out a loud blare.

Trees shot out at her, but she maneuvered between them somehow, at the same time casting glances out the front windshield to see if Gil was in pursuit. So far he wasn’t.

Suddenly from behind her on the road came the beams of another car’s headlights. The driver beeped twice quickly and Jane saw that it was Louise. Jane stopped, jumped out, and ran to Louise’s window.

“Let me in!” she shouted.

Louise, looking scared, nodded quickly and leaned over to unlock the passenger door. Jane ran around, got in, and locked it again.

“What happened?” Louise asked. “I heard the horn and knew something was wrong. Are you all right?”

“It’s that Gil—he was waiting for me,” Jane gasped. “He tried to scare me.”

“Why?”

“He thinks I put the police onto him. Quick, Louise, we have to get back to your house. He’s dangerous.”

“Okay,” Louise said fretfully and backed up the short distance that remained to the inn’s entrance. She overshot it, shifted into drive, and raced up the lawn to the house. They hopped out and ran inside, locking the door.

“What’s going on?” A sleepy-eyed disheveled Ernie stood at the upstairs landing in a red-plaid bathrobe. “Jane, are you all right? What happened? Was that you honking the horn?”

“Yes,” Louise told him. “A man tried to scare her.”

“What man?” he asked, alarmed.

“A man named Gil Dapero, who was involved with my nanny,” Jane said.

Ernie looked confused.

“It’s a long story,” Louise said. “Go back to bed, dear. Jane’s fine.”

He hesitated at the banister, then nodded reluctantly and padded back down the hall.

“Oh, Louise, it was horrible,” Jane said. “He blocked the road with his car and must have been hiding in the woods, because when I was getting back into my car he surprised me from behind and—” She broke off, remembering what Gil had done to Vernon.

“And all because he thinks you put the police onto him?”

“You heard what Doris said about him. Someone like that can’t get far enough away from the police.”

“Well,” Louise said briskly, “that’s who we’re calling.” She marched to the phone on the foyer table and dialed 911.

Jane grabbed the phone from her and hung it up. “No!”

“Jane, what’s the matter with you? A dangerous man attacks you in the woods, and you don’t want to call the police?”

“No—because he is dangerous. If the police go after him again, he’ll come after me again. Then he’ll come after Nick and Florence. I can’t take that chance—at least not until after we find out what happened to Marlene.”

“But what if he attacks you again? Next time you might not get away.”

“He won’t do it again. He said what he wanted to say.”

“Which was what?”

“That he had nothing to do with Marlene leaving, and I’d better leave him alone.”

“Do you believe him?”

“I don’t know.”

“Well, you’re staying here tonight. Goodness knows we have room. Take your pick!”

“That’s sweet of you, Louise, but I have to get back. I’ll be fine.”

“But what if he’s out there? Let me at least drive you home.”

Jane considered this. “All right. Thanks. But only if Ernie comes, too. That way he’ll be with you on the way home.”

“Good idea. Be right back.” Louise hurried upstairs and reappeared a few moments later with Ernie, now dressed in jeans and a sweater.

“He’s not quite awake yet,” Louise said. “Come on, Ernie, we’re taking Jane home.”

“I appreciate this,” Jane said, leading the way outside to the porch. “When we get to my car, I’ll pull it over to the side of the road so we can get past it. In the morning I’ll have Florence give me a lift over here to pick it up.”

They piled into Louise’s car, Louise at the wheel, Ernie and Jane in back, and rolled down the drive and out onto Plunkett Lane. Jane half expected Gil to jump out of the trees onto the windshield, but neither he nor his car was anywhere in sight.