Murder Can Ruin Your Looks (43 page)

I nodded, a picture of the girl’s bedroom springing to mind.

‘‘But just why are the rings so important?’’

‘‘Because the twin that’s in St. Catherine’s was wearing one of those rings the night she was brought in.’’ I an

swered the question in Bromley’s eyes. ‘‘The one with the amethyst; Mary Ann’s the surviving sister.’’ As soon as I said it, I asked to use the phone.

Peter had been waiting long enough to hear those words.

*

*

*

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The instant I was back in my own apartment, I dialed Peter’s number for the second time. (He hadn’t been home

when I tried him from Bromley’s, and I hadn’t left a mess

age.)

When I heard the recorded ‘‘Hello, this is Peter . . .’’

again, I wanted to scream. But, gritting my teeth in frustra

tion, I said, ‘‘Peter, it’s Desiree; call me the second you get in. I have news—the news you’ve been waiting for!’’

I’d barely put down the receiver when I began to worry. Had I mentioned I had something
good
to tell him—some

thing
wonderful,
really? I should have been clearer. So, neurotic that I am, I made another call. ‘‘It’s me again, Peter. I don’t think I told you; the news is
fantastic
!’’

Waiting for Peter to get back to me, I put up some coffee I didn’t really want. And because I hate to have just plain coffee, I paid a visit to the freezer for a little Macadamia Brittle to keep it company. Only a little, you understand; I was much too antsy to actually
enjoy
it. But it seemed to have a calming effect on me (at least, that’s what I told myself), and I soon made a return trip to the freezer—this time, for a much more generous portion.

The telephone rang when the last spoonful of the

Haägen-Dazs was en route to my mouth. I threw down the

spoon.
Peter!
In my hurry to talk to him, I managed to trip over my own feet. Only the fortunate placement of the kitchen counter—which I grabbed on to just in time—kept me upright.

‘‘Aunt Dez?’’ the hesitant voice said when I made it to the phone.

Ellen!
I’d
forgotten
all
about
her!
‘‘Oh, Ellen, I’m so glad you called. I tried reaching you earlier.’’

‘‘I just came in about a half hour ago. I spent the day in Great Neck at my friend Vickie’s—this woman I work with.

Listen, I feel just terrible about the way I acted Friday night.’’

‘‘Why are
you
apologizing? I’m the one who was at fault. I can’t tell you how sorry I am about embarrassing you like that.’’

‘‘But you meant well. You only did it for me.’’

‘‘I
did
mean well—you know I’d never hurt you inten

tionally. But I was really very stupid. If I promise to behave from now on, can we just forget it?’’

‘‘No, I’m afraid not.’’

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Selma
Eichler

‘‘Why? What do you mean?’’

Then came the giggle. ‘‘I just spoke to Mike Lynton.’’

‘‘Oh?’’

‘‘He was very nice, too. We talked for about fifteen mi

nutes, and I’m meeting him for drinks Wednesday night.’’

‘‘Ellen!’’ I squealed. ‘‘I am
so
glad. I just
know
you’re going to like each other.’’

‘‘Well, even if we don’t, it’s worth a try.’’

‘‘That’s right. And listen, if it doesn’t work out, I’ll bet Peter knows some very—’’

‘‘Aunt Dez!’’

‘‘Not that I would ever approach him,’’ I assured her hastily, ‘‘but if
he
should happen to say something to
me
. . .’’

Things were certainly looking up, I decided after Ellen’s news. She had a date with an absolutely darling young man, and you never knew where
that
could lead. (I caught myself picturing Mike Lynton’s refrigerator filled to capacity with near-empty containers of Chinese food.) Even more im

portant, Peter’s fianceé was alive and, while not exactly well, hopefully on her way. As for me, I had that lovely vacation with Stuart to look forward to.

But I
did
wish I’d hear from Peter.

The call came at eleven-fifteen. ‘‘Peter!’’ I screeched.

‘‘It’s Mary Ann! The girl in the hospital is Mary Ann!’’

‘‘Are you sure?’’ he asked cautiously.

‘‘Absolutely! I saw Charlotte Bromley tonight. She told me Mary Ann was the one with the amethyst ring—the ring found on the survivor! And you can’t get a better I.D. than that, since Bromley designed that ring for her in the first place!’’

‘‘Thank God!’’ And now he was so exuberant he could barely contain himself. ‘‘I really
did
know it all along,’’ he told me, seeming to pick up speed with every word, ‘‘but sometimes I was afraid that maybe it was because I wanted it so badly. And then when Larry Shields was at the hospi

tal yesterday, he acted like it was Meredith in that room. But maybe that’s because
he
wanted it so badly. But any

how, it’s finally official. I can’t even begin to thank you for all your help, Desiree.’’

All at once he started to sob—deep, wrenching sobs that

expelled all the horror and fear he’d kept under rein for

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CAN
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YOUR
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261

so long. A moment later, there I was, joining right in with him. (No one ever has to cry alone as long as I’m around.) I couldn’t seem to stop myself, either. Even after Peter had pulled himself together, I was still at it.

I produced a fresh supply of tears when he reported that

this morning Mary Ann remembered something about hav

ing tea in London when she was a child. And I kept right on going when he insisted he was taking me to the Four Seasons for dinner on Friday to celebrate. I didn’t even let up when Peter apologized for making me cry in the first place.

‘‘I really got you started, didn’t I?’’ he said awkwardly.

‘‘I’m sorry I carried on like that. I guess it’s because I’ve been keeping everything bottled up inside me and because I’m so happy it worked out the way it did.’’

‘‘I know,’’ I sniffled, finally managing to compose myself,

‘‘and
I’ve
been crying because I’m so happy for you. Any

way, I guess we’d both better go get some rest now.’’

‘‘Good idea. I’ll talk to you in the morning. And, well, thanks again, Desiree. For everything.’’

After we hung up, I sat there quietly for a while, think

ing. And I found myself growing more and more depressed.

Was it only minutes ago that I’d rejoiced with Peter over Mary Ann’s survival? And just a couple of hours ago that I’d been feeling so good about
everything
? At that moment, it was hard to believe. Because, at that moment, I couldn’t seem to shake from my mind the tragedy that was Mere

dith Foster.

And then I started blubbering all over again. But those tears had nothing to do with joy.

I recalled how Meredith had nursed her husband during his losing battle with AIDS. And how she’d always looked after her sister. And I reminded myself of her talent and her dedication to her craft. What sad irony that just when her career seemed to be taking off and there was a caring new man in her life,
this
had to happen to her. And that’s when, to my mortification, I became aware that I was actually angry with Mary Ann—and furious with

myself for feeling that way. I mean, how dared I, when the poor thing was virtually shackled to a hospital bed, going through such hell!

Really, though, it blew my mind that she’d remained neu

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Selma
Eichler

tral in this feud between her sister and brother. How could she
not
have sided with Meredith, for God’s sake!

But what was the matter with me, anyway? After all, things turned out just the way I’d wanted them to, hadn’t they? Besides, from everything I’d been told, Mary Ann was a sweet, warm, friendly girl. And just look how ecstatic Peter was now!

Still, I couldn’t help wondering—and not for the first time—if, in real life, there was any such thing as a truly happy ending.

• Cover Page
  
• Title Page
  
• Copyright Page
  
• Dedication Page
  
• Acknowledgments
  
• Chapter One
  
• Chapter Two
  
• Chapter Three
  
• Chapter Four
  
• Chapter Five
  
• Chapter Six
  
• Chapter Seven
  
• Chapter Eight
  
• Chapter Nine
  
• Chapter Ten
  
• Chapter Eleven
  
• Chapter Twelve
  
• Chapter Thirteen
  
• Chapter Fourteen
  
• Chapter Fifteen
  
• Chapter Sixteen
  
• Chapter Seventeen
  
• Chapter Eighteen
  
• Chapter Nineteen
  
• Chapter Twenty
  
• Chapter Twenty-One
  
• Chapter Twenty-Two
  
• Chapter Twenty-Three
  
• Chapter Twenty-Four
  
• Chapter Twenty-Five
  
• Chapter Twenty-Six
  
• Chapter Twenty-Seven
  
• Chapter Twenty-Eight
  
• Chapter Twenty-Nine
  
• Chapter Thirty
  
• Chapter Thirty-One
  
• Chapter Thirty-Two
  
• Chapter Thirty-Three
  
• Chapter Thirty-Four
  
• Chapter Thirty-Five
  
• Chapter Thirty-Six
  
• Chapter Thirty-Seven
  
• Chapter Thirty-Eight
  
• Chapter Thirty-Nine
  
• Chapter Forty
  
• Chapter Forty-One
  
• Chapter Forty-Two
  
• Chapter Forty-Three
  
• Chapter Forty-Four