Murder in the Mansion (3 page)

“This
birthday means a great deal to your father,” Vivien said at length. “I want
everything to be perfect.”

“It
is,” Nadia told her. “The caterers are nearly ready. Everything looks great.”

“It
has to.” Vivien seemed agitated.

“Are
you all right, Mom?”

“Of
course,” Vivien calmly brushed her hair. “Why wouldn't I be?”

Because
it's the first party you've thrown since Dani died, Nadia thought, but couldn't
bring herself to say the words. In the five years since her sister's death they
had never spoken her name. If they pretended that she hadn’t lived then she
couldn’t have died.

“You
just seem a little stressed,” Nadia said finally.

“Well,
I am, naturally,” Vivien replied. “There are so many details. So many people.”

“It's
okay if you are, Mom,” Nadia said softly. “It's a big day. An important one.”

“Yes,
for your father,” Vivien set her hairbrush down with a snap. “Everything needs
to be perfect.”

“It
will be,” Nadia reassured her.

“He
hasn't arrived yet has he?”

“No,”
Nadia watched her select her jewelry. Her mother was in her fifties and didn't
look or act like it. She hoped to be as youthful when she was that age.

“Sam
is going to take him for a few drinks and then bring him home.”

“He'll
be surprised,” Nadia said. “He'll be happy you did it.”

“I
hope so,” Vivien's voice was doubtful. She smiled brightly. “I'm about finished
here. We should go down in case there are any early guests.”

Nadia
watched her rise from the chair looking graceful and elegant. Although she
looked like her mother, with the same dark hair and deep blue eyes, she often
felt clumsy next to her. Her mother was the perfect society wife. Nadia was
more like her father. She loved to laugh and play. Etiquette and cocktail
parties bored her.

But
it was her father's birthday and she would attend this function even if it
bored her to tears.

“Will
you be going out afterwards?” Vivien asked as if she had read her daughter's
mind.

“Maybe.”
Nadia slid off of the bed. She wore a short green dress, her long hair loose
over her shoulders.

“Still
seeing the same guy?”

“Maybe.”
Nadia smiled. “You won't like him.”

“I
expect that's why I haven't met him yet.”

“You
might still, I don't know.”

“Well,
think about it,” Vivien slid her arm through Nadia's as they walked out of the
room. It was a rare gesture of affection. Although they engaged in long talks
on occasion, Vivien never seemed comfortable touching her.

“I
will. I really don't think you'll like him though.”

“Maybe
I won't,” Vivien agreed. She shut the bedroom door behind her. “But then not
every man I spent time with would have impressed my parents either.”

“Really?”

“I've
made my share of bad decisions,” Vivien looked down at her as they descended
the stairs. “Maybe my share and yours.”

Nadia
laughed. “I'd love to hear that story one day.”

“There
are some stories a woman never tells,” Vivien said softly. “Some mistakes are big
enough that they should only be your own.”

“Some
mistakes aren't actually as bad as we think.”

They
stopped at the bottom of the stairs and Vivien turned to her. She hesitated a
moment, as if debating what she wanted to say and how she wanted to say it.

“When
I look back on my life, the entirety of it, there are things I would do exactly
as I did. There are others though,” her voice trailed off, “that I would never
have let happen. Certain decisions that you make now will ultimately change
your life, for good or bad, and once you've made those decisions you won't be
able to undo them. Not ever.”

Vivien
sighed and then continued, “I want you to remember this. If you don't remember
anything else I've said after I'm gone, remember this. Be careful who you choose
to be involved with. Don't take love or sex lightly. We always think we know
our lovers, our husbands, but we don't. They can make fools of us. And once
there are children involved, once we depend on them for money or reputation,
walking away isn't so easy.”

“Mom?”
there was so much she wanted to ask. Instead she said nothing.

“I
don't want you to depend on anyone. Ever. For anything.”

But
I depend on you, Nadia thought.

The
doorbell rang.

“The
first of our guests are arriving,” Vivien said bitterly. “Let's get this party
going and be done with it.”

Outside
the lovely white house, on the back patio, those closest to William gathered to
wish him well. Champagne and spirits flowed freely and guests sampled
appetizers from circulating trays. Caterers had prepared a variety of food and
servers moved inconspicuously among the guests to offer it. Everything was
according to Vivien's specifications and everything had gone beautifully.

William
made his way slowly from one end of the garden to the other, stopping to chat
with old friends and colleagues. He was pleased that his brother, Marius, had
made the trip from London and had brought his wife and children with him. They
managed to speak weekly on the phone and emailed each other regularly, but it
had been a year or more since he'd seen any of his extended family and the fact
that they'd made the trip despite being so busy with their own lives meant a
lot to William. He and Vivien had made their own family but at the end of the
day it was his brother who had made the effort to be there with him. His own
children, save Nadia, were no where to be seen. There had been no phone calls
or cards in the mail. After five years he'd stopped expecting it but, after
seeing Marius and all the others who'd turned out for his party, it still
burned.

He
turned from his brother, who was describing a recent trip to Berlin, and looked
toward the house. He had made a home here for thirty years. The stately
structure held many good memories and many hardships. William liked to think he
had overcome them. He liked to think that with aging came times of triumph and
times of sorrow. He was approaching his retirement and a new era of his life.
He tried not to think of his past, of where he'd been and the mistakes he had
made. But now, staring at the house, seeing his wife standing on the back
terrace alone, a wistful expression on her lovely face, he couldn't help
himself.

Vivien
had never truly recovered from all that had happened to them. The bitterness
and estrangement that had followed Dani's death had affected her deeply. While
William had been able to consider, accept, and compartmentalize the events that
had happened to him in life, Vivien could not. She withdrew into herself,
sinking into stretches of depression that held her for weeks at a time.

She
was a lovely woman, William thought as he gazed at her. Ebony hair and sapphire
eyes. She had aged well and kept herself remarkably youthful. William had
always prided himself on his marriage, had always referred to her as his better
half. She was witty and intelligent and an excellent hostess. Reflecting on his
life, looking back on his marriage and the choices he had made, William knew
that he had been right when he had asked her to marry him.

Between
them they had made six children, with only one in attendance. That was the
grief in Vivien's beautiful eyes, William knew. She was thinking of them and
wishing they were here. Angrily he put aside his memories and any sense of
responsibility. Every once in a while they crept into his thoughts, grabbed a
hold of his heart and gave a good hard squeeze. He was human. He was entitled
to his emotions. Vivien, he knew, thought of them every day. It had destroyed
her most of all to lose them so completely from her life. They never spoke of
it. It was something they could not properly put into words.

It
was not how William had thought his life would be.

He
put that aside the moment it occurred to him. He had lived his life up until
now, he reminded himself. He had married well, traveled, and built a successful
law firm.

William
sighed deeply, resentfully. He was becoming melancholy and he shouldn't upset
himself at his birthday party. Vivien had gone to a lot of trouble. He began to
walk toward the house, thinking that he would find his wife and tell her how
lovely the party was. But when he looked up again, hoping to meet Vivien's
eyes, she was gone.

As
night began to settle over them, women pulled shawls around bare shoulders and
patio lights flickered on to brighten the garden. The pool glittered under the
lamplight, rippling against the cool breeze. Some guests sat barefoot with
their feet in the water, lost in idle conversation. Others lounged on patio
furniture or stood in small groups along the stone patio and lawn.

Cued
by the lamplight, caterers and servers switched platters for desserts.
Champagne was returned to the kitchen and hot beverages were passed around.
Guests sat nibbling on strawberries, cheesecake, and apple pie. The toasts
which had continued throughout the evening began to wind down. Everyone but
Vivien had praised, reminisced, and advised him on what was to come next in his
life.

She
stood now on the back terrace, with the house lit up behind her, the windows
appearing to glow in the darkness. The house stood in an elegant disarray, a
back-split sprawling this way and that, as if it wasn't sure what it was trying
to be. William had loved it from the moment he'd set eyes on it. Looking at
Vivien he knew he felt the same way about her.

“If
I could have your attention for a moment,” her voice rang out over the
monotonous chatter. “You've all had your chance to tell William how wonderful
he is this evening. How much he's done for you as an employer, how rewarding it
has been to do business with him, or how it was never solely about business,
but friendship,” she looked out at the crowd, met Sam's eyes for one moment.
“Sam spoke earlier about friendship being at the core of one of the most
successful law firms in Toronto. If we look around this evening it is obvious that
William has made a lot of friends in his sixty years.”

She
sipped from her champagne and lingered over it. William watched and waited,
unsure if she meant to clear her mind or wanted the dramatic effect.

“William
has also managed,” she continued, “through distance, through building a
business and making a family, to hold on to his roots. Marius has come a long
way this evening to celebrate with us and I know he would have traveled
further.” She raised her glass in his direction. “Thank you for always being
just a phone call away.”

She
took another sip and waited for the clapping to dissipate before speaking. “Of
course I extend the same thank you to my own family. William and I have been
married for thirty four years and when we took those vows our families merged.
Our friends also merged. His career, his interests, his ambitions, have also in
some shape or form affected the life we have together. My sister Pamela has
kept me grounded for all of these years. The support we have been given by all
of you at one time or another in our lives has strengthened us individually. It
has also enabled us to have a fulfilling marriage and life together. I am
grateful to all of you for that and thank all of you for being here tonight to
celebrate this momentous occasion.

“Thirty
four years ago I made a decision that affected the entire course of my life.
Had I not married William my life would have been remarkably different. I think
about it sometimes, as I'm sure we all do, and consider what could have been.
We have had our ups and downs. I've made mistakes. I've done things that if I
had the choice I would go back and change,” her voice grew louder, clearer, as
she stared defiantly into the crowd.

“But
if I had to do it over again I would still marry William exactly the way I did
thirty four years ago. I would still have six beautiful children with him, even
if they can't all be with us tonight. And Dani,” her voice wavered for just an
instant, “Dani, I believe in my heart, would be here with us right now if she
could. I married a successful and truly wonderful man who makes me feel
intelligent and beautiful to this day. Wouldn't it be nice if all women could
say that after thirty four years? So if you would all raise your glasses, or
coffee, whichever you have on you. Here's to William as he embarks on a new era
in his life. May we have another sixty years with you!”

The
crowd clapped and cheered.

“Another
sixty years,” William raised his glass in her direction. “Would make me a little
too old. Why don't we aim for a hundred and call it a day?” Vivien laughed. It
was a long-standing joke between the two of them. William always told Vivien
that when they were eighty, or ninety, or one-hundred-and-two, whichever age
pleased him that day, that they would do this or that, as time was forever
getting away from them. Vivien would roll her eyes and scoff that she didn't
want to go to Venice in a wheelchair, and William would chuckle, pleased that
she'd risen to his bait. Many of the people there that night were accustomed to
this banter between the two of them.

She'd
mentioned Dani, William thought with a start. It had happened so quickly and
been so brief that it had been only a short stab in his heart. Still, Vivien
hadn't said any of their children's names, except for Nadia of course, in
years. It was unlike her to speak so candidly or to show such a real display of
emotion. She was a brilliant hostess because she was unfailingly gracious and
stoic. She showed only what she wanted others to see and she said only what she
wanted others to hear. Vivien had an innate talent for immediately assessing a
situation and deliberately expressing what she knew the other person wanted her
to. She had been a huge asset to William and his business over the years. Her
speech had been unusual. Immediately William wondered why she had said it.

He
wanted to go to her, to pull her aside and ask her why she'd done it, but she
was standing amongst a group of people. He took one step in her direction
anyway and saw Nadia.

“Going
somewhere?”

“Just
inside for a few minutes,” she told him. “I want something cold to drink. Maybe
a few minutes of peace.”

William
nodded absently. “There's a lot of people here. I'm glad you're here, too.”

“Of
course I'm here,” she told him. “Where else would I be?”

“Anywhere
that wasn't here.”

She
stared at him. “They didn't call. None of them called.”

“No.
But I shouldn't be surprised.”

“There's
a lot of water under the bridge, now.”

“I
know.”

“Not
just between you and each of them.”

“I
know.”

“It's
been five years today Dad, since Dani,” Nadia let out a deep breath.

“I
know what day it is.”

It
was the second time in one night that his dead daughter had been tossed at him.
She was a memory he wanted to let go and, if it were possible, even forget. But
he knew it wasn't possible. He could never truly forget his children and their
absence, chosen or otherwise, never failed to anger and upset him.

He
said goodbye to Nadia and told her she could leave the party before he looked
for his wife. After a few minutes he saw her speaking to her sister and didn't
want to interrupt. Feeling tired and a bit weary, he made his way across the
crowded garden and into the kitchen.

Caterers
were busy cleaning up and putting extra food in the fridge. He poured himself
another glass of champagne, not ready to switch to coffee, and spent some time
talking with the caterers, complimenting them on their food. He was interested
in the ingredients they'd used, so much so that he lost track of time. Not
ready to go back to the party, he wandered through the house. He wanted a few
minutes to himself, to reflect on what everyone had told him, to enjoy the fact
that they were here, celebrating with him, before the moment passed and it was
over.

That
was when he heard the murmur of voices behind the wooden door to the study, a
man's and a woman's. He continued to walk, thinking nothing of it, but the high
pitched whisper made him pause.

“I
hate you!”

He
moved closer to the door, curious of what was going on. All of his guests
should be outside finishing dessert. Who had needed to come in here?

“I
don't care!” The voice was slightly more shrill. “I don't want to hear it.”

Another
voice murmured, confidently. There was the sound of footsteps on the worn wooden
floor. Then the whispered voice again, “Good! I wish you'd died a long time
ago!”

There
was the sound of a crack. Not very loud, but enough that William jerked against
the door. He could hear muffled sobbing. “Why don't you go back to hell where
you came from. No! Stay away from me! I will never let you near me again! I
never should have let you near me in the first place!” Her voice had grown
louder and louder. William took a long sip to calm his pounding heart. “I never
loved you! Sex isn't love.”

He
stood frozen for one moment, realizing one of the voices belonged to his wife.
Then he pushed the door open and heaved the champagne glass across the room.
The glass shattered against the wall. Assessing the scene unfolding before him
William stepped back as if he'd been struck. As if sealing his fate, he slammed
the door shut behind him.

****

Before
going into the study, Vivien had seen William glance her way across the patio
and knew he wanted to talk to her. After more than three decades with her
husband, she thought she knew every look and gesture. She wanted a few minutes
to herself before she spoke to him. She wanted a few minutes away from all of
the people who crowded her, from the noise, from all of it. She spent a few
moments speaking with her sister, thinking she'd sneak inside afterward, and
then turned when Nadia spoke from behind her.

“Great
speech, Mom.”

“Thanks,”
Vivien was surprised when Nadia hugged her. She put her arms around her,
knowing how many people were watching, and tried not to be bothered by the
public display of  affection. She and Nadia had never had that kind of
relationship.

“Dad
says I'm free to go. I won't be late.”