Set the Stage for Murder (14 page)

“I know I’m at fault, Sally. And like it or not, so are you. But the point is that we, you and me, royally screwed up our son’s life by ignoring everything and sweeping it under the rug. We’re not going to do it anymore. He needs us now and we’re going to be there for him.”

“Oh my God, Ed, he’s not using again, is he?” The hatred on her face had transformed into concern for her son. “Ed, what’s wrong?” she asked, panic rising in her voice.

“No, he’s still clean, as far as I know.”

She rushed to the chair and grabbed her husband’s arm. “Then what? What is it?”

Ed slowly turned and faced his wife. “He could be in real trouble, Sal. He’s done something which he didn’t know was wrong, really, but now someone is holding it over him.”

She looked at him searchingly. “What do you mean “someone’s holding it over him?” Ed saw comprehension replace the confused expression on his wife’s face. “Ed, are you telling me that someone is blackmailing our son?”

He nodded.

She shook her head in denial. “No, I refuse to believe Connor did something bad enough that he could be blackmailed for it. He just couldn’t.” She looked at him, daring him to contradict her.

“Sal, it was a girl. A young girl.” Sally started to get up, but he grabbed her arms. “He says he had no idea, and I believe him. Look, we both know plenty of sixteen year old girls who look twenty.”

Sally relaxed a little and looked at her husband questioningly. “But who would threaten him? Who would do that?” He saw the answer dawn on her, and he saw the look of hatred return to her eyes, only this time it wasn’t for him. “Rosamund,” she said through clenched teeth. “That’s what that whole thing at
Overture
was about.” She got up from the floor, crossed to the bed, and frantically started picking up the remaining pills and putting them back in the bottle she had retrieved from underneath the pillow. When she was done, she held it in her hand for a few seconds and then flung it across the room. “I’ll make her pay for this, Ed,” she sobbed. “She’s going to pay for hurting my son.”

Ed quickly got up from his chair and crossed to Sally, taking her in his arms. No, babe, let me handle this.” He patted her head soothingly. “I’ll take care of Roz Whiting.” He held his wife for the first time in a long time and whispered comforting words in her ear while she cried softly. Blinking back tears of his own, his gaze drifted to the open window and the lace panel that billowed lazily in the fragrant, late-afternoon breeze. As he looked down on the front lawn and thought about how much he had to make up for, a brown Mercedes pulled into the circular drive and came to a stop. “Well, well,” he said softly in Sally’s ear. “Speak of the devil.”

Sally turned and watched with her husband as Rosamund Whiting and Meg Pierce got out of the car. The two blonde-haired women were dressed similarly in white pants and neutral tops, except Roz’s outfit was clearly the more expensive and better tailored of the two, Calvin Klein or possibly Armani, if Sally were guessing. The pair conferred briefly, head to head, before making their way to the front door.

“By the pricking of my thumbs … ” Ed said quietly, almost to himself.

“Something wicked this way comes,” Sally finished, looking back at her husband.

***

Betty Van Allen stood at the window of her store and watched the young man over at the abandoned depot as he paced back and forth, clenching and unclenching his fists. He reminded her of a boxer in the ring, right before a big fight. He stopped and looked toward the river, his hands still moving, as if keeping rhythm to a beat that only he could hear. Slowly and gradually his body relaxed. He stood still for more than a minute and then turned and sat on one of the old benches next to the depot. After making a call on a cell phone, he pulled a cigarette out of his shirt pocket and lit it with a disposable lighter he retrieved from his jeans. He took a long drag, leaned back against the old red brick building, and held his breath. As he slowly exhaled, Betty shook her head and sighed. She had taught high school for forty years, and she knew just what sort of cigarette that young man was smoking. She also knew from experience that folks driving cars that expensive were most likely headed for the Folly. Now she had to decide whether to mind her own damn business or call up the McDowells and give them a heads up on one of their guests. She watched the young man for a few more seconds and then crossed to the counter, picked up her phone, and started dialing. The way Betty Van Allen saw it, she was over ninety and had earned the right to be a busybody.

Chapter 13

Vicki studied her reflection in the full-length mirror and smiled.
Yes
, she thought,
my husband has impeccable taste
. The violet, sleeveless Gretchen Banks jersey dress Teddy had presented her with earlier in the day looked beautiful with her brown hair and fair coloring, and the curve-hugging fit showed off her physical attributes admirably, even if she did say so herself. Gretchen, a former theatrical costume designer and one of Vicki’s oldest friends, had long aspired to having her own clothing line. After Vicki married Teddy, one of the first things she did with her newly acquired wealth was provide Gretchen with the financial backing she needed to launch her own company. Now in its third year, Gretchen Banks, Inc. was a successful little enterprise, mostly because of the designer’s classic and figure-flattering clothes that looked good on women of various body types and ages. Even Phoebe had a Gretchen Banks evening gown hanging in her closet amongst the vintage Norrell and Trigere dresses she sometimes wore when the occasion didn’t allow for pants.

Vicki crossed to the dresser and rummaged through her jewelry box, finally settling on a diminutive pair of diamond and amethyst earrings that had once belonged to great-great-grandma Lenore. Clementine, who was comfortably ensconced atop a pile of pillows on the bed, followed her mistress’s every move with impossibly large brown eyes. “What do you think, girl?” Vicki asked. The pug’s corkscrew tail wagged appreciatively. Vicki laughed as she went to the dog and scratched her head. “You always know the right thing to say, Clem. Come on, girl. We’re due in the kitchen for a meeting.” Clementine hopped from the bed and followed her mistress out the bedroom door and down the back stairway to the kitchen, where Marc, Ethan, Vincent, and Teddy were gathered.

Teddy stopped in the middle of a story and let out a low whistle. “Wow. Gentlemen, just take a look at my wife, would you?” He walked across the room and gave her a kiss.

Vicki did a small curtsey and smiled at her husband. “Actually, gentlemen, this is all my husband’s doing. He surprised me with this dress today.

Marc looked at her critically, tilting his head one way and then the other. “Makes you look ten years younger.” He turned back to the fresh corn salsa he was preparing for the crab-cake appetizer. “And your legs look great. You should wear strappy, four-inch heels all the time.”

“Like Marc does,” Ethan chimed in, without missing a beat and moving out of the way before his partner could retaliate.

Teddy smiled mischievously at Vicki. “I agree wholeheartedly.”

Vicki leaned against the kitchen island and listened as the boys shared what they knew. With the exception of Connor, who called to say he was running late, all the guests had arrived and were freshening up in their quarters before meeting for cocktails on the back veranda in fifteen minutes. Marc appeared remarkably calm, assuring her that everything was under control and on schedule, and Ethan was his usual unflappable self. Vincent quietly filled them in on what he’d witnessed in the Cortezs’ room. He also told the assembled group, unnecessarily perhaps, that Harold Fiske was already well on his way to being plastered and that Billy Putnam was putting the moves on Kim. Neither revelation surprised the other people in the kitchen. Harold and Billy were simply playing their usual roles, albeit convincingly and with vigor. Evidently it was the other players in the weekend’s entertainment, such as Ed and Sally, who would supply the surprises and the drama.

“And Roz and Meg are settled in the guesthouse?” Teddy was leaning against the kitchen island, reaching for a spring roll. “What’s the mood like over there?”

“Yes,” Marc chimed in as he swiftly moved the platter to the table before Teddy could grab a roll, “are our star’s nerves getting the best of her? Will her understudy have to go on tonight?”

Vincent thought for a minute, gathering and sorting through his impressions of the two women. “Actually, it’s Ms. Pierce who seems to be the nervous one. She wouldn’t stop talking and couldn’t stay still. She was walking around the house, picking up things, putting them right back down, looking through the curtains, and all the while keeping her eyes on Ms. Whiting. It’s like she’s doing the worrying for both of them, or something.”

“Well, that certainly sounds like Meg, doesn’t it?” Vicki commented. “I wonder what she knows about all of this that we don’t?” she added thoughtfully. “Maybe I should chat her up tonight after she’s had a cocktail or two.”

“Good idea,” Teddy said. “In fact, I suspect that cocktail hour to be pretty interesting, all the way around.” He looked at Vincent and Ethan. “I expect our bartenders to pour liberally this evening, okay, guys?”

Vincent threw his arm around Ethan’s shoulder and smiled broadly. “You bet, Mr. Mac. You can count on us. We’ll get this investigation rolling, right, Shakespeare?”

Ethan blushed slightly and grinned. “Whatever you say, Slick.”

“Slick?” Vicki asked, one eyebrow cocked.

“Yes Ma’am,” Vincent said, causing Vicki to wince ever so slightly. “Shakespeare, here, decided I needed a nickname. He came up with it all on his own.”

“I see,” Vicki sighed, giving up any hope of a different designation and mentally resigning herself to being “Ma’am” forever. She was brought back from her reverie by Phoebe’s appearance through the door that led to the dining room. The older woman was dressed in pearl gray pants and a pale lavender blouse. Naturally, she had added a silk scarf, this one mostly purple and blue with a band of green running through it that was the color of a summer lawn. “Phoebe, you look beautiful.”

Teddy crossed to his mother and kissed her cheek. “Vicki’s right, Mother, you look wonderful.”

She smiled and nodded to her son and daughter-in-law. “Thank you, my dears. However, I’m not here to bask in compliments.” She glanced back over her shoulder and then addressed the group in a conspiratorial whisper. “I have just received a tip from an informant which may have bearing on our investigation.”

Teddy unconsciously leaned into the group and lowered his voice. “What tip? What informant?” He leaned back and shook his head. “And why are we whispering?”

“Shhhh,” Phoebe said, looking over her shoulder again. “The walls have ears, Theodore. We have to be careful.”

Since it was almost time for everyone to gather, Vicki looked at her watch and attempted to get the proceedings back on track. “What have you found out, Phoebe?”

“My source tells me that Connor Cortez is on his way and that he has been smoking a joint of marijuana,” she straightened up, clearly pleased at her latest bit of detection.

“Ahhh,” Teddy said. “The Follyville pipeline. When did Betty call?”

Phoebe frowned at her son. “Yes, Theodore, you’re correct, Betty is my informant. And for Heaven’s sake, stop looking so pleased with yourself; anyone could have figured that out.” She shook her head and continued. “I just got off the phone with Betty. Apparently Connor has been at the old depot for quite some time. She says he looks as if he is preparing for something; a fight or an encounter of some sort.”

“Well, so much for rehab,” Marc said, removing two baking sheets of herbed cheese straws from the oven.

“Poor Connor,” Vicki said. “I guess he’s not strong enough yet for whatever it is that Roz is doing to him.” And just what the hell
is
she doing to him?” she asked as she looked around the group, her anger rising. “What is she thinking? You know, I’m not surprised she’s got enemies and I’m not surprised one of them is threatening her. I’m only observing from the sidelines and I’m ready to strangle her myself!” She took in a deep breath and let it out slowly, forcing herself to calm down. She leaned against Teddy and put her head on his shoulder. “And that’s my breakdown for the night.”

Teddy put his arms around his wife. “You know, it really wasn’t much of a breakdown.”

“Yeah, I’ll put that to shame before you’ve finished the appetizer,” Marc said without looking up from the peanut dipping sauce he was preparing for the spring rolls. “And by dessert, my hair will be on fire.”

Vicki laughed in spite of herself. “Well at least I have something to look forward to.” She turned back to her husband. “Do you think we should tell Sally and Ed about Connor?”

Teddy pondered for a moment before answering. “No. I think we should leave it for now. Although I have no doubt that Betty saw what she said she saw, it’s still hearsay.” He sighed and looked around the room. “Besides, they’ll probably figure it out for themselves.” He glanced to the clock on the kitchen wall and grimaced. “Ladies and gentlemen, I hate to tell you this, but I think the time has come for our party to begin. Does everyone have their lines memorized? Are you sure of your entrances and exits?”

Vicki looked around at her friends and family and suddenly felt chilled. She leaned against her husband for warmth. “Actually, for some reason or another, I’ve got a case of stage fright that just won’t quit.” The rest of them looked at each other and nodded. Vicki had voiced something that all of them were feeling.