The Second Time Around (37 page)

“I agree. I don't think he'd be in Bedford. He's more likely looking for Lynn Spencer in New York. The Greenwich police are watching the Barlowes' house. If he blames Nick Spencer for the failure of the vaccine, he might be crazy enough to go after Nick's son.”

The cancer vaccine is not a failure, I wanted so much to tell Casey, but I couldn't, not over the phone, not now.

“Carley, I've been thinking. I could drive you to Bedford this afternoon and wait for you.”

“No,” I said quickly. “I don't know how long I'll be with Lynn, and you should get to the party on time. I'll join you there. Casey, I won't go into it now, but I learned some things yesterday that mean there'll be criminal charges coming out of all this, and I only pray that Lynn is not involved. If she does know anything or suspect anything, now is the time for her to come forward. I've got to convince her of that.”

“Just be careful.” Then he repeated the words that I had heard from his lips for the first time the other night: “I love you, Carley.”

“I love you, too,” I whispered.

I showered and washed my hair and paid more attention than usual to my makeup. I'd plucked a pale green silk slack suit out of the closet. It was one of those outfits that I always felt good in, and people told me I looked good in, too. I decided to carry the necklace and earrings I usually wear with that suit in my purse. They seemed too festive for the conversation I was going to have with my stepsister. Instead, I put on plain gold earrings.

At one forty-five I got in my car and started the drive to Bedford. At ten of three I rang the bell and Lynn released the gate. As I had done last week when I interviewed the housekeepers, I drove around the remains of the mansion and parked in front of the guest house.

I got out of the car, walked to the door, and rang the bell. Lynn opened it for me. “Come in, Carley,” she said. “I've been waiting for you.”

A
t two o'clock Ned was positioned behind the trees near the guest house. At quarter after two a man he'd never seen before came walking up the driveway that ran to the service gate. He didn't look like a cop—his clothes were too expensive. He had on a dark blue jacket and tan pants, and wore an open-necked shirt. He had a look and attitude about him, reflected in the way he walked, that said he felt as if he owned the world.

If you're around here in an hour, you won't be owning it anymore, Ned thought. He wondered if this guy was the same one who was here last night—not the boyfriend, the other one. Could be, he decided. They were about the same size.

Today Ned could again see Annie standing near him. She was stretching out her hand to him. She knew that soon he was coming to her. “It won't be long,
Annie,” he whispered. “Just give me a couple of hours, okay?”

His head hurt, in part because he'd finished the bottle of scotch, but some of the discomfort was due to the fact that he hadn't yet figured out how he was going to get to the cemetery. He couldn't take the Toyota—the cops everywhere were looking for it. And Lynn Spencer's car was too flashy—people would notice it.

He watched as the guy walked up to the house and knocked at the door. Lynn Spencer opened it for him. Ned decided the guy was probably a neighbor who had walked over to see her. Whichever way, he either knew the code to open the service gate or she had opened it from the house.

Twenty minutes later, at ten of three, a car drove in through the front driveway and parked in front of the guest house.

Ned watched as a young woman got out of the car. He recognized her right away—it was Carley DeCarlo. She had arrived right on time, maybe even a little early. Everything was going to happen just the way he had planned.

Only that new guy was still inside. Too bad for him.

DeCarlo was dressed up as if she was going to a party, Ned thought. She was wearing a pretty suit, the kind he would have liked to buy Annie.

DeCarlo could afford clothes like that. But, of course, she was one of them—the cheats taking everybody's money, breaking Annie's heart and then telling
the world, “I didn't have a thing to do with it. I'm a victim, too.”

Sure
you are! That's why you drive up in a sportylooking, dark green Acura, wearing a fancy outfit that cost a ton of money.

Annie had always said that if they ever could afford a new car, she'd want it to be dark green. “Think about it, Ned. Black can be kind of dreary, and a lot of the dark blue cars look as though they're black, so what's the difference? But dark green—looks really classy and still has some punch to it. So when you win the lottery, Ned, you just march yourself out and buy me a dark green car.”

“Annie, honey, I never bought you one, but I'll be driving to meet you today in a dark green car,” Ned said. “Okay?”

“Oh, Ned.” He heard her laugh. She was close by. He felt her kiss. He felt her rub the back of his neck the way she used to do when he was all uptight about something, like having a run-in with somebody at work.

He had left the rifle leaning against a tree. Now he retrieved it and began to calculate the best way to proceed. He wanted to get inside the house. That way there'd be less chance that the shots would be heard from the road.

Getting down on all fours, he crept along the shrubbery line until he was at the side of the house, under the window of the TV room. Today the door leading to the living room was almost closed, so he couldn't see inside.
But he could see the guy who had just come up the driveway. He was in the TV room, standing behind the door.

“I don't think Carley DeCarlo knows he's here,” Annie said. “I wonder why.”

“Why don't we find out,” Ned suggested. “I have a key for the kitchen door. Let's go inside.”

L
ynn really is a beautiful woman. She usually wore her hair swept back in a French knot, but today she had allowed tendrils to fall around her face, splashes of golden blond that softened the iciness of her cobalt blue eyes. She was wearing perfectly tailored white silk slacks and a white silk blouse. My concern about looking too festive for our serious discussion certainly was not shared by her. Her jewelry included a narrow gold necklace sprinkled with diamonds, diamond and gold earrings, and the solitaire diamond ring I had noticed at the shareholders' meeting.

I complimented her on her appearance, and she said something about having cocktails at a neighbor's house later. I followed her into the living room. I'd been in this room only last week, but I had no intention of telling her that. I was sure she would resent my visit to Manuel and Rosa Gomez.

She sat on the couch, reclining just enough to suggest that this was going to be a relaxed social exchange, body English that told me I was in for a hard time. I certainly didn't want anything to drink, even water, but her failure to make even a token offer of hospitality was, I thought, my message to say my piece and get out.

Your call, I thought, and took a deep breath. “Lynn, this isn't going to be easy, and, frankly, the only reason I'm here and trying to help you is that my mother is married to your father.”

Her eyes fastened on me, and she nodded. We're in agreement, I thought, and I continued. “I know we don't like each other very much, and that's fine, but you used our family connection—if you can call it that—to make me your mouthpiece. You were the sad widow who had no idea what her husband was up to, you were the stepmother who yearned for her stepson. You were out of a job, friendless, just about broke. It was all a lie, wasn't it?”

“Was it, Carley?” she asked politely.

“I think it was. You didn't give a damn about Nick Spencer. The one honest thing you said was that he married you because you resembled his first wife. I believe that's true. But, Lynn, I'm here to warn you. There's going to be a criminal investigation into why the vaccine suddenly developed problems. I happen to know that the vaccine works—I saw living proof of that myself yesterday. I saw a man who, three months ago, was at death's door, and now he is one hundred percent cancer free.”

“You're lying,” she snapped.

“No, I'm not. But I'm not here to talk about that man now. I'm here to tell you that we know Vivian Powers was kidnapped and probably given mindaltering drugs.”

“That's ridiculous!”

“No, it isn't, and neither is the fact that Nick's father's files were stolen from Dr. Broderick, who was holding them for Nick. I'm pretty positive I know who it was who took them. I found his picture yesterday in a Garner Pharmaceuticals house organ. It was Lowell Drexel.”

“Lowell?” Her voice was nervous now.

“Dr. Broderick said it was a man with reddish brown hair who picked up the files. I guess the dye job was so good that he didn't see it for what it was. The picture was taken last year before Drexel stopped coloring it. I intend to call the investigators and tell them about it. Dr. Broderick was almost killed by a hit-and-run driver, and that may not have been an accident. At least I don't believe it was. He's recovering, and he'll be shown that picture. If, or maybe when, he identifies Drexel, the next thing the investigators are going to do is start looking into the plane crash. You were heard quarrelling with Nick in the coffee shop at the airport just before he took off. The waitress heard him ask you why you changed your mind at the last minute and didn't join him on the flight. You'd better have some answers ready when the police come to see you.”

Lynn was visibly nervous now. “I was hoping to patch up our marriage—that's why I said I would go with him in the first place. I told Nick that and asked
him to take Jack with him on a trip some other time. He agreed, but very unhappily. Then he was brusque with me all day Friday, so by the time we were leaving for the airport, I decided to leave my suitcase home. I waited until we were in the car to tell him, which is why he exploded. It simply hadn't occurred to me that he might run up and get Jack at the last minute.”

“That's a pretty thin story,” I told her. “I'm trying to help you, but you're making it difficult. You know what they'll start to speculate about next? I'll tell you. They'll start to wonder whether or not you slipped something into Nick's drink in that coffee shop. I'm starting to wonder about that myself.”

“That's ridiculous!”

“Then start thinking about how serious your situation is. The investigators have been concentrating on Nick, and it's been your good fortune so far that they haven't found his body. Once word gets out about the vaccine and they change that focus, you're going to start to look pretty bad. So if you know anything about what was going on in the lab, or if you were tipped off not to get on that flight with Nick, then you'd better come forward now and cut a deal with the prosecutor.”

“Carley, I loved my husband very much. I wanted to patch up our marriage. You're making all this up.”

“No, I'm not. That lunatic Ned Cooper, who just shot all those people, is the one who set the fire here. I'm sure of it. He saw someone leaving the house that night. He sent me e-mails about it, which I've turned over to the police. I think you're involved with Wallingford,
and when that revelation comes out, your alibi won't hold water.”

“You think I'm involved with Charles?” She began to laugh, a nervous, high-pitched, mirthless sound. “Carley, I thought you were smarter than that. Charles is nothing but a weak-kneed crook who steals from his own company. He did it before, which is why his sons won't talk to him, and he started doing it at Gen-stone when he realized that Nick was taking loans against his own stock. He decided to help himself by looting the medical-supply division.”

I stared at her. “Wallingford was
allowed
to steal! You
knew
he was stealing and did nothing about it?”