Twice Kissed (43 page)

“The Jeep.”

“Yeah, no one could drive it because of my plates, so Renee used her black rig, but one day, because Eve supposedly had some kind of car trouble, she took the Blazer. When she didn’t return when she was supposed to, Renee decided to risk taking the Jeep. She took off and never came back.”

“There was black paint on the Jeep,” Maggie said, horrified. Eve Lawrence, a murderer? Over money? It didn’t seem to fit.

“Figures.” Mary Theresa, shaking, tossed back a handful of pills and swallowed them.

“What about those—the ones you’re taking now—if you’ve been on drugs, isn’t that a bad idea?” Maggie said, trying to keep up with her sister’s explanation.

“Aspirin, Mag. Don’t worry. Shit, I bet this headache is because of the damned pills I was given. I was getting pretty tired of being up there, let me tell you, but Eve kept telling me that each day I stayed away would only make my reappearance all that more newsworthy.” She laughed mirthlessly. “Guess who was played for the fool?”

“All of us.”

M.T. took another long swallow from her glass before tossing the rest of the water into the sink.

“You think Eve would kill two people for money? I met her…” Maggie shook her head. “That’s way too drastic.”

“She’s nuts, obviously.”

Maggie remembered the cool businesswoman she’d met with the other day.

“Okay—let’s assume for the moment that Eve’s back was against the wall and she…killed Renee to cover her tracks or because…because she thought you’d somehow escaped,” Maggie said, not believing her own words. “What happened then?”

“I’ll tell you on the way to the car. You have one, right?”

“A rental.”

“Good. Don’t want to use mine. Not yet. Not until I know what’s going on for sure.” She started for the front of the house. “When Renee didn’t come back after a couple of days, I got worried and started hiking out. My head was clearing up and I knew something was wrong. Really wrong. I was really pissed because I was in the middle of no-goddamned-where. Fortunately some kids were snow-mobiling and they found me, took me to the road, and I walked until I found the highway where some trucker out of Salt Lake picked me up.” She sighed. “The worst part of this is that no one recognized me. Here there was supposed to be this massive manhunt for me, and Eve was certain I’d catapult myself into instant fame—become a goddamned American icon and the three people who saw me didn’t know who I was. The trucker left me off at a restaurant outside of town—that’s where I saw the newspaper and learned about Renee. I took a cab here and even the stupid cab driver didn’t figure out who I was.”

“I don’t think that’s the worst part,” Maggie said, remembering all too vividly her sister’s egomania. “I think we’d better call the police,” Maggie added, walking toward the phone.

“Later. When I get my story straight.”

Maggie was thunderstruck. “What’s to get straight? You’ve got to tell them the truth. Period.”

“And blow all this? All the work? All the built-in publicity?” Mary Theresa asked, shaking her head. “Are you crazy? Maybe we can say this was all Renee’s idea and—”

“Stop it!” Maggie stopped dead in her tracks, and yanked hard enough on Mary Theresa’s arm to whirl her around. “It’s over. All over. Don’t you get it?”

“Don’t you?” Mary Theresa asked, dropping her bag. “I can’t give up my life. My career.”

“You don’t have to give it up…just change the course.” She met her sister’s gaze in the half-light, the only illumination the weak light from the street lamps that pierced the windows. “You’ve done it before. Often,” Maggie pointed out, then couldn’t keep from blurting out the question that had been nagging at her since she’d first seen her sister again. “Why did you throw your voice at me—why did you blame Thane for all of this?”

Mary Theresa sucked in her breath. She eyed her sister and shook her head slowly. “You really want to know?”

Maggie wasn’t certain. There were so many emotions, so many years, so many lies and deceptions all tangled up in Mary Theresa’s life with Thane, and yet she had to know the truth, hadn’t come all this way to close her eyes and bury her head in the sand. “Yes, M.T. I want the truth. All of it.”

“There’s activity at Marquise’s house,” Hannah said, striding into Henderson’s office in the middle of the night as if she did it every day. Which she often did. Her lipstick had faded, her eyes were weary, but she was still pretty, even when she was all business. “Jane Stanton, Marquise’s neighbor, called, said there’s a car in the driveway. Jane’s certain that she saw a few lights when she was trying to get one of her menagerie in for the night.”

“Let’s go.” Henderson had been waiting for the report on the Blazer, but he was on his feet in an instant. “Where’s Walker?”

“According to his tail, he took a side trip to the airport, but didn’t catch a flight.”

“So he’s still in town?”

“Appears as so.” Hannah fell into step with him. “You know, we probably should have kept a stakeout at Marquise’s house and forgotten keeping Walker in our sights.”

“The verdict’s not in on that one.” Together they walked through the station and headed to the parking lot. “Got a weapon?” he asked Hannah as they climbed into the department’s rig.

She patted her shoulder. “Just like American Express,” she said without a smile. “I don’t leave home without it.”

“I’m listening,” Maggie said to her sister. “Either you tell me everything that happened or I call Thane—”

“Thane?” Mary Theresa spun around and shook her head. “We’re not calling him. Not ever.”

“Why not?”

“Because…because I don’t want to face him.”

“I think you’ll have to. You have a son by him.”

Mary Theresa had been reaching for her bag. She froze. “He told you.”

“Yes.”

“Oh.” She let out a long breath. “Look, we don’t have time for this.”

Maggie knew she was right, but couldn’t resist asking, “Why did you try to blame him? Why, when you contacted me, did you say he did this to you?”

“It’s complicated.”

“Try me.”

“Because he wouldn’t bail me out, damn it. I needed help and he didn’t care.”

“You’re talking about the money?”

“Yes! It’s all about money! Wake up, Maggie. Maybe you…you can run away to some dilapidated ranch in the middle of nowhere but the rest of the world needs decent lives. It costs so much—”

“You implicated Thane in your disappearance because you wanted to get back at him?” Maggie said, seeing red. “You lied to him about having his son and yet when he wouldn’t loan you some more money you threw your voice and insinuated that he had something to do with your disappearing act?” Maggie was horrified. Who was this complex woman with whom she’d shared so much, so little?

M.T.’s chin inched up a knot. “It got you here, didn’t it? I figured you’d rush down here to save him and put some more pressure on the police—so that we didn’t have to drag the scam out any longer than necessary.”

“This is so sick,” Maggie whispered, leaning against a bar stool.

In the glow from the clock on the microwave, Mary Theresa fiddled with the zipper tab of her warm-up jacket. “I knew you never really got over him.” She bit her lip and looked away for a second. She swallowed hard. “I guess I owe you an explanation.”

“What do you mean?” But Maggie sensed what was coming, realized that she really didn’t want to know the source of her sister’s betrayal all those years ago.

“You know why I did it, don’t you?”

“Did what?”

“You know.” She lifted a shoulder and licked her lips. “When I went to Thane the first time—to his apartment.”

“You mean when you slept with him,” Maggie clarified, her heart beating dully, the pain that had been hidden away for so long emerging fresh and bitter. She gripped the counter and waited.

“Yeah, well, it was because of Mitch.” Mary Theresa’s face contorted in pain.

“Mitch?”

Mary Theresa glanced away, to stare out the window to the inky night. “I got pregnant. That night in the hot tub—it wasn’t the first. Mitch and I…well, he helped me one night when I was out on a date with Carl Janovich—he was an older boy and I…I teased him, I guess and he started getting rough. We were at a party and Mitch showed up in the nick of time. Carl had already started slapping me, calling me a slut and a whore and all sorts of horrible names.” Mary Theresa swallowed hard and her eyes shone with unshed tears. “Anyway,” she said, her voice cracking a bit, “Mitch hauled me out of there, started giving me a lecture, and I…I broke down. I was crying and upset and he…he just held me. I clung to him, he kissed my hair and one thing led to another and…” She closed her eyes. “Before I knew what was happening, we were making love. And again on prom night. And…”

Bile rose in Maggie’s throat.

“We both tried to break it off, but couldn’t. Then you caught us in the hot tub and that was the end of it.” She wrapped her arms around her middle. “Except that I was pregnant. That’s why Mitch killed himself, Maggie, because I was pregnant with his kid.”

“His?” Maggie repeated, stunned.

“Yes. I, um, needed a father for my baby, so I dressed up like you and went over to Thane’s. He was all too easy to fool as he’d been drinking.”

“Oh, God.” Cramps spasmed in Maggie’s stomach. “But why? Why Thane?”

“He was available. And I wanted to get back at you because deep down, I blamed you for Mitch’s death. I knew it was wrong, but there it was. I tried to break it off with him and then you caught us in the hot tub and things went from bad to worse. Mitch got paranoid, swore you were gonna tell Mom and Dad. He started talking crazy and then…told me he was going to kill himself. I didn’t believe him…” Her voice faded away.

“And then he drowned,” Maggie said, not wanting to hear this side of Mary Theresa’s story and yet unable not to listen with morbid fascination.

“Yeah.” She sniffed. “I, um, thought it was because he was scared. Of you and I wanted to get back at you. Revenge.”

“Oh, Mary Theresa—” Maggie lifted a hand, cutting off any more of the horror.

“Don’t. It was wrong. I was messed up, I know it.” She buried her face in her hands, her fingers digging through her hair. “But I couldn’t stop myself and then I got pregnant again. Oh, shit, what a mess. I never loved Thane. Never. But I was jealous of you.”

“Of
me?
Oh, Mary, why? You were the popular one, you had everything going for you.”

“But Thane loved you. I mean really loved you. I could see it in the way he looked at you, the way he flirted with you, how you two joked. And he never once looked at me. No matter what I did. He was the first boy who wasn’t interested.” She lifted her head and met Maggie’s disbelieving gaze. “No one has ever loved me the way Thane loved you. No one.” She swallowed hard. “No one ever will.”

“Enough. I can’t hear any more of this. We’ve got to get out of here and whether you like it or not, you’ve got to call the police.”

“No way.”

Maggie had heard enough. In two swift strides she was across the room, her nose pressed to the identical one of her sister’s. “Come on, Mary. It’s over.” She wanted to slap some sense into the woman who still wanted to play at being Marquise. “You have a son! A son!”

“That was a surprise.”

“Thane’s boy. And you didn’t tell him. I can’t believe it!” “I—I didn’t know what to do, but I didn’t want to be tied down with a kid especially after losing Mitch’s—and I wanted out of the marriage to Thane. I don’t have to tell you that you’re never more alone than when you’re married to the wrong person.”

Maggie couldn’t argue; she’d felt the same way during her years as Dean McCrae’s wife. “Come on. Let’s go.” She picked up Mary Theresa’s bag; somewhere in the distance she heard the plaintive wail of a siren.

Swiping tears away with the back of her hand, Mary Theresa wrested her bag out of Maggie’s fingers. They started walking toward the front door.

“So why didn’t you just call me and tell me you were in financial trouble?”

“I couldn’t. I was the one with the fantastic career, the men, the money. I couldn’t admit that I’d failed, Mag. Not to you. And so when things got really bad a few weeks ago, Eve hatched this scheme for me to disappear and boost the ratings and the like. If things worked out at the station because of viewer interest, I could name my own price, or go somewhere else, maybe revive my movie career and, of course, write a book. I, um, even thought you could help me with that one. But I was angry with Thane, really angry. And I wanted you to come here to be a part of my triumphant return.”

“I was scared to death.” They reached the front door. “I thought you were dead!”

“I know, I know, but if I hadn’t thrown my voice and communicated with you, you might have thought I was dead. This way you knew better.”

“So why didn’t you communicate with me again?” Maggie demanded, angry. “You still put me through hell.”

“I had to keep up the facade.”

“I didn’t know you knew how to throw your voice at will.”

“I don’t. I just got lucky. It’s…it seems to work best when I’m scared, when I’m on some kind of adrenaline rush. Jesus, I don’t know. Come on. We’ve wasted enough time already.”

Maggie agreed. She couldn’t get out of Mary Theresa’s house fast enough. They hurried outside and climbed into the car. “You’ve got to face Thane whether you want to or not,” Maggie said as she slid behind the wheel.

Everything Mary Theresa had told her had turned her blood to ice. Her sister was so calculating, so self-centered, and yet they were twins. Outside, alike; inside as different as night and day.

She twisted on the ignition. Nothing. “What the devil?”

“What’s going on?” Mary Theresa said, her eyes scanning the darkened neighborhood where sprawling mansions stood on large plots, windows glowing warmly in the night.

“Don’t know.” She tried again.

The car didn’t even sputter or cough.

“This is ridiculous.”

“Come on, come on.”

“I’m trying!”

Again she tried the ignition but the car was dead.

“I don’t have time for this. We’ll chance taking one of mine,” Mary Theresa insisted but Maggie sensed a trap. The rental car had been running fine, no hint of problems during the days she’d used it.

“I think we should go to the neighbors’—”

But Mary Theresa wasn’t listening. She’d grabbed her bag and was already storming into the house, opening the unlocked door and rushing inside. Maggie, warning bells clanging in her head, took off after her.

“Wait, M.T.—”

She ran inside and this time Mary Theresa had snapped on the kitchen lights. “I’ll just be a minute,” she explained, when Maggie blinked against the glare. “No one will notice and even if they do, we’ll be gone in a flash.” She opened a cabinet where keys were hung on the inside of the door. “Here we go…oh, shit, the keys are gone.”

“What do you mean, ‘gone!’”

“The spare sets, they were all here.” Her forehead puckered and fear crossed her features. “Oh, God, I’ll bet Wade took them!”

“Where’re yours—?” Maggie asked, then remembered Mary Theresa’s purse had been in her Jeep.

“Let’s go—uh, I’ll call a cab.” She reached for the phone, but as she did Maggie heard the scrape of a shoe behind them. Whirling, she spun and found Eve Lawrence, big as life, in the hallway leading to the garage. “Oh, God—”

“Eve!” Mary Theresa’s voice was hushed.

“I figured you’d show up here.” Eve wasn’t smiling; in fact, her eyes reflected a sadness and she clucked her tongue as she shook her head. “Put down the phone, Maggie.” Sighing, she said, “I was hoping it wouldn’t come to this.”

Maggie started to step forward until she spied the small pistol tucked discreetly in Eve’s gloved hand. “You should have stayed where you were supposed to, Marquise.”

“You left me for dead.” Mary Theresa was moving now.

“I was coming back.”

“Sure.”

Eve sighed. “You had to have more pills, Marquise. Otherwise the suicide wouldn’t look real.”

“It wouldn’t anyway—there, there was evidence that other people had been there. You couldn’t have gotten away with it.”

“No one could connect me.” She frowned thoughtfully. “It would have worked. Especially if Renee had kept a cooler head.”

“You killed her,” Mary Theresa said.

“I didn’t have much of a choice.”

“But why?” Maggie asked. “You killed a woman for money—”

“For money. Is that what you think?” She wasn’t looking at Maggie now, but Mary Theresa.

“What else?” M.T. asked, but there was a flicker of worry in her eye.

“Take a wild guess.”

Mary Theresa swallowed hard.

“Thane wasn’t the only man your sister stole from someone, was he, Mary Theresa?” Eve took a step forward.

“Oh, Eve, don’t—” Mary’s face was the color of chalk.

“Oh, no, and it wasn’t only Robby Inman who fell for you. You remember him, don’t you, Maggie, Syd Gillette’s son-in-law, I told you about him.” Eve’s voice had risen an octave and her eyes were bright, shimmering with tears.

Maggie’s heart froze. Suddenly she understood.

Eve nodded. “My second husband, Scott.” She sighed and leveled her pistol at Mary Theresa. “Scott adored me. Thought I was God’s gift. Until he met your sister.” She was in the full light of the kitchen now and she seemed older than her years, world-weary, as she aimed the gun at Marquise. She leaned one hip against the counter and glanced at Maggie. “The worst part of it was, the affair didn’t mean anything to you. Scott was just someone to play with, someone to steal. I should have quit then, told you to go take a hike, but I couldn’t. You were the only client I had—the celebrity draw. Do you know how long I’ve hated myself for my weakness, for still being at your beck and call while you stole my husband from me, then tossed him over?”