You belong to me (23 page)

As they talked further, Richards could tell from Susan's almost emotionless voice just how deeply disturbed she was by the recent events. "Look," he said, "this has been rotten for you. Believe me, I understand how you feel. I enjoyed dinner very much last night. The call I had hoped to make to you today was simply to tell you that Why don't we grab a bite this evening? We'll find a restaurant somewhere around your place. I'll even pick you up this time."

"I'm afraid I can't," Susan told him. "I've set up a project for myself, and I don't know how long it will take."

It was four o'clock. Richards knew his last patient would be waiting in the reception room by now. "I'm good at projects," he said hurriedly. "Let me know if I can help."

He frowned when he put down the phone. Susan had politely but firmly refused his assistance. What was she up to? he wondered.

It was a question he needed to have answered.

66

Jane Clausen, clearly exhausted from the effects of chemotherapy, managed a faint smile. "Just a little played out, Vera," she said.

She could see that her housekeeper of twenty years was reluctant to go. "Don't worry. I'll be fine. I'm just going to rest," she assured her.

"I almost forgot, Mrs. Clausen," Vera said anxiously. "I think you may get a call from Dr. Chandler. She phoned just before I left the apartment, and I told her you were here in the hospital. She sounds nice."

"She is very nice."

"I don't like to leave you alone." Vera sighed. "I wish you'd let me just sit here and keep you company."

I do have company, Jane Clausen thought as she glanced toward the nightstand, at the framed photograph of Regina that Vera had brought to the hospital at her request. In the photo, Regina was captured posing with the captain of the Gabrielle.

"I'll be asleep in five minutes, Vera. You go on now."

"Then good night, Mrs. Clausen," Vera said, adding with a catch in her throat, "and be sure to call me if you need anything."

After the housekeeper left, Jane Clausen reached over and picked up the photograph. It's not been a good day, Regina, she thought. I'm winding down and I know it. Yet I feel like something is making me hang on. I don't quite understand it, but we'll see what happens.

The phone rang. Jane Clausen put the picture down and answered, anticipating that the call might be from Douglas Layton.

Instead it was Susan Chandler, and once again the warmth in her voice reminded Jane Clausen of Regina. She found herself admitting to Susan that it had been a difficult day. "But tomorrow should be much easier," she added, "and Doug Layton is hinting that he has quite a surprise for me. I'm looking forward to it."

Susan heard the momentary lifting of Mrs. Clausen's tone and knew there was no way she could possibly tell her that without clearing it with her, she had requested a check on Layton.

Instead she said, "I'd really like to stop by and see you sometime in the next few days-that is, of course, if you think you'd enjoy a visit."

"Let's talk tomorrow," Clausen suggested. "We'll see how the day is going. Right now I'm taking it day by day." Then she surprised herself by saying, "My housekeeper just brought over a photograph of Regina. Sometimes it makes me very sad to look at Regina's pictures. Tonight it's quite comforting. Isn't that odd?" Then she added apologetically, "Dr. Chandler, I can tell you're a fine psychologist. It really isn't my custom to discuss my personal feelings, but I find it very easy to confide in you."

"Having a picture of someone you love can be very comforting," Susan said. "Are you together in it?"

"No, it's one of those photos they're forever taking on the cruise ships, the kind they put on display for people to order. From the date on the back I can tell it was taken on the Gabrielle just two days before Regina disappeared."

The conversation ended with Susan promising to phone the next day. Then, just after they said goodbye, and as the phone was being returned to its cradle, Susan heard Jane Clausen murmur with obvious pleasure, "Oh, Doug, how kind of you to come by."

Susan sighed as she replaced the receiver, then, leaning forward slightly, she kneaded her temples with the tips of her fingers. It was six o'clock, and she was still at her desk. The unopened container of soup that was supposed to have been lunch was a reminder of the reason she was feeling the beginnings of a headache.

The office was quiet Janet was long gone. Susan sometimes had a mental image of a fire alarm going off in her secretary's head at the stroke of five, given her rush to be out of there each day.

"Sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof," she thought, then wondered why the biblical quotation had occurred to her at this moment. That's an easy one, she decided. This day began with an evil deed- Tiffany's murder.

I'd stake my life that Tiffany would still be alive if she hadn't phoned me about the turquoise ring! Susan thought. She stood and stretched wearily. I'm hungry. Maybe I should have met Alex and Dee, she thought wryly. I'm sure Dee won't let him get away with just buying her a drink.

Alex had phoned again. "You did get my messages, didn't you?" he asked. "I know your secretary forgot to give you the first one this morning."

She had felt somewhat penitent about not returning his calls. "Alex, forgive me. It's been one of those days," she had said, then begged off from meeting him. "I wouldn't be good company for anyone tonight," she told him, knowing it was only too true.

As she was leaving, she noticed that Nedda's light was on. She hadn't planned to visit, but impulsively she stopped and tried the law offices' door, pleased to find that this time it was locked.

Why not visit for a minute? she thought, then rapped on the glass. Five minutes later, she was nibbling on cheese and crackers and sipping a glass of Chardonnay with Nedda.

She filled her in on what had been happening, then added, "Something just dawned on me. It's odd, but both Mrs. Clausen and Dr. Richards mentioned photographs taken on cruise ships to me today. Mrs. Clausen has one of her daughter that was taken on the Gabrielle, and Don Richards reminded me that when Carolyn Wells phoned in to the show on Monday, she promised to give me a picture that showed the man she met on a cruise, the man who wanted her to get off the ship in Algiers."

"What are you getting at, Susan?" Nedda asked.

"What I'm getting at is this-I wonder if the outfit, or outfits, that take those cruise pictures keep a file of the negatives. Don Richards used to spend a lot of time on cruise ships. Maybe I'll ask him."

67

Pamela Hastings spent Thursday in her office at Columbia, catching up on the work she had been neglecting. She called the hospital twice and spoke to a nurse with whom she had become friendly. From her she received the cautiously optimistic news that Carolyn Wells was again showing signs of coming out of the coma.

"At least we'll find out what really happened to her," Pamela said.

"Not necessarily," the nurse cautioned her. "Many people who have received a head injury such as the one she suffered have no memory of the actual incident, even if they experience no other significant memory lapses."

In the afternoon the nurse reported that Carolyn once again had tried to speak. "Only that one word, 'Win,' or 'Oh, Win,' " the nurse said. "But remember, the mind does funny things. She could be referring to someone she knew as a child."

The second conversation with the nurse had left Pamela feeling uneasy and somewhat guilty. Justin is convinced that Carolyn is calling for someone important to her, and I'm beginning to believe he is right, she thought. But when I talked with Dr. Chandler earlier, I indicated that I think he could have done this to her. So what do I really believe? she wondered dismally.

When she was finally ready to leave her office and go to the hospital, she realized why she was so reluctant to make the visit tonight-she was ashamed to face Justin.

He was sitting at the far end of the waiting room for the intensive care unit, his back to her. There were other people there today, the parents of a teenager who had been rushed in the day before after having been injured in football practice. When Pamela stopped to inquire about him, the boy's mother happily reported that he was out of danger.

Out of danger, Pamela thought. The words chilled her. Is Carolyn out of danger? she wondered. If she comes out of the coma and is put in a regular room, that means she won't be watched every instant. Then Justin would have practically unlimited access to her. Suppose she has no memory of the incident, and Justin was the one who tried to kill her.

As she walked across the room to Justin she felt a dizzying mix of emotions wash over her. She felt compassion for this man who loved Carolyn, perhaps too intensely; guilt for suspecting him of causing her injuries, a lingering fear that he still might want to harm her.

When she tapped him on the shoulder, he looked up at her. "Ahh, first friend," he said, "have the police gotten to you yet?"

Pamela sank into the chair next to him. "I don't know what you mean, Justin. Why would the police want to talk to me?"

"I thought you might have something to add to the gathering evidence. They called me back to the police station this afternoon to have me explain why I changed from a tweed coat to a Burberry Monday afternoon. They think I tried to kill Carolyn. Anything you want to contribute to help tighten the noose, old pal?"

She decided not to take the bait. "Justin, this isn't getting us anywhere. How do you think Carolyn is doing today?"

"I looked in on her, but only when the nurse was with me. Next thing you know they'll accuse me of trying to pull the plug." He put his face in his hands and shook his head. "Oh, Christ, I don't believe this."

A nurse came to the door of the waiting room. "Dr. Susan Chandler is on the phone," she said. "She'd like to speak to you, Mr. Wells. You can take it over there." She indicated an extension phone in the waiting room.

"Well, I don't want to speak to her," he snapped. "All this started with Carolyn making that call to her."

"Justin, please," Pamela said, standing and crossing to the phone, "she's only trying to help." She picked up the receiver and held it out to him.

He stared at her for a moment, then took it "Dr. Chandler," he said, "why are you hounding me? From what I understand, my wife wouldn't be in the hospital in the first place if she hadn't been on her way to the post office to mail something to you. Haven't you done enough harm? Please stay out of our lives."

He started to hang up, but stopped with the receiver in midair.

"/ don't think for one minute that you pushed your wife in front of that van!" Susan's voice was so loud that Pamela could hear it from across the room.

Justin Wells pressed the receiver against his ear. "And why do you say that?" he asked.

"Because I think someone else tried to kill her, and I think that person did kill Hilda Johnson, who was a witness to your wife's injury, and Tiffany Smith, another woman who called in to my show," Susan said. "I've got to meet with you. Please. You may have something I need."

When he hung up, Justin Wells looked at Pamela. Now she saw only exhaustion in his face. "It may be just a trap to search the apartment without a warrant, but I'm going to meet her there at eight. Pam, she tells me that she thinks that Carolyn is still in danger-but from the guy she met on that ship, not from me."

68

As they entered the cocktail lounge of the St. Regis Hotel, Alex Wright did not need the appreciative glances of the people at the tables around them to be aware of the fact that Dee Chandler Harriman was a very beautiful woman. She was wearing a black velvet jacket and silk pants; a single strand of pearls and pearl-and-diamond earrings were her only jewelry. Her hair was caught up in a seemingly casual French twist, so that wisps and tendrils brushed the porcelain skin of her face. Skillfully applied mascara and liner brought out the vivid blue of her eyes.

Once seated, Alex found himself relaxing. When he had spoken to Susan earlier, she had sounded genuinely tired and had explained that she had some projects to complete that evening, so she couldn't join them.

When he pressed her to reconsider, she had added, "Alex, in addition to the radio show, which I do every weekday morning, I have a full private practice schedule every afternoon, and while the show is great fun, seeing these patients is really what I'm all about. Together with the show, they pretty much take up all my time." Then she had assured him that she wasn't going to back out on Saturday evening and that she was looking forward to it.

At least she doesn't seem to be annoyed that I'm meeting Dee, Alex thought as he glanced about the room, and I'm sure she realized I didn't instigate this little get-together. As he forced himself to focus on Dee, he acknowledged how important this last point was to him.

Dee had been talking about California. "I've really loved it out there," she said, her voice warm, throaty, and very seductive. "But a New Yorker is a New Yorker is a New Yorker-at some point most of us want to come home. And by the way, the real estate broker you recommended is great."

"Did you see any places you'd be interested in?" Alex asked.

"Just one. The nice part of it is that the people would be willing to rent for a year, with an option to buy. They're moving to London and still aren't sure if they'll want to relocate permanently."

"Where is it?"

"East Seventy-eighth just off Fifth."

Alex raised an eyebrow. "You'll be able to borrow a cup of sugar from me. I'm on Seventy-eighth between Madison and Park." He smiled. "Or did you know that already?"

Dee laughed, showing perfect teeth. "Don't flatter yourself," she told him. "Ask the broker how many places we looked at this afternoon. But I do have a favor to ask, and please don't say no. Would you mind swinging by the place and taking a look at it with me when we're ready to go? I'd love to get your opinion." She stared at him, her eyes wide open.

"I don't know what it's worth," Alex said evenly. "But sure."

A very persuasive lady, he thought an hour later, as, having genuinely admired the potential rental, he found himself showing Dee around his own home.