You belong to me (31 page)

She found Alex sitting in the den, watching the television as instructed. He looked at her and smiled. "You're lovely," he said.

"Thank you."

"I watched the news, so I'll tell you all about what went on in New York today once we're in the car."

"I can't wait."

She looks great, Jim Curley thought as he held open the car door. Really great. During the drive uptown to the library, he kept his eyes on the traffic, but he focused his attention on the conversation in the backseat.

"Susan, there's one thing I'd like to clear up," Alex Wright said. "I had not planned to ask your sister to the dinner tonight."

"Please don't worry about that. Dee is my sister and I love her."

"I'm sure you do. But I suspect you don't love Binky, and maybe I made a mistake inviting her and your father as well."

Oh boy, Jim thought.

"I didn't know they were coming," Susan said, an edge of irritation apparent in her voice.

"Susan, please understand that I only wanted you with me tonight. Inviting Dee was not my intention, and when it happened, I thought that if I included your father and Binky, and asked them to bring Dee, I'd be making a statement."

Good explanation, Jim thought. Now come on, Susan. Give the guy a break.

He heard her laugh. "Alex, please, I think I'm sending the wrong signals. I didn't mean to sound so irritable. You've got to forgive me. This has been a dreadful week."

"Tell me about it, then."

"Not now, but thanks for asking."

It's going to go okay, Jim thought, with a sigh of relief.

"Susan, this is something I don't discuss much, but I do understand how you feel about Binky. I had a stepmother too, although in my case it was a little different. My father remarried after my mother died. Her name was Gerie."

He usually never talks about her, Jim thought. He really is opening up to Susan.

"What was your relationship with Gerie?" Susan inquired.

Don't ask, Jim thought.

91

Although she had been inside the huge Fifth Avenue branch of the New York Public Library many times, Susan Chandler didn't remember ever seeing the McGraw Rotunda, where the party was taking place-it was a magnificent space. With its soaring stone walls and life-size murals, it made her feel as though she had been transported back in time, to another century.

Despite the elegant setting, and despite the fact that she really was enjoying Alex Wright's company, an hour later Susan found herself distracted and unable to relax. I should be enjoying a very pleasant evening, she thought, and here I am, preoccupied with thoughts of a very questionable man who runs a porn shop, and who may be able to identify the murderer of Regina Clausen, Hilda Johnson, Tiffany Smith, and Abdul Parki, the man who attempted to murder Carolyn Wells.

Four of those names had been added to the list during the last week.

Were there others?

Would there be others?

Why was she so sure that the answer was yes?

Maybe I should have stayed in the district attorney's office, she thought as she sipped from a glass of wine and half listened to Gordon Mayberry, an elderly gentleman intent on telling her of the generosity of the Wright Family Foundation toward the New York Public Library.

As soon as they had arrived, Alex had pointedly introduced her to a number of what she gathered were key people. She wasn't sure whether to be amused or flattered, since it was clearly his way of proclaiming that she was his date for the evening.

Dee and her father and Binky came in minutes after she and Alex arrived. Dee, exquisite in a white sheath, had hugged her warmly. "Susie, have you heard I'm moving back, lock, stock, and barrel? We'll have fun. I've missed not having you around."

I actually believe she means it, Susan thought. That's why what she's been trying to pull with Alex is so unfair.

"Have you seen the book that is being presented to Alex tonight?" Gordon Mayberry asked.

"No, I haven't," Susan replied, forcing herself to focus her attention. "A limited edition, of course. A copy will be given to all the guests, but you may enjoy taking a look at it before dinner. It will give you some idea of the enormous amount of good work the Wright Family Foundation has accomplished in the sixteen years of its existence." He pointed to a lighted stand near the entrance to the rotunda. "It's over there."

The book was open to the center pages, but Susan turned it back to the beginning. On the dust jacket there were pictures of Alex's father and mother, Alexander and Virginia Wright. Not a very cheerful looking couple, she thought as she studied their unsmiling faces. A quick study of the book's table of contents showed that the first few pages contained a short history of the Alexander and Virginia Wright Family Foundation; the rest of the book was divided into sections according to the various charities: hospitals, libraries, orphanages, research facilities.

She leafed through it at random, then, thinking of Jane Clausen, she turned to the section that dealt with orphanages. Midway through those pages she stopped and studied a photograph of an orphanage. That must be a typical structure for that use, she thought. Typical kind of landscaping too.

"Really fascinating, isn't it?"

Alex was at her side.

"Pretty impressive, I'd say," she told him.,

"Well, if you can tear yourself away, they're about to serve dinner."

Despite the elegance of the dinner, Susan once again found herself distracted so that she didn't notice what she was eating. Her sense of foreboding was so strong as to seem like a physical presence. Nat Small, the porn shop proprietor-she couldn't stop thinking about him. Suppose it occurred to the killer that Nat might have noticed him hanging around the display window? He surely would get rid of Nat, too, Susan thought. Carolyn Wells may not recover, or if she does, she may not even remember what happened to her. That means that Nat is perhaps the only one who can identify the man who murdered Parki and the others, and pushed Carolyn.

Suddenly aware that Alex was asking her something, she focused enough to respond. "Oh no, everything is fine. And I absolutely love the food," she said. "I'm just not very hungry."

I should have the pictures from Carolyn's cruise Monday, she thought. But what will I find? When Carolyn had phoned the program and mentioned the photograph, she had said the man who invited her to see Algiers was just in the background of that shot. What about Regina's cruise? Maybe there are other, clearer pictures from that trip that caught him. I should have ordered them as well, she thought, mentally chastising herself for not having done that earlier. I've got to get them before it's too late-before someone else gets killed.

The presentation of the book was made after the main course had been cleared. The director of the library spoke about the generosity of the Wright Family Foundation, and about the grant to purchase and maintain rare books. She spoke also of the "modesty and dedication of Alexander Carter Wright, who so unselfishly devotes his life to running the foundation and who shuns personal recognition."

"See what a nice guy I am," Alex whispered to Susan as he stood to accept the book the director was presenting.

Alex was a good speaker, his manner easy, gracious, and laced with a touch of humor. When he was seated again, Susan murmured, "Alex, do you mind if I switch places with Dee for dessert?"

"Susan, is anything wrong?"

"No, not at all. Peace in the family and all that. I can see that Dee is unhappy, having her ear bent by Gordon Mayberry. Maybe if I rescue her we'll bond a little." She laughed. "And I also need to have a word with Dad."

Alex's amused chuckle followed her as she walked to the nearby table and asked Dee to trade places. There's another reason to do this, she acknowledged to herself-if I'm going to start dating Alex, I want to be very sure that Dee won't be in the picture. If there is going to be a competition, then I want to head it off before it can get started. I don't want to go through another situation like we had with Jack.

She waited until Mayberry had Binky's ear before she turned to her father. "Dad, I mean Charles, this may sound crazy, but I need to have you send fifteen thousand dollars more to that photo studio in London first thing Monday morning."

He looked at her, his expression changing from surprise to concern. "Sure I will, honey, but are you in some kind of trouble? No matter what it is, I can help."

Sure I will, I can help.

The bottom line is that despite Binky and her obvious dislike of me, Dad's always willing to be there for me, Susan thought. I've got to remember that "I promise I'm not in any trouble, but I do ask that we keep this between us," she told him. "I'm helping someone else."

I know Nat Small may be at risk, she thought. And he may not be the only one. There could be another person marked to receive one of those turquoise rings with "You belong to me" engraved inside the band.

Why did the lyrics of that song keep running through her head? she wondered. Now she was hearing "Watch the sunrise on a tropic isle."

Of course! Those words had been on the bulletin from the Gabrielle that she had found among Regina Clausen's effects earlier in the day.

I'll have the pictures from the Seagodiva on Monday, Susan thought. I'll ask Nedda if I can use the long conference table in her office to lay them out. That means by Monday night I should have found Carolyn's picture. If the studio can make copies of the photographs from the Gabrielle by Tuesday afternoon, I'll have them Wednesday. I'll spend as much time as necessary going through them even if I have to stay up all night.

Binky finally had managed to deflect Gordon Mayberry onto someone else. "What are you two talking about?" she demanded as she turned her attention to Susan and Charles.

Susan caught her father's conspiratorial wink as he said, "Susan was just telling me that she's interested in collecting art, dear."

92

Pamela Hastings arrived at Lenox Hill Hospital at noon on Sunday, and made her way through the now-familiar corridors to the ICU waiting room. As expected, she found Justin Wells was there already, looking disheveled, unshaven, and half-asleep.

"You didn't go home last night," she said accusingly.

He peered up at her with bloodshot eyes. "I couldn't. They tell me she has stabilized somewhat, but still I'm afraid to leave her for any length of time. I'm not going inside her room again, though. The impression around here is that on Friday Carolyn started to come out of the coma, then must have remembered what happened to her, and the panic and fear drove her back under. She was conscious long enough, however, to say, `No- please- no! Justin.' "

"You know that doesn't necessarily mean, 'Please, don't push me under a car, Justin,'" she said as she sat next to him.

"Tell that to the cops. And to the doctors and nurses here. I swear, if I try to go near Carolyn, they all act like they expect to see me pull the plug."

Pam noticed the convulsive opening and closing of his hands. He's on the verge of a breakdown, she thought. "Did you at least have dinner with Dr. Richards last night?" she asked.

"Yes. We went to the cafeteria."

"How did it go?"

"It helped. And, of course, now I realize I should have stayed with him two years ago. Ever hear that old poem, Pam?"

"What's that?"

" 'For want of a nail the shoe is lost, for want of a shoe the horse is lost, for want of a horse the rider is lost.' Or something like that."

"Justin, you're not making sense."

"Yes I am. If I'd gotten my head straightened out, I wouldn't have overreacted so strongly when I heard that Carolyn had phoned the radio program about that guy she met on the trip. If I hadn't upset her with my phone call, she might have kept her appointment with Dr. Chandler. That means she would have gotten into a cab in front of the apartment and wouldn't have been walking to the post office."

"Justin, stop it! You'll drive yourself crazy with this kind of 'What if' thinking." She took his hand. "Justin, you didn't cause this terrible thing, and you've got to stop blaming yourself."

"That's exactly what Don Richards said I need to do: 'Stop it!'" Tears welled in his eyes, and a sob rose in his throat.

Pamela put one arm around him and smoothed back his hair. "You need to get out of here. If we stay here like this, people are going to start talking about us," she said gently.

"Don't tell me George is going to beat up on me too. When is he coming home?"

"Tonight. And now I want you to go home. Fall into bed, sleep for at least five hours, then shower, shave, put on fresh clothes, and come back. When Carolyn wakes up, she's going to need you, and if she sees you looking the way you do now, she'll sign up for another cruise."

Pamela held her breath, praying that she had not gone too for, but finally she was rewarded by a faint chuckle. "Best friend, you're a doll," Justin said.

She walked with him to the elevator. On the way, she made him look in on Carolyn. The police officer followed them into the cubicle.

Justin picked up his wife's hand, kissed the palm, and closed her fingers around the kiss. He did not speak to her.

When the elevator doors shut behind him, Pamela started back to the waiting room, but was stopped by the nurse at the desk. "She spoke again, just a moment ago, right after you left."

"What did she say?" Pamela asked, almost afraid of , the answer.

"The same. She said, 'Win, oh, Win.' "

"Do me a favor and don't tell that to her husband."

"I won't. If he asks, I'll just say she's trying to talk, and that's a good sign."

Pamela passed the waiting room and went to the public phones. Before she had left for the hospital, Susan Chandler had called her and explained that she was trying to trace the name Win through the Seagodiva's passenger list. "Tell them to listen carefully if Carolyn tries to say the name again," she said. "Maybe she'll give more of it. Win must be a nickname or a shortened version of something like Winston or Winthrop."

Susan was not at home, so Pamela Hastings left a message on the answering machine: "Carolyn's trying to talk again. But all she said was the usual-'Win, oh, Win.'"