Once Bitten (A Melanie Travis Mystery)

by Berenson, Laurien

  “In truth, I’m not sure what I did or didn’t mean. I was certainly very angry. It wasn’t so much the act itself, but the betrayal. My husband and my daughter together, I could never have forgiven that. I’m sure Sara knew it. I’m sure that’s why . . .” Delilah shook her head wearily. “It doesn’t make much difference now, does it?”

  “Of course it does,” Aunt Peg said stoutly.

  Delilah didn’t seem to hear her. “My husband is dead. My daughter hates me, she’s made that clear enough. There’s nothing left for me anymore.”

  A sudden flicker of movement caught my eye—a brief flash of blue in a doorway that led to . . . what? A bathroom? A sitting room? I stared at the opening for a minute but didn’t see anything else. Maybe I’d only imagined it.

  In the meantime, Aunt Peg was trying to get my attention. Behind her back, her hand was cocked in my direction, fingers beckoning, gesturing for me to do something. To do what? I wondered.

  “This isn’t the end, Delilah,” Aunt Peg was saying. “You can get help.”

  Her hand was flapping now. Urging me to act. As if she had a plan. As if she thought she was a mime and I could understand what she was trying to convey.

  “All of us, all your friends will pull together—”

  “And what?” Delilah’s tone was bitter. “Hire me a good lawyer? Find a psychiatrist willing to testify that I’m crazy? I am, you know. I must be, don’t you think? Otherwise, why would I be sitting here with a gun in my hands?”

  “This has all been a tragic misunderstanding,” said Peg. “Grant killed Carole by accident, you killed Grant by accident. There were mitigating circumstances; anyone can see that. I’m sure something can be worked out.”

  “Worked out?” Delilah snorted.

  As she reached for another sip of her drink, I began to inch slowly toward her. If Aunt Peg expected me to grab the gun, she needed to come up with a better diversion than she’d managed thus far. Delilah was staring into space again. Though she was speaking aloud, it was almost as though she’d forgotten anyone was listening.

  “Worked out?” she repeated. “That’s just what I kept telling myself every step of the way. When I found out Sara thought she was gay. When she told me Carole was her—what was that term she used?—life partner. When she said she was pregnant and that she and Carole were planning to raise the child together.

  “Every life has its ups and downs, I told myself. We’ll get through this. Everything can be worked out. And then Sara told me who her baby’s father was.” Tears gathered in Delilah’s eyes and began to trickle down her cheeks. “At first I thought she was lying. Then I thought my whole world had come to an end. Do you have any idea what that feels like?”

  “No,” Aunt Peg said softly.

  “The worst thing was that Sara was happy about what she’d done. Defiant. So filled with satisfaction in the face of my despair. She wanted to destroy me and she succeeded.”

  “So you went and got Grant’s gun,” Aunt Peg prompted, trying to keep Delilah talking. Three more steps and I’d be there.

  “It was in his office. Loaded, and locked in his desk for emergencies. We all knew where it was kept. I’m not sure what drove me to take it out. I know I never meant to use it. I was just going to threaten Sara with it—”

  “Sara?” I gasped.

  Delilah turned and looked at me, standing so close. Too close, she could see that right away.

  “Do step back,” she said, lifting the gun and pointing it in my direction. “I’m afraid I don’t have to tell you that I’m perfectly capable of using this.”

  I retreated a step. The gun wobbled in Delilah’s grasp. I stepped back again, and over to one side. The barrel of the pistol didn’t follow and I relaxed slightly. It was much easier to breathe when it wasn’t aimed in my direction.

  “Where was I?” Delilah asked Peg. Under the circumstances, her steely composure was more unnerving than hysterics would have been.

  “You went to get the gun. . . .”

  Aunt Peg’s tone was mild, but she shot me a glare. I’d blown the best chance we were going to get, her eyes said. I hoped she wasn’t right.

  “Well, yes, I did, didn’t I? That’s how things went. I was only going to use it to show Sara that I meant business. She was to leave this house and never return. Leave Grant and me in peace to see what we could salvage of our marriage.

  “It had to be done. The break had to be made. There’s always been something the matter with my daughter. I’ve known it from the time she was small. She’s always been weak, unfocused. Well, frankly, I’d had enough.”

  “What about Grant?” I asked.

  “Grant.” Delilah sighed as she said her husband’s name. “He must have heard us yelling. Sara’d had a visitor in, some young man. I don’t mind telling you that they’d been shouting, too. Somehow, the fact that someone else was angry at her strengthened my resolve. As soon as he left, I went to Sara’s room.

  “You can’t imagine the things my daughter said to me—horrible, hurtful things. I couldn’t stand to listen anymore. No mother could. I left and went down to Grant’s office to get the gun. He must have heard the commotion, because he followed me there. Grant tried to take the gun away. . . .”

  Delilah’s voice faded as she relived the horrible moment. Or so it seemed at first. Then abruptly I realized she’d stopped talking because she was listening to something.

  Some sort of disturbance was going on downstairs, accompanied by enough noise that it was audible through the closed bedroom door. I heard the sound of dogs barking, several startled shrieks, and pounding footsteps.

  “What on earth . . . ?” Peg muttered, glancing toward the door.

  There was more barking, followed by a series of excited yips. Delilah’s lips curved in a small smile. An odd reaction, I thought, but at least she hadn’t lifted the gun again. Instead she was listening, her expression intent. If she’d been a dog, she’d have had her ears pricked.

  I strode to the door and opened it, intending to look out onto the landing. Instead I found myself jumping back as a horde of galloping Shetland Sheepdogs came flying up the stairs and racing down the hallway. There must have been at least a dozen of them—sables, blue merles, tricolors, in a happy jumble of wagging tails and lolling tongues—and Sara was leading the charge.

  The dogs came pouring into the bedroom like a herd of stampeding buffalo. They scattered across the carpet, jumped up on the bed, then finally found Delilah on the chaise and leapt up into her welcoming arms. Deftly Aunt Peg navigated through the melee, reached around the wriggling bodies, grabbed the gun, and slipped it into her purse.

  “My babies, my babies,” Delilah crooned, surrounded by her beloved Scotchglen Shelties.

  The throng of eager dogs vied for position on her lap, their tongues licking away her tears as soon as they appeared. Delilah spread her arms wide and tried to gather them all in. Her voice, soft and sweet as a lullaby, murmured each one’s name.

  On the other side of the room, Sara stood perfectly still in the doorway and watched the scene. I tried to read her expression but couldn’t quite decide what emotion I saw there. Sadness? Relief? Pity? Perhaps a combination of the three.

  She was wearing a blue sweater, I realized, the same shade as the flash of color I’d seen in the doorway. Sara had overheard what Delilah was saying, had seen how despondent her mother was, and had gone to get help. Delilah might not have known her daughter very well, but Sara clearly had understood exactly what her mother needed.

  “You saved her,” I said.

  Sara’s mouth was a flat line. When she spoke, her voice so low I almost couldn’t hear her.

  “Some women should never have children,” she said with a small sigh. “Only dogs.”

  30

  I went down and asked the housekeeper to clear the house of guests, while Aunt Peg used the phone in the bedroom to summon the police. When she was done, Sara called the family lawyer. Surrounded by her cherished Shelti
es, Delilah seemed almost oblivious to our actions.

  If she noticed that her weapon had vanished, she didn’t mention its loss. Maybe she’d been hoping all along that we would talk her out of using the gun. Or maybe seeing her dogs had reminded her that she did have something to live for.

  Sara, Aunt Peg, and I closed the bedroom door and went downstairs to wait.

  “Good work,” Aunt Peg said to Sara. “That was quick thinking. Melanie was supposed to be providing a diversion, but she wasn’t getting the job done at all.”

  Nothing like having your own relative call you useless. Hadn’t I come up with the information that had brought us hurrying over here in the first place? I didn’t see Aunt Peg mentioning that. Of course, that would mean admitting to Sara that we’d thought she was a murderer.

  “That part was easy to figure out,” Sara said quietly. “No matter how much pain Delilah might cause other people, I knew she’d never hurt her dogs. She loves those dogs more than anything. She always has.”

  “Did you know she was the one who shot Grant?” I asked.

  “No, not until I heard what she said upstairs. Maybe it was stupid on my part, but I when I ran down last night and Delilah told me someone had broken into the house and shot him, I believed her.”

  “It was an accident,” said Aunt Peg. “Delilah didn’t mean to shoot him.”

  “Yeah.” Sara’s tone was grim. “She meant to shoot me.”

  “Not exactly,” I corrected. “She meant to intimidate you.”

  “It’s not as if she needed a gun for that. Delilah’s been intimidating me my entire life. And the one time I decided to fight back, look what happened.”

  Sara hadn’t just fought back, I thought. She’d launched an offensive whose sole intent had been to cause real damage to everyone around her. Not that I could see the point in bringing that up.

  We stopped at the foot of the wide staircase, waiting, I guess, for someone to arrive. There was no sign of anyone yet, however. Sara turned and wandered toward the dining room, where an assortment of finger foods had been set out on the table. Aunt Peg and I exchanged a glance and followed.

  “Do you mind if I ask you a few questions?” I asked as Sara perused the offerings, snagged a jumbo shrimp, and dipped it into a bowl of cocktail sauce.

  “Go ahead.” Sara sounded resigned. “I guess this will all be out in the open soon anyway.”

  “Why did you leave home the week before last?”

  Sara nibbled on the end of her shrimp. “Two reasons. One, because Grant was hassling me about the baby and I figured if I just disappeared, that would show him I was serious when I said that he couldn’t push me around.”

  “And the second?” asked Aunt Peg. Like me, she didn’t seem to have much of an appetite.

  “I did it for Carole. Up until that point, we’d kept our relationship a secret, which for some reason gave Carole the idea that I was ashamed of her. I wasn’t, not at all, but I also wasn’t ready to make any big announcements either. My moving in with her, even for a little while, was my way of showing her that I was totally committed, even if I wasn’t ready to go public yet.”

  “But if you were staying at Carole’s place, what was she doing in your cottage last Saturday night?”

  Sara paused a moment before answering. “That’s the stupid part,” she said finally. “Carole’s death was just a horrible, unnecessary waste. She was trying to do something nice for me, and she ended up dying because of it.”

  Aunt Peg looked just as baffled as I knew I did. “How?” she asked.

  “Carole and I had had an argument earlier on Saturday. We were supposed to see some friends in the city that night and Carole wanted to tell them about the baby and about us being a couple. I wanted to hold off. We both blew up and said things we shouldn’t have.

  “Carole was so upset she said she was going to call and cancel our plans, and that made me mad all over again. I told her she didn’t own me and she couldn’t tell me what to do, and that I was going to New York without her.

  “I guess after I left, Carole began to regret our fight as much as I did. She left me a note telling me she’d gone to New Canaan to fetch Titus. I’d left him here because she was so allergic she could hardly breathe when he was in the same room, but Carole knew how much I’d been missing him. Apparently she was going to make this wonderful gesture to make me feel better at her own expense.”

  “But Titus wasn’t in the cottage,” I pointed out.

  “I found that out when I got back, but I didn’t know it at the time. Nor did Carole. I’d left Titus overnight before, and he’d always done okay. I had no reason to think that this time would be any different.”

  Aunt Peg was scowling and I knew what she was thinking. Unless I jumped in, Sara was about to be treated to a lecture on the responsibilities of dog ownership.

  “So Carole went to your cottage to look for him?”

  “I assume that’s what happened. Carole must have been there when Grant, that sneak, went out to do his dirty work. She knew what had been going on between Grant and me, and I’m sure she didn’t want to answer any questions. She probably hid, figuring she’d come out again when he was gone. Obviously she had no idea of what he meant to do, or that she’d never have a chance to escape.”

  Sara stepped over to a window, brushed back the curtain with her hand, and looked out. I wondered if she saw anyone coming up the long driveway.

  “One last thing,” I said. “Debra Silver?”

  “What about her?”

  “What is she afraid of?”

  Sara glanced my way. She let the curtain drop. “The truth, mostly. And something she did a long time ago.”

  “When you were competing against one another?”

  “Yes, although one thing had nothing to do with the other. At least not directly. Debra and I were teenagers at the same time, both of us growing up, trying things out, experimenting with our sexuality, I guess you might say.”

  “Did you and she have a physical relationship?”

  “Briefly. It was the first time either one of us had ever done anything like that. For me it was a revelation, an awakening. You know how kids are. I was so excited, I just assumed Debra felt the same way.”

  Sara frowned. “Well, she didn’t. As far as she was concerned, it was just a one-time thing, a drunken experiment on New Year’s Eve that got out of hand. When I called her the next day, she seemed almost angry about what we’d done. She informed me there was no way we’d ever be getting together again.”

  “That would have been a month before Westminster,” said Aunt Peg. “Is that why you poisoned her dog?”

  “I never tried to poison Kadu,” Sara said firmly. “All I wanted to do was put him out of commission for a day. Debra had hurt me and I wanted to hurt her back. I certainly wasn’t afraid to compete against her, even though that was the story she told everyone.

  “Debra couldn’t afford to make a big stink about what happened, because she knew if she complained to the A.K.C. I’d tell everyone why I’d done it. She’s always been terrified that someone would find out about us and think she was a lesbian.”

  Sara snorted in disgust. “Debra Silver with her perfect manicure, her perfect tennis game, and her perfect husband. Even after all these years, she’s still afraid that I’ll spill the beans and ruin everything. I can’t imagine why she thinks I’d even bother.”

  Probably because she knows you well enough to see what a bitch you are, I thought. Considering that Sara had been the catalyst for much of the mayhem that had transpired, she seemed to be feeling amazingly little remorse.

  Out in the hallway, the doorbell chimed. The police had arrived, or maybe Delilah’s lawyer. I didn’t much care either way. I’d had just about enough of the Waring/ Bentley family. Sara and Delilah deserved one another. I was happy to leave them to deal with the consequences.

  31

  Despite all the turmoil that had preceded it, in the end, Frank and Bertie’s weddin
g came together beautifully. The tiny church on Round Hill Road provided an utterly charming setting. The bride glowed. The groom, not surprisingly, alternated between looking enormously proud and scared half to death.

  This was a huge step for my brother. I’m not sure he realized how huge until he stood before the altar and watched Bertie walk toward him on her father’s arm. As his sister, I recognized the fleeting look of panic that crossed his face. So did his ex-brother-in-law. Standing beside him, Bob reached out and gave Frank’s arm a reassuring squeeze.

  Frank’s nervousness receded. His smile grew wider as Bertie neared. By the time the two of them were standing together in front of the priest, the couple’s pleasure in each other was palpable.

  Davey made an adorable ring bearer, and Bob, like the rest of the groomsmen, looked sharp in a dove gray morning suit. With Christmas only a day away, the church was decorated with garlands of pine boughs in addition to jonquils, roses, and the yellow tulips that Bertie loved. The scents mingled in the air—a fitting metaphor, perhaps, for the union that was being blessed.

  The ceremony was brief. Though given the opportunity, no one objected to the marriage, for which we were all profoundly grateful. Not that we were expecting problems, but with my family you never know.

  The couple recited traditional vows, but their first kiss as man and wife was passionate enough to earn them a raised eyebrow from Aunt Peg. Seated behind us in the polished mahogany pews, Terry was grinning. Crawford, like Peg, looked miffed. I figured it was probably a generational thing.

  A reception followed at the Greenwich Country Club. Our procession of cars drove slowly up the long driveway, winding between two holes of the golf course and passing the paddle-tennis courts before coming to a graceful roundabout in front of the white-pillared clubhouse. Despite all the distractions, Sara had done a wonderful job with the arrangements.

  Ironically she wasn’t there to enjoy the event she’d planned. A week earlier, Sara had suffered a miscarriage and was home, resting in bed. Bertie had promised to send Josh by afterward with a piece of wedding cake and a full report on the proceedings.