She tripped, almost fell, and giggled loudly. The room seemed to be moving. “Please forgive me, sir. I fear I’m dizzy from dancing,” she told her dance partner.
The music softened during one of the string movements and she heard it. A thump. Then another and another. Near the stairs. On the stairs. The stairs where her mother had died.
The simpering smile faded from Avis’s thin lips. She stood still for a moment. Finally she moved from the drawing room to the hall. She never turned on many lights at night, mostly because bulbs had burned out and she never bothered to replace them. This was true of the crystal chandelier in the hall, which had ceased to glisten and glow two years ago. She slept downstairs, so the only light on the stairs was that filtering from the drawing room. She crept forward, alternately frowning and squinting as she tried to focus on the mound at the bottom of the stairs. She stepped closer and closer. Was it a body? Was it…
“Mother!” she screamed. “Mother, I didn’t mean to do it! I was just so angry. You were laughing at me. You said I was comical! And I pushed you—”
Avis was screeching, her face blanched, her eyes huge and burning in their cavernous sockets. Her hand clapped over her mouth, and she backed slowly away from the mound, horrified. You’re drunk, she thought with a brutal clarity she rarely allowed herself. You’re hallucinating. Mother has been dead for four years. Dead and buried. She couldn’t be lying, once again, in a broken heap at the foot of the stairs.
She kept backing up, nearly gibbering with fear and guilt and shock, when she bumped into someone. Instead of turning to see who it was, she froze, terrified that if she turned, she would see the face of her mother.
Flutes, oboes, bassoons, and strings sounded in the other room. “Scared?” a voice asked in her ear.
Avis opened her mouth, but nothing came out. If I could just talk, she thought. If I could just say one word, this hallucination would end. One word…
An arm circled her waist and jerked her backward against a body that felt abnormally warm. “Did you think that was Mama at the foot of the stairs? Did you relive that moment when you pushed her, just like you pushed Nicole Chandler today? You got all mixed up, didn’t you, Avis? You thought Nicole was your mother.”
“No, no I didn’t,” Avis whispered frantically. “I didn’t mean to push her.”
“Who? Your mother? Or Nicole?”
“Nicole.”
The gun jammed against her head, feeling as if it were going to push a hole in her temple. “Liar.”
“Okay. Just for a moment. They look so much alike. I didn’t mean to hurt her. I wouldn’t hurt her. I wouldn’t hurt anyone.”
“Liar!”
Avis was beginning to hyperventilate. “All right. I don’t like her. But she laughs at me.”
“Who? Nicole or your mother?”
“I don’t know. Both.”
“No wonder. You’re pathetic.”
“Yes, yes, you’re absolutely right,” Avis panted. The hall was beginning to circle around her. Too much wine and too little air in her lungs. “I’m sorry. I won’t hurt her again.”
“You’re damned right, you won’t. You won’t hurt Nicole or anyone else ever again,” the voice grated. The arm moved up, encircling her throat, completely constricting her breathing. Everything went black, even though Avis knew she was still alive. She tried to move her hands, to claw at the arm around her throat, but she was paralyzed with fear. She knew what was coming and she wished she would faint, but she’d never fainted in her life. “You’ll never hurt anyone again.”
Even if the gun hadn’t been silenced, the shot couldn’t have been heard over the soaring, triumphant trumpet ending of Avis’s favorite musical composition.
Twenty-Five
1
Nicole left her office, turned a corner of the hall, and nearly ran into Nancy Silver who looked at her with beleaguered eyes. “What’s wrong?” Nicole asked.
“Avis didn’t show up to teach today. She didn’t call. No one can reach her. I even went by her house. Her car is there, but she didn’t answer the door, so I came back to school.” Nancy frowned. “Nicole, I heard about what Avis did to you in the parking lot yesterday. I wondered if she called you or came by your house last night to apologize.”
Nicole started to say she doubted if Avis were the least bit sorry for what she’d done, then realized Nancy’s genuine worry didn’t deserve a sarcastic answer. “No, Nancy, I haven’t seen or talked to her since yesterday afternoon. But she was in quite a mood.”
“I know it’s none of my business,” Nancy said hesitantly, “but I’ve wondered—”
“What we argued about? The other day Avis was in my office and I started laughing. I’ve been under a lot of pressure and you know how strange she acts sometimes. She did something that struck me as hilarious. It was inexcusable of me to laugh like I did and she was terribly offended. In the parking lot yesterday I was trying to explain my mental state and apologize, but she was having none of it. She made some scathing remark about my husband leaving me, and I took the bait and shot back an insult, and she pushed me.”
“Oh, God, Nicole, I’m sorry.”
“It’s not your fault. Besides, I wasn’t hurt and maybe I deserved it.”
“Don’t be silly. I’ve been friends with Avis a long time. I’ve seen her change dramatically over the years. My husband and I don’t even visit her at home anymore because, frankly, she started giving him the creeps. He thinks maybe she killed her mother—”
“Killed her mother!” Nicole burst out.
Nancy’s dark eyes clouded. “I suppose you’ve never heard the story. Anyway, I always thought it was an accident. Nevertheless, after her mother’s death, she went from eccentric to downright strange, and no one knows better than I how she can goad you into saying things you’d never usually say. Just because you reacted to her insults doesn’t mean she had the right to knock you down. I think she’s going to lose her job.”
Nicole was genuinely upset. “Not over that silly incident! She didn’t even knock me down. She just pushed me and I lost my balance. Good heavens, if I thought she were going to be fired because of me—”
“Not only because of you. The incident yesterday was just the final straw after four years of inappropriate behavior and terrible comments to students and teachers. They’ve bent over backward for her here, given her every chance.” Nancy bit her lip. “I’m afraid she realizes that maybe she will lose her position here and she’s done something to herself. After all, this job is all she has left.”
“Come to my office, Nancy,” Nicole said briskly. “I have a friend on the police force. I’ll call him and see what he can do about locating Avis as soon as possible.”
2
“Ray, this is a job for uniforms, not for us,” Cy said as they sped north.
“Normally I’d agree, but I think this woman’s disappearance has something to do with the Chandler case.”
“What it has to do with is the fact that Nicole called and asked you to check it out, so you jumped like a puppy on a leash.”
“It has to do with the fact that this woman is a teacher in the same department as Nicole and yesterday she threw a fit in the parking lot and knocked Nicole down.” He looked over at Cy. “And we both know what’s been happening to people who do harm to Nicole Chandler.”
“She offs them, or attempts to.”
Ray stiffened. “That’s an assumption.”
Cy laughed. “Get off your high horse, Ray. I know how you feel about her. That’s why you need me around. I’ve got a more objective view of things.”
“It sounds to me as if your mind is already made up.”
“I’ve got some thoughts about all of this,” Cy said vaguely. “In the meantime, we’re off on a wild-goose chase, two homicide detectives looking for a woman just because she didn’t show up for work this morning. The lieutenant would be thrilled.”
“The lieutenant doesn’t have to know if we don’t find any
thing.”
Cy fell into a deep silence. Probably thinking about what he was going to have for dinner, Ray mused disdainfully. All the guy seemed to care about these days was food.
Ten minutes later they pulled up in front of a rambling Victorian house. Like the Dominic home, it had obviously once been beautiful, although not so grand, but suffered from neglect. “This Simon-Smith woman isn’t into home repair,” Cy commented. “This place needed a coat of paint about three years ago. Car in the driveway.”
“Nicole told me the woman drives a brown Mercedes. That’s it.”
They climbed the verandah steps and knocked on a heavy door wreathed with beveled glass. After four tries, they gave up. “Let’s check around back,” Ray said.
“Oh, good lord, Ray. What’s the big deal?”
Ray sighed. “Five minutes. That’s all it’ll take to knock on the back door.”
“Okay,” Cy said. “But I still hate wasting my time just to impress your girlfriend.”
“She’s not my girlfriend.”
“Whatever you say.”
They walked across the grass and around the side of the house, where there was no door but a multitude of dirty windows and faded green shutters.
No fence surrounded the large backyard. A once-beautiful gazebo stood in the center of the yard, but its shabby condition indicated it was never used. A shame to let a place like this go, Cy thought. Aline would love this house, and she’d manage to make it look like a showplace without spending a lot of money. They could sit in that gazebo in the evenings, drinking mint juleps and discussing their day…
While Cy stood contemplating the gazebo, Ray started to knock on the back door. Then he stopped. “Cy, a pane of glass in the door is broken. Come here and look. It’s right beside the doorknob. Looks like a little blood on the glass, too.”
But Cy didn’t answer. His gaze had drifted from the gazebo to the back of the lawn, where a hooded figure with long, skinny legs dangled from a branch of a huge, beautiful live oak.
3
It was seven o’clock. Nicole had promised to call Nancy as soon as she learned anything about Avis, but she’d called Ray three hours ago and still heard nothing. She paced around the living room, dusting furniture she’d just dusted two days ago, talking briefly on the phone to Shelley, who was growing increasingly restless at her grandmother’s, and trying vainly to concentrate on lesson plans for the next day. When someone knocked on the door, she ran to it, flinging it open.
“Ray!” she cried. “I’ve been waiting to hear from you.”
He looked tired as he stepped through the doorway, his smile strained. “I’m sorry I didn’t call earlier.”
Nicole searched his face. “Something’s wrong. Avis is dead. She killed herself, didn’t she?”
Ray drew a deep breath. “She’s dead,” he said softly, “but she didn’t kill herself.”
“An accident?” Nicole ventured with a sinking heart, knowing she was only hoping it had been an accident.
Ray put his hands on her shoulders. “Nicole, she was shot in the head, then hanged wearing a hood.”
Slowly the world went dark for Nicole. Then she was being placed on her bed. In a moment Ray was back with a cold cloth for her forehead. “Nicole, you fainted.”
Nicole nodded. “Avis was murdered like the others.”
“Yes. She was in her backyard.”
“Oh, God, Ray. I don’t suppose a tall, dark-haired person was spotted at the scene.”
“We haven’t found any witnesses so far.” He looked down. “You’ll be formally questioned tomorrow.”
“And arrested?”
Ray clearly didn’t want to answer the question. “There’s no physical evidence against you.”
“But there is motive. And I don’t have an alibi.”
“We only found the body three hours ago. Evidence pointing to someone else might turn up. And don’t worry about an alibi.”
“What do you mean?” Nicole asked, her voice high-pitched. “I was here at the house all evening, no visitors, no witnesses.”
“You let me worry about that.”
“What are you talking about? Inventing an alibi for me?”
“If I have to.”
“Ray, I can’t let you do that. Your career—”
He turned toward her, his eyes burning. “Nicole, I’m not worried about my career right now. I’m worried about you. I’m not going to lie to you. You’re in deep trouble. This murder looks really bad for you on top of everything else. But I know you didn’t do it. Dominic did.”
Nicole swept the cloth off her forehead. “How can you be so sure it was Paul?”
Ray looked at her in disbelief. “Nicole, someone hurts you, or attempts to hurt you, and they wind up with a bullet in the head, hanging from a tree and wearing a hood. It happened fifteen years ago and it’s happening now. Paul Dominic was arrested for the murders of Zand and Magaro. He ran, disappeared, but now he’s back. How much more proof do you need?”
“I suppose I shouldn’t need any,” Nicole said weakly. “Ray, I know you’re convinced Paul committed these murders. What does your partner, Waters, think?”
“Waters only sees what he wants to see.”
“And he wants to see me as a murderer, doesn’t he?”
“Yes, he suspects you,” Ray said reluctantly. “But that’s what Dominic wants. That’s why he’s lying so low, why he’s only shown himself to you. No one but you.” He looked at her soberly. “But I know he’s back and he’s killing like the madman he is.”
4
“Can’t sleep?”
“How’d you know?” Cy asked.
“You’re not snoring loud enough to rattle the windows.” Aline propped herself up on her elbow. “You’re thinking about Nicole Sloan.”
“Nicole Chandler, Aline. She got married. Now her husband claims she slit a hole in his brake line and nearly killed him.”
“That little bitty thing? I don’t believe it. Brake lines are tough.”
“She could have managed it. And he was at her house the night before. Hit her in the jaw. Then there’s that Simon-Smith woman. She pushed Nicole in the parking lot yesterday. Knocked her down. Today Ray and I found her dead and hanging in a tree, just like Magaro and Zand and Dooley.”
Aline shivered. “That’s grotesque. Surely you don’t think Nicole could actually hang people in a tree.”
“Now that doesn’t seem too likely. Still…”
They lay in silence for a moment. “Cy, have you looked into those murders that happened fifteen years ago?”
“Yeah, but so far I haven’t learned anything new. I’m not through, though.”
“The other night you sounded like you didn’t think that pianist could have killed them.”
“Paul Dominic. And I didn’t say he couldn’t have killed them. I just wasn’t convinced.”
“You said you thought he’d be smarter about disposing of the evidence.”
“That, among other things, bothered me.” He sighed. “There was something about him. Maybe it was those fine manners, or the respect he showed me. Or maybe it was the look in his eyes that got to me. I’ve heard people protest their innocence until they’re blue in the face. I’ve seen them cry, and swear on their children’s lives, and ask God to strike them dead if they aren’t telling the truth, but their eyes give them away. But this guy’s eyes looked, well, bewildered, hurt, like he honest to God didn’t know what the hell was going on.”
“How did he defend himself?”
“He didn’t. He didn’t confess, but he didn’t say one word in his defense, either. His lawyer did all the talking for him.”
“That was smart if he was guilty.”
“Yeah, but it’s unusual. Unless you’re dealing with an habitual offender, or somebody in organized crime—you know, the type that’s always in trouble and always hiding behind a lawyer—the accused usually make an occasional outburst about their innocence, whether they are or not. Domini
c didn’t say a damned word. Just sat there looking flabbergasted.”
Aline stroked Cy’s arm. “You’re not going to give up on this, are you? After all, you said you thought what happened fifteen years ago is connected to what’s going on now, and there’s a whole mess of trouble around that girl. Those murders at her house, her husband, now this college professor…”
“Things look bad for her, Aline. Coincidences happen, but not constantly. Yet everyone who does her wrong ends up dead or seriously hurt.”
“But Cy—”
“Look, Aline, I am working on this. I’ve already retrieved the gun that killed Magaro and Zand from Evidence. I’m having Ballistics make another stab at recovering that serial number.”
“Do you really think the serial number is so important?”
“I think it could be.”
“Is that all you’re doing?”
“For now.”
“Doesn’t sound like much to me.”
“It’s about all I can do. A trail gets mighty cold after fifteen years.”
“If you say so. Oh, by the way, I forgot to tell you. Someone named Jewel called here for you.”
Cy sat up in bed. “Jewel! Jewel Crown?”
“Jewel Crown? What kind of name is that?”
“Aline…”
“Okay. She didn’t give her last name. She just said she wanted to talk to you. I told her to call headquarters. She said she couldn’t do that, then she started to cry.”
“Did she say where I could reach her?”
“No, or I would have told you earlier. I thought maybe it was a crank, her refusing to give a last name or to say where she could be reached or to call you at headquarters. Is she important?”
“She could be.”
“Oh, Cy, I’m sorry I forgot to tell you. You know I wouldn’t deliberately keep a message from you—”
Cy leaned over and gave her a quick kiss. “Don’t worry about it, darlin’. If she didn’t say where I could reach her, there’s nothing I could do anyway.”
“Well, why wouldn’t she call you at work if it was so important?”
“I don’t know. She’s a hooker, Aline. Hookers aren’t fond of police stations.”
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