A Dizzying Balance

by Harriet E Rich

  “Not a thing. I looked at every page carefully. No postmark, no addresses, no clues at all.”

  “Nothing she wrote –?”

  “Not even a hint.”

  “This janitor –?”

  “Disappeared, I asked.”

  “Have you gotten –?

  “Just the one.”

  “Stop that! It’s unnerving.”

  “I’m sorry, Rick, but I didn’t want to have to tell you in the first place, remember? I knew you’d just go over the same ground I did.” Jen paused, then said quietly. “I haven’t gotten any more letters, but she’s got to be somewhere safe, you know, or we’d have heard by now.”

  “Safe? Yes, you’re probably right. And in the meantime, it’s you that someone is trying to kill.”

  “But why would anyone want to kill her at all? I’ve thought and thought about everyone close to her and what their motives could be. David, Adelia, Nikki, Aaron –”

  “Aunt Adelia couldn’t have sabotaged that boat.”

  “But Thelma could have.”

  He thought for a moment. “It’s a stretch, but I’ll give it to you. What about Tony?”

  “I can’t imagine why. Jennette’s a famous and amazingly talented actress. She could earn hundreds of millions in the course of a very long career and Tony’s her agent. That would be gooses and golden eggs.”

  “Geese.”

  “Geese, if you will,” she laughed, “but you know what I mean.”

  He sat up to pull the basket closer. “Before we begin dissecting Jennette’s family and friends, let’s eat.”

  She was opening napkins for place mats. “In books it’s always the one you least suspect.”

  “Then that would have to be me,” he grinned, “because I haven’t a reason in the world for wanting Jennette to die.”

  “But you weren’t here –”

  “When the cabin exploded? Yes, I was. I came home for the board meeting. The first one that was postponed.” His shoulder had turned as he pulled the sandwiches out and she couldn’t see his face when he asked, “What if I am the killer?”

  He had startled her. Did he have a motive? She hadn’t really considered that. But she was smiling warmly at him as he turned back to hand her the silverware. “That would mean I’m safe now, because you know who I am. The danger is to Jennette Colson, not Jenet Croft.”

  As she poured a drink for Anna, she was watching his hands, the strong hands of a sculptor molding clay, shaping wood, chiseling stone. Could he be the killer? She watched his hands open a container to stir the pungent mixture inside, and her stomach lurched. “No!” She didn’t realize that she had spoken aloud until he said, “Don’t you want some?”

  “No.”

  “But you like crab salad.”

  “You mean Jennette likes it.”

  “Oh, hell.”

  “I can’t stand the stuff. Put it away.”

  She was white around the lips. He hurried to seal up the container and set it back into the basket. “Jen, what’s wrong?”

  “I … it … it was at a picnic ten years ago. I got food-poisoning from crab salad and was deathly ill. Thirteen other people were very sick, too, and five died,” her voice was shaky, and a sob caught in her throat, “including my parents.”

  “Oh, Jen.” He could see the pain on her face.

  “By the time I’d recovered, their funeral was over. It was a long time ago, but I still …”

  He reached out to touch her hand. “I’m so sorry.”

  She swallowed her tears with a little shake of her head and tried a rather watery smile. “Sad memories. But neither of them would want me to dwell on it. You get Anna and I’ll lay out the rest of the food.”

  They had enjoyed the picnic, focusing on Anna and the puppy, talking happily about all the things that interested the little girl, leaving adult worries for later. When Jen realized with a guilty start that she had completely forgotten to bring dog food, Rick had saved the day by reaching into his pocket and pulling out a large handful of small dog biscuits, then had fashioned a shallow bowl from tinfoil so Mugsy could have some water. An hour of swing, slides and fetch had tired them all out. Anna and the puppy were curled up in the shade, fast asleep on one of the blankets.

  Rick and Jen moved the other far enough away so they could talk.

  “They won’t sleep for long,” she said, sinking thankfully down. “It feels good to sit.”

  Rick sat beside her, his arms wrapped around his knees, staring across the clearing. The cool breeze ruffled his hair, blowing it into brown waves that he pushed back off his forehead with a casual gesture. “We’d play croquet on the flat stretch over there with our parents. The Kentings against the Jamesons.” He sat for a while with a slight smile on his face looking at the tree house. Then Jen saw the smile slowly fade and his face was serious as, reaching out beyond the edge of the blanket, he tore off a bit of grass, threw it aside, tore another. “These are people I’ve known for years,” he said quietly. “Some of them all my life. You’ve had weeks to think about this and you’re a stranger. I’ve had less than a day.”

  “I know it’s not easy. If you think of them as individuals, there’s too much emotion. Think of it, instead, like a chemistry experiment where you don’t know the formula.”

  “Chemistry?”

  She laughed. “I had a temp job one time in a chem lab, just washing beakers and all that other stuff they have. The guys that did the real work let me watch sometimes, and they explained a lot of what they were doing although most of it went right over my head.” She passed her hand through the air above her with another laugh.

  “Everybody is just one chemical or another?”

  “That’s right, and we put different ones together and hope that we don’t cause a bad smell.”

  He chuckled. “If Aunt Adelia knew that we were considering her for Suspect Number One, there would be a stink.”

  “You also have to include motives in the formula – love, money, revenge, fear – and all of their various combinations and permutations.”

  He swiveled his head to stare at her. “Combinations and permutations?”

  “I worked in a math lab once, too. Don’t interrupt.” She waved one hand. “Then there’s opportunity. Do you have to be nearby? Or do you just set the trap and wait for it to trigger on its own.”

  “Unfortunately, opportunity doesn’t let anyone out. We were all home for the board meeting, and Jennette’s people had dinner with us the evening the cabin exploded. They were going to have a meeting that she knew would run late so she asked Mrs. Brown to make enough for everyone.”

  “And the car was outside in the dark where anybody could get at it.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I have no way of knowing for sure, but I think the Jag was sabotaged.”

  Rick whistled softly. “I see. That accident wasn’t an accident, either.”

  “And everyone was there at Danni’s the night before I went sailing, even Nikki.”

  “What about that falling light you mentioned? The broken railing?”

  She lifted one shoulder. “Don’t know. We’ll just have to add them to the bottom of the list and wait for more information.”

  They were silent for a long while looking out over the clearing, so still that a butterfly joined them on the corner of the blanket, waved its delicate wings several times, then flitted away.

  She sighed deeply. “Rick, do you think David wants her stock badly enough?”

  “Assuming he would inherit it if she were to die?”

  “She would leave it either to him or to Anna. You said she has no family. Who else would there be?”

  “Only David.” He had begun to pull at the grass again. “Six months ago, I would have laughed at the idea but lately, I just don’t know. As a chemical, he would fit very neatly into one of your formulas. But as my cousin? Every ounce of me rebels against the thought.”

  “I know.” This was too painful for him
. She had to shift attention away from Kenting. “Nikki would make a neat little formula all on her own and so would Aaron.”

  “That makes more sense to me.” He raised his head and threw away the last of the grass. “I don’t know either of them very well, not as well as you do.”

  “If you’ve known them longer than several weeks, you’ve known them longer than I have.”

  “Damn, I keep forgetting. One minute you’re Jen and the next Jennette in my mind.”

  “Just don’t forget that I’m supposed to be Jennette, or you’ll blow my cover.” Mugsy had gotten up from the blanket to shake himself, and Anna was stirring. Jen stood to smile down at Rick. “You carry her. I’ll get the basket and all the rest.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Monday morning at the studio offices was very busy. Jen held meetings with each department head and was brought up to date on all that she’d missed over the last weeks. There was a considerable amount of information so she asked Colleen to take detailed notes that she could review later. The last meeting dealt with technical aspects of the current work in production and she decided that it would be more efficient for the two of them to meet with the crew down at the sound stage. When they finished, they listened to the sound recordings in Dick for a while, then she told Colleen that she’d be in Tom if anyone was looking for her.

  The huge room seemed crowded and busy, but she got no chance to stand and watch as a technical director claimed her attention with pressing issues of staging difficulties. Remembering Colleen’s explanation of those same issues, Jen did more listening than speaking, letting the director talk his way through the problems to finally arrive at his own satisfactory solutions. As he walked away, happy with her stamp of approval, Jen noticed Rick wandering around behind some equipment. Joining him, she tilted her head expressively.

  “What are you doing here?”

  “Oh, I thought I’d come by to see how you’re surviving in the fast-paced world of movie production.”

  She whispered with a grin. “Walking in Jennette’s shoes can, indeed, be tiring at times. The job I had as a script girl and the time I worked in summer theatre didn’t prepare me for all of this,” she waved her hand at the stage. “I have done some acting but it was just bit parts, walk-ons and crowd scenes. The only time I got close to the director was when he took a can of soda out of my hand as I walked by, thinking I’d brought it for him. And he didn’t even say thanks.”

  He laughed. “It looked from here that you were holding your own quite well under the barrage of Mike’s complaints.”

  “What you saw was me listening and nodding diplomatically as he told me everything I needed to know. What are you really doing here?”

  His smile faded. “It occurred to me that since no light has fallen at Kenting that I’ve heard of, something might have happened at SailingStar. It’s the only other place that has lights up high where Jennette is on a regular basis. I’ve been talking to some of the stagehands.”

  “And?”

  “Something did happen.”

  “What?”

  “There was an incident two or three weeks before the cabin.”

  “An incident?”

  He flicked imaginary dust from the sleeve of his jacket, then folded his arms to watch some scenery being carried past and Jen chuckled.

  “Would you just tell me and be done with it?”

  With a grin, he took her arm. “Yes, but not here. If you can escape for a while, let’s get something to eat, not in the dining room.”

  Jen phoned Colleen to say that she’d be out of the building for several hours and they headed for the exit.

  “Don’t you need a purse or something?”

  “I have everything I need in my pockets.”

  He stopped to look her up and down. “I like what I see but there’s not much room in those slacks for anything but you.”

  “Cell phone, driver’s license, keys and a credit card don’t take up that much space, and if you don’t stop leering at me immediately, someone will notice.”

  He was still looking at her. “Jennette does the same thing. She’s always leaving her handbag in her car.”

  Jen continued walking. “I read somewhere that she said her father used to say that women shouldn’t be tied to their purses. They carry those heavy bags around, then long-suffering husbands have to guard them while their wives try on clothes.”

  “You’ve got that almost word for word. You really do know all about her, don’t you.”

  “I know a lot more now than I did before. Where are we going? And if you’ve brought the Jeep, my hairdo would appreciate it if you’d drive the Jaguar instead.” She handed him the keys with a laugh.

  There was no restaurant in sight when Rick pulled up in front of a beautifully landscaped stone building that had to have been one of the city’s private homes a century ago. “I thought you should see the museum before the night of the benefit, and I’ve got a few things I have to take care of anyway.”

  The director hurried up as they came in. “Miss Colson, a pleasure to see you again. Mr. Jameson, the last of the pieces for the auction have just been unpacked. They’re in the small gallery.”

  “Mr. Lathrop,” Rick said quickly, giving Jen his name, “thank you. While I’m looking them over, perhaps you’ll show the museum’s most celebrated painting to Jennette. She’s expressed a desire to see it today since it’s been several years since she saw it last.”

  Jen heard the teasing undertone in his voice and didn’t dare look at him. “I would appreciate it, Mr. Lathrop. Is it still hanging in the same place?”

  “No, we shifted it from the small gallery to the larger room at the end after your comment that it could be viewed better from a distance there.”

  She saw Rick’s head turn with surprise and hid her amusement. Her question couldn’t have gone wrong since either answer would have served, but the fact that the painting had been moved at Jennette’s own suggestion neatly turned the tables on his attempt to fluster her. She followed the director down the long gallery as Rick disappeared into a room at the left. The walls were hung with lovely paintings each with its own light above or a ceiling spot focused on it. She was listening to the director talk happily about plans for the benefit when she paused.

  “A Turner!” The harbor scene, with wide wharf in the foreground and tall-masted ships anchored in the waves beyond, sparkled with its own internal glow of sun glittering on the water.

  “We’ve had it quite some time.”

  “Then how could I have forgotten it?” She recovered smoothly. “His treatment of light is unique. One wonders how he managed to put pure bright sunlight onto canvas.”

  They left the large room to enter the middle gallery. Halfway through, he stopped and waved with an unsuccessful attempt to conceal his pride. “Our very own Rubens.”

  Jen took a few steps closer and stopped. “It’s marvelous.”

  They stood together in silence, looking at the scene of servant girls sitting in a group, their skirts pulled up to display sturdy legs and bare feet. Rounded arms reached to caress the chubby child in one lap and full cheeks smiled lovingly.

  “It’s like visiting an old and dear friend after a long time apart. I’ve only seen one other Rubens, in the museum at Oberlin College, of a woman dressed in a full skirt. Up close, it’s simply white and yellow paint with little touches of green and bits of red, but when you step back, the skirt is shining yellow satin.”

  “I know that painting! I’ve seen it in books but have never been able to visit in person.”

  “Well, you should if you can. And they should come here to see this one.”

  Rick had come quietly up behind them. “May I steal Jennette to show her the auction items, Mr. Lathrop?”

  “Of course, of course. I’ll see you both on Thursday.”

  As the director walked away, Rick looked a question at her. “Oberlin? Ohio?”

  Jen nodded. “One of my friends has a brother wh
o went to school there. He invited her to come for some concert performance and I went along for the ride, and what a ride! Our car broke down on the road and we had to go the rest of the way by bus!

  “I had a temp job in a museum at the time, just typing and filing, but it was fun to wander around on my lunch break, so when we finally got to Oberlin and I found out that the college has a museum, I dragged my girlfriend in.”

  Rick led her into the small gallery, kicking aside some of the packing material that the paintings had been wrapped in. “I’ll have to ask one of the workmen to throw this stuff out.”

  “No, you mustn’t. You’d be surprised at how much of it can be reused. I worked in a recycling plant once –”

  But Rick held up a hand. “Just how many jobs have you had?”

  “Only thirty-four.”

  “Only thirty-four?”

  “I can’t count the ones I had before I was eighteen. You know, like baby-sitting and dog-walking and doing oil changes on our neighbors’ cars.”

  “You’re putting me on.”

  “I’m not, I promise. Mom insisted I learn because my dad was hopeless about things like that, so I earned spending money from all the single mothers on the block.”

  “Then why can’t you count it in your total?”

  “It’s one of our rules. We don’t include anything from before eighteen; the job has to last at least three days; and it has to be with a real company, not just helping someone out and getting paid for it. The only time a job doesn’t have to last three days is if it’s something that you’d like to get a real job in, like acting.”

  “And you’ve had thirty-four jobs that count.”

  She smiled. “We had a big party when one of my friends hit the hundred mark.”

  He looked at her and shook his head. “You are a very wei-, uh, unusual girl.”

  “You were going to say weird, weren’t you.” The offended suspicion in her voice set him off and he laughed until she broke down and joined him.

  “Okay, Jen, you take a look at the auction pieces while I find someone to recycle this very valuable junk.”

  She spent the next twenty minutes enjoying the paintings and sculptures. Danni hadn’t been wrong when she said that they were all different shapes, styles and emotions. There were oils, acrylics, watercolors, and even one sketch in charcoal. The sculptures were in clay, wood and metal.