The Guest List

by Michaels, Fern

  “All these years,” Mallory talked over her, “you thought Mama hated you because of your birthmark. That was probably part of it, but I think there was more. I think she hated you because you were Daddy’s child, and she hated Daddy.”

  “Of course I was Daddy’s …”

  “Wait!” Mallory wagged her finger. “She loved me because she loved Donovan, and I was Donovan’s child.”

  “No! That’s not true.” Outraged, Abby bolted to her feet, her chair flying out behind her. “You’re making all this up.” Too late she remembered her concerns about Mallory’s mental state and knew a moment’s fear when her sister walked toward her.

  “No, I’m not, Abby,” Mallory said, sounding tired. “Donovan doesn’t know I know. Hell, I didn’t know until Constance started hypnotizing me. That’s when it came out. Constance has it all on tape … all the things I heard and saw when I was little. I have the proof right here,” she said, reaching behind her and grabbing her purse off the counter. She took out a large manila envelope and sat down. “When I was working for that insurance company, Steve Franklin applied for a key-man insurance policy for Donovan. When you apply for a policy like that you have to give a blood sample. I was good friends with the guys in the lab and I conned them into running a DNA test to compare Donovan’s blood with mine.” She searched through the envelope and extracted a single white sheet of paper. “They match, Abby.”

  Abby took the lab report out of Mallory’s hand. She’d acquired a similar report a few months ago, for research purposes, so she was familiar with the process. There was no doubt. Donovan and Mallory were father and daughter.

  She looked up from the report and saw tears swimming in Mallory’s eyes. She felt her guard slip several notches. “There’s more, isn’t there?” she asked, the challenge, the fight gone out of her.

  “You asked what motive he would have to kill them. I don’t know for certain. I can only speculate. Maybe Daddy found out Donovan was having an affair with Mama, they got into an argument about it, and Donovan killed Daddy and …”

  “Wait a minute. None of this is making sense. I remember that Donovan hated Mama.”

  “Maybe he said one thing and felt another.” Mallory paused to rub her neck. “Here’s what I think happened. I think he loved her so much he couldn’t stand the thought of her and Daddy having sex, so he made her promise to abstain.” Before Abby could comment, Mallory added, “Under hypnosis, I remembered that Donovan had accused Mama of lying about something. She screamed back that she hadn’t lied, that she’d been true to him. True to him, Abby. I’m sure I didn’t know what that meant way back then, but I do now.” She paused to take a breath. “Just for the sake of argument, let’s say that Donovan did ask her to abstain and she gave him her word. Now let’s say that somehow he found out you were Daddy’s child and not his. How angry would he be that Mama had lied to him? Who would he take his anger out on? Isn’t it conceivable he might lose it … as in commit a murder?”

  “Yes, I suppose so, but he doesn’t seem the type.” Stupid comment, Abby thought. Really stupid. She’d researched enough murders to know that there was no “type.”

  “They never do.”

  Abby remembered bits and pieces of her early childhood. “Mama died of natural causes, didn’t she? And Daddy …”

  “Supposedly committed suicide,” Mallory finished for her as she withdrew more papers from the envelope. “Here’s a copy of the newspaper article that carried the information about their deaths, and here are their death certificates. There was no major investigation and no autopsy done on Mama.”

  Abby read the article, then the “cause of death” information on the death certificates. “It says that Mama died of heart failure and that Daddy died of a bullet wound.”

  “That’s right,” Mallory agreed. “And I don’t dispute that, but I don’t think Daddy killed himself or that Mama died of natural causes. I think Donovan shot Daddy and made it look like suicide and that he gave Mama some kind of poison … something that would simulate heart failure. There are a lot of poisons that would do that.” She handed Abby another piece of paper. “Here’s a copy of the police investigation, which is, by the way, the worst I’ve ever seen. And here’s a copy of Daddy’s suicide note.”

  Memories of that day, so long suppressed, flooded Abby’s mind. She remembered coming home from playing at her friend’s house. It was around lunchtime, and she and Mallory were both hungry. Mama wasn’t in the kitchen, so they went in different directions to find her. She found Daddy sitting at his desk, sound asleep. She tried to wake him up, but he wouldn’t open his eyes. Then Mallory came down and said Mama was sleeping, too, and that she couldn’t wake her up. The next thing she knew there were a bunch of people in her house and they were taking Mama and Daddy away.

  Putting her memories back where they belonged, Abby read the paperwork from start to finish and had to agree with Mallory that the police report left something to be desired. Donovan was quoted as having said that he and John had a long conversation the night before, that he talked John into leaving Harriet and going with him to his new job. The suicide note backed that up and went on to say what had happened—that Harriet had been so upset by his news that she’d had a heart attack and died. He blamed himself for her death, he said, and that was the reason he was taking his own life. Donovan was again quoted as saying that he didn’t know that John owned a gun. Also, that it was entirely possible Harriet died of the same heart condition that had killed his own wife.

  Abby could see why the police wouldn’t feel the need for a big investigation or an autopsy. They had a suicide note, a gun, probably with her father’s and only her father’s fingerprints on it, and the testimony of a brother-in-law who knew the couple, their problems, and even had a likely answer for the wife’s cause of death. Why make mountains out of molehills? Why do pounds of paperwork?

  As much as it looked as if Mallory might be on to something, it wasn’t concrete enough to make Abby switch over to Mallory’s way of thinking. She loved Donovan, always had, always would. She felt sick to her very soul. "If … if Donovan did murder our parents … I mean my father and our mother. Without an autopsy on Mama …” She trailed off, leaving Mallory to fill in the blanks.

  “We could tell him we know what he did and can prove it and see if he confesses,” Mallory said jokingly. “Or we could try to pin him to another murder, one that it’s not too late to get some facts on.”

  "Another murder!” Abby’s brain spun out of control as she mentally tried to glean Mallory’s thoughts. “Who?” she asked, almost afraid she knew the answer.

  “Connor.”

  “No.” Abby shook her head. “No way, Mallory. No!” She thought she screamed her response, but she’d barely whispered it. It was unthinkable.

  “Think about it,” Mallory said reasonably. “Let’s start with the motivation. That’s where you start when you plot your novels, isn’t it?” She pressed her lips together. “Think back to last Christmas … that night we hid behind the hedge and watched Carol break into your house. Carol argued with Donovan about all kinds of things, but two things Donovan said really hit me. First, that he was jealous of Connor. Second, that he never thought he would feel like he was your real father.”

  Abby remembered Donovan saying those things. At the time she’d felt warmed by them, thought of them as expressions of love. “You’re taking everything and twisting it to suit your needs, Mallory. I didn’t think that at all.”

  Mallory nodded. “Remember wondering why Connor never told you about his heart condition? I heard you say you couldn’t imagine why he wouldn’t mention it unless there wasn’t anything to mention.”

  “His new job required him to have a physical, and everything checked out fine,” Abby said by way of an explanation.

  “Fine, as in no heart condition or any other condition, which is why he never said anything to you. There was nothing to say. Yes, he had rheumatic fever as a child, but it might have been a
very mild case and didn’t cause any damage to his heart.”

  “That may be. I don’t know. All I know is that Connor was perfectly fine when I said good-bye to him outside the hotel café that morning. And the next thing I knew he was dead.”

  “I know. And the question is: What caused it? He appeared to die of heart failure… just like Mama appeared to die of heart failure.” Mallory raked her fingers through her hair. “Could he have been poisoned, too? Think about it. You were there. Could Donovan have slipped something into his breakfast?” When Abby didn’t answer, she let out a long sigh. “You wouldn’t be normal if you didn’t have doubts about the things I just told you. But Dr. Oldmeyer can back most of this up … the number of Donovan’s visits, the urn I never got, the audiotapes of my hypnosis sessions. She has the patient records. She has other things, too, though I’m not sure how they figure in or even if they do. She gave me this copy of the bookkeeping record showing Donovan’s two-million-dollar donation to Argone.”

  “Donovan made a two-million-dollar donation to Argone? Why?” Abby asked in stunned surprise as she wondered where this latest bit of information would lead.

  “Your guess is as good as mine,” Mallory said, handing over the copy of the journal entry. “Guilt maybe? They’ll probably name a school holiday after him. Donovan Day. They do that, you know. But getting back to Constance, she was the one who told me about Connor’s death. She called Donovan and Carol on some matter and got hold of Bobby, who filled her in on all the details. When she told me, I went off the deep end because I already had suspicions. I got it in my head that you were going to be next. So I followed you, thinking I could protect you somehow. I know you caught a glimpse of me at Connor’s funeral.”

  “Then I didn’t imagine it. You were there! I thought my eyes were playing tricks on me. You came around once here, too, right after I moved in, didn’t you?”

  Mallory snorted. “Uh-huh.” She gathered up all her papers, carefully refolded them, and put them back in the manila envelope. “I think you should call Connor’s family and ask them just how serious his rheumatic fever was.”

  “What?” The single word exploded from Abby’s mouth like a bullet.

  Hours later, Abby was sitting in her office with four of the dogs at her feet. She was still reeling from everything Mallory had told her and needed time to absorb it all. The thought of Donovan killing her parents … and Connor… Sure Donovan had his faults but … a murderer?

  Mallory had brought up something else that seemed odd. Neither she nor Mallory had ever been given any of their parents’ personal effects. There must have been something worth keeping—jewelry, old letters, photos, mementos of some kind. What had become of them?

  Abby turned off her computer. She’d tried to use her emotional state to write a critical, emotional scene, but it had ended up reading like a Saturday morning cartoon.

  Mallory passed by the office and peeked in. “Having writer’s block?”

  Abby nodded. “I can’t stop thinking about everything you told me.”

  “Then you believe me?” she asked, looking hopeful.

  Abby thought a moment before answering. “I don’t doubt that you believe the things you told me. And I don’t doubt the DNA test or the other documents you showed me. But…”

  “But you don’t believe Donovan murdered our parents and Connor.”

  “I don’t want to believe it, Mallory. I’m not real happy with Donovan at the moment, but I still love him.”

  “I understand,” Mallory said with a sad smile. “I guess I don’t blame you. I don’t have any hard proof or anything, only speculation.” She stepped into the room. “Listen, you’re on schedule with the new book, and I don’t have any more public appearances, so I thought we could go to Atlanta, to Argone. We’ll talk to Dr. Oldmeyer, and I’ll ask her to show you my records. Either on the way there or coming back, we could stop by Carol and Donovan’s and ask them for our parents’ stuff. It’s probably packed away somewhere in boxes. Are you with me or not, Abby?”

  Was she? Abby stared at her sister. She wanted to believe Mallory, but her accusations were just too wild. Maybe things would change once she talked to Mallory’s doctor. “Yes, I’m with you.”

  “Good. How soon can you be ready to leave?”

  “First thing tomorrow morning. I have to clean up this mess and arrange for all the dogs to go over to Steve’s. I hope he can take them. He’s been awfully busy lately with the added workload from the humane society.”

  Mallory turned to leave, then came back. “I almost forgot,” she said. “How did you like my interview with Kathie Lee?”

  “I thought you were great. Really great. You looked so poised, so professional. Steve was here, and he got teary-eyed when you answered her question about the book’s dedication. I have to admit, though, I got a little nervous when she asked you about Proof Positive. I had no idea what you would say. But you said just enough to titillate without giving anything away. Like I said, you did great.”

  “How long after the interview was it before Donovan called?”

  Abby nearly dropped the research book she’d been about to place on the bookshelf. She swung around, her eyes wide-open, her jaw dropping. “How did you know … ?”

  “It was a given. I knew Carol would be watching the show, that she would tell Donovan everything I said and did, and that he would call you to find out what I was doing impersonating you. Isn’t that what happened?”

  It took Abby a few moments to digest Mallory’s explanation, but once she did, she had more questions. “Excuse me for not catching on here, but how did you know Carol would be watching the show?”

  “That was easy,” Mallory said, waving her hand in dismissal. “When I knew I was going to be on, I called and talked to Bobby. I disguised my voice and told him I was conducting a daytime TV survey. I asked him what his mother’s favorite talk shows were and how often she watched them. He told me she loved the Regis and Kathie Lee show and that she watched it every day. He even told me she taped it when she was going out.”

  Abby’s nose wrinkled. “Did you learn all this stuff working for that insurance company?” Mallory nodded. “That’s incredible, you know? To go to all that trouble to …” She tilted her head. “Why did you go to all that trouble if you don’t mind me asking?”

  “I wanted them to see me, to see how I turned out … in spite of them. I deserved that, Abby. I really did.”

  * * *

  Mallory was on her way down the hall when the phone in the kitchen rang. Since Abby was putting the dogs into the Jeep, she let the machine pick it up and went about getting the last of her things together.

  The phone rang again as Abby came back from the garage.

  “Boy, you’re popular today. It just rang a few minutes ago,” Mallory said.

  “I’d better answer it,” Abby said, picking it up.

  “Princess, it’s Donovan. You sound a little out of breath. Are you all right?”

  “I’m fine. I was just out with the dogs.”

  “Listen, honey, Bobby’s appendix ruptured. He collapsed at a football rally. Carol and I are on our way to Jersey. She wants to be there when he comes out of surgery. I thought you might want to call him later or send some flowers.”

  Abby looked at Mallory. “Is he going to be all right?”

  “Yes, he’s going to be fine. I talked to the doctor myself before he took him into the operating room.”

  “I’m glad you called and, yes, I will call or send flowers.”

  “Abby? Don’t hang up. There’s something I want to say.” He paused. “I’ve been thinking about that conversation we had. You know, the one about your sister? I want to apologize. I realize now that it did sound like I was trying to tear you and Mallory apart. That honestly wasn’t my intention, honey. I just wanted to caution you, but it came out all wrong. And for the record, you were right. We did throw Mallory away. But as God is my witness, Abby, we didn’t know what to do with her. She was
out of control. She hated us and was out to destroy us. That said, I want you to know that I love Mallory in spite of the things she did. I love her in spite of Carol, too. And I love you, Abby. I miss having you in my life.”

  Abby swallowed hard and bit back tears. “You and Carol have a safe trip and give Bobby my love,” she said, wishing with all her heart that she could tell him she loved and missed him, too. But she couldn’t. Not now. “Bye.”

  Mallory tapped her foot impatiently, her face dark and brooding. “What he said about loving me … It was a crock!” she snarled. “You need to wake up, Abby, before it’s too late.”

  Abby flinched at the ominous-sounding words. She tried to shake off the feeling that was rivering through her. “Guess you heard everything, huh?” Abby asked needlessly.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Abby preferred to do the driving whenever she and Mallory traveled because of her sister’s heavy foot. She hated careening around corners and hanging on to the Jesus Christ strap overhead. Like many Corvette owners, Mallory drove too fast and wove in and out of traffic, causing Abby to clutch at her chest as she prayed for safe travel mercies. Whether because of the family-style rental car they’d decided to get at the last minute or because Mallory was dead-tired, she didn’t kick up her usual fuss. She’d fallen asleep within a few minutes of getting on the interstate.

  With no one to talk to, it was almost impossible for Abby to think about anything other than Mallory’s and Donovan’s charges against each other. Is he a murderer? Is she mentally unstable? Are his warnings about Mallory justified? Is she looking for revenge?

  Who is telling the truth?

  Who is lying?

  Whom should I trust? My sister with her troubled past or the man who raised and loved me?

  She’d promised herself she would keep an open mind until she had more information. Maybe there would be something among her parents’ effects that would shed some light on the truth. And there were Mallory’s school records and Constance Oldmeyer herself.