The Guest List

by Michaels, Fern

  It was that wink that made Abby realize suddenly just how much she loved her sister. And whether she was right or wrong about Donovan, she would still love her.

  Steve retrieved a bag from beneath the tree and pulled out seven rawhide chew bones and passed them out. The dogs continued to sit, bones in mouth, until Steve gave the order.

  “Okay, outta here you guys. Go into the kitchen. This is now officially people night,” he said, waving them away.

  Abby clapped as Steve bowed low in appreciation of his canine prowess. “We’ve been practicing for a month, so don’t go spoiling my performance,” he said. When Abby started to get off the couch, Steve motioned her to sit back down. “Santa is going to pass out the presents,” he said, “so sit there until I tell you you can get up.”

  First, he passed out the gifts Mallory and Abby had brought from the Mitchell household. A baby blue cashmere sweater for Mallory and a statement showing a generous investment into a blue chip stock fund. For Abby, there was a black Chanel purse and matching briefcase, which she knew had cost a fortune but would probably get very little, if any, use. From Bobby there were identical framed pictures of himself in his football uniform. They were even autographed.

  Abby burst out laughing at how big and wide his shoulders looked with all the football padding.

  With Santa’s assistance, Abby and Bunny exchanged presents next.

  “Since you can’t have pets where you live,” Abby said, “I thought you might like this.” Bunny burst out laughing when she opened a fake fishbowl filled with battery-operated fish.

  “And since you’re a murder-mystery writer,” Bunny said, “I thought you could use some more reference books.”

  Abby was delighted. One of the books was a guide to how criminals think and the second one was a guide to poisons. “These are great. Grisly but great. I can’t wait to read them.” She was inexplicably drawn to the guide to poisons.

  Mallory and Abby exchanged their gifts next. They had bought each other fun things, silly things. Mallory squealed over her designer socks and shoelaces, and Abby laughed at the studio photograph Mallory had had taken of the dogs.

  “Now, Santa has a very special gift for Mallory,” Steve said, waving her over and motioning her to sit down. Using both hands, he reached into his bag and lifted out a sleeping puppy. “She lost her mama and needs a new one. I thought you would make a good dog owner, Mallory. You have heart.”

  Mallory gasped and steepled her hands beneath her chin. “Oh, my God, Steve, she’s the most precious baby I’ve ever seen.” Tears filled her eyes as she reached out to take the puppy from Steve’s gloved hands.

  “All she asks is that you love her and take care of her. She’ll give you back everything you put into her tenfold, and that’s a guarantee.”

  “Oh,” Mallory cried. “I love her already.” She cuddled the puppy under her chin. “Thank you, Steve … I mean, Santa. This is the best Christmas present anyone has ever given me. Are you sure she’ll love me?” she asked anxiously. “You know, really love me?”

  “I personally guarantee it,” Steve said, his eyes moist at the rapturous look on Mallory’s face.

  Abby was equally touched by Steve’s gift. It was everything she could do to keep herself from blubbering. Mallory deserved something warm and loving. There was so much love in Mallory, so much she had to give, and the little dog was going to be the lucky recipient of all that love. How wise of Steve to know and understand.

  Next, Santa produced two bottles of chilled champagne. “These are for Bunny and Mike and anyone they care to share it with. Hint. Hint.”

  Bunny bounded off the couch to accept the two bottles and to plant a huge smacking kiss on Santa’s cheek. “Thank you, Santa,” she said politely. Mike opted for a firm handshake as he grinned from ear to ear.

  Santa turned his bag upside down and shook it to show that it was empty. He looked at Abby, and shrugged. “Oops, I must have left your present back at the North Pole.”

  Abby struggled to cover her obvious embarrassment. Was he kidding or had he really not gotten her anything for Christmas? In spite of her doubts, she forced herself to smile and pretend it didn’t matter. “That’s okay, Santa, but you’re going to feel like a real bum after I give you my present.” She put her hand under the couch cushion and pulled out an envelope. “Mallory and I wrangled this out of Donovan for the humane society,” she said, handing it to him.

  Steve opened the envelope. “Twenty-five hundred dollars!”

  “He said there’s more if you need it,” Abby said.

  Steve blinked as he choked up. “That is incredible, Abby. Do you realize how many animals’ lives I can save with this? I can’t thank you enough.”

  “Sure you can. Just keep doing what you do,” she said, smiling at him, loving him with all her heart.

  Steve smiled as he returned to his Santa mode and scratched his head through his hat. He started patting himself all over as if he was looking for something. “Wait a minute. I think I might have found your present, Abby.” He moved over to where Abby was sitting, got down on one knee, and took a tiny red-velvet pouch out of his pants pocket. “Merry Christmas, Abby.”

  Her breath caught in her throat as she took the pouch from his hand. With trembling fingers she loosened the drawstring. A beautiful solitaire diamond ring winked up at her from the velvet nest inside the bag.

  “I love you, Abby Mitchell,” Steve said, taking off his Santa hat. “Will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?”

  Abby’s eyes welled with tears. “Yes! My God, yes!” Abby squealed, then flung herself into his arms.

  Abby and Mallory waited until Christmas afternoon, when they were alone, to open the boxes containing their parents’ things. They couldn’t have been more delighted with the treasures they found packed inside. There was a small jewelry box full of real and costume jewelry. They found their parents’ wedding rings, an old watch, a pair of cuff links, and several antique pieces. There was an album full of old photographs, a couple of high-school yearbooks, a scrapbook, a china figurine, and their mother’s diaries.

  “I can hardly wait to read them,” Abby said, flipping through one of them. Her mother’s penmanship was beautiful, her letters elegantly formed with swirls and curlicues. Almost Victorian. “Maybe they’ll help me understand her a little better. But let’s wait until after Bunny and Mike leave, New Year’s Eve.”

  “Okay,” Mallory said. “If we’re lucky, we’ll find something in them that will shed some light on what we’re dealing with now. But to tell you the truth, I imagine if there was anything, Donovan would have removed it. So let’s be sure to look for crossed-out areas or torn-out pages.”

  Abby put the diary back in the box with the others. “I wonder if Donovan made it home for Christmas. I hope he didn’t leave Carol and Bobby alone.”

  “Maybe you should call and find out,” Mallory suggested.

  “That’s a good idea and while I’m at it, I’ll thank Carol for the gifts. One less phone call to make tomorrow.”

  New Year’s Eve dawned sunny and cold. Abby sat in the kitchen working on the guest list for the party. So far she only had twenty names, but each one had been carefully chosen. She’d contacted a company who would do the catering, the bartending, and the music. Mallory had volunteered to do the decorating, which included throwing out the old carpet, the drapes, and most of the living-room furniture.

  Suddenly, the piece of toast Mallory was eating flew out of her hand. “Look! Isn’t that Donovan pulling around the driveway?”

  Abby rushed to the window. “Oh, my God! It is! How’d he get in? Where’s Beemer?”

  An earsplitting bark and vicious growl roared in their ears as the big shepherd came out of nowhere and hurled his body at the kitchen door.

  Panic rivered through Abby. “Damn it, how did Donovan get through the gates? What are we going to do, Mallory?”

  “Quick, run into the other room and call Steve. Stop standing there lik
e a ninny and do it! Now!” She grabbed Beemer. “Easy, boy. Easy, boy. Sit!”

  The police dog sat on his haunches, his ears flat against his head, his tail tucked beneath him. Olivia grabbed the opportunity to eat the remaining food in Beemer’s dish.

  Mallory sucked in her breath when she heard the knock on the door. Her movements were jerky as she undid the bolt and the dead bolt. So much for security. If he wanted to break in, all he had to do was smash one of the windowpanes, reach in, and unlock the bolts. “Donovan! What … it is you, isn’t it?”

  Donovan looked down at himself. “I guess I do look a little out of character with this beard and these clothes. But, yes, it’s me. I’ve been away, trying to get a handle on things. Is Abby here?”

  “I’m here,” Abby said, returning to the kitchen. “Would you like some coffee?” she asked for lack of anything better to say.

  “I’d love some.”

  Mallory ushered him inside and closed the door behind him. “I was just making breakfast. I’ll fix you a plate.”

  “No thanks,” he said. “I’m not hungry.”

  Abby looked him over from head to toe. She’d never seen him look so rough-and-tumble before. Clearly, he hadn’t been sleeping well. She motioned him to a chair. “I’m curious, how did you get in through the security gate?”

  “It was ajar, so I just pushed it open,” he said, taking his seat.

  Abby and Mallory could only stare at one another.

  Abby sat down across from him. “Have you been home yet, Donovan? Carol and Bobby have been worried sick.”

  “No,” he said, shamefaced. “I just got back from Mrs. Lascaris’s funeral and buying back the condo from her son.”

  “Mallory and I saw the newspaper article about her death. Why couldn’t you have called us and told us what happened instead of letting us read about it in the paper, Donovan?”

  “I’m sorry.” He rubbed his hand over his beard-stubbled chin. “All I can say is, I haven’t been myself. I just did what I had to do and didn’t think about anything or anyone else.”

  “We would like to have paid our respects,” Abby added sullenly.

  “Again, I’m sorry. Her death really rocked me. She was a nice old lady.” He took the cup of coffee Mallory handed him and gulped at it until the cup was empty. “I have something I need to say, and I want you both to listen to me.” He looked from one to the other, his expression grave. “It took me a while to figure things out, but then it dawned on me what was up with you two. You’ve gotten it into your heads that your parents were murdered and you’re going to use your book, Abby, to bring it all out in the open.” He stared at them as if expecting them to deny it, but they didn’t. “I can guess at how all this got started,” he said, his gaze turning to Mallory. “And I can guess at the reason. Revenge. Right, Mallory? You want to get back at us for sending you away to Argone?” He didn’t wait for her to answer before continuing. “I don’t blame you. What Carol and I did to you was unconscionable. I know now there were other things we could have done to try to help you.”

  Mallory’s eyes filled with tears. “Yes, there were,” she said, her voice high and strained. “There were lots of things you could have done if only you’d cared enough to look into them. Instead, you dumped me, the same way people dump off dogs and cats they don’t know how to care for or what to do with.”

  “You’re right,” Donovan admitted. “And believe it or not I’ve suffered for what I did to you. Guilt can be a vicious monster. It can eat you alive.”

  “Which is why you gave such large contributions to Argone … to assuage your guilt.”

  “Yes. But it didn’t help. Nothing did, and nothing ever will. It’s something I’ll have to live with for the rest of my life. I can’t change the past, Mallory, but I can shape the future, if you’ll give me a chance.”

  “And in return, I suppose you want me to forget that you killed our parents, Connor, Constance Oldmeyer, and Mrs. Lascaris?” Mallory touched the pad of her index finger to her chin. “Have I missed anyone?”

  Donovan stared at Mallory in astonishment. “You can’t be serious.”

  “I’m deadly serious,” she said. “The only question I have is how did you do it? Other than my father, whom you shot, how did you kill them so they all appeared to die of heart attacks?”

  Donovan’s eyes dulled with disbelief. “When did Constance Oldmeyer die?” he asked, his voice shaking.

  “How quickly they forget, don’t they, Abby?” Mallory looked down at her sister then at Donovan.

  “Was there an autopsy?”

  “Yes.”

  Donovan nodded. “I’m sorry, Mallory, I didn’t know. She was a kind, decent woman. She made you what you are today.”

  Abby felt the need to say something. “I didn’t want to believe any of this, Donovan, but in every instance you had a motive.”

  “What are you talking about? What reason would I have to kill your parents or anyone else? Tell me,” he demanded, looking from one to the other.

  Mallory flipped the bacon in the frying pan. The six strips sizzled as she turned down the flame. “You killed our mother because you were angry that she had sex with Daddy and produced Abby. And you killed Daddy because he found out about you and Mama and me.”

  “Jesus Christ, Mallory. Listen to what you’re saying. You’re not making sense.”

  “Oh, yes I am, Donovan,” she flashed back. “You had an affair with Mama for what, seven or eight years? On the nights John went bowling, I would watch you come across the lawn to the house, and then I would sit outside the bedroom door while you and Mama made love. Of course, back then, I didn’t know that’s what you were doing. Apparently I buried those memories, and they didn’t resurface until Dr. Oldmeyer started hypnotizing me, which of course you knew and killed her to prevent her from talking about it. Did you destroy her files, too? Is that why no one can find them?”

  Donovan stared at her, then closed his eyes. “It’s true that I had a long-term affair with Harriet. I loved her, or at least I did until she changed and became such a shrew.”

  “When did she become a shrew, Donovan? When you told her she couldn’t have sex with John? Or when you found out that she not only had sex with John but that Abby was his child and not yours?” She took the frying pan off the stove. “Blood tells, Donovan. And in this day and age, it tells the absolute truth,” she said putting the bacon onto a paper towel to drain. “Let’s take DNA as an example. You remember that Keyman life-insurance policy Steve Franklin took out on you? The insurance company required you to give a blood and urine sample at the time you filled out the application. I had been working for the insurance company for more than a year by then, though you didn’t know that, of course, because you so seldom inquired about what I was doing. Anyway, I’m the one who took the samples to the lab, and while I was there, I had the tech take a sample of my blood and asked him to run a DNA test on the two of them. And guess what? They matched … Daddy.”

  Donovan’s eyes narrowed as he studied Mallory. “I should have guessed,” he said, staring at her as if seeing her for the first time. “I’m sorry, Mallory. I didn’t know. As God is my witness, I didn’t know.”

  “Why should I believe you? You’re a consummate liar, Donovan. You even lied about Mama’s ashes and told Abby you’d given then to me,” Mallory charged.

  “Carol and I went to the school and …”

  “The institution,” Mallory corrected him.

  Donovan threw up his hands. “We took the urn to Argone and tried to give it to Dr. Malfore. He said you were having a discipline problem and were being punished. He refused to take it from me, so we took it home, and Carol promised to take it another day.” He stared at her as if expecting some sort of confirmation. “She never got it to you, right?” He leaned his elbows on the table, then dropped his head into his hands and took deep breaths.

  It was Abby who answered. “We went into your house while you and Carol were in New Jersey vis
iting Bobby, and I found the urn hidden behind some other things on the top shelf of Bobby’s closet.”

  Suddenly Beemer’s ears stood at attention. He jumped up and ran to the door.

  Steve stormed into the kitchen, his eyes wild, his body rigid. A clear indication he was looking for a fight.

  “Who the hell are you?” Donovan snarled.

  “This is … my neighbor,” Abby said before Steve could speak. She didn’t want to take any chance of Donovan knowing they were engaged. When she’d called Steve to come over, she’d taken off her ring and put it in a box in the great room. “Dr. Steve Carpenter. He’s the vet I mentioned. I think it’s time for you to leave, Donovan.”

  He didn’t move a muscle. “Not until you two listen to reason. I don’t know how I can convince you that I didn’t kill anyone. You’ve made me out to be the killer in that damn book of yours, haven’t you, Abby? There will be an investigation. Even though they will find me innocent, the publicity, the speculation, and the conjecture will ruin me and ruin everything I’ve worked my entire life to achieve. Please, I beg you to think about what you’re doing. Please don’t ruin people’s lives for a few lousy dollars in book sales. I’ll give you any amount of money you want. A million, two, ten … I don’t care.”

  “But I do care, Donovan,” Abby said.

  “The truth will win out, Abby, and you’ll be the laughingstock of your profession. Why are you doing this to me?”

  “For Connor, damn you,” Abby cried out. “For Connor. He was too young to die. He had his whole life ahead of him, and you took that life away from him and from me as well. Don’t ever ask me why again.”

  Steve walked over to the door. “Here’s the door, Mr. Mitchell. I think you’d better leave.”

  Looking old beyond his years, Donovan marched out of the kitchen, down the driveway to his car, and didn’t look back.

  “How the hell did he get in here?” Steve asked, closing the door and locking it.