The Guest List

by Michaels, Fern

  “Carol, you don’t think I killed John and Harriet, do you?”

  “I don’t know, and I don’t care. But everyone who reads Abby’s book will think you did. How are you going to fight that?”

  “With the truth, that’s how,” Donovan said with more confidence than he felt. “The truth always wins out in the end, Carol.” He started for the door. “Are you ready?”

  Carol tore her gaze from the mirror. “Almost. You go down and get the car, and I’ll meet you,” she said, reaching for her evening bag. “Oh, and by the way, if I don’t get a chance to tell you later, you look especially handsome tonight. I don’t ever remember crashing a party before. It should be very interesting.”

  Abby looked around the living room with approval. Was there nothing this sister of hers couldn’t do? “I like this combination of Laura Ashley and Ralph Lauren,” she told Mallory. “It’s country and comfortable at the same time, the kind of furniture and fabrics you want to cuddle up in on a rainy afternoon. I can’t wait for a rainy day to check out if I’m right or wrong,” Abby said, hugging her sister.

  The party decorations, also à la Mallory, were simple but elegant. The focus was on low, dramatic lighting. Candles of every color and size graced the fireplace mantel and all the tables. A blue-flamed fire burned in the fireplace, giving the room a warm, cozy feel, which was Mallory’s intention. In one corner, a tall, leafy ficus tree, studded with minuscule white lights, added a touch of romance. At least Abby thought so. Her gaze swept the room as she searched for Steve. She moved toward him, her arms outstretched. The man she loved. Only God knew how much.

  A block of ice sculpted to resemble an open book sat in the center of the table. All around it, at various elevations, were more candles and finger foods: shrimp, lobster, ribs, caviar, as well as every canapé known to man.

  “Everything looks beautiful, doesn’t it?” Abby asked Steve as she turned on the stereo receiver. Piano music filled the room.

  “Not half as wonderful as you look,” he said, kissing her mouth lightly. “And that dress …” he winked “… is nothing short of spectacular.” His eyes were riveted on her plunging neckline.

  Abby wanted to tell him she had spent hours and hours looking for the perfect, long, black velvet dress and had finally found it in the last boutique, but she held her tongue. She knew she looked good. Her hair was just the right length, the cut perfect, and her medical makeup covered her stain without looking caked or theatrical.

  Bunny and Mike entered the living room hand in hand, followed by Mallory, looking more beautiful than ever in a skintight red dress and an old-fashioned red snood to hold her hair in place.

  The doorbell rang. Abby opened it to see Bobby, who looked adorable in his black tux and red tie. “You’re lookin’ good, sport,” Abby said, hugging him. “I’m so glad you could come home from school to come to my party.”

  The doorbell rang again and from that point on a steady stream of guests poured into the house. Everyone was elegantly dressed, and the talk was lighthearted and flattering. It didn’t take long for the party atmosphere to take over. A distinguished, white-coated bartender served Dom Pérignon and vintage wines from a bar set up in the foyer. Under other circumstances, this would have been the party of Abby’s dreams.

  An hour into the party, Abby caught sight of her sister. The lady in red, she thought, wondering if there wasn’t a plot somewhere in that title. Mallory was holding court with the guy from Newsweek and a couple of book reviewers.

  With Steve on her arm, Abby circulated among her guests, who thought they were Mallory’s guests—or rather Bailey James, the mystery writer’s guests. “Even on my best day I couldn’t do what Mallory is doing,” Abby said in a low voice. “Just the thought makes me shrivel up inside. Look at those media people, Steve. They’re hanging on her every word. And look at Mallory, how cool and poised she is. She’s eating this up. I’m so glad she agreed to all this.”

  Steve chuckled softly. “Yes, she is, and if you ask me, it’s good for her. She needs to rebuild her self-esteem. I have to admit it’s fun listening to the way people talk about her and the book when she’s not in the conversation. If what they’re saying right here in this room is any indication, you’re on your way to being the Stephen King of the mystery set.”

  “We’re—Mallory and I … are going to be the Stephen King of the mystery set. She doesn’t know it yet, but I’m going to formally make her my writing partner. She will research, plot, and do publicity. I will write.” Abby hugged Steve. “There’s my agent and my editor. Let’s go talk to them.”

  Steve held her back. “Are you sure you want to do that? What if they recognize your voice?”

  “I’ve already talked to them hundreds of times, and they didn’t. Amazing, isn’t it? All those hours we spend talking on the phone, and yet they don’t know me when they see me.”

  “Yeah, amazing,” Steve agreed. A moment later, he put his arm around Abby’s back when he saw Carol and Donovan Mitchell walk in. “Abby,” he whispered, lowering his head to her level, “I think we’ve got a little problem.”

  Abby turned to see Carol’s gaze sweeping her redecorated living room.

  “My God!” Carol said, as Donovan helped her off with her coat. “She’s changed everything … the carpet, the drapes, all the furniture. Everything! All my work … It was for nothing.”

  “It looks good. It looks like Abby,” Donovan said honestly, earning himself a contemptuous snarl from his wife.

  Abby saw and understood Carol’s look but was determined to ignore it and make the best of a bad situation. “I didn’t think he’d have the nerve to come here. Carol must have insisted. Stay here, Steve,” she said as she started toward her adoptive parents. She hadn’t taken two steps when Steve grabbed her hand.

  “I’m going with you,” he insisted. “I’m a big boy. You don’t need to protect me. I can take care of myself.”

  “Carol! Donovan! How nice of you to stop by,” Abby said with false cheer.

  “Hello, Princess,” Donovan said, stretching to give her a kiss. “You look absolutely beautiful tonight.”

  Without thinking, Abby put her arms around him and gave him a hug and felt him hug her back. When they broke apart, she looked into his eyes and saw only love and affection. “I want you both to meet Steve Carpenter, my fiancé.” She lifted her left hand to show off her ring.

  Steve reached out to shake Donovan’s hand.

  Donovan looked confused. “Haven’t we met before?”

  “Yes, sir. I’m the neighbor Abby called New Year’s Eve.”

  “Right,” Donovan said, nodding. “I remember now.”

  “Yes, sir,” Steve said, looking embarrassed. “Before I forget, I want to thank you for your generous contribution to the humane society. I can’t begin to tell you how many more lives we’ll be able to save.”

  “Ironic, isn’t it?” Carol spoke up, obviously offended at being ignored. “Here we are at a party where Donovan is going to be accused of taking lives, and the first person he meets thanks him for saving lives.”

  Abby flinched. She and Mallory had led Donovan to believe Proof Positive would incriminate him, but surely they didn’t think tonight would be the night where they unmasked his guilt. She couldn’t begin to imagine how he must feel. And, of course, now they were inclined to think the guilty party was Carol, not Donovan. But they couldn’t tell him.

  “Please, this is a celebration party,” she said, looking from Donovan to Carol. “Nothing more.”

  “Celebration of what?” Carol asked.

  “My engagement. My career. My life.”

  “Your life!” Carol spit venomously. “It’s always about your life. What about my life?” she asked, crossing her hands over her chest. “The life you and that scum-ball sister of yours are bound and determined to destroy.”

  “Then why did you come here? I purposely didn’t send you an invitation because I thought something like this might happen.”

>   “Why? Because I happen to love Donovan, and I couldn’t let him come here to face you and your hateful sister’s charges alone.”

  “Ah, Carol,” Mallory said, coming up beside Abby. “I thought I heard my name being mentioned. What brings you and Donovan here? I don’t recall Abby sending you an invitation.”

  “Crashing the party was my idea,” Donovan replied, accepting the blame. He was so flustered he didn’t even react to Abby’s reference to her engagement.

  “I’m glad you could come. Two champagnes,” she told the bartender behind them. He was doing an admirable job of acting oblivious to the family feud playing out in front of him. She handed Carol and Donovan each a glass and pointed them toward the food. “Enjoy yourselves.”

  Steve led Abby down the hall to her bedroom. The minute he closed the door behind him, he took her into his arms and held her tight.

  “It’s at times like this that I’m awfully glad you’re around,” Abby said, holding him close, absorbing his strength. “I don’t know how Mallory gets through all of life’s trials alone.”

  “She’s not alone. She’s got you.” He lifted her chin and kissed the tip of her nose.

  When they returned to the party, Abby watched Carol standing alone in a corner of the dining room, flipping through the bound galleys of Proof Positive. Her expression was intense and marked with loathing.

  Abby walked past her and found Donovan in the kitchen talking to Mallory.

  “I want you to know, Mallory, that whatever happens, I admire your courage and your honesty, and I’m proud of you for standing up for justice. I was wrong before when I accused you of seeking revenge. I was wrong about a lot of things. All those years I thought you were getting worse instead of better, and I thought that way because I stupidly believed everything Carol told me. It never occurred to me that she would lie about something so important.”

  “What makes you think differently now?” Mallory asked, a distant look on her face.

  “The reports Argone sent to keep us aware of how you were doing. I found them a few days ago and read them. I’m so sorry, Mallory. I love you, honey. I’ve always loved you in spite of what you think. I wish I could take away all the pain I’ve caused you, but I can’t.”

  “Leave me alone.” Mallory said. “Please, just leave me alone.” She tore herself away with a choking cry and ran outside.

  Donovan turned and saw Abby standing in the doorway.

  “Maybe it would be a good idea if you and Carol left,” Abby said, smothering a sob.

  Donovan put his hands on either side of her face and looked deep into her eyes. “I made a foolish mistake coming here. I thought I could make something happen that would clear all this up, but … I was wrong. Do me a favor though, will you, Princess? Believe me when I tell you I love you and that I didn’t kill your parents or anyone else.” He dropped his hands to his side and strode out of the kitchen.

  Abby stared after him, her heart breaking into a million pieces.

  Outside, beyond the patio, Mallory was literally knocked off her feet when Olivia, who had managed to escape being penned in the garage with the other dogs, slammed against the back of her knees. “Hey, you,” she said, reaching down to pet the dog’s big head. Other than her own puppy, Olivia was her favorite of Abby’s dogs. All Olivia wanted was to be loved and petted and to be allowed to sleep next to Beemer.

  Mallory walked across the patio and looked in the livingroom windows at the party. Abby was standing next to Steve, her diamond ring winking every time she moved her hand. Mallory envied Abby and Steve’s relationship, envied the love they’d known and shared. Never having loved or given love, she could only imagine what it was like. But from where she stood it looked wonderful.

  Mallory walked to the pool. Candles, sitting on wax lily pads, floated lazily on the water. It was a particularly dark night, the moon and stars covered by clouds. “Come on, Olivia, let’s go for a walk.”

  “Yes, let’s do go for a walk,” a familiar voice said behind her.

  Mallory whipped around and saw Carol standing beside an azalea bush, a gun in her hand.

  Abby reached for a champagne bottle from the bartender and threw herself into being the stand-in hostess. “More champagne?” she asked, approaching the buyers from the two major chain bookstores.

  “Wonderful party, Miss Mitchell,” the man from Barnes & Noble said, the galley of her book in his hand. “I hope Proof Positive is as good as your sister’s last book.”

  “Oh, it is,” she said, smiling.

  “You must be very proud. She’s a talented writer.”

  “Yes, I am.” But not for the reason you think, she said to herself as she filled his glass. She was proud of Mallory because of the person she’d become in spite of the way people had treated her.

  “I was hoping to talk to her, to arrange some signings, but I don’t seem to be able to find her anywhere.”

  Abby glanced around. Mallory was nowhere in sight. “Maybe she’s freshening up. I’ll look for her and tell her you’d like to talk with her.” She headed down the hall toward the bedrooms and ran into Bunny on the way out of the guest bathroom.

  “Have you seen Mallory?”

  “Not in the last fifteen minutes or so.”

  * * *

  Seeing Carol holding a gun on her was as crazy as any dream Mallory had ever had. Only it wasn’t a dream. It was reality … a frightening reality.

  “Think about this, Carol. You don’t want to do anything you’ll regret,” Mallory said in a voice she barely recognized as her own.

  “Believe me, Mallory, I won’t regret killing you. And it’s not like I haven’t tried before. You’re just hard to kill.”

  It only took Mallory a moment to realize what Carol was talking about. “So, it was you who let the air out of my tire, right?”

  “How astute of you.”

  Keep her talking, Mallory thought. The longer she talks, the better chance I have someone will wonder where I am and come looking for me. “You know, Carol, if you shoot me … Bailey James, the famous mystery writer … it’s going to be thoroughly investigated and …”

  Carol aimed the gun and … pop!

  It was the flash of light that made Mallory realize Carol had fired and missed. The gun must have a silencer, she thought crazily. Before Carol could fire a second time, Mallory turned and ran screaming toward the back gate. If she could outrun Carol, she might be able to make it around to the front of the house, to people, to safety.

  A second shot whizzed past her as she opened the gate. She stumbled and bumped her head on the latch. Cars, dozens of them, blocked her way. Briefly, she thought about hiding among them, but she was so scared, she was afraid her ragged breathing would give her location away. The only clear escape route was toward the ravine at the back of the property.

  The clink of glasses and hum of conversation surrounded Abby as she moved from the living room to the great room to the dining room. She found Steve standing by the table, filling his plate with food. “Have you seen Mallory?”

  “She’s probably getting her picture taken. She ought to be easy to spot in that dress she’s wearing,” he said as he picked up a cube of cheese.

  “Don’t eat or drink too much,” Abby said, squeezing his upper arm. “We’ve got a long night ahead of us, and I don’t want you getting sleepy.” She gave him her sexiest smile as she sashayed her way to the kitchen before he could say anything.

  “Mallory?” she called, the dining-room door swinging behind her. The kitchen was empty. The last time she’d seen Mallory was in the kitchen when she’d been talking to Donovan. She’d been upset and had gone outside.

  Abby opened the back door. “Mallory, are you out here?” Only Olivia answered with a howl of distress. She trotted onto the patio, her ears flapping like soggy wings. “Oh, Olivia! You’ve been digging.” Abby moved backwards to avoid contact with the dog’s dirt-crusted paws.

  Olivia danced around impatiently before she let loose
with a second mournful howl.

  “What’s the matter with you, Olivia?”

  As if in answer, Olivia waddled to the gate and continued to excavate her hole.

  Abby ran after her. “No, Olivia, no,” she scolded as she reached down for the dog’s collar. “What’s this?” she asked, seeing something red on the ground beside the hole. The instant her fingers came in contact with the item, she knew it was Mallory’s knitted snood. “Mallory? Are you out here?” she shouted. The gate was closed but not latched. “Mallory?” she shouted again.

  The second she opened the gate, Olivia barreled through, trundling off toward the back of the property, barking like a hound on the scent of a fox.

  Icy fear twisted around Abby’s heart. There was only one thing back there … the ravine. Abby reached down and picked up the hem of her dress and ran.

  “Excuse me,” Donovan said, cornering Steve in the dining room. “By any chance have you seen my wife?” He had her coat draped over his arm.

  “No.”

  “Where’s Abby? Maybe she’s seen her.”

  “Abby went looking for Mallory.”

  Donovan’s eyes narrowed to slits. “Shit!”

  Steve’s eyebrows shot upward as he watched Donovan take off like a flash for the kitchen.

  Steve set his plate down and ran after him. “Do you mind telling me what’s going on?” He took hold of Donovan’s arm and wrenched him around until they were eyeball-to-eyeball.

  “I’m not sure, but I don’t want to take any chances. Get a couple of flashlights and meet me out in back.”

  Ignoring his concerns about Donovan, Steve raced into the pantry, retrieved two flashlights, and returned to meet Donovan outside. “At least tell me what you think might be going on,” he demanded.

  Donovan flicked the high beam of his light from one corner of the yard to the other. He made his way over to the edge of the pool and looked in. “Turn on the pool lights,” he ordered.