Persis had simply leaned over the sofa and pushed the pin into the back, at the end that was closer to the piano. Therefore, it probably hadn’t really been all that well hidden, and it was in the area that had been searched first. Quite possibly one of the others—Loni, her father, or her mother—had gotten the entirely reasonable idea that the pin had been accidentally knocked off the piano and kicked behind the sofa. They’d have turned on the strong reading lamp that stood on the table beside it, seen the stones glitter in the light, and instead of shouting, “Here it is,” or whatever, have scooped up the brooch and kept it. The one place they hadn’t searched last night was in each other’s pockets.
Because Muriel Green was always the one who did things around the house, Persis’s thoughts turned immediately to her mother. But that was ridiculous. Look at the way Mama had spent hours and hours searching, insisting that the others help her. She’d still be at it, no doubt, if her head weren’t aching so badly.
On the other hand, Mrs. Green’s head had been aching all day. She’d complained of a headache as soon as she’d gotten up and taken two aspirin before they’d set out for the club. She’d said afterward they hadn’t done a bit of good, yet for three or four hours she’d smiled and chatted and played the perfect hostess to Chet and his family. Anybody would have thought she hadn’t a care in the world beyond making sure her guests had a good time.
Nor was this by any means the first time Persis had watched her mother putting on a performance. Muriel Green could out-act any soap opera heroine when she chose to do so.
That didn’t mean she’d stolen her own daughter’s wedding gift. Why should she? Mama would never be able to wear the brooch, surely. Even if she had the stones reset in a different design, everybody would know where she’d gotten them. Besides, resetting all those little rubies and diamonds would be an expensive proposition in itself.
Of course, she could sell some of the jewels to pay for the work. Maybe that had been her idea: to sell not some of the jewels, but the entire brooch. Mrs. Green had been spending tremendous sums of money on this wedding. She and her husband had already had some awful fights over the bills. Were there still more and larger bills, that she hadn’t even dared show him?
There were places where you could get jewelry copied. Persis had overheard some of her mother’s bridge club buddies talking about having it done. You parked your genuine forty-carat diamond necklace in the family vault and wore the rhinestone copy, and nobody was supposed to be able to tell the difference.
Persis had wondered at the time why, in that case, a person didn’t simply settle for the copy and sell the original to buy something really worth having, like a Steinway concert grand. Apparently, though, you had to keep the real one stashed away or it didn’t count.
Everybody in their crowd must have heard by now that Chet’s grandmother had presented him and his fiancée with her own heart-shaped diamond and ruby brooch insured for ten thousand dollars. If they hadn’t, they would, soon enough. That meant Loni would have to appear in public wearing the brooch after she was married, but it could also mean she’d get away with wearing a copy instead of the genuine article.
Right now, the brooch was of no practical use to the Greens. Loni wasn’t supposed to wear it yet, nor could it be left out on display unless Charles Green hired a detective to guard it. People would assume they’d put it in a safety deposit box at the bank, most likely.
Persis thought about all those wedding gifts her mother had been exchanging ever since the invitations went out. Loni had begged to keep some of them, but that hadn’t cut any ice with Muriel Green. What did Loni know about keeping house? What did anybody know about anything, except Mama herself? Why should she hesitate to do what she pleased with this latest wedding present?
The only hitch was, Mrs. Cowles’s gift wasn’t like any of the others. Mrs. Green wouldn’t dare take it back to the jeweler for a simple refund, even if she knew where it came from. There’d be the question of the insurance, to begin with. Even Mama must have sense enough to know she’d never get Daddy to go along with a scheme that amounted to something pretty much like grand larceny. She could hardly expect Loni and Chet to let themselves be robbed without a squawk. So why couldn’t she have hit on a scheme to trick her family into thinking the brooch was lost, at the one time when it could most easily be spared, and then to stage a big recovery scene when she’d had a duplicate made to be found in place of the original?
Muriel Green would do a lot to get her own way. Look at how she’d practically sabotaged Persis’s recital by sending the wrong outfit when it was too late to correct the mistake. Look at the way she’d stormed out of the auditorium in a rage when she’d seen how the gown had had to be mutilated so Persis could perform in it.
Persis didn’t honestly believe her mother had acted out of spite. She had simply taken it for granted that her own choice had to be better than her daughter’s. She’d probably convinced herself she was doing Persis a favor. If she took it into her head that Loni’s interest would be best served by stealing the brooch and selling it—would she really go that far? Persis hated to think so.
Still, she’d done some pretty weird things under the mounting stress of the past few months. Was she actually beginning to crack up?
In any event, if the brooch suddenly reappeared in a week or so, and if the diamonds wouldn’t scratch glass the way her science teacher back in sixth grade had demonstrated with her own engagement ring, the truth would be clear. As to what she’d do with the information, assuming she ever got it, Persis hadn’t the faintest idea.
Chapter 9
She finished the milk, brushed up the sandwich crumbs with a paper towel so she wouldn’t get screamed at for leaving a mess in the kitchen, stuck the empty glass in the dishwasher, and went back to the family-room.
Her father had fallen asleep in his chair with the television still blasting. A bowling tournament was in progress now. The crash of the pins didn’t seem to bother him. Persis thought again of getting in a little time at the piano, but that would mean shutting off the set and no doubt he’d jump up frothing at the mouth if she did.
Anyway, playing the piano involved going into the living room, and she’d spent enough time there already. She got a sick feeling at the pit of her stomach every time she caught sight of the sofa.
No matter which of the others had taken away the brooch, it was her fault for having moved it off the piano in the first place. If she’d left it lying there in plain sight, probably nobody would have thought to carry her lousy practical joke one step further. She drifted miserably back to her own room, flopped on the bed with a book, and tried to read. Instead, she fell asleep.
After such a wild weekend, Persis had reason to be exhausted. She would no doubt have slept heavily until Monday morning, clothes and all, if the telephone hadn’t waked her.
After a few tries, she managed to get her eyes open. It was pitch dark in the room. Who could be calling at this hour? Anyway, the call must be for Loni; it usually was. The two sisters had a private telephone line they were supposed to share, but Loni’d always gotten the big end of the deal. Why wasn’t she answering the phone? Surely she must have got home from wherever she’d gone by this hour, especially since she hadn’t taken her car.
Home or not, she wasn’t going to answer. Nor was the caller going to quit, from the sound of that jangle. Grumbling, Persis got up and felt her way over to the dressing table, where her own white extension phone sat among her collection of miniature pianos and the plastic busts of Beethoven, Brahms, and Mozart. The digital clock beside it said twenty minutes to one. She picked up the receiver expecting to hear some drunk with a wrong number. Instead, she heard Loni.
“What took you so long?” Loni’s voice sounded slurred and odd. “Persis, you’ve got to help me.”
“Why? What’s the matter?”
“Never mind. Look, I’m at a phone booth out on Cemetery Road. It’s right beside the main cemetery entrance. You k
now, where there’s a big iron gate and a couple of stone pillars.”
“Yes, I know,” Persis told her impatiently. “What are you doing there?”
“Quit asking questions, can’t you? I’ve got to get home before Mama finds out or she’ll kill me. For God’s sake don’t wake her up. You’ll find a spare set of keys to my car in the top left hand drawer of my dressing table. Get them and drive out here, quick.”
“But I can’t take a car out on the road by myself. I’ve only got a learner’s permit.”
“Then don’t get stopped. And hurry up!”
Before Persis could protest again, Loni hung up. What was the matter with her? Had she lost her mind? What sort of mess had she got herself into?
Even while Persis was thinking up fresh reasons why she’d be insane to take a car out on the road at this hour with only a learner’s permit, she was in Loni’s room rummaging for the keys. She didn’t dare make a noise or turn on a light for fear her mother would think Loni was at home and come along the hall for a late-night chat.
Luckily, her sister was neat about her personal belongings. Persis found the keys by their feel and stuck them in the pocket of her jeans. That was another break, her having fallen asleep in the clothes she’d changed into after they’d come back from the club. She went back through the connecting door to her own room, grabbed a sweater, picked up her little purse, which still had a few dollars in it, sneaked down the back stairs, and let herself out the door.
Her third piece of luck lay in the fact that Loni’s car was parked on the street instead of up in the driveway where it belonged. Persis had driven the foreign compact car once in a while before, when Loni had a burst of sisterly affection or a fresh manicure she didn’t want to risk. In fact, Persis had been hoping to get in some practice driving with her sister to help qualify for her driver’s license, but the wedding had put a stop to that.
At least she knew how to get the car started, but she didn’t switch on the motor, not yet Instead, she pushed the gear into neutral, released the hand brake, and let the car roll, without lights, down the hill as far as the intersection. She knew it was dangerous and no doubt illegal, but how else was she to avoid the chance of waking her parents? Now she had to hope some nosy neighbor wouldn’t stir and think some kid was stealing Loni Green’s car.
Once she dared start the car and switch on the lights, it wasn’t quite so terrifying. Since she was still in a residential zone, Persis started off at a sedate twenty miles an hour. She was nervous about steering and too ready to jump on the brakes at the first sign of a deserted crossroad or a flickering shadow that might be a cat in the street but never was. Loni must be wondering what was taking her so long.
Well, okay. Persis was still wondering why Loni had yelled for help from Cemetery Road. Whatever could she be doing in such a place at this time of night? It wasn’t like Loni to get into jams. She’d always been far too careful of her own swanlike neck for that.
Too soon she came to the highway. This was scary. The traffic signals weren’t turned on at this hour; only the flashing yellow caution light at the intersection. How would she know when to turn? What if another driver came bombing along and didn’t see her in time? Everything looked so different in the dark. Which lane was she supposed to be in? Persis held her breath, flashed her directional signal, and went.
She couldn’t keep creeping along at twenty, not out here. If a police car happened along, they’d think she had engine trouble or something and stop her to find out what was the matter. She put her foot down on the gas pedal and gritted her teeth in panic as the small car leaped forward.
“Take it easy,” she had to keep telling herself. “You’re doing okay. Hang in there and don’t blow it.”
After a while, she began to get the feel of the wheel. This wasn’t so terrifying. One or two cars passed her, going a lot faster than she dared to, but that didn’t matter. They weren’t paying any attention to her. She wasn’t bothering them, over here in the right-hand lane, giving them plenty of room to get by. Let them go. It was fun in a way, having the road to herself.
But it was lonely, too. The further away from home she got, the stranger and creepier it felt. Persis reached the turn for Cemetery Road, flipped her signal again, and took it.
Now she was really alone. People stayed away from Cemetery Road, not because they were afraid of ghosts but because unpleasant things happened around here. Whatever had possessed Loni, coming to such a place by herself. How had she gotten here? Not walking in those cowboy boots, surely? The cemetery was close to ten miles from their house. Could she possibly have been hanging around the tombstones all evening? Persis didn’t believe that for one second. She’d been somewhere, with somebody.
And Persis knew who it was. She remembered all too well, Loni, in a picture-book sheer mauve dress with big puffed sleeves and a bunch of artificial violets tucked into the sash, standing by that picture window back at the club with Todd Ormsey beside her, pointing to that white Sting Ray down in the parking lot. There’d been a wistful expression on Loni’s face that Persis had never seen before. Maybe this was the first time Loni had faced the truth, that she was really going to marry Chet Cowles, that her days for racing around with handsome guys in sporty cars were at an end.
Loni wasn’t the type to let go of anything easily. She must have fixed it up with Todd, right there in front of her mother and father and all those Cowleses, to meet somewhere for one last date before she and Chet tied the knot. That was why she’d left the house on foot, wearing her sister’s clothes. Todd had picked her up somewhere nearby, and they’d gone off together. Then something had gone wrong.
And Persis could guess what. Todd had made the mistake of thinking he was going to get something for nothing. He’d forgotten Loni was a taker, not a giver. She’d made a deal with the highest bidder, and she wasn’t about to risk spoiling her bargain.
The houses thinned out, the gravestones began to appear. Still it seemed a long, long time before the little car’s headlights picked up the fancy wrought iron gates slung between the high granite pillars.
There was the phone booth Loni had called from, but where was Loni? Did she expect Persis to turn into the cemetery? Didn’t she realize the gates were padlocked for the night?
Persis pulled up to the closed gates and braked but didn’t shut off the engine. What if she couldn’t get started again? What if some crazy guy came along? Did she dare give Loni a toot on the horn? Were those back windows shut tight? Was the door locked?
She’d worked herself into a full-scale panic by the time a slim figure darted out from behind the pillar that was closer to the phone booth, began fumbling at the door handle, pounding on the glass.
“Persis, let me in! What took you so long? Open the door, quick!”
“Just a second.”
Sure now that it was Loni, Persis leaned over and released the catch. As the door opened and the dome light went on, she got a clear look at her sister.
“My God, what hit you?” she gasped.
Loni’s face was smudged with tears and dirt, her makeup a mess, her hair in a mad tangle. Persis noticed a button gone from her suede jacket, and a hole in the leather where it had been ripped out. The front was revoltingly stained, reeking of liquor and vomit.
“What happened?” Persis insisted.
“Turn around and get going,” was Loni’s sullen answer. “Hurry up.”
She wouldn’t say any more, but huddled inside the ruined jacket, keeping her head down as if she were afraid of being seen. Persis didn’t press her further just now. Whatever she’d done, this was no place to linger.
Darting frightened glances right and left, Persis managed to make an illegal U-turn and get the car headed toward home. Loni still wasn’t saying anything. After a mile or so, Persis couldn’t stand the silence any longer.
“Want to stop for coffee, Lon?”
“How can we? What if somebody sees us?”
“So what if they do?”
Persis replied, to keep the dialogue going.
“Don’t be stupid,” Loni snapped.
“Look who’s telling who. What happened to Todd?”
“What are you talking about?”
Loni’s voice was so shrill and frightened, Persis knew she’d guessed right.
“Don’t try to kid me, sister dear. You fixed up a date with Todd this morning at the club. You were going for a ride in the Sting Ray, right? Why else would you have left the house on foot the way you did? You never walk across the room if you can help it. So okay, did he make a pass at you or what?”
“Stop the car, quick!”
At first Persis thought Loni had some mad notion of leaping out. Then she glanced over at her and slammed on the brakes.
“You okay?”
Loni shook her head, shoved the door open, leaned out, and began to retch. At last she stopped making those horrible noises but stayed half in and half out of the car, huddled into a ball, shuddering. Persis reached over and hauled her back against the seat.
“Want a tissue?”
Loni nodded abjectly. Persis plucked a wad of the soft paper sheets from a box on the shelf under the dashboard and wiped her sister’s face as best she could.
“Take it easy, Loni. We’ll be home pretty soon. If the gas holds out.”
Chapter 10
The gauge read dangerously close to empty. Kids at school were always making jokes about riding around on the fumes. Persis hoped that was actually possible; Loni was in no condition to walk. All she could do was keep nursing the car along, stealing a quick glance at her bedraggled passenger whenever she dared. Loni was a shade less green around the gills now that she’d gotten the liquor out of her stomach, but she was still awfully quiet.
Maid of Honor Page 6