Carlene Thompson

by Black for Remembrance (epub)

"Whoa!" Melinda laughed as they surged forward. "That was fun!"

  Caroline slowed down, overcompensating for her burst of speed as she gazed at Melinda. "How did you know about Chris?"

  "Greg told me a long, long time ago. I found a picture of you in a long white dress with flowers in your hair. You were holding hands with a handsome man. I took the picture to Greg and he said you'd had another husband before Daddy, but I wasn't to ask you about it because it makes you sad to remember." Melinda cocked her head. "Does it make you sad?"

  Caroline looked back at the road. "Divorce is always sad."

  "Oh, I know that. Some of my friends' parents are divorced. But that's different."

  "Why?"

  "Because you and Daddy are still married. I don't even know Chris Corday." Melinda frowned. "Corday. You asked me if Hayley’s last name was Corday. Did you think they might be related?"

  Caroline said warily, "Yes, I thought maybe they were."

  Melinda nodded thoughtfully. "You didn't think my friend Hayley was your little girl that died, did you?"

  This time Caroline gasped, forcing herself to keep her eyes on the road. "Did Greg tell you about her?"

  "Nope. Jenny did. Her mother knew all about it. She said you had a little girl that got kidnapped and killed. She said it was in all the newspapers front page. But she didn't say the girl's name. Was it Hayley?"

  "Yes," Caroline said reluctantly. "Melinda, how long have you known all this?"

  "Years. Well, maybe not years. Maybe months. I don't remember."

  "Could it have been last spring?"

  "Yeah, I guess."

  The child had begun twisting her hair the way she always did when she was nervous. Caroline reached over and took her hand. "Is that why you started crying at school?"

  Melinda nodded. "I felt real bad 'cause I knew how much your little girl dying must have hurt your feelings. And I felt sad 'cause Greg and me had a sister we never knew." Her green eyes dropped. "And I guess I felt pretty scared, too."

  "Scared that the same thing might happen to you?" Melinda nodded again. "It won't, baby."

  "Well, of course not," Melinda said in her best grown-up voice. "I'm all over being scared. And, Mommy, my friend Hayley can't be your little girl 'cause she doesn't even look like a ghost."

  "You're right, Lin. It was silly of me to even think such a thing."

  "That's okay. Everybody's silly sometimes, even me."

  Caroline couldn't help smiling as they turned off the highway and began the ascent of Longworth Hill. When they reached the cabin, Melinda was goggle-eyed. "Wow! A real log cabin like Abe Lincoln's. Did you ever live here?"

  "I sure did, for eight years."

  The cabin had been cordoned off, but there were no policemen present. Caroline was relieved. She didn't want Melinda alarmed, although the child seemed much stronger than she realized. Caroline still couldn't believe she had known about Hayley for months and kept the knowledge to herself. It just showed how secretive children could be. Hayley had been the same way.

  "Look, Mommy! There's a black cat peeping at us from behind that tree."

  "That's Hecate. And honey, I forgot to tell you the cat was in a terrible fight and lost an eye. She's not very pretty."

  "Oh, the poor sweetheart!" Melinda cried, darting out of the car. "Maybe we can get her a glass one."

  Melinda edged toward the cat, speaking in low, sweet tones. She was about two feet away when Hecate hissed furiously, then shot up the hill toward the Longworth mansion. "You bring the box, Mommy!" Melinda shouted, already on the cat's trail.

  Caroline wrestled the big box out of the car and paused for a moment, staring at the cabin. Part of her wanted to go in and look for Twinkle. Another part was deathly afraid of what she might find. But a closer look at the cabin door relieved her of responsibility. The door had been sealed off with a sign reading CRIME SCENE. She knew she was not supposed to enter the cabin and in fact might disturb evidence that could reveal who had attacked Chris.

  "Mommy, are you coming?" Melinda called down the hill. She had Hecate cornered against the Longworth garage and was gesturing impatiently at Caroline. "She'll get away if you don't hurry."

  Caroline trudged up the hill carrying the box. Even from this distance she could see that the cat was terrified, but Melinda was crawling toward her, holding out her fingers in a gesture of friendship. And miraculously, the cat wasn't running.

  "Sweet little girl, you don't have to be afraid of me," she was saying as Caroline cautiously approached. Hecate cast her a baleful glance, then turned her attention back to Melinda, who was holding out one of the cheese treats George loved. "Why don't you try one of these? They're real, real good, and you look hungry. Come on, kitty cat. Everything's gonna be all right."

  Caroline stopped in her tracks as Hecate stole forward. Her one jade-green eye studied Melinda and her ear twitched. Then she stretched her body forward, ignoring the cheese treat as she angled her head under Melinda's hand. "Oh, you just want to be petted, don't you?" Melinda crooned. "Poor little baby whose daddy's in the hospital. You haven't gotten petted all day!"

  When Melinda sat down on the dry grass and pulled an unprotesting Hecate onto her lap, Caroline approached. "Looks like we won't need the box. She likes you."

  "That's 'cause she knows I like her." Melinda stood up, carefully cradling the small cat. "See, there's nothing to worry about. I knew I could make friends with her."

  At that moment a flapping black cape and straw sunbonnet flashed around the corner of the garage. "Here now! What's all this? What's going on?"

  Hecate yowled and Melinda looked frightened as Millicent Longworth bore down on them. Caroline touched Melinda's shoulder. "You run on down to the car, honey. I'll be along in a minute." She turned to Millicent as Melinda fled. "Miss Longworth, I'm sure you don't remember me…"

  "You were married to Corday."

  "That's right. I'm Caroline. My last name is Webb now."

  "Yes, yes, I know all that. What are you doing here?"

  "There was a terrible incident last night. Chris was shot. He's in the hospital, and I came to collect his cat"

  Millicent's slightly prognathous jaw lowered, and her voice softened to a normal tone. "The girl he was with came up here to use the phone after the shooting."

  "She did?"

  "Had to. He doesn't have a phone, and it's a long way to the foot of the hill. I almost didn't let her in. Sounded like a maniac out there banging on the front door. And of course he didn't want me to open the door at all."

  "Your brother?"

  Millicent's gaze grew guarded. "No. A caller. I don't like to mention names."

  "I see. I didn't mean to pry." Encouraged by what for Millicent was downright chattiness, she couldn't resist asking, "Did you see anything, Miss Longworth? Anything that might help the police find out who shot Chris?"

  "I saw nothing. I was in my house."

  "What about your brother? Could he have seen anything?"

  Millicent looked beyond her at the flat gray sky. "Garrison had a heart attack last night. The shock…"

  "Good heavens, I'm so sorry. Is he all right?"

  "I don't know. He's in the hospital."

  Either the woman is a very good actress or she doesn't care about Garrison's heart attack, Caroline thought. And once again all the old questions began to assail her. Could Millicent have had anything to do with Hayley's murder? The police had thought so for a while until her alibi was established. And Caroline had to admit the woman was cold, even about her own brother. And there had always been something not quite right about her eyes.

  "I don't like that cat coming up here," Millicent said suddenly, "even if cats were sacred to the Egyptians."

  Caroline inwardly recoiled, uneasiness sweeping over her. "I understand. We're taking her away now." She turned her back and started quickly down the hill.

  "Goodbye," Millicent said so softly Caroline could barely hear her. Then, "Your little girl is quite beaut
iful. Just like the other one."

  "Daddy, can you do anything about Hecate's eye?" Melinda asked.

  A slow, dreary rain had set in about an hour earlier and now, as they sat around the dining room table, it pattered against the window like a lost soul begging for admittance.

  David, who had not uttered a complete sentence since he came home to find Chris's cat sitting on top of the refrigerator out of a delighted George's range, stretched his mouth into a smile. "The eye is gone, honey. It can't be fixed."

  "I was thinking of a transplant," Melinda said earnestly. "Do we have enough money?"

  Greg spoke without looking up from his plate. "They don't do transplants on animals, squirt."

  "How do you know? Daddy's the doctor."

  "I think Greg's right on this one. But don't worry about the cat, Melinda. I'm sure it can see very well with only one eye."

  "Maybe, but she just looks so weird she probably scares off other animals."

  Greg grinned. "Not George. He's been planted in front of the fridge for two hours with that stupid, lovesick look on his face."

  "George is special," Melinda said fondly. "He wouldn't let a little thing like her lost eye bother him. But boy cats might not be so nice." She dug a crater in her mashed potatoes and dropped in a few peas. "Daddy, me and Mommy saw the creepiest lady when we went to get Hecate. She looked like the wicked witch in The Wizard of Oz."

  "Millicent Longworth," Caroline told David.

  "I guessed."

  "She said her brother Garrison had a heart attack last night, but she didn't seem too concerned about his condition."

  Greg speared his third piece of roast beef. "They the people who owned Longworth Mills?"

  Caroline nodded. "They were very rich when I lived near them. But Millicent didn't know a thing about running the mills after her father died, and her brother, I understand, wasn't interested, so the operation was turned over to outsiders who fleeced them and ran the company into the ground. I don't know what they have left, but Millicent is certainly a pathetic creature."

  "Scary's more like it," Melinda put in, pushing her plate away. "Is there dessert?"

  "How about ice cream? I didn't have time to bake anything."

  "Ice cream's fine with me," Greg said, sitting back and waiting to be served.

  Caroline pushed back her chair, but David stopped her. "Sit still. Greg, fix your sister and yourself each a dish and eat it in front of the TV. I want to talk to your mother."

  A look flashed between Greg and Melinda before he said easily, "Sure. Come on, squirt. Maybe you can talk George into moving so I can get near the freezer."

  David listened intently, and when he seemed satisfied the children were in one of their frequent squabbles instead of eavesdropping, he looked at Caroline. "Why did you bring that cat here?"

  She had been steeling herself for this all evening. "David, she's just here for a couple of days, and she won't be any trouble. Besides, I thought you liked cats."

  "Don't evade me. Why did you have to be the one to take care of Chris's cat?"

  Chris had been an unspoken issue between them ever since the marriage. Although David never said a word against Chris or openly expressed his jealousy, Caroline knew he saw Chris as a threat—the glamorous artist Caroline had loved and lost. It had taken him almost a year after her divorce to even ask her to dinner, and it was she who had proposed, not because she was lonely, but because she knew David loved her and she had fallen in love with his strength and kindness. But David never seemed to believe she could love him just as much as she had Chris, if in a different way, without the romantic abandon of youth and first love. So maybe Lucy had been right earlier. Maybe David had sensed her renewed interest in Chris, and it was making him miserable.

  She smiled. "Chris asked Lucy to take care of the cat for him, but she didn't want to. I volunteered because there was no one else. I brought her here instead of taking her to the vet's because I thought Melinda would enjoy having her around."

  That is almost the exact truth, she thought guiltily.

  David clasped his hands behind his head and turned his face to the ceiling, sighing. "You know, I thought we'd put it all behind us. Hayley. Chris. But because of everything happening lately, it all seems like yesterday."

  "I know, but that's not my fault."

  His eyes met hers. "I know that, honey. I didn't mean to imply it was. It's just…unfortunate."

  "David, I'd hardly use the word unfortunate. Someone is out there calling, breaking in, shooting people." She looked at David searchingly. "You do believe me now, don't you? That all of this is related?"

  "I know someone left a doll on Melinda's bed and someone has been calling. I still think it's Fidelia."

  "Fidelia was here today when the call came."

  "It's possible to play a tape over the phone."

  "David, Melinda was having a conversation with someone before I took the phone. You don't have a conversation with a tape recording."

  "I guess not."

  "And what about Chris?"

  "Anyone could have shot him. We only have his word that there was a doll on his bed."

  Caroline drummed her fingers on the table. "Have you been talking to Lucy?"

  "You mean she said the same thing?"

  "Yes. Quite a coincidence."

  "Not a coincidence, Caroline, just common sense. I'll bet you five dollars the police don't find a clown doll in Chris's cabin."

  Caroline ignored the challenge. "Speaking of Twinkle, Tom wanted me to ask you if you stuffed the doll down in the trash, or put it on top of a trash can."

  David lowered his hands and put his elbows on the table. "I never carry trash cans to the street. Too heavy. I just take out the trash bags." His forehead creased. "Let me think. It seems to me that I tried to cram the doll into a full bag, but it wouldn't fit. I just laid it on top."

  "Then it might have fallen on the ground."

  "I suppose. Which means you think someone could have picked it up—someone who's watching the house and who wanted the doll back in order to frighten Chris like they did you."

  Caroline nodded.

  "Well, I'm not convinced."

  "Oh, David, why is it you just shut your eyes to what you don't want to be true?"

  "I don't."

  "Yes, you do. You always have. You seem to think if you don't admit something's wrong, it'll go away."

  David shut his eyes and rubbed the lids for a moment. "Caroline, you went through hell over Hayley," he said slowly. "Now you seem to be obsessing on her again. It frightens me."

  It frightens me, too, Caroline wanted to say, but wouldn't. She did not want David to think for even an instant that she doubted herself. "David, something strange is going on. You have to admit that."

  "I do. Someone is trying to scare you with these phone calls. But as for them being related to Pamela Burke's death and Chris's shooting" he lifted his hands "I just can't buy it."

  "In spite of what the child said on the phone about Chris getting shot?"

  "Hundreds of people could have known about that. It could have been on the radio for all we know."

  "And this child just happened to hear it."

  "An adult heard it and had a child call. What's happened to your power of reason?"

  "I think it's still intact."

  "Is it? What about today?" David looked into her eyes with an intensity she rarely saw. "Caroline, I have always believed Millicent Longworth killed Hayley. She's been a nut case for years. Now when someone—possibly Millicent—is trying to scare the hell out of you by making you think Hayley's come back, you take our little girl out to the place where Hayley was kidnapped and Chris was shot not twenty-four hours earlier. That doesn't seem too sensible to me."

  Caroline knew David wasn't being completely honest either—there was an element of jealousy in his not wanting Melinda at Chris's home. However, he'd still made a good point—an excellent point. She was suddenly horrified at what she had don
e by letting Millicent see Melinda and taking the child to a crime scene. She ran a hand across her forehead. "David, I'm sorry. I guess with everything that's been going on I'm just not thinking straight." And there was also the fact that she had never really believed Millicent had taken Hayley. She had nothing whatsoever to base that faith on. It was just a feeling. And feelings can be wrong, she told herself.

  "I was wrong to take Melinda up there," she said fervently. "I promise I won't be so careless again."

  David came to kneel beside her chair. "You're the least careless mother I know. You've just been distracted." He hugged her. "Friends again?"

  She looked down into the beloved dark eyes, now showing slight bags of fatigue. "Always."

  "Daddy?" Melinda stood timidly in the doorway. "Are you through fighting?"

  "We weren't fighting, kiddo, we were just talking."

  "You always say that when you fight." Melinda approached, giving them her most angelic smile. "One Hundred and One Dalmatians is on at the movie Saturday night. Could we go?"

  David wrapped an arm around her thin legs. "Haven't you already seen that?"

  "Yeah, but you watch John Wayne movies more'n once. Please?"

  Caroline looked at David. "Please? We haven't done anything as a family for a long time."

  David smiled. "Okay, but I doubt if Greg will be too thrilled."

  "Dalmatians is on at the place with lots of movies in one building. He said if Julie could come they'd see something else."

  "John Wayne?"

  "Tom Cruise." Melinda giggled. "He's so cute!"

  "Cute or not, you're sticking with Walt Disney," David laughed. "So, Saturday night I've got a date with the two prettiest girls in town."

  Millicent twirled in front of the mirror in her new blue taffeta party dress. "I look almost pretty!" she exclaimed to the maid, Sally.

  "There's no almost about it," Sally said. "Pretty as a picture."

  "I want to show Mother. Where is she?"

  "I don't know, Miss Millie." Sally bent to tug at the hem of the dress. "She's probably in her bedroom. "

  Millicent ran down the hall to her mother's room, the taffeta rustling around her long legs. She tapped on the door, but her mother didn't answer. Millicent hesitantly opened it, wondering if her mother was taking another of her increasingly frequent naps. But the big canopied bed was empty. Frustrated, she strode down the hall to the sewing room. Not that her mother sewed much anymore. But maybe…