The First Wife

by Diana Diamond

  Jane froze in her tracks, hovering between her car and the door had just closed behind her. A second ago, the police sergeant’s warnings had seemed fantastic. Now Bill’s number-one agent was looking up at her, a thin smile suggesting that he had just caught her with her hand in the cookie jar. She leaned back toward the police station. Pete would certainly protect her. But from what? Her husband’s best friend, who was offering her a ride in a snowstorm? Once he learned who she really was, Pete would wash his hands of her. If he wasn’t going to tell her anything, he certainly wouldn’t take on William Andrews face-to-face over her suspicions that she was suddenly in danger.

  “Hello, Bob.” Jane let him open the door, and she slipped into the passenger seat of his car. “I don’t suppose your being here is just a happy coincidence.”

  264DIANA DIAMOND

  “No, but it’s not a total surprise, either. I knew you weren’t going to let yourself be put off easily. I knew you’d keep digging. You’re a damn good reporter.”

  “How did you find out I was up here?”

  “Reliable sources,” he said, indicating that he didn’t want to compromise his undercover agent.

  “Roscoe Taylor,” Jane said, supplying the name. “What did you offer him now? A bigger expense account?”

  “It wasn’t Taylor. Roscoe is too big a man to do anything like that. It’s little people that your husband intimidates.”

  “Like you,” Jane sneered, hoping Leavitt was offended.

  “Like me,” he agreed. “And like your ex-husband.”

  “Art?” Jane had never credited Art with enough nerve to become a spy.

  Leavitt nodded. “Who do you think is the angel backing his play?”

  She was stunned. “Bill was paying my ex-husband to spy on me. He compromised that harmless fool.”

  “He decided to back a play. Art did whatever he thought would make William Andrews happy. Your husband does what he has to do to protect his interests. But he was wrong about you. He was sure you wouldn’t be a problem. I warned him that you weren’t going to be put off easily, but he was in love with you. He wasn’t thinking straight.”

  “Then why …” She was going to ask, Why, if he loved her so much, did he still have a mistress in Paris, but she saw them pass by the Bass Inn. “Where are we going?”

  “Up to the chalet. There’s more privacy there.”

  She looked fondly back at the inn. Right then, she didn’t want privacy. Roscoe Taylor’s remark sprang to mind. “Even William Andrews won’t be able to save you.” She recalled his warning that she should stop asking questions. She had, indeed, been looking into matters that could get her husband convicted of murder. Andrews’s backers simply couldn’t allow that. There were fortunes riding on the conglomerate that only he could hold together. She began to wonder who would be waiting for her at the chalet.

  He turned off on a road that appeared suddenly through the trees. The car lost traction for a moment and started into a skid. Leavitt turned with the slide and then straightened out when the tires got a grip. Immediately, they were climbing to a higher level.

  “Is this the road you took that morning when Bill phoned you?”

  Leavitt nodded. “Yes. It was a morning just like this. Snow beginning to build up everywhere.”

  “And when you got there?”

  “When I got there, Kay was dead. Bill was sitting on the steps, the shotgun in his lap, his wife’s body at his feet. Isn’t that pretty much the way you figured it?”

  “What about Selina?”

  “She was just coming out of a crying fit. She could hardly talk.”

  They were driving on switchbacks, turning back and forth as they climbed the side of a mountain. Leavitt was moving slowly in a low gear, straining the engine to keep from spinning the wheels. The road was narrow, barely wide enough for two cars to pass, and the drop over the edge was nearly vertical. Through the snow and haze, Jane thought she could make out a lake a hundred feet below. They turned another switchback and kept climbing. Her plight seemed to grow more desperate as they moved higher up the mountain.

  “Who’s going to be meeting us?” she asked, half afraid of the answer.

  “Your husband,” he said calmly.

  “Bill is here at the house?”

  “He’s on his way, although with this weather, I’m sure he’ll be delayed.”

  “When did you tell him that I was up here?”

  Leavitt shook his head. “I didn’t. Art called me and I started up here right away. I left Bill a message that he got this morning. But it was snowing here, so he couldn’t take off. As soon as our weather clears, he’ll be on his way.”

  “What are his instructions?” Jane asked, dreading the answer.

  “Just to keep you entertained. He’ll take care of everything when he gets here.”

  “Meaning that he’ll take care of me, like he did his first wife. And then you’ll run around and clean up the mess, just like you did eight years ago.”

  He shifted his eyes from the road to her for just an instant. “Why in hell did you have to keep asking questions? I didn’t want anything like this to happen.”

  They labored up another few hundred feet, listening to the swish of the wipers. Even though the defroster was blasting out hot air, Jane felt chilled to the bone. She knew it was fear more than the temperature. They turned onto an inconspicuous path and brushed through overhanging trees. Then the chalet appeared, just as in the news pictures, with snow on the roof and frost at the corners of the windows. There were traces of tire tracks. Someone had come up to the house this morning, probably about the time she was leaving for the police station. He went around to open Jane’s door, but she was already out into the snow. He took her arm as they climbed the few steps to the doorway; he pushed a key into the lock and stepped back from the open door.

  Jane compared the layout with the crime scene she had imagined. There was a wing leading off to the left with the guest bedrooms. The open kitchen was to her right. Straight ahead was the great room with a dining area and then the living room with the enormous fireplace. Behind the living room, open steps led up to the second floor, where the master bed and bath commanded a view out over the Adirondacks.

  Kay’s body had been at the foot of the stairs, supporting the fiction that she had come down the steps and confronted an intruder. Probably she had gone to the bedroom as soon as she arrived, not knowing that her husband was out for a walk. Maybe she found an empty bed, or maybe Selina was still asleep. She probably heard Bill return and started down the stairs to confront him. And that’s when he would have reached for the shotgun.

  Jane could feel the blasts of hot air coming from the vents. Leav-itt had turned on the heating system, probably when he was up there earlier. He lit the gas log in the fireplace and then went to the bar that bordered the kitchen. He was obviously at home with the liquor cabinet. He selected the door that housed the good scotch, poured two snifters, and brought one to Jane. “This will help,” he promised.

  “Help how? To deaden the pain when Bill blows my head off? What are you going to do? Tie me to a stake and offer me a blindfold?”

  He tasted his drink. “Don’t talk that way. I don’t want to see you hurt.”

  “Were you here when Kay was killed? Did you watch while she was blown away?”

  “No, of course not,” he insisted. “I didn’t come up here until he called. I was down at the inn.”

  “Of course,” she agreed sarcastically. “Running a business meeting that never took place. So what will you say this time? That you stepped out for a cigarette?”

  He started to answer, thought better of it, and went back to sipping his drink. The conversation was over. The next words, she guessed, would come from her husband. Jane knew she didn’t want to wait to hear what he would decide.

  She got up and started across the living room. Leavitt followed her with his eyes, at first suspiciously but then curiously when she made no move to the front door. He
turned back to his drink as she started up the stairs. She closed the bedroom door behind her and quietly turned the lock. Then she checked her watch. She still had several hours of daylight to work with if she could get out of the house.

  Her escape was more a hope than a plan. She had seen Leavitt put the car keys into his jacket pocket and then hang the jacket by the door. If she could just get to the keys! Maybe Leavitt would doze off. He must have been up all night, traveling from the city. He might well let his guard down. It wasn’t likely that she could escape on foot down the frozen mountainside. All she had to do was get the keys and then beat him to the car. Once she was locked inside, she was free. He had no way to follow her, and she could be down the road and off the mountain before he could summon reinforcements. She would drive straight to town and switch to Art’s car. She could leave that at Saranac and use a rental car for her escape.

  But her escape was a long shot. If Leavitt saw her take the keys, he could catch up to her before she made it to the car. If she went near the door, he might realize that the keys were in his jacket and retrieve them himself.

  The snow was another problem. It was still falling and showing no signs of letting up. She didn’t think anything would happen to her until Bill got to the lodge, and the snow was delaying his arrival. But it might also hinder her escape. Could she make it down the mountain and back into town on uncleared roads? What if she got stuck in a drift? The police sergeant had assured her that the weather would clear, but at the moment there was no sign of letup. It made sense for her to wait. Give Leavitt time to get distracted or numb from his drinking. Give the weather a chance to break. But how long could she afford to wait?

  She listened at the door. There was no hint of Leavitt moving about. Jane could envision him slumped in the same sofa between the stairs and the front door. She peered out the window. The sky seemed to be a bit lighter and the snow wasn’t falling as heavily. It looked as if the sun was trying to break through. Jane sat on the edge of the bed, waiting patiently. Over the next hour, the snow turned briefly to rain and then to a light mist. She pressed against the window and was able to see patches of blue breaking through the heavy overcast. Finally there was sunlight, strong enough to cast shadows into her room. It was now or never.

  She turned the lock slowly. When it clicked, she winced as if it were the sound of a rifle shot. She pressed her ear to the door. Nothing! Leavitt still wasn’t moving about. She eased the door open and peeked through the crack. He wasn’t on the sofa or in any of the soft chairs. Cautiously, she stepped out into the hall and started down the wooden steps. Halfway down, she could see into the kitchen. He wasn’t there, either.

  She crossed the living room slowly, nonchalantly, trying to appear innocent in case he suddenly appeared. She guessed he might have gone into one of the bathrooms. His coat was still hanging next to hers, so he hadn’t gone outside. Through the window she could see the car, its snowy covering beginning to melt into rivulets running down the windshield. The ground was still covered, now glistening in the sunlight. It looked as if it would turn to slush in a matter of minutes. She slipped her hand into the pocket of his jacket. Her fingers brushed against metal.

  The key. She could have screamed with relief. But the trickiest part of her plan was just beginning. Jane lifted her jacket off the peg and turned the front doorknob as if she were defusing a bomb. With a glance back to the empty hallway leading to the guest rooms, she slipped through the opening.

  There were two keys on the key ring. She fitted the bigger one into the door and smiled when it turned. Then she slid in, pulled the door behind her, and locked it. Now, the key into the ignition. The same key slipped in easily. She twisted it and heard the satisfying sound of the starter grinding over.

  At almost the same instant, Leavitt appeared in the doorway. He started out, then suddenly stopped and went back inside. She knew he couldn’t get to her. Jane had the key and had locked herself in. All he could do was flail at the car as she drove away.

  The starter was still grinding. She switched it off for a moment, stomped at the gas pedal, and then turned the key again. More grinding. The damn engine wouldn’t catch. Jane remembered that she had to be careful not to flood it. Again she turned the key off and started to count to ten before trying again. She was at eight when Leavitt reappeared. Jane stopped counting and twisted the key hard. Once again, the starter cranked the engine, but still it wouldn’t start. And Leavitt was walking toward her. She clicked the key off once more, gave it a moment, and then turned it again. More grinding, but the engine wouldn’t fire into life.

  She looked up at him, standing directly in front of her. He held out a thick black wire that had connectors at both ends, and then shrugged. Jane got his message. He had disabled the car. She wasn’t going anywhere without the wire harness he had in his hand. She hammered the wheel in frustration. Then tears of rage filled her eyes.

  42

  Jane surrendered meekly, simply pushing the door open and sagging against the steering wheel. Leavitt was gentle as he helped her out and led her back to the chalet. He even helped her off with her jacket. “I don’t like doing this,” he mumbled. “If it were up to me …”

  “It is up to you,” Jane said, fighting through her fear. “You’re the one who’s writing my death sentence. Maybe you were too late to save Kay, but it’s not too late to save me.”

  “You can talk to him,” Leavitt tried. “He cares for you….”

  “He cared for Kay, but that didn’t stop him from killing her. He was madly in love with Selina, but he still got rid of her. What makes me so special?”

  He waved away her words. “Let’s just wait until he gets here.” He turned and began to pace back and forth across the living room. “Look, I’m not just going to stand by and let him hurt you. I’ll talk to him. I’ll tell him that I’m not going to be part of another eight-year cover-up.”

  She saw a crack beginning to work its jagged way across the bland façade of indifference. Leavitt seemed to be questioning his lock-step loyalty to William Andrews. She tried to exploit the opening. “Bob, for God’s sake, you know that once he gets here, we’re both lost. Let’s get out of here. Then we can decide what we have to do.”

  “I know what I have to do,” he snapped back. “I’ve been thinking about it all day. I’m not afraid to stand up to him.”

  “Of course you’re not,” she agreed, supporting his fantasy. “But not here! Not in his house on his mountain. We can get help from the police. You saw me at the station house. The police sergeant would love to put the great William Andrews into handcuffs.”

  He smiled as the idea had a moment of appeal. But then he shook his head. “I’d be in the cell with him. I helped him cover up the murder.” He took up his pacing again. “We can’t bring in the authorities. We’ve got to solve this on our own.”

  She knew his bravado would crumble once Andrews appeared. Leavitt’s whole adult life had been given in service to his master. Even if Leavitt found the strength to speak his mind, William Andrews would be able to silence him with a glance. Her only hope was to escape before Bill arrived, which could be at any minute now that the skies were clear. If she could just get Leavitt to take her to a public place—the inn, the store down in Mountain Ridge—anywhere there would be witnesses. Here in the chalet, her husband could do anything he wanted.

  “Bob, let’s just buy ourselves more time. Maybe we can’t go to the police. Maybe the place to tell the truth is in his office, in front of the others. Or in the boardroom. But not here. If he catches us here, then I’m dead and maybe you are, too!”

  Leavitt paused and looked up to consider the idea. “He’s not crazy, you know. He doesn’t go around killing people.”

  “No, he’s not crazy,” she agreed. “But he’s not going to let anyone threaten his dynasty. You said he’s coming up here so we can talk things over. ’If that’s what he wanted, he could have waited until I got back to the city.”

  “I won’
t let him hurt you,” Leavitt promised. “Enough people have been hurt. The lying … the hiding … it all has to stop!”

  “Then get us out of here! We can find a safer place to confront him. Please, we’re running out of time. In a minute, all the decisions will be in his hands.”

  He listened, nodded, and then moved quickly to the door. Leavitt retrieved the distributor wire he had removed from the car and stepped outside. He worked furiously, brushing the snow off the hood, raising it, and leaning underneath to make his repair. Then he was around to the driver’s door, where he leaned in and turned the ignition. The engine caught and roared.

  “Okay,” he announced when he came back to the house. “We’re ready. Get anything you need and let’s get going.”

  It was too late. Even as he was talking, she heard a faint growl coming over the mountaintops. Then the first popping sounds of an approaching helicopter. How much time did they have? Just a few minutes. Not nearly enough to get the car turned around and headed back down the treacherous road.

  “We can make a run for it,” Jane shouted, trying to run past him.

  “No! The road’s dangerous. We’d have to drive slowly. He’d be waiting for us at the bottom of the hill.”

  “Dammit!” She thought of pushing past him and taking her chances with the slippery road. But then the helicopter broke out above the next peak and its roar grew ominously.

  Leavitt pushed her back inside the house. “We’ve got to hide you,” he said with more determination than he had ever shown her before. They both looked around furiously. “In here,” he decided. He pulled open a door on the wall near the kitchen. “I’ll tell him I let you go. He’ll be furious, but he won’t do anything to me. Just don’t come up, no matter what you hear.”

  There was a short flight of steps down to a cinder-block basement. Light was flooding in from a back window, and she could hear the sound of the heating blowers. Outside, the roar of the helicopter’s turbine was becoming deafening.

  “Wait!” He dashed into the kitchen, opened a cabinet, and reached far into the back. He took out a revolver, snapped open the chamber to check that it was loaded, and rushed back to her. “Take this! If he comes down the stairs, use it. Don’t warn him and don’t let him get close to you.” He closed the door in her face.