“I still don’t want to talk to her,” Crystal said stubbornly.
Laurel sighed. “Neither does Denise, but I think it’s important. As I told Denise, Monica knows a lot about Angie’s case, probably more than she told me on the phone. She believes we’re all in danger and she wants to help us.”
“But the pictures were sent from New York. The killer can’t be in Wheeling.”
“Crystal, New York isn’t on another planet. Whoever murdered Angie could easily come here.”
“Do you think so?” Laurel looked at her in amazement. “Of course he could. I sound like an idiot. This is a nightmare.”
“It certainly is. I think we should go to the police.”
“No!” Crystal said emphatically. “I won’t do it. Do you know what people in town would say about us?”
“Is that really important now? It’s been thirteen years and someone has been murdered…”
Crystal looked up and her eyes widened. “Oh, no.”
Laurel followed her gaze. Entering the pastry shop were Joyce Overton and Crystal’s soon-to-be ex-husband Chuck Landis. They placed orders at the counter. Chuck turned and spotted Crystal immediately. Laurel saw discomfort cross his face. He bent and murmured to Joyce, who shook her head. In a moment they were carrying their order to the only available table, forcing them to pass Crystal and Laurel. Joyce beamed at them as if they were old friends and this was the most natural situation in the world. “Hello, Crystal,” she said brightly.
Joyce was slender and dark-eyed, with shoulder-length gleaming ash blond hair, and a year-round tan that spoke of hours in tanning beds. She was at least fifteen years older than Chuck and the age difference showed in her face but not in her trim body always sporting youthful, expensive clothes. Laurel had met her several times and thought Joyce was one of the brashest people she’d ever encountered. She was also quite affluent and Laurel heard she was setting up Chuck with a car dealership.
Crystal managed a slight nod in Joyce’s direction, then looked at her husband. “Hello, Chuck.”
“Crystal,” he said stiffly. He still resembled the school football hero he’d once been with his strapping body and blond good looks. In fact, he appeared only a few years older than when he graduated from high school. Laurel could understand Joyce’s physical attraction to him—he might be a loser and he’d certainly treated Crystal without an ounce of respect or affection, but he was strikingly handsome. Now, however, his cheeks burned crimson with embarrassment. “Cold enough for you?” he asked lamely.
That was Chuck—always quick with the small talk, Laurel thought. What an awful situation. Crystal was still so in love with him. Laurel had known him for over twenty years. Everything had once been so simple and easy. Now she had to choose between being friendly to Chuck and supporting Crystal.
“It is cold,” Crystal said woodenly.
Joyce turned hard dark eyes on Laurel, who wondered if she were actually wearing false eyelashes. “I suppose business is really great this time of year.”
“Yes, it is.”
Joyce had her arm firmly through Chuck’s and she pulled him a bit closer. “We’re having a little get-together at my house this weekend. I thought perhaps you could do some decorating for me…”
The woman certainly had gall, Laurel thought as she saw Chuck blink rapidly, clearly appalled. “I’m afraid I can’t, Mrs. Overton,” she answered coolly. “I’m far too busy to take on any other jobs.”
Chuck’s face grew even redder and but Joyce didn’t bat a false eyelash. “Well, there’s always the Flower Basket. I usually use them anyway. Most people say they’re the best.” She looked at Chuck. “Come on, honey. Our cappuccino is getting cold.”
Chuck followed meekly behind her. Even his neck was red. Laurel glanced at Crystal’s trembling lips. “Oh, Crystal, don’t cry,” she murmured. “You’ll ruin everything. Joyce was trying so hard to upset you and instead she just humiliated herself. And Chuck. He’s not going to appreciate that. What do you want to wager they have an argument before they even get out of here?”
Crystal managed a weak smile. “You’re right. Chuck can take a lot, but not embarrassment. Still, thank you for turning her down.”
Laurel looked at her in mild astonishment. “Good heavens, Crystal, do you really think I’d do business with her considering the situation?”
“But business is business and we haven’t exactly been bosom buddies the last few years.”
“We used to be, and I never stopped caring about you, even though it was painful for all of us to see each other after Faith’s death.”
“I guess we can’t avoid seeing each other now.” Crystal bit her lower lip. “You’re right. We’re in danger. We have no choice but to get together with Monica and figure out what we should do before another one of us is murdered.”
2
Monica called the store shortly before closing time. “I’m in Wheeling, Laurel. Have you talked to Denise and Crystal?”
“Yes. Crystal is willing to get together with us. Denise isn’t.”
“I’ll call her. What’s her number?”
“I don’t have it memorized, but it’s under her husband’s name, Wayne Price. But Monica, I don’t know if calling will do any good—”
“It will,” Monica said with her usual assurance. “I’m staying at the Wilson Lodge in Oglebay Park, room 709. They were very stubborn about not giving me the Burton Suite.”
Laurel couldn’t suppress a smile. Monica always expected the best even at the last minute. “I’m sure all the rooms there are very nice.”
“It’s all right. Can you be here at seven?”
“Yes.”
“Good. Call Crystal. I’ll take care of Denise.”
She hung up without saying good-bye. “Good luck with Denise,” Laurel muttered.
She arrived home at six, making sure she picked up the mail. Before driving up to the house, she sorted through it quickly. More Christmas cards and a sales flier from a local discount store. Nothing frightening, thank God. She didn’t know how she’d handle another grisly missive like the one she’d received yesterday.
Laurel pulled up to the house and let herself inside. The dogs greeted her noisily. “What have you two been into today?” she asked, bending to pet them. “Watching television? Making long distance calls?”
They gamboled after her into the kitchen, starving as usual. She opened a can of food for each and poured fresh water. When they finished and dashed through the dog door into the backyard, she fixed herself a cheese sandwich. She could have used something more substantial, but she didn’t have time.
Twenty minutes later she was headed north toward Oglebay Park. Laurel had always loved the fifteen-hundred-acre resort, particularly around Christmas when it became the showplace for America’s largest light show. Ever since the Winter Festival of Lights began in 1985, she’d made the tour. In the beginning the show was somewhat humble, with only a couple of thousand lights. Now there were over nine hundred thousand lights covering three hundred acres of land. Claudia laughed at Laurel’s continued childish delight with the lights, but Laurel ignored her. Christmas had always been her favorite time of year. At least until this year.
Earlier she’d called Crystal from the store and she had agreed to meet with Monica. As Laurel drove up the last hill and circled the lodge, she looked for Crystal’s red Volkswagen but didn’t see it. Maybe she was simply late. Laurel hoped she hadn’t changed her mind about coming.
She parked, taking a moment to look at the hills surrounding the lodge. They formed a dark silhouette against the lighter darkness of the night. Below her was Schenk Lake and in the distance the glow of lights from some of the giant Christmas displays. How nice it would be if she were here merely for her yearly tour, not to see Monica about Angie’s murder.
She found Monica’s room quickly and tapped on the door. In a moment Monica answered. “Hello, Laurel,” she said pleasantly. “You’re the first to arrive. Come in.�
��
Laurel was amazed at how little Monica had changed since she’d seen her over twelve years ago. Her hair was still shining mahogany, worn halfway down her back and nearly straight except for a slight curve at the ends. The luminous skin was free of lines, her eyes a brilliant, clear green. She was around five feet ten with wide shoulders and perfect posture and she looked even slimmer than she had as a teenager, tight black slacks and a cashmere turtleneck sweater revealing a body that obviously underwent regular workouts.
“You’re looking well, Laurel,” she said, closing the door. “You’ve cut your hair.”
“Years ago. It’s easier to take care of.”
“It suits you.”
“Thanks. You look remarkably the same.”
Monica cocked an arched eyebrow. “Is that good or bad?”
Laurel smiled. “Good and you know it. I thought a high-pressure job like yours would take more of a toll on your appearance.”
“I’ve learned to manage stress.”
“Like we’re under now?”
Monica merely nodded and took Laurel’s coat, laying it across one of the beds. She had a comfortable double room with blue-green carpet, white bedspreads with an ivy pattern, and a big window overlooking snowy rooftops and the hills beyond. A door led to a narrow balcony.
Laurel sat down on a bed. “We could have met at my place.”
“I heard you moved back into your parents’ house. We need to be alone.”
“I didn’t give up my apartment until my parents moved to Florida. I live alone in the house.”
“I know, but someone might stop by. You are dating a cop, aren’t you? That’s what Angie told me. It wouldn’t do for him to find us all together.”
“Yes, I’m seeing Kurt Rider. Do you remember him?”
“Vaguely. One of those big jock types.”
Laurel decided to overlook the faint derision in her voice. “Well, he’s a deputy with the county sheriff’s office now, but I already told him you were coming to town.”
Monica’s face tightened. “Why did you do that? Now he’ll be suspicious.”
Laurel felt herself stiffening, anxious to make excuses to appease Monica. She had to remind herself she was a thirty year-old woman who should no longer be daunted by Monica, no matter how self-possessed and authoritative she was. “Monica, Kurt was not suspicious,” she said firmly. “I explained you were coming for Angie’s funeral. He remembers we were all friends. He wouldn’t think it was odd if we got together for an evening.”
“Did you tell him about the evidence at Angie’s apartment pointing to the Six of Hearts?”
“Of course not. He doesn’t know about the Six of Hearts. He doesn’t know anything except that Angie was murdered.”
Someone tapped on the door. Monica opened it and Laurel heard Denise’s voice. “Well, I’m here. Satisfied?”
“I see time has done nothing to dull that sharp tongue of yours.”
Over the years a tension had developed between Denise and Monica. They were the only two of the Six of Hearts who had started to squabble by the time they were sixteen.
Denise strode into the room. She was scowling, her gray eyes angry behind attractive metal-rimmed glasses. She’d let her curly black hair grow to almost shoulder length but it was carelessly pushed back on either side with tortoiseshell combs. She looked careworn and slightly flushed.
“Hello, Denise.”
Denise’s expression softened. “Hi, Laurel. Sorry if I was short with you on the phone last night. It hadn’t been a good day.”
“That’s all right. Is Audra feeling better?”
“She stayed home from school, but I don’t think she has the flu.”
“How old is your daughter?” Monica asked.
“Eight, and a real handful. Where’s Crystal?”
“Just late, I hope,” Laurel said. “I talked with her this afternoon and she said she was coming.”
Denise sat down but didn’t remove her pale gray wool coat. “I really don’t know what you expect to accomplish, Monica. Are you going to organize another club? A group of amateur detectives who can catch Angie’s murderer?”
Monica’s eyes narrowed and Laurel braced for a scorching retort when another knock sounded at the door. Crystal rushed in looking flustered. “I’m sorry I’m late. My car is so undependable. I didn’t think it was going to start. You probably thought I wasn’t coming. I should have called. Hello, Denise. Monica.”
“Glad you could make it,” Monica said, seemingly oblivious to Crystal’s agitation. “Shall we get down to business?”
Same old Monica, Laurel thought. Always taking charge. As she glanced around the room to see Denise looking truculent, Crystal scared, and Monica commanding, she wondered how they’d all become friends. Maybe it could only have been possible a long time ago when they were softer, more malleable, before the dominant traits of their personalities took control. Or maybe they had all changed after Faith’s death.
“I assume Laurel has told you about the evidence at the scene of Angie’s murder that points to it having something to do with the Six of Hearts.”
Denise said yes. Crystal nodded, watching Monica with wide, worried eyes.
“I know some of you feel this is flimsy evidence—”
“Excuse me, Monica, but there’s something you don’t know.” Laurel withdrew the envelope from her purse. “I received this yesterday. Crystal got an identical piece of mail today. They’re both postmarked New York.”
Monica reached for it with a long slender hand with perfectly manicured nails. She glanced expressionlessly at the paper with its red six and heart, next at the photos, then said flatly, “I got the same thing yesterday. Aside from the symbols in Angie’s apartment, it’s what made me determined to come here.”
Monica held the items out to Denise. She took them, cringing when she saw the picture of Angie’s body. “I didn’t get anything like this.”
“Why would the killer send this awful stuff to Laurel, Monica, and me and not to you?” Crystal asked Denise.
“I have no idea.”
Laurel’s voice sounded to her as if it were coming from someone else. “Because the rest of us live alone. The killer didn’t want Denise’s family to see the photos.”
After a moment, Monica said, “You could be right.”
“How considerate of him,” Denise returned dryly.
“You should be glad,” Crystal said sharply. “What if Audra had seen that picture of Angie?”
Denise shut her eyes. “It would have been dreadful.” She looked at the rest of them. “But I can’t be sure he won’t send me this stuff later. I have to watch the mail closely every day. If Wayne saw this…”
“Denise, did you tell him about the Six of Hearts and Faith?” Laurel asked.
Denise shook her head emphatically. “No. I’ve never told anyone.”
Monica looked at Crystal. “Did you ever tell?”
“N-no.”
Monica pinned her with an icy green gaze. “You don’t sound too sure.”
Crystal twisted her hands nervously in her lap. “It’s just that after my baby was stillborn I was sedated. Chuck said I kept muttering things about ‘fire’ and ‘Faith,’ but he thought I was just rambling about her death.”
“Are you sure you didn’t say anything about the club or our being there when Faith died?” Monica demanded.
“I don’t think so.”
Monica rolled her eyes. “You don’t think so. Great.”
“I’m sure if I had, Chuck would have mentioned it. He would have asked what I was talking about.”
“All right. Stop looking so terrified.” Monica sighed. “I’ve never told anyone and Laurel says she hasn’t. We don’t know about Angie.”
“Or Faith.”
“If Faith told someone about the Six of Hearts and that person figured out we had something to do with her death, they sure waited a long time to get revenge,” Denise said. “Besides, who would she h
ave told? Certainly not her father. Zeke Howard is a religious fanatic. He would have beaten her senseless. How about her sister?”
“Mary works for me,” Laurel said. “She has for over a year. If she bears any animosity toward me, I’ve never seen a trace of it.”
“How about Neil Kamrath?” Crystal asked. “He was her boyfriend and the father of her baby.”
“He got married,” Laurel said. “He’s a successful writer. If he knew, why would he suddenly decide to start striking back after all this time?”
“His wife and son were killed in a car wreck less than a year ago,” Denise told them. “As a matter of fact, he’s in Wheeling because his father is dying of cancer.”
“He’s here?” Monica exclaimed.
“Yes. For a couple of weeks now. Wayne is his father’s doctor. He says Neil is pretty shaky. First his wife and son, then his father all within one year.”
“Pretty shaky?” Monica repeated. “Angie’s fiancé, Judson Green, told me that a couple of weeks before she was killed, he was away on a business trip and she told him she had a visitor. An old friend from Wheeling was all she’d tell him. He was certain it was a man. I know it wasn’t any of us. It could have been Neil. She was fairly friendly with him in high school and he could have been in New York to see an editor or agent or something.” Monica pinned Denise with a glance. “Do you think after Neil’s wife’s and son’s deaths he’s emotional enough to suddenly fixate on Faith?”
Denise frowned. “How should I know? I haven’t talked to him, and even if I had, I’m not a mind reader. Wayne did invite him to our Christmas party Saturday night. I doubt if he’ll show up, but if you want to come and see…”
Monica looked interested. “It might be worth it.”
“I don’t want to see Neil Kamrath,” Crystal said. “He was so weird in high school, the big brain who always stayed to himself. I never understood why Faith dated him. She said he was interesting, but how on earth anyone could find him interesting I’ll never know.”
“You found Chuck Landis more interesting?” Monica drawled.
Crystal flushed. “As a matter of fact, I did. At least he’s normal. Have you read any of those awful books Neil writes?”
In the Event of My Death Page 5