“I’ve had gallons of this stuff in the last week,” he said. “It’s so awful it’s guaranteed to distract you from crying.”
“Thank you.” It was black and she used milk, but she said nothing. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I’m usually not the weepy type.”
He sat down beside her. “You had a bad shock and you’re terrified that Mary is severely injured. I’d say that’s reason enough to cry.”
That’s not all I’m crying about, Laurel thought. I’m crying for Faith and Angie and myself. I feel guilty and scared and lost. She took a sip of coffee and grimaced. “You weren’t kidding about this stuff.”
“As my father used to say, ‘It’ll put hair on your chest.’”
“Great. That’s all I need.”
Neil grinned. “At least you still have your sense of humor.”
“Barely.”
After a moment Neil asked, “Why did Zeke Howard come to the store?”
“I don’t know. He burst in quoting a lot of Bible verses.”
“Well, that’s par for the course. I don’t think the man’s ever been able to hold a real conversation. All he ever did was quote.” Neil shook his head. “My parents were part of his congregation, you know. Well, my father was the devoted one. My mother just went along to keep down trouble. But their membership is the only reason Zeke let Faith date me. He thought I was safe because I was one of his flock.”
But you weren’t safe, Laurel thought. You got Faith pregnant.
Laurel could feel color creeping into her cheeks at the thought and asked quickly, “Where are you living now?”
“Carmel, California. I did live in Virginia, just outside of D.C., but I moved after my wife and son…died.”
He almost choked over the last word and averted his eyes.
“I’m sorry,” Laurel said. “I know that sounds inane, but—”
“What else is there to say?” Neil looked up at her again. “I keep thinking I’ll adjust to their being gone, but I haven’t, not even after ten months and a new home clear across the country.”
“I can’t imagine a loss like that. You have to give yourself more time.”
“I’m afraid it’s not a matter of giving myself anything. I either go on or I die.” She looked at him sharply. “Oh, I’m not suicidal. I think I was at first. Ellen was killed instantly in the car wreck, but Robbie lingered for nearly a week. The car exploded. They thought he might make it at first in spite of his burns, but infection set in. They couldn’t control it; then there was renal failure.”
“Oh, Neil, how awful for you.”
“Yeah, it was bad.” He seemed to withdraw completely into himself for a few moments. Laurel had the feeling that neither she nor any of his surroundings were real to him. He was lost to the horror of watching his son die. Then, in a flash, he returned. “I expected you to be married with a couple of kids by now.”
“So did my mother.” His abrupt change of tone and facial expression startled Laurel but she tried to sound casual. “So far I’ve left the marriage and children to my sister Claudia.”
“I remember her. She won all those beauty pageants.”
“She’s expecting her third child in about a month. I don’t think she feels like the beauty pageant queen anymore, but my parents are thrilled. They moved to Florida two years ago to be near her.”
“Do you miss them?”
“Yes.” The answer was automatic. She paused and responded more truthfully. “Sometimes I miss them. Most of the time I’m relieved they’re no longer hovering, trying to marry me off to any single man under sixty. I think they’re pretty disappointed in me.”
“Join the club. Mom died five years ago, but Dad has always been horrified, no joke intended, by what I write.”
“I’d think he’d be proud of your success.”
“He would be if I were writing books about history or religion. That’s acceptable. Horror isn’t.”
“I think your novels are wonderful.”
He looked at her in surprise. “You’ve read them?”
“Every one. The plots scare me silly and I usually end up awake until morning. Your writing style is excellent—almost poetic in your descriptive passages—and your characters are so vivid I feel like I know them.” Laurel realized she was gushing and ended lamely, “I’ve also seen the movies made from the first two books.”
“There’s another movie deal in the works now. I should be excited, but with all that’s happened…Anyway, I’m flattered you like my work.” He rose abruptly. “I’m going to check on Mary again.”
While she sat finishing her abominable coffee, Kurt strode into the waiting room. “How’s she doing?”
“I don’t know yet. Neil has gone to check.”
Kurt raised his black eyebrows. “Neil?”
“I ran into him in the parking lot. He’s been keeping me company while I wait for word on Mary.”
“What’s this weirdo doing?” Kurt demanded. “Following you around?”
“Kurt, please,” Laurel said, but it was too late. Neil had come back in the waiting room and heard him. His smile disappeared and his face closed, his gaze growing distant. “The doctor wants to speak to you, Laurel.” He didn’t look at Kurt. “I’ll be going now. Don’t worry about Mary, Laurel. I think she’s going to be fine.”
He turned and left immediately. Laurel was furious. She desperately needed to get an impression of Neil Kamrath’s personality. Miraculously she’d had two chances today, and Kurt had interrupted both times. She might not get the opportunity again. “Notice how he always takes off as soon as he sees me?” Kurt asked.
“No wonder,” Laurel snapped. “You act like a territorial Rottweiler.”
“I told you I don’t like the guy.”
“That’s your problem, not mine. I don’t have to be rude to someone just because you don’t like them.” Laurel stalked ahead of Kurt, who looked at her with bewildered dark eyes.
The doctor told her Mary had suffered a concussion but no skull fracture. She had several contusions and lacerations, the worst being a cut on the scalp that required ten stitches. At this point they’d found no injury to the neck. She had just regained consciousness. When Kurt asked if he could question her, the doctor said he would have to wait a couple of hours until they ran a few more tests and got her settled into a room.
“How long will she have to stay in the hospital?” Laurel asked.
“Unless there are complications, she’ll be going home tomorrow,” the doctor told her.
When he left, Laurel turned back to Kurt. “Where’s Zeke?”
“In jail on a disorderly conduct charge. Don’t worry—Mary’s safe from him tonight.” He smiled tentatively. “You want to get an early dinner while we wait until we can see Mary?”
“I’m sorry, Kurt, I can’t. I have to get back to the store. I left Penny and Norma there and I’m not sure they’ll lock up properly,” she lied. She stood on tiptoe and kissed his cheek. “I’ll talk with you later.”
2
Laurel would talk to Kurt later, but right now she needed to speak with Monica. She thought about stopping at home and asking Monica to come there, but this time she did fear Kurt might come by unexpectedly and she needed privacy.
She drove to the Wilson Lodge. Her last trip away from the lodge had been harrowing so she intended to leave before darkness fell. She parked and went to Monica’s room. Monica opened the door almost instantly. “Laurel! I was just going out.”
“Where?”
“A walk. I’m going stir crazy in this room.”
“I have to talk to you.” Laurel started in but Monica put a hand on her shoulder. “Let’s go to the dining room. I cannot bear sitting in this room another minute.”
“The dining room is too public.”
“Not at this hour. Come on.”
As Laurel trailed after her, she marveled at Monica’s ability to command. She was thirty years old and still doing what Monica told her with b
arely an argument. No wonder the other Six of Hearts had always done what she wanted.
The lodge was beautifully decorated for Christmas, but Laurel found the dining room particularly exquisite. Actually there were two rooms, the first containing sofas, wing chairs, a large stone fireplace, and a dazzling Christmas tree. The hostess led them down three levels to a table in front of a huge window overlooking rolling snow-covered knolls and Schenk Lake. A buffet was being served. Laurel, too upset to eat, took very little on her plate. She couldn’t help noticing that Monica heaped her own as if this were going to be her last meal. She must have fantastic metabolism to eat that way and stay so slim, Laurel thought.
Once they were seated, Monica looked at her expectantly. “What’s happened?”
“Several things.” Laurel glanced around to make certain no one was within earshot. “It started as soon as I left here last night.”
While she told Monica about being chased down the hill and her car rammed, Monica continued to eat steadily. When she reached the funeral wreath on her door, Monica’s pace slowed. By the time she’d finished with Neil Kamrath coming to the store and Zeke Howard slamming his daughter into the shelves, Monica had laid down her fork and stared.
“Laurel, my God, all of this is incredible! I’ve just been sitting around here taking calls from the office and watching television, and you’ve been through hell. You should have called me.”
“So you could do what? Subdue Zeke? Anyway, I survived. What I want to know is what you think of all this.”
“I think what happened last night with the car and the wreath means you’ve been singled out as the next victim.”
“Don’t sugar-coat it, Monica.”
“Are you going to tell me you don’t think the same thing?”
“No. I believe you’re right,” Laurel said flatly. She looked out the window. A layer of snow covered the knolls. A breeze rustled the few remaining dead leaves clinging to the trees. Ducks and swans floated serenely on the gray, cold lake. The scene suddenly struck her as unbearably lonely.
“Tell me about Neil Kamrath.”
Laurel pulled her gaze back to Monica. “He looks different than he did in high school. He’s taller and he must wear contacts. Those awful Coke-bottle glasses of his are gone. He’s very polished but sad, self-contained. I ran into him at the hospital. He was leaving after visiting his father when I arrived. He sat with me in the waiting room. He talked a bit about his wife’s and son’s deaths. Robbie, the child, lived a few days although he was badly burned. After they died, Neil moved to Carmel.”
“Sounds like he really opened up to you.”
“To a point. He’s very guarded. As soon as he says something revealing, he looks like he regrets it.”
“What’s your impression of his stability?”
“I’m not sure. His wife and son were in a wreck. The car exploded. The wife died instantly, but the child lingered, horribly burned. I keep thinking about that—fire. It may have triggered something about Faith. He seems calm, like he’s trying very hard to deal with it all, but he’s clearly a deeply troubled soul.”
“Zeke Howard is, too,” Monica said.
“Zeke is crazy. And strong. And he came to the store to recite the Bible verses about destruction to me.”
“Are you sure he wasn’t just predicting damnation for everyone? He was always doing that, the damned loon. Remember how embarrassed Faith was by him?”
“Yes, but he wasn’t speaking in general. He prefaced the verses with my name. He said it twice. He was talking exclusively to me.”
“Do you think he could have been driving the car that rammed you?”
“I know he drives. That’s how he got to the store. But Mary also drives and she was making odd references about Faith this morning. We must go to the police.”
Monica gave her a hard stare. “No.”
“Why not, for God’s sake? Are you blind to what’s going on? What about Angie? What about me? You supposedly came here to help us.”
“I did. I am.”
“Oh, are you? What exactly have you done? We know just about as much about this killer as we did last night.”
“It’s only been one day, Laurel. I can’t work miracles.”
Laurel reached out and touched the small poinsettia on their table. “I know.” She looked into Monica’s vivid green eyes. “That’s why I think if we don’t get help, I may be joining Angie very soon.”
“No you won’t. We’ll get to the bottom of this without police intervention.”
“You’ve always been so sure of yourself, Monica. It’s gotten you in trouble before.”
Monica looked at her steadily. “I’m not going to the police, Laurel. Neither are the others. If you go, you go alone, and I doubt very much if they’ll believe you when the rest of us claim we don’t know what the hell you’re talking about.”
3
Denise pulled in front of the small green house and hurried up the walk. Before she reached the door, it opened. A small, blue-haired lady smiled at her.
“Sorry I’m late, Miss Adelaide,” Denise said. “I got hung up at the grocery store.”
“That’s quite all right, dear.” Adelaide Lewis motioned her inside with a slightly tremorous hand. Denise had never noticed a tremor before. “Audra has just been sharing some cookies with Hannah and me.”
Denise stepped into the small, crowded living room. The scent of violet sachet was almost overwhelming. Hannah Lewis sat behind a silver tea service. She smiled weakly, looking pale beneath her carefully applied rouge. Denise knew there was three years’ difference in age between the sisters. Everyone they met knew it immediately because Adelaide was quick to inform them she was the younger. Nevertheless, they seemed almost identical—frail, chatty, fluttery creatures who should have lived a century ago and insisted on being called “Miss Adelaide” and “Miss Hannah.”
Audra was halfway through an oatmeal cookie. “How did it go today, honey?”
“Okay,” Audra mumbled.
Miss Adelaide ran a loving hand over her piano. “She had a bit of trouble with ‘Beautiful Dreamer.’ I think perhaps she wasn’t putting her heart into it.”
Audra looked abashed. “I’m sorry.”
“My dear, don’t feel bad,” Miss Adelaide said. “I’m sure with plenty of practice you’ll turn into a perfectly competent pianist.”
Competent, Denise thought in disappointment. Not gifted.
“I’ll see that she practices more.” A look of misery crept over Audra’s beautiful little face. She hated practicing.
Denise paid Miss Adelaide. The sisters detained them in one of their long farewells, then Denise and Audra stepped outside, each taking a deep breath. “It’s so hot and smelly in there,” Audra complained as they got in the car.
“It doesn’t smell bad. They just go a little heavy on the violet sachet. Fasten your seat belt, honey.”
As they pulled away from the house, Audra said, “I don’t see why I have to take piano lessons.”
“When I was your age, I longed to take piano lessons but my family couldn’t afford them.”
“Why do I have to take lessons just because you wanted to? I don’t want to be a piano player. I want to be a doctor like Daddy.”
“Your father plays the piano.”
So far this argument had stopped Audra cold, but Denise didn’t think her luck would continue. Audra was too smart. Soon she would point out that being a pianist had nothing to do with being a doctor.
“The sisters were all shook up when I got there,” Audra volunteered, her argument temporarily defeated.
“What were they upset about?”
“They wouldn’t tell me, but they were whispering about some crazy man and the Bible and Laurel and someone getting hurt. Is that your friend Laurel, the one who has April and Alex?”
Oh, Lord, what was this all about? Denise wondered, her hands tightening on the wheel. Who was the crazy man? Had something happened to Laurel?
>
“Mommy, I asked if that was your friend Laurel.”
“I don’t know. It could be another Laurel.”
Audra frowned. “I sure hope Laurel’s okay. I liked her a lot, and I loved April and Alex.”
Last Christmas, when Laurel decorated for their party, she had stopped by with her dogs in the back seat of her car. Audra rushed to see them. They were too frightened to venture onto a strange lawn, so Audra climbed into the back seat and they’d covered her with kisses. Denise counted to five, knowing what could come next.
“I wish I had a dog,” Audra said right on cue.
“I’m afraid of dogs.”
“Mommy, we need a dog.”
“What for?”
“To tell us if burglars are trying to get in.”
“We have an alarm system.”
“A dog would be better.”
“Well, we’ll see.”
“That means no.” Audra’s lower lip crept out a fraction.
“Audra, please don’t be petulant.”
“I don’t know what that means.”
“Don’t pout,” Denise snapped, still wondering what the Lewis sisters were discussing.
“All I asked for was a little dog,” Audra said in a tiny, heartbroken voice. Denise knew Audra was playing her better than she would ever play the piano, but it usually worked.
“Cheer up, baby. I promise I’ll talk to Daddy.” Audra remained silent. “Do you know what came in the mail today? A Christmas card addressed to Miss Audra Price.”
Denise could tell Audra wanted to hold on to her silence, but she couldn’t stand it. “Was it from Grandma and Grandpa?”
“No. C’mon, Audra, do you have a boyfriend you haven’t told me about?”
Audra grinned. “Buzzy Harris.”
“Buzzy! I certainly hope that’s a nickname.”
“I think so, but I don’t know what his real name is. He told me I was a babe and tried to kiss me on the playground last week.”
In the Event of My Death Page 9