In the Event of My Death

by Carlene Thompson

  “If we have to bring one of them in, it could be late.”

  “I don’t care. I really need to talk to you.”

  He looked at her piercingly. “Are you finally going to tell me what the hell has been happening for the past week?”

  She paused. “Yes, Kurt. I’ll tell you everything.”

  He kissed her on the forehead. “Good. I hate it when you shut me out, especially when I know you’re scared or unhappy. We’ve been friends since you were seven.”

  “I was forced on you by Faith.”

  Kurt smiled. “Chuck and I weren’t the pushovers we seemed. We may have been only eight, but we knew a couple of good-looking girls when we saw them.” Laurel laughed, thinking of herself with her tangle of unruly hair and missing front teeth. “I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

  Laurel had left two lamps glowing in the living room. April and Alex raised their heads and looked at her sleepily from their cushions in front of the fireplace, so apparently nothing had happened during the evening to upset them. Denise had been the victim tonight, although Laurel would rather have come home to find some harmless decoration on her door than to see Audra so frightened. Whoever had dressed up as a ghost to frighten a helpless little girl needed to be flogged, Laurel thought fiercely.

  Could it have been Zeke or Mary? Laurel wondered as she put more logs in the fireplace. It would have been so easy to come in the kitchen door, slip up the back stairs, and disappear unnoticed since the caterers had simply delivered the food earlier, not stayed to serve.

  As the fire grew, Laurel sat down on the couch, thinking. There was so much commotion in the living room, it would have been just as easy for a guest to slink away for a few minutes. She closed her eyes, trying to picture the scene. Had she seen Neil Kamrath? No. She was sure of it. Had he taken advantage of the confusion to escape as he’d clearly intended to do earlier before Monica cornered him? Or had he gone outside where he had a robe and wig stashed, then gone upstairs?

  She drew up her legs and wrapped her arms around them. The thought of Neil dressing up in a robe and wig and carrying around a doll wearing Faith’s locket seemed absurd, but Audra and Denise had been horrified, and horror was Neil’s stock in trade. Didn’t he make his living by dreaming up scary senarios?

  But she’d been the one who argued fervently with Crystal and Kurt about the difference between imagination and reality. Just because a writer’s topic was horror didn’t make him crazy.

  Laurel wasn’t sure how long she’d sat staring into the flames, her thoughts racing, when Kurt knocked on the door. When he walked in, she saw that his cheeks were pink from the cold and the slacks of his new suit were damp and dirty above his dulled shoes.

  “What happened?” Laurel asked.

  “When I got to the house, no one was home. Lights on, but no one came to the door. I was getting ready to leave when I heard Mary calling, ‘Papa! Where are you?’ I went toward the voice. I found her half frantic. She said she went in to check on Zeke to see if he was sleeping okay and he was gone. We searched the woods and finally found him sitting against the trunk of a tree, talking.”

  “Talking to whom?”

  “To Faith and Genevra. I didn’t remember, but Mary said Genevra was her mother.”

  “Yes. What was he saying?”

  “Something about Genevra not deserving her children, about Faith being taken unfairly, a lot of stuff like that.”

  “Kurt, Audra said the ghost said her mother didn’t deserve her.”

  “I know.”

  “Where is Zeke now?”

  “At home in bed.”

  “At home!

  “Laurel, I can’t arrest someone for sitting in the woods talking to themselves. There wasn’t any evidence. Of course by the time I found him at least an hour had passed since someone scared Audra. But get this—Mary wouldn’t let me search the house without a warrant. She was adamant.”

  Laurel raised an eyebrow. “Sounds like she has something to hide.”

  “I thought so, too. She told me to leave so she could call a doctor for Zeke.”

  Laurel suddenly became aware of how exhaused Kurt looked. “Sit down. Do you want something to drink?”

  “A beer.”

  She hurried into the kitchen and retrieved a can and a glass, although she knew he’d probably ignore the glass. When she came back in the living room, he’d slipped off his wet shoes, his head propped against the back of the couch, his legs stretched toward the fire. “Your poor suit,” she murmured.

  “Think the dry cleaners could do anything with this mess?”

  “I’ll take the slacks to the place I use. They work miracles.”

  “Great. I’d hate to see my new suit ruined after one wearing.” He grinned. “My mother never even got to see me in it.”

  “We should have taken a Polaroid before we left this evening.” A Polaroid. The picture of Angie’s battered body. There was no putting this off any longer. “Kurt, I said I was going to tell you what’s going on.” He looked at her seriously. “It all began thirteen years ago with the death of Faith Howard.”

  Her heart pounded as she told the story, starting with the formation of the Six of Hearts, their growing interest in witchcraft, and finally the night when Faith, drunk and reckless, had stuck her head in a noose and slipped off the stool. The fire. Then their flight from the barn. Finally their silence.

  She’d expected a look of disbelief or even horror on Kurt’s face. There was nothing but a tightening of his jaw, a slight twitch under his left eye. “Kurt, what are you thinking?” she asked in a small voice.

  “I’m not thinking,” he said stonily. “What does all this have to do with what’s going on now?”

  He looked at her as if he didn’t know her, didn’t want to know her, and for a moment she felt as if she couldn’t go on. But she had to.

  The next part of the tale came out almost without emotion. She told him about the evidence found in Angie’s house—the six and the heart drawn on the mirror in blood, the judgment card beside her body. She told him about the photos she, Monica, and Crystal had received, getting the Polaroid of Angie to show him. “Then there was the ramming of my car, the funeral wreath, the heart painted on my door. Crystal says someone has been in her house and taken her yearbook and a valuable figurine Faith always loved. Finally there was tonight with Audra. Denise, Crystal, and Monica don’t want to tell the police about Faith’s death. They said they’d deny everything if I told, but I can’t sit back and let a child be terrorized or risk someone else being killed.”

  Her hands were icy and trembling when she finished. Kurt finally switched his dark gaze from her face to the fire. His body was totally motionless. Laurel waited as long as she could, then finally burst out, “Say something!” He remained silent. “Kurt, if you want to tell me I’m a horrible human being, a coward, a liar, if you just want to yell at me, do it! But please don’t sit here like the Sphinx. Your silence is driving me crazy.”

  “Seems to me you understand silence pretty well.”

  She’d begged him to talk. His words felt like a slap in the face, but he was right.

  “I know we were wrong, Kurt, and I’m not going to excuse us by saying we were young and scared. We were, but we all knew better. What we did was wrong, but we didn’t kill Faith. It was an accident.”

  “You all got her drunk and talked her into doing something stupid, and it cost the life of her and her baby.”

  They hadn’t talked Faith into anything. Everyone except Monica had tried to dissuade her from putting her head in the noose, but Laurel wasn’t going to make excuses. Kurt wasn’t in the mood to listen anyway.

  “What are you going to do?” she asked softly.

  “There’s nothing I can do for Faith and the baby.”

  “I know that, Kurt. I meant about this killer who seems to be trying to avenge her.”

  “I don’t know yet. I’ll try to get more information from the New York police department, altho
ugh I don’t expect them to be too cooperative, especially since Monica was privy to information she shouldn’t have had. But they might be interested in what I have to tell them.” He sighed. “I have to go.”

  He slipped on his shoes and walked stiffly to the door. Laurel followed. “Kurt, will I hear from you tomorrow?”

  “I don’t know,” he said absently. “Good night, Laurel.”

  He didn’t touch her, never even met her eyes. She’d taken him for granted for months, but as she watched his back retreating toward his car, her throat tightened. She felt as if she’d lost her best friend.

  Ten

  1

  Laurel didn’t try sleep in bed. She covered herself with the afghan and curled up on the couch. As soon as Kurt left, April and Alex joined her, burrowing under the afghan, snuggling as close to her as possible. She knew her white slacks and sweater would be covered with dog hair in the morning, but it didn’t matter. A cleaning bill was nothing in comparison to the comfort they offered.

  “Denise, Crystal, and Monica are really going to be mad at me,” she told the dogs. Talking to them as if they were people had become a habit for the last couple of years after she’d begun living alone with them. Alex tilted his head, seeming to give her his full attention. “But I had to tell Kurt. I know everyone will be shocked about how Faith really died. She was my best friend—it might even affect business. Dad will be furious. But I’d do it again. Talking to Kurt was no mistake. I should have told him as soon as I heard about Angie’s murder…”

  She continued to mumble to the dogs until sometime in the middle of the night she fell asleep. Bright sunlight streaming through the front window awakened her.

  Laurel looked at her watch. Eight-fifteen. She hadn’t slept this late for months. The dogs were already up, staring at her expectantly. “Breakfast is late, isn’t it?” she asked in a voice thick with sleep.

  She threw off the afghan and stood up. Although the couch was long and comfortable, she felt stiff. If only she could take the day off and relax. But this was one Sunday she couldn’t stay home. Because of the uproar with Zeke and Mary on Friday and her early closing time yesterday, she had a few orders left to fill for the Angela Ricci visitation tonight.

  A hot shower, a couple of aspirin, and a cup of coffee made her feel almost human again. Dressed in jeans and a heavy red sweater, her hair tied back carelessly with a ribbon, she went to her car and once again inspected the damage, looking at the battered bumper and slightly buckled trunk lid. Kurt had said he would take the car around to mechanics for estimates. She didn’t think she could expect that favor now.

  She left home at ten and put on a pot of coffee when she reached the store. Her eyes seemed grainy from all the sleep she’d lost this week, but she wasn’t hungry. She felt an odd mixture of relief that she’d told Kurt and misery over his reaction. He didn’t understand. Isn’t that what Monica had predicted? That no one would understand? That the remaining Six of Hearts would become pariahs in the town? She’d probably been right, but that didn’t change Laurel’s mind. She’d done the right thing, no matter what the consequences.

  Laurel had been working for about an hour, sticking flower stems in Instant Oasis, the damp green base used in all fresh arrangements. She was just adding leather leaf into a basket of carnations, gladiolas, and daisies when she heard someone tapping on the front door.

  It’s Sunday morning, she thought irritably. Couldn’t the person see the hours painted on the door or the Closed sign?

  Maybe it was Kurt, she thought suddenly. Quickly she wiped her damp hands on her jeans and ran to the front door.

  Neil Kamrath peered through the window at her.

  Laurel hesitated. Did she want to be alone in the store with him? For all she knew he’d murdered Angie. But his smile was disarming and it was daylight. She saw a couple walking across the street. Certainly Neil wouldn’t risk doing anything violent with witnesses around, and it was a great chance to talk to him.

  Slowly she unlocked and opened the door, looking at him questioningly. “Hi, Laurel,” he said pleasantly. “I called your home a while ago. I thought you might be here.” She continued to stare at him, trying to make up her mind about letting him in. “I really need to talk with you,” he said, ignoring her bad manners. “May I come in?”

  Laurel hesitated, then stepped back, opening the door wider. A vampire can’t come in unless you invite it, she thought inanely, then wondered why she’d come up with that piece of important information. She’d probably read it in one of Neil’s books.

  “Do you usually work on Sunday?” he asked.

  “No. I gave everyone an early quitting time yesterday, which would have been fine if the wholesalers had delivered early as I requested. Unfortunately, they were late and not all the orders are filled for Angie’s visitation tonight.”

  “I see.” He made a wry face. “I think I’ll skip the visitation. Judging by the reaction I got when I walked into the party last night, my name is still mud in this town.”

  “Not with everyone.”

  “Then why are you standing stiff as a ramrod, not even giving me a little smile?”

  Because this is the first time I’ve been alone with you, she thought. “I guess I’m still a little shook up about that doll business last night.”

  “That’s what I wanted to talk to you about.”

  “Oh?”

  He nodded. “I saw something that’s been bothering me.” Laurel looked at him questioningly. “Oh, not who scared the little girl, but I saw the doll. Or, more important, what was on the doll.”

  “The locket?”

  He nodded. “A week after Faith died, I went to the Howard house to see how they were doing. Zeke wasn’t home. Mary came out on the porch and started screaming like a banshee at me. She said neither she nor her father wanted to see me. She said she held me responsible for Faith’s death. She threw my class ring at me. I said I thought Faith had been buried with it. She shrieked that she’d never let Faith be buried with anything of mine. ‘The only piece of jewelry buried with my sister was the locket my mother gave her,’ she said. ‘It meant more to her than even a wedding ring from you would have.’”

  Laurel frowned. “Mary said the locket had been buried with Faith?”

  “Yes. At the visitation Faith was in a closed coffin, as I’m sure you remember. The condition of her body…”

  Laurel’s stomach wrenched. “I remember.” She glanced away. “But obviously the locket wasn’t buried with her. The necklace on the doll was Faith’s. I’ve seen it hundreds of times.”

  “That’s what I wanted to confirm with you. I didn’t get as close a look at it as you did last night.”

  Laurel frowned. “Neil, I didn’t see you when Wayne was playing the piano, right before Audra came downstairs. I thought you’d left.”

  “No. I was edging toward the door, but I hadn’t made it outside when the little girl came down the stairs. I didn’t leave until you read the initials on the locket. Then I bolted. Emotional reaction, I guess. The poor little kid looked terrified.”

  Did she believe him? Yes. He must have been there. He knew she had held the locket in her hand and pronounced it Faith’s. “Neil, when you got outside, did you see anyone running away from the house?”

  “No.” He took a deep breath. “You must wonder why I’ve come to you like this. It’s because I can’t confront the Howards and I don’t want to go to the police. Thirteen years ago they suspected me of murdering Faith.”

  “Only briefly.”

  “Still, your friend Kurt’s attitude toward me is typical of the entire police department’s. Even Crystal looks at me like I’m a madman.”

  “Crystal is a bit fragile right now. Three miscarriages, a stillbirth last year. Then Chuck leaving. Everyone pretty much ignores her irrational reactions and mood swings.”

  “I’ve never said more than ten words to her—I don’t care what she thinks of me. But I wonder about the Howards. Mary works for
you. You know her well and you care about her. I’m sure you don’t want to say anything negative, but I’ve still got a big problem with what happened last night. Let’s say Mary lied to me and Faith wasn’t buried with the locket. That means Mary has had it all along. So what the hell was it doing on that doll?”

  “Someone wanted to scare Audra.”

  He looked impatient. “Yes, but why?”

  “I don’t know,” Laurel said stiffly. “Audra didn’t even know Faith.”

  He stared at her. She had the feeling his smoky blue eyes were seeing right into her brain. “This isn’t the first weird incident that’s happened, is it? That’s why Monica was giving me the third degree, even asking exactly when I’d arrived in Wheeling. I got the feeling she was trying to track my movements, especially around this time last week.” He blinked twice. “Around the time Angela was murdered!”

  Great, Monica, Laurel thought in annoyance. The subtle inquisitor.

  “I’m right, aren’t I?” Neil demanded.

  God, why had she let him in? What was she supposed to do now? Go on playing dumb and enrage him further? Or pretend that he was a trusted friend whom she wanted to take into her confidence? She made an instant decision.

  “Neil, if you have some time, I’d like to talk to you.”

  “You mean question me some more?”

  “No, I mean tell you some things—things that are going on now, things that happened a long time ago. Come back to the kitchen and let’s sit down. This is a long story.”

  After she poured each of them a cup of coffee, she started just as she had with Kurt, explaining about the Six of Hearts, the increasingly disturbing games they’d played, and finally describing the night in the Pritchard barn. She paused after that while Neil gazed out the window. His hand had tightened on his coffee mug and his face turned pale. Finally he muttered, “I always knew Faith wasn’t the suicidal type.”

  “She wasn’t.”

  He pinned her with his gaze. “Did you know about her pregnancy?”