She opened the cover, then the flyleaf. The book was inscribed in a beautiful, sloping hand:
All days are nights to see till I see thee,
And nights bright days when dreams do show thee me.
A couplet from one of the sonnets. The book had been given in love. But it wasn’t the book so much as the giver that left Laurel breathless. Beneath the inscription she read:
All my love,
Faith
Sixteen
1
Laurel sat back on her heels. Why on earth would Faith give Kurt a book of Shakespearean sonnets? Well, it didn’t take much thought to figure that out after reading the inscription. Faith loved Kurt. Laurel closed her eyes. Faith loved Kurt? They’d been friends since they were seven and Faith had swung on the ivy vine into the tree house. Kurt and Chuck, Faith and Laurel. They’d been inseparable that summer, but gradually drifted apart as they got older. Faith had never dated Kurt. She’d never dated anyone except Neil.
At least openly. Hadn’t Neil said he was the only guy Zeke would let her go out with because his parents were members of Zeke’s church? Laurel thought about Kurt’s animosity toward Neil lately. Was it only because he thought Neil was strange, or was it because he’d once considered Neil a rival, another of Faith’s lovers? And what about the night of the Price Christmas party? Kurt had been talking about Faith and her baby. What had he said? Laurel dredged up the memory: “That child would have been almost thirteen…I’d bet it was a boy.” He sounded strange, wistful and removed, almost as if he’d forgotten she were in the car.
Neil said he couldn’t be the father of Faith’s baby. If Laurel chose to believe him, then someone else had to be. Could it have been Kurt? Is that why he was so furious with her when he found out how Faith died? Was he merely disappointed in her lack of truthfulness, or was he livid over losing the girl he loved and his child?
Suddenly the apartment seemed oppressively small and airless. Laurel grabbed a pen from the cup and wrote briefly on the scratch pad: “I have some information that might interest you. Please call me. L.” She’d intended to explain about Faith’s mother and the noose in the barn, but she couldn’t bring herself to stay in the apartment that long. She placed the piece of paper in his chair where he’d be sure to see it, dashed from the apartment, and knocked on Mrs. Henshaw’s door. “Here’s the key,” she said hurriedly.
“Find what you was lookin’ for?” Mrs. Henshaw asked, smirking.
“I left a note,” Laurel said curtly. “Thank you for the key.”
As she ran down the steps, she was aware of Mrs. Henshaw watching her from a crack in her door.
2
Laurel drove straight home, trying to recover from the shock of what she’d found in Kurt’s apartment. When she turned into the long, dark drive leading to her house, she was glad she’d remembered to pick up a battery for her garage door opener. When she pressed it, the door slid up. She pulled in, closed the door, then emerged from the car and went into the house via the side door.
Both dogs eagerly awaited her. “I know. Dinner is late,” she told them. “You’re probably both on the verge of starvation. Speaking of starvation, I haven’t eaten anything all day. I feel like I’m going to faint.”
She fixed the dogs’ food first, then rummaged in the refrigerator until she found a package of hot dogs. She stuck three in the microwave, then wrapped them in bread, ketchup, and relish and wolfed them down with unladylike speed. Still hungry, she next turned to the freezer, withdrew two Fudgesickles, and dispatched them just as quickly. “I have to remember to go to the grocery store,” she said aloud as a cramp clenched her stomach when all the food landed with a thud. She went to the couch and lay down, feeling like a five-year-old who’d eaten too much birthday cake.
A few minutes later, as her stomach was beginning to calm, the phone rang. Laurel picked it up and Kurt barked, “What do you mean coming into my apartment when I’m not home?”
“Well, pardon me, but you won’t answer my phone calls. I was only there about ten minutes. Didn’t your resident hall monitor inform you?”
“Yes, but she said it was a lot longer than ten minutes.”
“Oh, big deal. Besides, she gave me the key. Calm down. I didn’t go through your underwear drawer or anything.”
“Very cute. What do you want?”
“First of all, I’d like for you to stop acting like a jackass.”
“Thank you.”
“You are and you know it.” It was hard to keep her voice even. If Kurt had been the father of Faith’s baby, he’d let Neil take all the blame, but he was treating her like a criminal. “Okay, you’re mad because I didn’t tell you how Faith really died. I made a terrible mistake. Don’t you dare tell me you’ve never made one.”
He was quiet for a moment. “What did you want to tell me, Laurel?” he asked in a more civil tone.
“First, Genevra Howard, Faith’s mother, was at Angie’s funeral.”
“Faith’s mother! Did you talk to her?”
“No, not really.”
“But she said she was Faith’s mother.”
“No. She looked like Faith and she left flowers on Faith’s grave.”
“That’s it?”
“Kurt, she left six red carnations with a red plastic heart attached.” He was silent. “Don’t you think it’s important that a woman who disappeared over twenty years ago, who didn’t even come to her own daughter’s funeral, suddenly showed up at Angie’s? And what about the flowers on Faith’s grave? Didn’t you hear me? I said six red carnations with a red plastic heart attached. The Six of Hearts.”
“It’s pretty odd if it was really Faith’s mother who left the flowers.” His voice sounded hollow. He doesn’t want to believe me, but he does, Laurel thought. Why doesn’t he want to believe Faith’s mother might be here? Is he afraid of what she knows?
“There’s something else, Kurt,” she said in a rush. “I went out to the Pritchard farm yesterday and—”
“What the hell did you do that for?” he exploded.
“I don’t know,” she floundered. “I just wanted to see it. I went into the old barn and there was a hangman’s noose dangling from a beam.”
“A noose?”
“Yes. It was made from new rope.”
“A noose?”
“Yes, Kurt, a noose. Like the one Faith put her head in that night.”
“Jeez!” He sounded natural for the first time during the phone call, animation replacing cold anger. “I’ll go out there and take a look. But you stay away from there. You shouldn’t have gone there in the first place. You shouldn’t be anywhere alone. Look at what happened to Denise.”
“Denise wasn’t in a secluded spot.”
“Well, not technically, but no one could see her from the road.”
Laurel swallowed. “Kurt, this has been bothering me. Do you think Denise suffered or did she die quickly?”
“It’s too early to have the medical examiner’s report.”
“But you saw the body. What would you say?”
He paused. “Laurel, I’m no expert. There was a lot of blood.” He drew a breath. “I don’t think she died after the first blow. There were signs that she tried to get up on her knees, tried to crawl…”
“Oh,” Laurel gasped. “I don’t want to hear any more.”
“You asked.”
“I know. I wish I hadn’t. There were two female ghouls masquerading as friends at the Price home this morning who just couldn’t get enough details. It made me sick.”
“There are a lot of people like that.”
Laurel could feel herself calming down a bit. Besides, she didn’t want Kurt to think she’d seen the book of sonnets and had any idea of his connection with Faith. “Kurt, I’m sorry I came into your apartment without an invitation, but I really needed to talk to you.”
“You could have called me at the office or come in,” he said stiffly.
“Yes…. well, I…”
> “You don’t want to talk about any of this in public. You still don’t want anyone to know how Faith died.”
And you don’t want anyone to know you were involved with her, Laurel almost snapped, but caught herself. Besides, he was right. She still didn’t want the whole town to know the truth. But there was more. She’d always thought of Kurt as a confidant, someone on whom she could depend. After seeing the book of sonnets and the declaration of love from Faith in his apartment, though, she wasn’t so sure how far she could trust him anymore.
“At least you know that Faith’s mother might figure into all this. And the Pritchard farm definitely needs to be checked out.”
“Laurel, I’m going to say this again. I don’t want you to go out there or any other place where someone can get at you without being seen. You’re very lucky you didn’t run into anyone this morning. The killer no doubt put up that noose and might be staying around the place. Are you sure you didn’t see anyone?”
“No,” she said aloud. Silently she added, I didn’t see anyone except Neil Kamrath watching me look at the hangman’s noose.
3
When Laurel hung up, she couldn’t help thinking how different her conversation with Kurt had been than one just last week. They’d never been overly romantic, their conversations were not laced with longing and endearments, but there had always been a closeness. That closeness was gone forever. It was what she had feared when she broke off her engagement to Bill Haynes five years ago, and she still believed he would have reacted to the truth exactly as Kurt had.
She had just put on a kettle for tea when the phone rang. She answered, hoping it wasn’t her mother demanding she come to Florida.
“Laurel, I’m so glad you’re home!” It was Neil.
“What’s going on?” she asked, her interest piqued by the excitement in his voice.
“I’ve found Genevra Howard.”
“What? Where?”
“Just where I guessed she’d be.”
“With the Lewis sisters.”
“Yeah. I parked down the street and waited all afternoon until I saw a woman matching your description come outside and fill a bird feeder.”
“Did you talk to her?”
“No. I didn’t want to scare her.”
“Did you go to the door after she went in the house?”
“No.” He sounded slightly embarrassed. “I used to take piano lessons from Miss Adelaide when I was a kid, but you know how she and her sister are. They act like every adult male is out to ravish their maidenhood.”
Laurel burst into laughter. Both sisters were in their early eighties without an ounce of flesh to spare, but they’d always clung to each other, fluttering and cringing away from men as if they were dewy Victorian belles. Laurel often thought that in secret they probably lived on a diet of torrid romance novels.
“I have an idea,” she said. “They barely know me, but I’m female. I’d been planning to take them a wreath as a gift because they were in the store trying to select one when Zeke came in and put on his sideshow. I’ll run to the store, get a wreath, then meet you outside their house. We’ll simply be a young couple bringing them a wreath.”
“Laurel,” Neil said slowly, “they do know me. They think I’m the father of Faith’s baby. They won’t let me inside the door.”
“Oh.” Laurel bit her lip. “Neil, you look so different now than you did as a teenager I don’t think they’ll recognize you until we’re inside. Then they’ll probably be too polite to throw you out. I don’t want to go alone. Please meet me there.”
“Okay, we can give it a try. Do you know where they live?”
“Yes. I’ll meet you in about half an hour.”
She turned off the stove, grabbed her jacket, and headed for the store. As she remembered, the sisters had been torn between a pine and a cedar wreath. She chose the largest wreath she had left, pine decorated with small pieces of wax fruits and tiny, foil-wrapped packages and finished off with a large red velveteen ribbon.
When Laurel pulled up in front of the Lewis sisters’ house, she stood by the car for a minute, looking down the dark street. She didn’t see the white Buick Neil had been driving earlier. Then she saw him emerge from a dark Mercury Marquis. “Different car,” she commented as he drew near.
“Dad’s car. Old as hell, but it runs fine. It hasn’t been driven for a month, though, and needed some road time. Nice wreath.”
“Big and probably not what they wanted, but at least it might get us in the door.”
She rang the bell. In a moment the curtain drew back a fraction and she caught a glimpse of blue hair. She counted to ten and rang the bell again. The porch light went on and slowly the door opened.
“Miss Lewis?” Laurel wasn’t sure which sister was looking at her warily. “I’m Laurel Damron from Damron Floral. You were in my store last Friday when that awful scene occurred with Zeke Howard. You left without a wreath. I wanted to bring you one as an apology for the terrible distress you suffered.”
The woman relaxed slightly and managed a small smile. “My dear, that’s so kind of you, but it really isn’t necessary.”
“It would please me if you’d accept the wreath. If you don’t like this one, I can get you another.”
The woman’s faded blue eyes studied the wreath. “It’s simply beautiful. It was our favorite but a bit beyond our finances. I really can’t accept.”
“I insist. I see you don’t have a hook on your door. We’ll come in and hang it for you.” Laurel was already stepping into the house with unaccustomed pushiness. “Where are my manners? Miss Lewis, this is Neil Kamrath. He used to take piano lessons from you.”
“Oh, not me,” the woman fluttered. “I’m Miss Hannah.”
A woman seated on an old-fashioned settee immediately stood. “I’m Miss Adelaide. We look very much alike, but I’m three years younger than Hannah. I remember you, Neil. What a fine young man you’ve grown into! Did you ever master Tchaikovsky’s ‘Song of the Swan’?”
Neil looked slightly taken aback by her cordiality. “Good heavens, what a memory!” he exclaimed. Miss Adelaide beamed. “No, I’m sorry to say I never learned to play it well. Music isn’t my forte.”
“Oh, well, very few have the calling. I’ve heard you write stories.”
“Yes, ma’am, I do.” He looks totally cowed by these two fragile old ladies, Laurel thought with amusement. In a minute he’s going to start shuffling his feet and sprout a cowlick.
“I’m sorry to say I haven’t read any,” Miss Adelaide went on. “Hannah and I lean toward the classics. Mr. Charles Dickens is a favorite.” I’ll bet, Laurel mused. No doubt they’d read their share of Dickens, but she was sure the sisters also possessed a large library of bodice-rippers.
“That’s all right, Miss Adelaide,” Neil said. “I doubt if you’d care for my work, but it earns a good living.”
“Well, now, isn’t that just fine?”
They all stood looking at each other for an awkward moment. Oh, no, Laurel thought. It can’t end like this. We haven’t found out a thing. “I brought a heavy-duty hook for the wreath,” she said hurriedly. “Would it be all right if Neil hangs it? It’s getting so near Christmas.”
The sisters looked at each other. “Certainly,” Hannah said. “How kind of you. I’ll get a hammer.”
“Can you do this?” Laurel whispered as Adelaide scurried out of the room behind her sister.
“I’m capable of doing more than hitting computer keys,” Neil retorted.
“Don’t get your feathers ruffled. Not all men are handy with carpentry.”
“Hanging a Christmas wreath is hardly carpentry.”
The sisters returned with a huge hammer. “Is this one all right? We have another somewhere. We could look for it.”
“This one will be fine,” Neil said, looking at the hammer dubiously.
When Neil went to the door, hook and unwieldy hammer in hand, Miss Adelaide motioned to the settee. “Sit down, my dear.
Would you care for tea?”
“No—” Laurel caught herself. Tea could draw out the visit. “Well, yes, tea does sound lovely.”
Both sisters went to the kitchen again. A great deal of muttering and clattering went on. Neil turned to Laurel and grinned, murmuring, “What a production over tea, not to mention that I could knock the whole damned house down with this monster they call a hammer.”
Twenty minutes later Neil had the wreath in place and the sisters walked in carrying a silver tea service and a plate of lemon cookies. They first oohed and aahed over the wreath, then set about the elaborate ritual of serving tea. Laurel thought of her own style—pouring boiling water over a tea bag and dumping in a packet of artificial sweetener—and thought she’d never drink tea again if it involved all this ceremony. When at last everyone had been served, Miss Adelaide asked, “How is Mary Howard?”
“All right,” Laurel said. “She had a nasty cut on the back of her head and a concussion, but she’s fairly well recovered. She was back at work today.”
“Oh, that’s fine! Honestly, I thought I would faint when she crashed into those shelves. That awful man. He should be locked up.”
“The police tried, Miss Adelaide, but there are so many legal technicalities,” Laurel said. “One of the problems was that Mary wouldn’t file a complaint against him.”
“I can’t imagine why. That man is a cruel, unbalanced detriment to society who should never have been allowed to run loose,” Miss Hannah burst out. “He was always crazy!”
“Now, Hannah!” Adelaide said, faint alarm in her eyes. “You mustn’t upset yourself. Your heart, you know.”
“There is absolutely nothing wrong with my heart and Zeke Howard is crazy. Has been since he was a child.”
“You’ve known him since he was a child?” Neil pounced.
“Oh, yes,” Hannah went on heatedly. “He used to live here in Wheeling. He was a close friend of our younger brother, Leonard. And what my brother did—”
“Hannah!” Adelaide cried. “Please watch what you’re saying!”
In the Event of My Death Page 21