by Joy Fielding
“Montana. Is she coming over?”
“No.”
“Too bad. I haven’t seen her in a long time.”
Susan nodded, almost afraid to speak. She was used to teenagers jumping from one topic of conversation to the next, but she’d never experienced anything quite like this. Maybe the shock of her mother’s violent death had shaken loose several screws in Tracey’s head. She obviously wasn’t thinking clearly. Maybe Susan was expecting too much of the girl.
Except what was she expecting after all?
If anything, she’d assumed Tracey would be so overwhelmed with grief she’d have trouble getting out of bed. Instead, after a few hours of sleep, she was showered and dressed and ravenously hungry. She rarely cried. In fact, it was almost as if she had to be reminded to cry. And even then, her eyes dried with alarming speed. It was as if she weren’t quite there, Susan thought, wondering if she’d always been that way. Certainly Ariel and Whitney thought so. Why had she never noticed it before?
“I think I’ll go back upstairs now, if that’s all right,” Tracey said.
“Sure.” She probably needs to crawl back into bed, Susan thought. She’s only now beginning to realize what’s happened. It’s just starting to hit her.
“Is it all right if I watch TV?”
“What? Oh. Of course.”
Tracey dutifully returned the platter of party sandwiches to the fridge and deposited her empty milk glass in the sink, then ambled from the room. Seconds later, Susan heard her footsteps on the stairs. She reached for the phone.
“Vicki,” she said, as soon as she heard her friend’s voice. “Could you come over? I think we might have a problem.”
Twenty-Eight
It was almost six o’clock in the evening when Vicki arrived at Susan’s house. She was somewhat dismayed to note that Susan was still wearing the same clothes she’d had on at Barbara’s, and that her white T-shirt bore faint maroon smudges of what appeared to be dried blood.
“Sorry I couldn’t get away earlier,” Vicki apologized, accepting Susan’s offer of a cup of coffee, settling easily into one of the kitchen chairs, looking around. “It’s funny how we always end up in the kitchen, isn’t it?”
“We could go into the living room …”
“No. I like it here. Where’s Tracey?”
Susan lifted her eyes toward the ceiling.
“Asleep?”
“Watching television.”
Vicki took a long sip of her coffee. “Strange girl.”
“That she is.”
“I take it she’s part of the problem you mentioned on the phone.”
Susan joined Vicki at the table, lowered her voice to a whisper. “I’m probably being paranoid …”
“But things just don’t add up?”
“It’s just that her reactions seem so out of whack. I keep telling myself she’s in shock, but …”
“You think it’s more than that?”
“Maybe once the police get a confession out of Tony …”
“The police let Tony go.” Vicki watched the look of surprise that flooded Susan’s face, washing all traces of residual color away, as if her head had been submerged in a basin of bleach.
“What!”
“They don’t have enough evidence to hold him.”
“I don’t understand.”
Vicki noted Susan’s hands were trembling, covered them with her own. “Tony claims he was home all night. His kids back him up.”
“Well, of course they’d back him up.”
“Apparently, Rowdy has a bad cold and he kept everyone up all night with his coughing. Montana swears her father was giving Rowdy his cough medicine around the time Barbara was having her brains bashed in. Sorry to be so indelicate,” Vicki apologized, seeing Susan wince.
“And that was enough to satisfy the police?”
“That and the fact there’s no physical evidence linking Tony to the murder. No weapon, no ski mask …”
“He could have disposed of them.”
“No blood. No traces of flesh or hair or bone on any of his clothes.”
“Oh, God.”
“Forensics went over his car with a fine-tooth comb. It was clean.”
“Maybe he didn’t take his car; maybe he took a shower; maybe …”
“Maybe he didn’t do it.”
“Oh, God,” Susan said again.
Vicki finished the coffee in her mug, got up and poured herself another.
“So, who did? Ron?”
“Ron was in Atlantic City. The police finally got ahold of him. He’s on his way home now.”
“You don’t think it could have been Howard, do you?”
“Well, he’s still being investigated,” Vicki answered. “He has no alibi for the time of Barbara’s death.”
“Then it could have been him.”
“He also has no motive.”
“So, what are you saying?”
“I think you know.”
Susan shook her head. “I don’t know.”
“I think you do. I think that’s why you called me earlier, said we had a problem, asked me to come over.”
“I just meant we might have a problem because Tracey was having trouble keeping her story straight.”
“People don’t usually have problems keeping their stories straight when they’re telling the truth.”
“You think she’s lying?”
As if one cue, a sudden burst of laughter funneled through the ceiling. “You think it’s normal to be laughing at some dumb TV show twelve hours after your mother’s skull has been pulverized?”
“Oh, God.”
“Sorry. I keep forgetting that you actually saw her.”
“It was so awful.” Susan lowered her face into her hands, as if trying to block out the horror of what she’d witnessed, her shoulders shaking as she cried.
Vicki returned to the table, put one arm around her trembling friend as another sharp burst of laughter broke through the walls. “I’m really sorry. You know it’s just my way of dealing with things I’d rather not be dealing with.”
“Maybe it’s the same way with Tracey. Maybe she’s in denial,” Susan persisted stubbornly. “Maybe her feelings are just so mixed up …”
“Maybe she doesn’t have any feelings.”
Susan lifted her head, stared directly into Vicki’s eyes, as if pleading for mercy. “What are you saying? That you think Tracey could have murdered her mother?”
“Isn’t that what you think?”
There was silence.
“But that would make her some kind of monster.”
Vicki shrugged. The shrug said nothing would surprise her.
“It can’t be,” Susan protested. “I mean, why? Why would Tracey want to harm her mother? Barbara loved her more than anything in the world. Tracey was her life, for God’s sake. She did everything for that girl. It doesn’t make any sense.”
Again Vicki shrugged. The shrug asked, What does? “I think we should get her down here. Try to talk to her before the police arrive.”
“You called the police?”
Vicki rubbed her forehead. What was it about Susan? she wondered impatiently. How could a woman her age still be so damn naive? “Of course I didn’t call the police. But how long do you think it’s going to take them to start asking the same questions we’ve been asking? How long before they reach the same conclusions?”
“Oh, God.”
“Do you think you could stop saying that?” Vicki asked, then immediately apologized. “Sorry. I guess my nerves are a little shot.”
“It’s okay. I understand.”
More laughter from overhead.
“Perhaps you could explain that,” Vicki said.
Susan shook her head, took a deep breath, raised her chin to the ceiling. “Tracey!” she called out loudly. “Tracey, could you come down here a minute?”
Footsteps. The sound of the TV being turned off. More footsteps.
“Where’s
Owen?” Vicki asked, suddenly aware of his absence.
“Tracey asked if we could have Chinese food for supper,” Susan said, the disbelief in her voice now clanging as loudly as a bell. “Owen went to pick it up. He took the girls with him.”
“Is the food here?” Tracey asked, pushing open the kitchen door, her expression of happy anticipation disappearing when she saw Vicki. “Oh, hi, Mrs. Latimer. How are you?”
Under other circumstances, this might pass for a normal question, Vicki thought, studying the girl’s placid face. “I’m fine, Tracey. How are you holding up?”
“Fine.… Well, you know.”
“No. I don’t. Tell me.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Sit down, Tracey.” Vicki pulled out the chair beside Susan, watched as Tracey plopped into it.
“Is everything all right?” Tracey asked.
Strange question, Vicki thought, understanding from the look on Susan’s face that she was thinking the same thing. “Well, no, not really,” Vicki said, occupying the third seat at the table. “The police questioned Tony all afternoon and then released him.”
“They released him?” Tracey repeated incredulously. “Why?”
“Apparently, they don’t have enough evidence to hold him.”
“But that’s ridiculous. Everyone knows Tony did it.”
“They do?” Vicki asked. “How?”
“What do you mean?”
“Tell me about last night,” Vicki said.
“I already told you about last night.”
“Tell me again.”
“I don’t want to.” Tracey fidgeted uncomfortably in her chair. “I don’t want to go through it again.” Tears appeared in the corners of Tracey’s eyes, although Vicki noted none actually fell to her face.
“We know it’s difficult, sweetheart,” Susan said gently. “But you have to know how important this is or Vicki wouldn’t be asking.”
“Just go over things with me one more time,” Vicki coaxed. “You were asleep when you heard a noise.”
“I heard a noise,” Tracey repeated.
“What kind of noise?”
“I don’t know. A loud noise. Banging.”
“What kind of banging?”
“I don’t know.”
“Banging on the floor, on the bed, on the wall?”
“I don’t know.”
“Because there were no marks on the floor or the walls.”
“Maybe it was more of a scuffling noise,” Tracey said, twisting between the two women.
“A scuffling noise loud enough to wake you up?”
“Yes.”
“But you said before it was a banging noise. There’s a big difference between a banging noise and a scuffling noise.”
“I don’t know what kind of noise it was. Just that it woke me up.”
“And then what?”
“I heard my mother screaming.”
“First you heard the banging, then your mother screaming?”
“Yes.”
“Then what?”
“There were more noises. I called out for my mother but she didn’t answer me.”
“Go on.”
“I was scared. I saw a man in a black ski mask. He was staring at me like he was going to kill me. I couldn’t move.”
“You were in your bed?”
“Yes.”
“You told the police you were in the hall.”
“What?”
“This morning. You told the police you went into the hall. That was when you saw the man.”
“That’s right.”
“You just said you were in your bed.”
“You’re confusing me.”
“When did you see the man, Tracey?”
“I was in the hall.”
“You’re sure?”
“Yes. I remember now. I heard the noises. I heard my mother screaming. I got out of bed. I walked into the hall.”
“And that’s when you saw the man in the ski mask?”
“Yes. He looked at me like he was going to kill me, and then he turned and ran down the steps.”
“And out the front door?”
“I guess.”
“How did he get in the house, Tracey?”
“What? I don’t know. He broke in, I guess.”
“There were no signs of forced entry.”
“I might have left the front door unlocked.” Tracey’s eyes flickered nervously back and forth. “Sometimes I forget to lock it.”
Vicki tried to hide her growing revulsion. Innocent people never speculated. Only the guilty provided you with unexpected explanations. “Was he carrying a weapon?”
“I don’t know. It was dark. I couldn’t see.”
“It was light enough to see his eyes.”
“I didn’t see a weapon.” Again the threat of tears.
“Tracey, I can’t help you if I don’t know what happened.”
“I’ve told you what happened.”
“You heard your mother screaming and you woke up,” Vicki reiterated.
“Yes.”
“You said before it was a loud noise that woke you up.”
“I heard a loud noise. Then I heard my mother scream.”
“And you rushed into the hall.”
“Yes.”
“And you saw the man.”
“Yes.”
“And you thought it was Tony.”
“Yes. But I was scared, and he was all crouched over. It could have been anyone.”
“Your father?”
“No. I don’t know. Maybe.”
“Wouldn’t you have recognized your father?”
“He was wearing a ski mask.”
“Even wearing a ski mask.”
“I think it was Howard,” Tracey said. “Howard Kerble. He and my mother had a big fight last night.”
“You never said anything about a big fight before.”
“I forgot.”
“You forgot to tell the police that your mother had a big fight with her fiancé on the night of her murder?”
“I was confused. I was upset. I was afraid he’d come back and get me.”
“You said you thought it was Tony.”
“I was wrong!”
“Now you’re saying it was Howard?”
“I don’t know who it was!” Tracey bolted from her chair with such force, it fell backward, crashing to the floor.
Susan was instantly on her feet, righting the chair, trying to calm Tracey down. “Tracey, sweetheart, it’s all right. Everything’s going to be all right.”
“Why is she doing this to me?” Tracey’s eyes shot accusingly toward Vicki. “My mother is dead! Some lunatic killed her! I don’t know who it was. What are you trying to make me say?”
They heard a key at the front door, heard the door open and close, followed by the sound of footsteps in the hall and the pungent smell of Chinese food as Ariel and Whitney appeared in the doorway holding large brown bags of food.
“Oh, great,” Tracey said. “I’m starving.”
Vicki shook her head in wonderment. One minute the girl was screaming that some lunatic had killed her mother, and in almost the same breath she was salivating over Chinese food.
“Where’s your father?” a similarly shell-shocked-looking Susan asked the girls.
“He’s talking to some guys outside,” Whitney said, as she and her sister deposited the food on the counter, Tracey immediately at their side, peeking eagerly into the bags.
“Some guys? What guys?”
“Looked like cops to me,” Ariel said.
Vicki rose to her feet as Owen marched into the kitchen, Lieutenant Jacobek at his left shoulder, a smartly dressed, if decidedly plain, woman following directly behind.
“Lieutenant Jacobek,” Vicki said, assuming the role of hostess, greeting the police officer as if this were her home and not Susan’s.
“Mrs. Latimer, Mrs. Norman.” Lieutenant Jacobek nodded toward the woman, whose
dark hair matched her dark complexion. “This is my partner, Lieutenant Gill.”
“I understand you released Tony Malarek,” Susan said.
“I’m afraid we had no choice.”
“I think it was Howard Kerble,” Tracey offered.
“Be quiet, Tracey,” Vicki instructed without taking her eyes off the two police lieutenants. “Why exactly are you here, Officers?”
“We have a few more questions for Tracey,” Lieutenant Jacobek answered warily. “Is there a problem with that? She obviously wants to cooperate.”
“Can’t this wait till after dinner?” Tracey asked.
Owen stepped forward, ushered his daughters from the room.
“Why do you think Howard Kerble killed your mother?” Lieutenant Jacobek asked Tracey as soon as they were gone.
“Because he and my mother had a big fight last night. I forgot to tell you about it.”
“Tracey …,” Vicki interrupted.
“I was just telling Mrs. Latimer and Mrs. Norman about it,” Tracey continued. “They had this huge fight because my mother told him she didn’t want to marry him. She even gave him back his ring. That’s why she wasn’t wearing it.”
“What time did this argument take place?” Lieutenant Gill asked, carefully noting down everything Tracey said.
“I don’t know. Around seven o’clock, I guess.”
“Howard Kerble was having dinner with his son at seven o’clock last night,” Lieutenant Jacobek said.
“It was later,” Tracey corrected immediately. “It must have been closer to nine.”
“He didn’t leave his son’s house until almost ten.”
“Then it was ten. What difference does it make what time it was?”
“Be quiet, Tracey,” Vicki said again. “What are you getting at, Officers?”
“We’re just trying to find out what happened,” Lieutenant Jacobek stated, exactly as Vicki had known he would.
“Is my client under suspicion?” Vicki asked.
“Is she your client?”
“Is she under suspicion?”
“A bloody golf club was found hidden at the back of Tracey’s closet. A diamond ring was found in her jewelry box.”
“What were you doing going through my things?” Tracey protested. “Don’t you need some kind of warrant?”
“Shut up, Tracey,” Vicki said. She looked at Susan, saw her holding her breath. “I repeat, is my client under suspicion?”
“We’ll go you one better, Counselor,” Lieutenant Jacobek answered. “She’s under arrest.”