“She called the station yesterday before she called you.”
“Do you think … ?”
“I think she doesn’t know anything,” Liam said firmly.
“Yes, but she told me something Conar didn’t,” Jennifer said, staring down at her dressing table. “Conar claimed the night we found her that he didn’t know Trish Wildwood. Lila suggested that he more than knew her.”
“And what?”
Her eyes shot up. It wasn’t Liam speaking, it was Conar. He stood just outside her dressing room, gray eyes sharp and hard as tacks, tall and lean and wickedly rugged-looking in a casual black suede jacket. Something seemed to lurch inside of her at the way he looked at her. He had closed off. He’d had it with her, she thought.
Conar said smoothly, “Let me assure you, in front of Miss Connolly, that the police are welcome to anything they like—hair, skin, blood, semen, DNA, what the hell, whatever they want, anytime they want. Serena just told me you’re giving her and Kelly a lift to her house. Would you extend your civic duties, Liam, to seeing Miss Connolly home as well?”
He didn’t wait for an answer. He turned and left.
Chapter 16
DURING THE DRIVE HOME, Jennifer began to wish that she, too, were staying at Serena’s. Tonight, they were going to order pizza, drink a bunch of the promotional wine made by a local vineyard and labeled Valentine Valley, and watch old movies.
“You’re more than welcome to stay,” Serena told her.
“I would, but …”
“I thought that your mother was checking into the hospital tonight,” Kelly said.
“She is, but I want to visit with her, and I guess I want to be at the house just in case anything happens.”
“Edgar could call you,” Serena pointed out.
“I know. I guess I just feel closer to her at Granger House.”
Liam met her eyes in the mirror. There was pity in them.
Liam dropped Kelly and Serena off then drove to Granger House. He didn’t speak to her, and she wondered if he was angry that she’d accused Conar.
“Hey, you’ve got company,” Liam noted.
She looked at the wide curving driveway. Her own car was back—Conar had driven fast, she thought. Drew Parker’s flashy vehicle was there as well. And there was another car, one she didn’t recognize, a white Park Avenue.
A young man in jeans and a T-shirt got out of the car, approaching them.
Liam apparently knew the man. “Ricardo,” he said pleasantly.
“Ricardo?” Jennifer whispered.
Liam was already getting out of his car. She did the same. He shook the young man’s hand.
“Ricardo Carillo, Jennifer Connolly.”
“I recognize you,” the man said, grinning. “My wife is a huge fan.”
“Thank you very much.”
“So,” Liam said, “let me guess. Conar is hiring off-duty guys to watch the house.”
“Yep.” Ricardo grinned at Jennifer. “I’m LAPD, Miss Connolly. Off duty. Hired to keep an eye on the place. I hope that’s all right.”
“Of course. It will be great to have the protection. Are you coming in?”
“No, I’m on the outside. I’ve met the dogs, and another guy will be coming on duty when I go off duty. His name is Herb Jenkins, in case you see a different car out here.”
“That’s great, thanks.”
Liam got back into his car. “Well, I’m on my way, then.”
After he drove off, Jennifer asked Ricardo, “Can I get you anything? Something to drink, some dinner? I need to go in myself; I’m trying to find out if my mother checked into the hospital all right today, and what’s going on.”
“I have coffee in my thermos that your butler made for me. I’m fine. I’m supposed to stay out of the way.”
“Don’t hesitate to ask if you need anything.”
He grinned. “I won’t.”
She went on in, and Edgar greeted her in the foyer. “There you are, Miss Jennifer.”
“Yes, Edgar. How’s Mom?”
“She’s in room 408. She was watching today’s episode of Valentine Valley when I left her. I would have stayed awhile longer, but she wanted me home for you and Mr. Conar.”
“Thank you, Edgar. I’d like to go see her.”
“Of course. I made a light dinner, sandwiches and salad. Everything is out on the dining room buffet. Mr. Conar suggested that you might want to eat, freshen up, and then go on over.”
“Together?”
“Yes, is that all right?”
She made a face. “Of course.”
Drew Parker was with Conar in the dining room. They had both made plates. “Jennifer, Jennifer, Jennifer!” Drew exclaimed, coming to her, taking her hands. “You are one busy little lady. One thing after another! Are you all right, dear? Tell me about your awful experience last night.”
“Why? I’m sure Conar has already told you the whole story,” she said, then winced. It wasn’t what she had meant to say. Conar, however, displayed no emotion whatsoever. He watched her with his steady gaze. She felt a trembling sensation in the pit of her stomach. She wanted to walk over to him, lay her head against his shoulder, and tell him she was sorry. His eyes seemed to tell her to stay the hell away from him.
“Well, of course, but … you are all right?” Drew said, not seeming to realize that the room rippled with tension. His eyes were anxious on Jennifer as he studied her.
“I’m perfectly fine, just anxious about Mother.”
“Of course. Well, she’s asked me to stay here at the house while she’s in the hospital. Do you mind?”
“Drew, it’s Mom’s house, she can ask whomever she wants to stay here.”
“Yes, she can. But I want it to be all right with you.”
“You’re her oldest and dearest friend. Of course it’s all right with me that you stay here.”
“Have a sandwich, dear.”
“I think I’ll just run up and shower and change quickly,” she said.
She lingered in her room, hoping that Conar would come up and talk to her. He didn’t. When she went back downstairs, they were ready to drive to the hospital.
When they arrived, however, Abby was sleeping. She was in a pleasant private room, but though she, Conar, Drew, Edgar, and Abby’s nurse had piled into the room, Abby didn’t seem to hear a thing. The nurse told Jennifer that she had been given a pill, and would probably not awaken until the next morning.
“Why?” Jennifer asked. “What was done to her?”
The nurse smiled. “Nothing, honestly. We’re just trying to see that she gets the best rest she can.”
“Maybe I should stay with her.”
The nurse, a pretty, compassionate brunette, smiled warmly. “She said that you’d probably try to do that, and she told me that I was to tell you in no uncertain terms to go home.”
Jennifer flushed, hearing Drew’s soft laughter right behind her.
The nurse told her, “Seriously, she’s fine, she’s sleeping well. Go home. Those chairs are wretched. And if she opts for surgery in the future, well, you’ll probably wind up sleeping here a night or two then.”
“All right. Thanks. Thanks so much. For her.”
“She’s a doll.”
Jennifer walked over to Abby’s side. Her mother was sleeping so peacefully. She barely trembled. She looked so beautiful at rest. Jennifer kissed her cheek. “I love you, Mom.” Abby couldn’t hear her, but Jennifer had to say it anyway. She rose, thanked the nurse again, and left the room.
In the car, Conar sat in front with Edgar. Jennifer sat in back with Drew.
When they reached the house, it was late. A new car was in the driveway. The second off-duty cop hired to watch the house, Jennifer thought. Conar left to greet the man.
She went on in with Edgar and Drew. “Shall I make tea?” Edgar asked.
“I would love some,” Drew said.
Conar came back into the house. “I’m going up,” he announced. “Ear
ly call, and late day tomorrow. You, too, Jennifer.”
He left the hallway. “Well, I guess I’m going up, too,” she said. “Good night, both of you.”
She kissed Drew and Edgar on the cheek.
She walked upstairs and stood in the hallway for what seemed like forever. Conar’s door didn’t open. She walked down the hallway and hesitantly tapped on it. He opened it in a towel. He had just stepped from the shower; his hair was still wet.
“Look, I’m sorry,” she said.
“Are you? Well, thanks for saying so.”
“No, I mean, I’m really sorry—”
“And I’m really tired of you saying one thing one minute, then accusing me the next.”
“But I don’t—”
“You don’t what? You don’t believe I’m a heinous killer? You should hear the things you say. And worse. You should see your eyes.”
“I really …” She paused, lowering her head. This was hard. “I feel safe with you,” she told him.
“Um. Well, wouldn’t want you to worry about being safe. That’s why I hired the cops. But wait a minute,” he said. He turned, walking into the room, to the bed. He picked something up and came back with it.
The fur ball. It was Ripper.
Ripper let out a happy little bark.
Conar shoved the dog into her hands. “He’ll keep you safe,” he said. “He’ll bark his head off at the slightest whisper of sound anywhere near you.”
She was so humiliated that she couldn’t come up with a snappy retort.
He closed the door on her.
“Bastard,” she whispered to the closed door, tears stinging her eyes.
She quickly went down the hall to her own room. She didn’t want Drew Parker or Edgar to come up and find her crying in front of Conar Markham’s closed door—a door closed specifically to her.
She closed her door and locked it, sniffing, furious with herself. She set Ripper down at the foot of her bed and went into the bathroom and washed the tears from her face with cold water. She could imagine what her soap character’s analyst would be saying to her. “Are you hurt, Ms. Valentine, really hurt, or is your pride bruised, your ego wounded?”
“I’m hurt,” she told the mirror. “Damn him!”
She walked back out to the bedroom. “I think it’s a Tweetie Bird night again,” she told Ripper.
Ripper gave her a little bark and thumped his tiny stub of a tail.
“It’s you and me, bud,” she told him.
She tried to sleep but no dice. She wondered if she could call in sick the next day and spend the time at the hospital with Abby. But if Abby had surgery, she’d be asking for major time off. She couldn’t take the days now. And tomorrow was the “big” day. Joe Penny’s plunge into suspense. What were they doing with her character?
At last she fell asleep.
For once, she didn’t feel anyone watching her.
She awoke late, and she wouldn’t have awakened even then if it weren’t for the fact that Ripper was at her door, barking.
She bolted up. Sun was streaming in.
“Shit!”
She opened her door, letting Ripper out. She was surprised that Conar hadn’t been up to tell her how late she was running. She ran into her bath, discarding Tweetie as she did so, hopping into the shower. She didn’t bother with street makeup.
But when she dressed and tore downstairs, she found that Conar had already gone in. “I think he had a few things he wanted to discuss with Joe Penny. At least that’s the gist of what I understood,” Drew told her. “I’m giving you a ride in, and of course, he’s got your car, so he’ll give you a ride back.”
“Gee, does he remember that it’s my car?” she murmured.
Drew smiled a little weakly. “Ready?” he asked.
“Sure.”
As they drove, Drew seemed preoccupied. Jennifer, preoccupied herself, didn’t try to draw him out. But then he began to hem and haw a bit.
“Jennifer, you know that I sold your mother that house.”
“Yes, of course, she loves the house.”
“But … well, it’s a weird house,” Drew said. Smoothing back his white hair, he glanced her way. “Maybe it does have bad … vibes.”
“Why?”
“Well, for one, it was weird, what happened with Celia Marston.”
“The house didn’t kill her, Drew.”
“But there is a killer out there now.”
“It isn’t the house, Drew.”
He sighed, staring ahead of him. They had reached the studio. He pulled the car over.
“Thanks, Drew, for getting me here.”
“My pleasure. But, Jennifer …”
“Yes?” She stopped in her movement to exit the car and looked at him, giving him her full attention. “Drew, what is it?”
“You remember the Granger Room? That I couldn’t find that secret staircase?”
“Yes?” She felt the strange prickling sensation that had touched her now and again in the night.
“Well, it’s just that I’m pretty sure there is a staircase.”
“And that’s why I feel I’m being watched.”
He nodded uncomfortably. “Or maybe not. I don’t want to scare you. I just want you to be careful.”
“I will.” She kissed him on the cheek, feeling a new sense of creeping fear. She needed to tell Conar. Except that he had all but thrown her out of his room.
She bit her lip, heading on into the studio. She had a feeling it was going to be a very long day.
It was all about to get worse. She was in the first scene they filmed. It was a scene at the fictional Prima Piatti in which she got into an argument with Jay Braden, or her husband, old Randy Rock, then walked by Conar, and out to the street—and nervously clutched a street lamp and her stomach. Jenny Sinclair and Hannah Jeeter, two of the writers on the show beneath Doug, had argued about the scene. They were both mothers—of three and four children respectively—and argued that she wouldn’t be holding her stomach at such an early date. “Mightn’t she be as sick as a dog, even very early on?” Doug had demanded, and they had looked at one another, and the scene had stayed as written.
After her exit, Conar was then to have a confrontation with Jay, then Andy, then Serena, Hank and Vera as her parents, and at last, Kelly—whom he would let down gently, telling her that a previous commitment had him tied up for the moment. He couldn’t form another relationship until he finished with current business.
Despite the number of characters involved in the filming, it went without a hitch. Jennifer changed to “naked” strips of clothing and robe, and returned for the scene in which her sister was to find her home pregnancy test. It was finished quickly, and the others were released for the day.
“Call us,” Serena told Jennifer. “We’ll get together this weekend?”
“I hope. I need to spend some time at the hospital.”
“Of course.”
“But let’s get together.”
Serena smiled. “I have a date Saturday night. But it’s loose—we could still get together.”
“Oh? Who is this date with?”
“The cop.”
“Liam?”
“Yep. Don’t you approve?”
“Sure I do. He’s gorgeous, nice, trustworthy. What’s not to approve?”
Jennifer’s hair was wet, and with most of the cast and crew leaving the set, the air-conditioning seemed cold. She shivered and drew her terry robe around her. “Well, I guess I have to go film this top-secret scene of mine.”
Serena grinned. “See you over the weekend.”
Jennifer nodded and headed back to the center of the studio floor, where the camera crew was setting up in her “bed/bath” room. With so many people gone, the set looked eerie. Both the left and right walls were set up as the Valentine house, the vineyard house, the restaurant, the stables, the caretaker’s cottage—the “permanent” sets for the soap. There were two extra stages that could be changed quickly
and easily to resemble almost any setting. There were network storehouses in the same building, and there was a neighboring “boneyard,” an area that housed larger, often unique pieces, used for a show or movie at some point, that were no longer needed for their original purpose but were too expensive to simply discard. At the moment all the stages on the set were empty. It did resemble an empty house—very strangely laid out. Teacups remained on tables, not yet taken away by props. On the bar at Prima Piatti, speared olives continued to float in two martini glasses.
“Jennifer!” Joe called.
Doug Henson, Joe Penny, Jim Novac, Andy Larkin, Conar, and Roger Crypton, Jim’s head and favorite cameraman, were gathered together in a series of director’s chairs while props people began picking up from the earlier scenes.
“Hey, guys, it’s kind of cold,” she told them. “I don’t know what the big secret scene is as yet, but maybe I could change?”
“No, no, sit, Jennifer. Let me set up the scene for you,” Jim told her.
“It’s brilliant, really brilliant,” Joe told her. “You’ll love the ending we’ve decided on.”
“I still don’t think it’s necessary in any way,” Conar told him.
“I’ve tried to explain. We leave the audience hanging. We’re preempted for those special sports programs the Monday after the Friday when we’ll roll this episode—trust me. By Tuesday, all our matrons will be dying to see what happens next.”
Joe did seem incredibly pleased.
“What are we doing?” Jennifer asked. “I’ve still never seen a script.”
“You don’t need one.”
“I’m the only one in the scene, and I don’t need a script?”
“It’s all takes place in the shower,” Jim said.
“What?”
“It’s the shower scene,” Conar told her. “You know, Hitchcock’s scene.”
“It is not ‘the’ scene. We could get killed for ‘the’ scene.”
“Wait a minute,” Jennifer said, confused, looking at all of them, an uneasy sensation slipping along her spine. “I knew you might be writing the character out of the show, but—”
“Jennifer! Never!” Andy said. She stared at him. He didn’t look any better. As a matter of fact, he was white. His palms were sweating.
Long, Lean, and Lethal Page 25