If You Ever Tell

by Carlene Thompson

  In fact, she wasn’t even sure if the person was male or female. She knew it wasn’t Mac—he was taller. She’d seen him one Saturday when Daddy had taken her to Bennigan’s and he’d winked at her. Then she’d seen him tonight with Teri. When Celeste had lived in the Farr house, Teri and Mac had loved each other, although Teri had told her it was a huge secret that she must never tell, and she never did. Anyway, she knew the person dragging to Teri’s door wasn’t Mac. Maybe it was that guy Josh she’d met in the barn the other day, she thought anxiously. He was the son of Gus Gibbs, the man who got murdered. Some people said Josh had murdered his father, but Celeste knew he hadn’t, and it wasn’t just because he was cute. Everything would be okay if it was Josh.

  If it wasn’t Josh, it could be Kent, Celeste thought, desperately hoping she was right. She remembered him as being bigger than this person seemed to be, but she’d been little when she last saw him. Anyway, the important thing was that Kent wouldn’t hurt Teri. Kent had loved Teri, although he’d always tried to act cool, like he didn’t even notice his younger sister.

  Or maybe it was Kent’s wife! Celeste had met her a long time ago, before she and Kent got married. Hugh hadn’t liked her. Hugh hadn’t liked anyone except Mommy, Celeste thought bitterly. He’d been mean to Kent’s girlfriend and one day made her run from the house crying. Celeste couldn’t remember the girl’s name. Besides, her name didn’t matter. Celeste didn’t care about names.

  But she feared. She feared she knew who had come to see Teri and she feared she knew why. With a sinking heart, Celeste saw Teri open the door. The person flew into Teri’s arms and Teri clasped the person, whom she immediately pulled inside, closing the door behind them.

  Oh, please don’t let that be who I think it is, Celeste begged no one in particular. Please.

  Celeste waited until she’d regained her breath and her legs felt slightly rested before she stood and moved quickly toward the house. Her recent encounters with shrubbery reminded her that people often let it grow as high as first-floor windows. People like Teri. Celeste dodged behind the sturdy boxwood shrubs that surrounded most of Teri’s house. Whenever Celeste came to a window, she rose just high enough to look inside, even if it was dark. At last, she came to a window from which spilled a warm, bright glow. Forcing herself to ascend until her eyes were just above the windowsill, she saw a kitchen. In the kitchen, Teri stood holding two large glasses of a greenish liquid.

  And the woman Celeste had seen at the fireworks display—the woman who’d cried out in surprise when a loud firework startled her, just like she’d cried out eight years ago when she’d opened Mommy’s bedroom door and seen an eight-year-old Celeste standing there. The woman in the park whose gaze had landed on Celeste, who had been unable to stop staring since she’d heard the woman’s surprised yelp. Earlier this evening, after all these years, they’d seen each other and each had known—Celeste knew this was who had killed her mother and Hugh, and the woman knew that Celeste had finally recognized her.

  And now that woman was sitting at a kitchen table pointing a gun at Teri’s head.

  4

  Margarita mix slopped out of both glasses, but Teresa didn’t drop them. “Carmen, what are you doing?” she asked in a calm voice that she thought sounded like it belonged to someone else.

  Carmen said disdainfully, “What does it look like I’m doing?”

  “It looks like—” Teresa closed her eyes for a moment, then looked sternly at Carmen. “Put down that gun before you hurt someone.”

  Carmen burst out laughing, a grating laugh Teresa thought must be ripping at Carmen’s throat. “Oh, really? Well, I would never have guessed!” Her laughter abruptly stopped. “I have every intention of hurting someone.”

  Teresa stared at the woman she’d considered her friend. “Carmen, you’ve been under tremendous pressure with the store and Sharon and Gabe and…” Teri went blank, unable to think of any further pressures in Carmen’s life. “I know you’re terribly upset because Sharon humiliated you, but you have to remember that we’re in Point Pleasant, West Virginia. People around here will gossip about it for a week, then find a new topic. By now, Gabe and Kent understand that Sharon needs professional help and they’ll get it for her. As soon as his fright about his daughter is over, Gabe will be more than willing to plan a wedding if you’ll still have him.”

  “You’re never at a loss for words, Teri. Of course, most of what you said is completely wrong, but it sounded good. That’s what counts. Sounding good and looking good. Strength, sincerity, devotion, and love—well, in the world outside of books and music, they really don’t count for much. I learned that the hard way.”

  “When you were a child?”

  Carmen’s mouth pulled to a lopsided smile. “Nice stalling tactic, Teri. Yes, I started learning the truth about life in childhood. I’ve been learning ever since. Tonight endeth the lesson.”

  “My mother said there was a deep sadness in you—you just hid your sadness better than she did hers. But she thought that sadness must be what drew you together.”

  “Oh, wise Marielle.” Carmen rolled her heavily shadowed eyes. “Teri, did you really think I would choose droopy, pathologically shy Marielle Farr to be my best friend? God!”

  “You didn’t…”

  “I didn’t what? Like her? Feel sorry for her? No to both. I wanted to get close to your mother so I could get close to your father. Hugh Farr—the man with more money than just about anyone in this whole state! And while the rest of the country might think all West Virginians are on the dole, they are sadly mistaken!”

  “So Sharon was right. You were having an affair with my father.” Teresa shook her head. “I don’t know why I’m not surprised. I should be stunned, but maybe all along something I buried deep inside was that I sensed a connection between you and Dad.”

  “A connection. Quite a connection. Shortly after I became a regular visitor at your house, coming to dinner, dropping by in the evenings for a drink with Marielle and her restless husband, Hugh and I began what we joked was the relationship of the century! He couldn’t get enough of me, and believe me, Hubert Farr was insatiable when it came to sex.”

  “I really don’t care to hear the details,” Teresa said with disgust. “And if you had no feelings for my mother, what about your own husband? I thought you loved John. You stayed home for years taking care of him.”

  “Exactly.” Carmen nearly spat out the word. “Years when I was young and beautiful and should have been out having a good time. Instead, I was stuck with him. The first five years we were married, John was healthy, handsome, charming, and had a substantial bank account. And just like that”—she snapped her fingers—“my dear husband came down with carcinoid malignancy. Shall I describe it to you? Tumors develop in the appendix, the rectum, the small intestine, and the windpipe. The tumors are slow-growing and they produce severe abdominal pain, weight loss, constipation, diarrhea, and gastrointestinal tract bleeding, to name some of the more pleasant symptoms. And to top it all off, I discovered John had hardly any health insurance. He wasn’t rich, but we lost what he did have in a very long effort to save him. And, of course, the louse had no life insurance.”

  “Oh. I… see.”

  “How could you?” Carmen snarled. “You’ve never been in a bad situation in your life.” Teresa stared at her unflinchingly. “My mother left me without a backward glance. My father cared nothing about me. A modeling career passed me by because I was two inches too short—two inches that you have and don’t appreciate. Then I married a man who became a disgusting invalid—and believe me, his illness was disgusting. None of that was fair, Teri, but I don’t take things lying down. I fix them. That’s all I tried to do—correct a destiny that had gone off track.

  “But after nearly two years of being Hugh’s mistress, I was getting desperate,” Carmen went on, now speaking sociably, as if to a casual friend. “I felt a difference in Hugh—he was easily bored, you know. Still, my husband lingered. The
oncologist said it was a miracle.” Carmen let out a harsh, jarring laugh. “So one night I gave John a bit too much morphine—enough to shut down his respiratory system. Not even his doctor was skeptical about John’s death. The authorities didn’t even do a tox screen.”

  “We all felt so sorry for you,” Teresa murmured. “You were probably laughing at us, gloating that you’d gotten away with murder.”

  “I did John a favor—I ended his suffering.” Carmen smiled for a moment. Then she sighed. “I knew I couldn’t have Hugh immediately. Things had to be done tastefully, which was easy because almost everyone in town knew Marielle had mental problems. For two years we’d talked about how simple it would be for Hugh to completely break her emotionally.” Teresa tried not to let Carmen see her wince. “She took a lot of medication. He said sometimes she didn’t even pay close attention to what she was taking, and he could mix up things, put her in a drugged state, and pretend she’d done something to hurt you—inflict an injury in the night to a sleeping victim. Ring a bell?”

  “So Dad gave you the idea for how to commit his own murder,” Teresa said in a bleak voice. “I wish I could think that was almost funny, but I can’t.”

  “No? I can. I did for over eight years.” Carmen took a deep breath. “We knew if Marielle appeared to have hurt you, no one would blame him for putting her in an institution and then realizing he had to divorce her—for the sake of his children, of course. To set you both free of the memory of your dangerous mother.

  “In a while, Hugh could have married me with no one suspecting anything wrong. After all, by then I would have been friends with the family for years. Dammit, it would have been perfect if not for that empty-headed, overblown, stupid little whore Wendy Warner!” Carmen’s voice turned loud and vicious. “God, I can hardly bear to say her name, even now! You don’t know how good it felt to stab her over and over and—”

  “Carmen!” Teri’s voice emerged like a whip as she watched Carmen’s hand wavering dangerously, her finger pressing slightly on the trigger of the gun. Her heart pounding, Teresa murmured, “Carmen, I hated Wendy, too. But she’s gone. Neither one of us has to think about her anymore. Don’t think about her. Just—”

  “Settle down and quit yelling? Maybe lose control of this gun? You’re right, Teri. I must stay in control.” Carmen stood up. “I want you to turn around and put those glasses on the counter. Don’t try anything, as they say in the movies, because I have the gun at your head. After you set down the glasses, turn back to me.”

  Teresa turned slowly and set down the glasses. Facing the window for an instant, she thought she caught a glimpse of blond hair, of a pale forehead and blue eyes, but then the image vanished. A reflection, she thought. But a reflection of whom? Not of her or Carmen.

  “I told you to put down the glasses and then turn back to me,” Carmen said impatiently. “Are you going to gaze out the window all night? Are you wishing on a star, perhaps?” Carmen giggled, and for a moment Teresa thought the woman might be losing concentration and she’d have a chance to dive for the gun. But as abruptly as Carmen’s giggling had begun, it stopped.

  Teri turned and faced the woman who looked as if she’d aged twenty years since early in the evening. She’d looked lovely at the fireworks display—younger than her age, bright-eyed, her cheeks bearing the same natural blush as a teenage girl. Now she was a shrunken, wild-eyed, grayish-skinned parody of that lovely woman.

  “What now?” Teri asked.

  Carmen smiled. “Now you go upstairs and get Daniel.”

  CHAPTER

  TWENTY-TWO

  1

  CELESTE DIDN’T KNOW THE woman pointing a gun at Teri. She didn’t remember her from the days when her mother had been married to Hugh. Celeste was fairly certain she’d seen her in Bennigan’s the day she smelled the perfume that had made her start talking again, and of course she’d seen her at the park tonight. The woman was older than Teri but younger than Grandma—at least she’d looked younger at the fireworks display. Now she looked even older than Grandma—tired and so weird she could go out on Halloween without a costume. Someone had said the woman’s name. What was it? Carla? Carlene? Cameron?

  Carmen!

  Celeste let out a silent Yes! Then she clapped a hand over her mouth, thinking that for now, at least, it was good that she’d lost her voice. Otherwise, they would have heard her. She already thought Teri had seen her when Teri turned around and put the glasses on the counter. She’d looked right at the window and Celeste had seen her frown slightly before Celeste had time to duck. Then Teri turned around again. Celeste had raised her head high enough to see that Carmen was talking. She also still had the gun pointed at Teri.

  Perspiration ran in thin rivulets down Celeste’s arms. A fourth mosquito bit tenaciously on her neck, and the bites on her hands and arms itched unbearably. She thought longingly of the insect repellant Grandma had tried to douse her with before they went to see the fireworks. She’d dodged the spray then. Now she’d gladly put it on every inch of her exposed body, but it was too late. Besides, mosquitoes were the least of her troubles.

  Celeste knew most girls her age had cell phones. Daddy would have bought her one, but there was no need for a girl who couldn’t speak to have a cell phone. He’d mentioned getting her one just a couple of days ago. She wished she had one now, but they hadn’t had time to pick out one. Besides, once again she could not speak. Who would she call? She knew her own home phone number, Teri’s number, and 911. She certainly wouldn’t call 911. She’d seen the sheriff laughing with Carmen. They were friends. He would never believe his friend was holding a gun on Teresa Farr, even if Celeste were capable of telling him what was happening. He’d think she was playing a trick.

  Mac. Mac could help Teri. Ever since Celeste was eight years old, she’d thought Mac MacKenzie could probably do anything. She never told Teri she had a crush on Mac, but she figured Teri knew. Teri wouldn’t have been jealous, though, and even at eight, Celeste had known guys didn’t usually fall in mad, romantic love with little girls. Her mommy had told her about creepy guys who liked little girls, but Mac was anything except creepy.

  Yes, Mac could save the day, Celeste thought. But Mac wasn’t here. If only she could send him some kind of mental message, he’d come. It sounded silly, even to her, but she didn’t care about being silly right now. She cared about saving Teri’s life.

  Celeste reverentially closed her eyes and pictured her beautiful night-light Snowflake. You’re magical and mystical and all that stuff, she told the absent Snowflake. You helped me once. Help me again. Wherever you are, help me and help Teri.

  Celeste opened her eyes, blushing in the darkness because she knew regular sixteen-year-old girls didn’t beg night-lights for miracles. If she’d spoken that message aloud and anyone heard her, they’d put her in some place for crazy people and never let her out.

  But Teri would understand. And maybe, if Celeste wasn’t actually as crazy as she knew her thoughts made her seem, Snowflake would once again come to Celeste and Teri’s aid.

  2

  Suddenly Teresa’s legs felt like water. Go get Daniel? “Carmen, you don’t intend to kill a child, do you?”

  Carmen looked at Teri as if she were stupid. “Well, it isn’t the first time, now is it? Don’t you remember Celeste? Hugh dumped me and your mother and married Wendy in record time, leaving me with a consolation prize—he bought me Trinkets and Treasures, where I could work until I died. But I bided my time. And then I read in the paper that Wendy was pregnant—they’d even given a party to make the announcement—and I couldn’t stand it any longer. So I came into that house and I killed him and I killed Wendy and I left you with barely more than a scratch on your arm.”

  “To point suspicion at me.”

  “Exactly. My only disappointment was that I didn’t get to kill Wendy’s spawn, Celeste. You ruined that.”

  “And I’m so glad I did.”

  “Yes, aren’t you?” Carmen gave her a bone-
chilling smile. “But unlike cats, girls don’t have nine lives.”

  “Celeste?” Teresa’s voice shook. “On the scanner I heard a call to come to the Warner house. A neighbor reported an attack. You went there, didn’t you? You killed Celeste!”

  “Well, not quite. I got her father and her grandmother, but that slippery little girl got away. At least for the time being.”

  “You killed Jason and Fay Warner?” Teri asked in horror. “Why?”

  “All I really wanted was the girl. She recognized me in the park tonight. I don’t know how after all these years, but she knew I was the person who’d killed her mother. I knew at the park I had to shut her up before she could tell anyone—at least anyone who would believe her. But it turns out that as far as Gabe was concerned, I didn’t have anything to fear from Celeste. My real nemesis turned out to be Sharon.”

  Carmen tilted her head, and her eyes took on a faraway, musing look. “I really did love Gabe. I didn’t love your father—he was basically a brute. I wanted what he could give me. But my feelings for Gabe had nothing to do with money or position. I just wanted him. But once again, I lost out. Sharon didn’t want me to have him, and with him, Sharon came first, not me. So, odd as it seems, Celeste didn’t ruin my life with Gabe—Sharon did. Gabriel gave up me for that spoiled, self-centered brat.”

  Carmen paused, looking slightly beyond Teri as if her consciousness were temporarily leaving her body. Then she snapped back to attention. “You know by now I don’t lose well. At first I thought of killing Sharon, but I don’t know where she is. Then I thought of killing Gabe, but he’s out looking for Sharon. So I came up with a much better plan—a much more hurtful plan. I will take away the only thing they love as much as each other—Daniel.” Carmen tilted her head and smiled girlishly. “Now let’s go get the child. Together.”