I've Got You Under My Skin

by Mary Higgins Clark

  “I can understand that,” Laurie said soothingly. “So just sit the way you did that morning, and we’ll start taking pictures. Don’t look at the cameras. Look at the picture and try to re-create the same poses.”

  From his vantage point behind one of the cameras, Alex Buckley could feel the tension in the room, the same kind of tension that he sometimes felt in a courtroom when an important witness was called to the stand. He knew Laurie Moran was going for dramatic impact by having the two pictures incorporated into the film, but he also knew that her goal was to unsettle the graduates and Jane until one or more of them gave a statement that contradicted what was on record. Alex watched as Meg, the makeup artist, came quietly into the den, a compact in her hand. He knew she was there in case the camera revealed anyone’s face to be too shiny.

  He marveled at the graduates’ youthful appearances and how they all had stayed slender, and he thought that Nina, who didn’t look thirty, had probably had some work done. It had been a shock to see Claire Bonner, who just yesterday had looked so glamorous and so like the pictures of her mother, by comparison look shockingly plain today. What kind of game is she playing? he wondered.

  “All right, let’s get started,” Laurie was saying. “Grace, that pillow behind Nina, it’s too far to the right.” Grace adjusted it. Laurie checked the camera again and nodded to the cameraman. Alex watched as picture after picture was taken with an occasional comment from Laurie.

  “Alison, try not to turn to the left. Nina, sit back the way you were in the original, otherwise you look as if you are posing. Jane, turn your head a little this way.”

  It was thirty-five minutes before Laurie was satisfied with what she saw in the camera’s viewfinder. “Thanks very much,” she said briskly. “We’ll take a short break and then Alex will start interviewing you. Claire, he’ll start with you. We’ll be back in the den and you two will sit opposite each other in the chairs you and Jane are in now. The rest of you will have some downtime. There are news­papers and magazines in the dressing rooms. It’s such a beautiful day, I imagine you will want to sit on the patio?”

  One by one they all got to their feet. Jane was the first one to head for the door. “I’ll put the snacks out and you can help yourselves,” she said. “You can have them outside or in the breakfast room. We’ll be having lunch at one-thirty.”

  46

  Chief Ed Penn did not realize how much Leo’s abiding worry about his daughter’s safety while the Under Suspicion program was being filmed had affected him.

  Even though he had ordered the squad car for the back road, he decided to take a look at the site himself. He was admittedly very curious to see how the graduates looked twenty years later.

  It was around ten o’clock when, after having checked the squad car, the Chief decided to go onto the grounds and meet Laurie Moran. Of course he would not tell her of her father’s concern, but on the other hand she was with six people who had been in the house on the night of Betsy Powell’s murder. Penn was convinced that one of those six people was the murderer.

  Robert Powell had been in a state of collapse with his hands badly burned from the steaming cup of coffee he had been carrying to his wife. He still could have killed her and figured that burns on his hands were a small price to pay for the appearance of innocence, Penn thought.

  Chief Penn well knew that Regina’s father had committed suicide because of the investment he made in Powell’s hedge fund. A grieving daughter might very well have resented Powell for being the indirect cause of his death. The Chief was sure Regina had been lying when she claimed there was no suicide note. She had been only fifteen then, but she had withstood intense questioning, which suggested to him a steely resolve beyond her years.

  Claire Bonner was a puzzle. Was it shock that made her so calm after her mother’s death? He had been at the funeral. While tears streamed down Robert Powell’s face, Claire had been cool, calm, and collected, as the expression went.

  Nina Craig he knew less about—only that her mother constantly castigated her for introducing Betsy Bonner to Robert Powell.

  Alison Schaefer seemed to be the one least likely to have a grudge against Betsy. She got married four months after Bonner’s death, and, at that time, Rod had a brilliant future in football.

  Penn had wondered if the paparazzi would try to get on the set. But there was no evidence of that. The guard at the gate let the Chief’s car pass through, and his driver, a young policeman, parked behind the vans. “I won’t be long,” Penn told him and walked toward the patio, where people were gathered for lunch.

  Laurie came to meet him and escorted him back to the group, where Penn immediately recognized the four graduates. They were sitting at the same table with Alison’s husband and they all looked up as he approached. They all seemed startled, then defensive, but Regina was the only one who seemed to recoil as if from a blow.

  He addressed her first. “Regina, I don’t know if you remember me,” he said.

  “Yes, of course I remember you,” she replied.

  Chief Penn continued. “How have you been? I was sorry to hear about your mother’s death right after she moved to Florida.”

  It was on the tip of Regina’s tongue to say that her mother died of a broken heart because she never got over her husband’s death, but that might open up the subject of the suicide note. Or is the police chief here because he already has it? she wondered. Hoping her hand would not tremble, Regina picked up her glass of iced tea and began to sip it as the police chief greeted the other graduates.

  He turned to the table where Laurie, Alex Buckley, Muriel Craig, Jerry, and Grace were sitting.

  “In a few minutes Alex will be talking with Regina about her memory of that night and the next morning,” Laurie said. “Tomorrow evening when it gets dark, we will be filming the graduates in evening dresses against the background of the film of the party taken that evening. If you would like to come by and see that scene, you are welcome to come back.”

  It was at just that point that Robert Powell came out to the patio. “I’ve been working in my office,” he explained. “Anyone who runs a hedge fund cannot take his eyes off the market for even a minute. Ed, how are you? Are you here to protect us from each other?”

  “I don’t think that’s necessary, Mr. Powell.”

  Even though he was smiling and seemed at ease, Penn could see the fatigue around Robert Powell’s eyes and the overall weariness in his body as he sat down at the table and shook his head when Laurie offered him a sandwich from the platter Jane had placed there. Muriel, who had been complaining she had nothing to do, suddenly came alive.

  “Rob, dear,” she said, “you’ve worked enough today. Why don’t you and I go over to the club for a round of golf? I used to be a pretty good golfer, you know. I’m sure I can rent clubs, and I put golf shoes in my tote bag, just in case I could persuade you.”

  Laurie expected to hear a flat refusal, but Powell smiled. “That’s the best idea I’ve heard all day,” he said. “But I’m so sorry to say I must take a rain check. I have a lot of work to do in my office.” He paused, then looked at Laurie. “You don’t have anything for me to do today, I gather?”

  “No, Mr. Powell. Alex will be interviewing the girls one by one. And then Jane, if we have time today.”

  “How long will the interviews take?” Powell asked. “I expected them to be about ten minutes each.”

  “They’ll be cut to that time,” Laurie said. “But Alex is planning to speak with each of them for about an hour. Isn’t that right, Alex?”

  “Yes, it is.”

  “Mr. Rob, are you sure that you don’t want to have a snack?” Jane asked. “You hardly touched your breakfast.”

  “Jane takes such good care of me,” Powell told the others. “In fact, sometimes she’s almost like a mother hen.”

  Not exactly a compliment, Laurie thought. She could
see from the flush on Jane’s face that she didn’t think so, either.

  “Familiarity breeds contempt,” Muriel snapped, staring at Jane as Robert Powell pushed back his chair and went into the house.

  Wordlessly, Jane turned away from the table and went to where the graduates and Rod were seated. They all declined more coffee, and seeing that, Laurie pushed back her chair. “If you didn’t know it before, I guess you know it now. There’s a lot of waiting around in this business. Alex will start by interviewing Claire. When she is finished she can go back to the hotel, and then the same for each of you. Figure about an hour apiece.”

  Chief Penn stood up. “Any sign of the paparazzi or anyone trying to get in here while you’re filming,” he told Laurie, “give me a call immediately.” He handed her his card.

  Rod said to Alison, “It’s getting warm out here. I guess we’re not invited to sit in the living room,” he added sarcastically, “and the den is being used for filming. But I suppose we can sit in the breakfast room. The chairs look comfortable there.”

  Laurie stood up and said to Claire, “I do think you should have a little more makeup on. With your blond eyebrows and lashes you’ll end up looking terribly washed out on camera. You really need a little touch-up.” She looked toward the door of the makeup van. “They’re ready for you now,” she said. With a brief nod, she walked over to the door that led to the den and opened it.

  Chief Penn signaled to his driver and walked over to his car. He happened to glance at Bruno, who was meticulously searching for any scrap of paper or matted grass that might be disrupting the serene beauty of the grounds. Penn barely caught a glimpse of Bruno’s profile, but as he got into the car he realized that something in his subconscious was bothering him. A little voice was saying, I should know this guy, but why?

  As Alex Buckley followed Laurie into the den, he had exactly the same thought about Bruno. I should know that guy, but why? Alex hesitated, then reached into his pocket for his phone and snapped a photo. He made a mental note to get the landscaper’s name and forward it to his investigator.

  And then, for the first time, the four graduates were alone, and Josh, who had been helping Jane serve coffee, saw his chance. “I have a present for the three of you,” he said, “except Claire.” He looked at Claire. “I tried to talk to you in the car, but you were having none of it.” Josh looked at the other three graduates. “Here is a tape I think each one of you will find very interesting. You especially, Regina. Maybe you’ve mislaid something I found?”

  He handed separate envelopes to Regina, Alison, and Nina, then said, “There is a cassette player in the drawer of the vanity in the rest­room by the kitchen. Why don’t we talk after the three of you have a chance to listen to the tapes?”

  Then Josh picked up the coffee cups in front of him and said: “See you all later,” in a confident voice, with just the slightest undertone of threat.

  47

  Because his office was next to the den, where all the activity was taking place, Robert Powell chose to go back upstairs to the bedroom suite he had shared with Betsy for the nine years of their marriage. At his curt request Jane followed him with a fresh pot of coffee. Then, sensing his irritable mood, she closed the door to his bedroom so she could make up the room quickly and quietly. She skipped her usual vacuuming because she knew the sound of it would annoy him. Then she left by the bedroom door to go downstairs.

  Robert was wondering once again whether he had made a drastic mistake by inviting these girls—women, he corrected himself sarcastically—to reenact what had happened twenty years ago. Had his doctor’s prognosis been the reason for it? Or was it because of a perverse need to see them again, to toy with them as Betsy had toyed with them all those years ago? Had he absorbed so much of Betsy’s personality that he no longer had anything left of his own, even twenty years later? Each graduate had a reason to kill Betsy, he knew that. It would be interesting to see if one of them broke down under Alex Buckley’s questioning. He was sure Buckley was capable of detecting prepared answers.

  Powell would bet that all the graduates had carefully practiced what they would say in their one-on-one interview with Buckley. He was sure they would start with their first impressions of what they saw when they ran into Betsy’s room after hearing him shout.

  It seemed like only yesterday that he had walked into her bedroom carrying the cup of coffee that she had always insisted be red-hot “to get the flavor through the coffee beans.”

  Rob looked down at the angry scars on his hands that had ­resulted from walking into Betsy’s room and seeing the pillow covering her face. Betsy’s long blond hair had spilled out from under it, her hands still clutching the pillow’s edges. She had obviously been struggling to push the pillow away from her face.

  He remembered shrieking her name and trying to keep the coffee cup from spilling before his knees buckled under him. He remembered Jane leaning over him and attempting some clumsy CPR while the girls stood around the bed like ghostly wraiths. The next thing he remembered was waking up in the hospital, conscious of nothing but the pain in his hands, and calling out for Betsy.

  Robert Powell leaned back in his chair. It was time to go downstairs and make some business calls. But he hesitated for a moment as he stopped to reflect on what Claire would be telling Buckley.

  He realized that what had been amusing to him was no longer amusing. All he wanted now was to have these women out of this house and to resume what little time was left of his quiet and pleasant life.

  48

  Alex looked at Claire Bonner across the table from him in the den. Claire had once again resisted Meg Miller’s suggestion to touch up her lashes and eyebrows. Now, as Alex looked at her, he found it incongruous to compare her with the beautiful woman who had walked into this house yesterday.

  It was easy to see what had made the difference. Claire’s long lashes and well-shaped eyebrows were very pale, as was her complexion. She wore no lip coloring, and he could swear that she had washed the gold highlights out of her hair. I’ll find out what she’s up to, he thought and smiled encouragingly at her when Laurie said, “Action,” and the camera’s red light went on.

  “I’m here in the home of Wall Street financier Robert Nicholas Powell,” he began, “whose beautiful wife, Betsy Bonner Powell, was murdered twenty years ago following a Graduation Gala for Betsy’s daughter, Claire, and Claire’s three closest friends and fellow graduates. Claire Bonner is with me now. Claire, I know this has to be extraordinarily difficult for all of you to be here today. Why did you agree to come on the program?”

  “Because the other girls and I, and to a lesser degree my step­father and the housekeeper, have been under suspicion as ‘persons of interest’ in Betsy’s death, which is the new way of saying it, for the last twenty years,” Claire declared passionately. “Can you have any idea of what it’s like to be in a supermarket and see your own picture on the cover of some trashy magazine with the question ‘Was she jealous of her beautiful mother’?”

  “No, I can’t,” Alex replied quietly.

  “Or maybe there would be a picture of the four of us lined up, as if we had had mug shots taken of us by the police. That’s why we’re here today, to make the public realize how unfairly we four young women, who were traumatized beyond belief and bullied by the police, have been treated. That’s why I’m here now, Mr. Buckley.”

  “And I assume that’s why the other girls are here, too,” Alex Buckley said. “Have you done much catching up with them?”

  “We actually haven’t had very much time to visit,” Claire said. “I know it’s because you people didn’t want us to put our stories together. Well, let me tell you something: we have not boned up on each other’s stories, and I think you will find that out. They’ll be pretty much the same because we were together at the moment when everything was happening.”

  “Claire, before we discuss your mothe
r’s death, I’d like to go back in time a little. Why don’t we start with your mother’s meeting with Robert Powell? I understand you had only lived in Salem Ridge a short while. Is that right?”

  “Yes, it is. I had graduated from grammar school in June, and my mother wanted to move up to Westchester County. Quite frankly, I know she wanted to meet a rich man. She found a rental in a two-family house, and I can assure you there aren’t many two-family houses in Salem Ridge.

  “I started my freshman year in high school that September, and that’s when I became friends with Nina and Alison and Regina. My birthday is in October, and Mother splurged and took me to La Boehm in Bedford. Nina Craig and her mother were there. Nina spotted us, and asked us to come over and meet her mother. Of course we also met Robert Powell, who was at the table. I guess it was love at first sight for both of them, my mother and Robert. I do know that Nina’s mother has never gotten over the fact that ‘Betsy stole Rob from me when we were on the verge of becoming engaged,’ as she put it.”

  “Your own father had abandoned you and your mother when you were only an infant. How did your mother manage to look after you and still work full-time?”

  “My grandmother was alive until I was three years old.” Tears began to shine in Claire’s eyes as she mentioned her grandmother. “Then there was a series of babysitters, one after the other. If they failed to show up, Mother would bring me to the theatre and I’d sleep in an empty chair, or sometimes it would be in an empty dressing room if the play had a small cast. One way or the other we managed. But then Mother met Robert Powell, and of course everything changed.”

  “You and your mother had been very close, I gather? Were you ever jealous of the fact that Robert Powell came so suddenly into your life and claimed so much of your mother’s time and attention?”

  “I wanted her to be happy. He was obviously a very rich man. After the dinky little apartments we’d lived in all my life, it seemed like heaven to move into this beautiful house.”