“I think they hire out-of-work actors.” A voice behind the Henshaws answered her question.
“Kathleen! I’ve been looking all over for you!”
“Well, I’ve been here all along. I had a great vantage point at the top of the stairs when you and Jed made your entrance. I’ll give you credit: Those guys aren’t the only actors in the room. You really looked surprised!”
“I was! I opened that door expecting one of the worst messes of all time and everything was so beautiful! You had something to do with this, I expect,” she continued, looking at Kathleen who, wrapped in gold lame and white silk, was startlingly beautiful. “You didn’t come over and dust in that outfit, did you?”
“You’re not giving your husband enough credit. He really thought of everything; he knew that the house would need a certain amount of work before guests arrived and he hired both Mrs. Annie and Mrs. Knapp—you know her, she cleans for a lot of people on the other side of town—to come in while he was driving you around. They did a great job, too.”
“Then you were here.”
“Yes. Actually, Jerry and I were with the two cleaning women in the Hallards’ kitchen waiting for Chrissy’s call that you’d left. Then we all dashed over. And you must have passed the caterer’s truck on the road. They arrived about three minutes after you left … I’ll take some of that,” she interrupted herself to accost a waiter walking by carrying a tray of snow crab claws: “The food’s delicious.”
“Fantastic!” A woman wearing a deep purple dress with a tight bodice and full circle skirt and a necklace of large pearls around her neck joined them. “Happy birthday, dear.” She leaned over and kissed Susan. “It’s a beautiful party.”
“Thank you, Maureen,” Susan returned her greeting. “Are those real?”
“Yes.” She fingered them nervously. “I wear so little jewelry that I feel a little self-conscious wearing them. Colin bought them for me on his last trip to Hong Kong—to make up for forgetting my birthday two months ago. How do you get your husband to remember your birthdays so lavishly?”
“Well, this is only because it’s my fortieth. He usually needs a few hints. I shouldn’t say that,” she corrected herself. “Jed’s very good about giving presents. Although I don’t have any pearls like that! They’re gorgeous!”
“Have you seen Dawn? I hear she’s running around town wearing a diamond so big she almost needs a crane to lift her left arm. I wonder how she talked Richard Elliot into buying her that?”
“I don’t know who …” Kathleen began.
“Of course, you never met Dawn. Dawn Elliot was the town bombshell for years. At least, she already held that position when we moved in and we’ve been here ten years.”
“Bombshell?”
“Are you talking about Dawn?” Another woman leaned into their group. “I ran into her at the Inn and I couldn’t believe it—she looks better than ever. And you know she can’t possibly be a day less than forty … Happy birthday, Susan. You don’t look forty yourself, speaking of looks.”
“What I’m surprised about is that she’s still with Richard. He’s really put up with a lot,” Maureen Small stated, taking a sip from the glass she held.
“No one really knows that,” the other woman, Martha Hallard, corrected her.
“The town bombshell or the town tramp?” Kathleen asked.
“Same thing,” Maureen said firmly.
“Not really,” the other woman protested. “No one really knew whom she was sleeping with. There were just always rumors. She gives off kind of an air, you know. She has a way of dressing and moving and talking that says ‘I’m available,’ if you know what I mean.”
“You could say that about a lot of people,” Kathleen said, thinking that it could have been said of her at one time in her life—and still might be if anyone was feeling bitchy.
“Yes, but with Dawn it isn’t just her looks. She makes innuendos about other women’s husbands and being the other woman.”
“Sounds like a bitch.”
“Oh, she is, but an interesting bitch. Oh, there’s Betsy. She’ll know more about Dawn, I heard she ran into her a few days ago.”
Martha and Maureen waved to a friend and headed over to her, leaving Kathleen and Susan together by the food.
“Is she a bitch?” Kathleen asked, casually.
“It’s my birthday and I’m not going to talk about it!” Susan spun on her heel and walked away.
“You two have a fight?”
Kathleen turned to find her husband beside her.
“No, but I don’t know what’s going on. Maureen and Martha were talking about some woman who used to live in Hancock and has come back for a visit, and Susan just clammed up and refused to say anything.”
“So maybe she doesn’t like her and she has the good manners not to mention it. I wouldn’t worry about it. She looks fine now.” He nodded toward the hallway, where Susan and her husband were greeting some late arrivals. “When is Jed going to present his gift?”
“Right before the cake’s brought out. We thought that two hours was enough to allow for dinner and then we’ll all go to the garage. While everyone is there, the caterers will clear the table in the dining room and bring out coffee and cake. So, when we come back in, everything will be waiting.”
“He really has this organized, doesn’t he?”
“Yes. It’s been great helping him because he’s cared so much. He really loves her. I think it’s wonderful.”
“Well, I really love you.” He pulled his wife to him. “Isn’t that just as wonderful?”
“More. But we haven’t been married seventeen years. Let’s see if you love me then.”
“Absolutely. But, to return to the subject, how’s Jed going to get everyone to the garage?”
“I’m going to do that.”
Kathleen and her husband turned around and found that Chad was sitting in a window seat behind them.
“Well, I didn’t know you were still at the party. I thought I saw you and your sister heading upstairs a few minutes after your parents arrived,” Jerry said.
“We wanted to catch the beginning of the ‘Friday Fright Night Movie’ on channel twelve, but it’s one we’ve seen before. Chrissy is still up there watching something else. I wanted to see the speedboat races but it’s her turn to choose, so I thought I’d come down and see what was going on. There are some great cars out there. Did you see the Smalls’ Jag sedan? It almost collided with the Bowers’ Buick just now!”
“Oh, really?” Jerry was amused, but remembered how it was to be a boy well enough to encourage Chad. “Are they both okay?”
“Yeah.” He sounded disappointed. “But it would have been terrible if something had happened to that Jag—it’s brand-new. I wish the Bowers had brought their Porsche instead of the Buick. It’s the best Porsche in Hancock: a 930S, bright red with red wheels and a slope nose front, the best-looking turbo on the road. I wonder why they’re driving that old Buick?”
Kathleen was less interested in cars than her husband. “Aren’t you hungry?” she asked.
“Yeah. I came down here to find some food.”
“So why aren’t you eating?” Kathleen asked. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Susan and Jed by the front door with the Bowers. They seemed to have brought their baby with them. Kathleen wondered if this was part of their effort to appear good parents. She didn’t know the answer to that, but she guessed it was the reason that the Porsche had been left at home. She might not know as much about cars as Chad, but she knew that a Porsche wouldn’t carry the large amount of paraphernalia a baby required even for a short visit.
“Ugh. It’s all fish,” Chad was saying. “I don’t eat fish. I went into the kitchen to find something, but there are all these people in there. Hey, did you see the cake? It’s huge! I asked one of the waiters if it’s chocolate, but he didn’t know and he wouldn’t let me pick away any of the icing to take a peek.”
“Good for him. Listen, I
saw the list of food, and somewhere around here there’s Brie and crackers and some dips. There may even be a basket of something as prosaic as potato chips, if you’re lucky. I’ll help you find them, if you like.”
“Great!”
“Hey, wait. Don’t you two run off yet. I still don’t know how Jed—or Chad, rather—is going to get Susan into the garage.” He whispered the last word, knowing not to give away the secret.
“You’ll see with everyone else,” his wife replied with a smile. “Come on, Chad. I could do with a slice of Brie myself.”
A loud cry of laughter from the den led Jerry there. A couple of men were wiping their eyes and chuckling when he arrived. “Something funny?” Jerry asked a neighbor.
“Jake Bradley was just telling us about the ski weekend he and Marge spent with the Elliots up at Skull Mountain. Seems the snow was perfect and Richard and Jake and Marge skied all day while Dawn stayed at the lodge, but, in the evening, Dawn was the one so tired she had to go to bed right after supper.”
Unlike his wife, Jerry knew Dawn Elliot and the stories that surrounded her. Unlike his friends, he didn’t find the subject funny or interesting. “Skull Mountain, heh? That must have been before Marge shattered her femur. She’ll never ski hard trails like that again.”
“Probably not,” was the agreement, but the conversation was set on the Elliots and nothing was going to change it. Jerry wandered away.
As he passed the front door, the bell rang. Assuming it was another tardy neighbor, he opened it.
A good-looking man in his mid-thirties was there. Dressed in a leather jacket, jeans, and handmade cowboy boots, he was expensively, if not suitably dressed for a party. He peered in the door as though the celebration surprised him.
“This is the Henshaw’s house,” Jerry informed him when he didn’t speak.
“I must have the wrong address,” was the reply.
“If you tell me who you’re looking for, maybe I can help you find them. I’ve lived in Hancock for a long time and I know most everyone in town.”
“Yeah.” The man hesitated. “The Jones house. They live on Decker Drive, I think.”
“I don’t know any Joneses …”
“Oh, well … thanks anyway.”
Jerry watched, startled, as the other man turned abruptly and hurried down the walk toward the street. “Hey … !”
“Thanks,” came the reply, called back over his shoulder.
Jerry turned away and closed the door behind him, so he didn’t see the man get into a black Jeep with a badly damaged left side and drive off down the road.
“Feeling unsocial?” A statuesque blonde appeared at his elbow.
“No, there was this man at the door …”
“Another guest? I thought the whole town was here already.”
Jerry glanced into the rooms around the center hall in which he stood. “I know what you mean, but this was a stranger … at least I didn’t know him.”
“What did he want?”
“He was looking for the Jones house. I told him I didn’t know anybody named Jones in Hancock … Where are you going?”
“To call the police.”
“What for? Wait a minute, Brigit.” Jerry grabbed her arm. “You can’t just call the police because someone you don’t know came to the door.”
Brigit Frye brushed her short blond bangs off her forehead and looked at Jerry, a serious expression on her face. “Don’t you read your mail? The police department has been sending around pamphlets almost weekly asking that anything—anything—unusual be reported to them at once. And that definitely includes strange men wandering around in the middle of the night asking for fictitious families!”
“Brigit, you leave the phone alone. I’ve never heard such jumping to conclusions. In the first place, it is not the middle of the night, the man was very well dressed and not really strange at all, and how can you tell that he made up the name of the family? The guy was lost and he saw a party going on and knew someone was home so he stopped here for directions. The police will think you’re crazy.”
“Jerry, my house has been broken into and my mother’s antique silver stolen; my garage has been broken into and four expensive all-terrain bikes were stolen; Guy’s car window was smashed and the radio was stolen; and the filter system for the pool was ripped off …”
“The pool’s filter system?”
“Okay. That was probably some kids. But the point is that I’ve been burgled twice in the past year and I report everything! And don’t tell me to have an alarm system put in. I did. Everything I own is wired: the house, the garage, both cars. I keep expecting the damn dog to beep when I pet him. But I still report strangers—it isn’t just the police who say to, your own wife says to. And she’s in the security business, isn’t she?”
“Yes.” Jerry smiled, a little embarrassed.
“Well then?”
“Okay, point made. Are you going to call or shall I?”
“No, skip it. You’re right. The man probably just saw that people were home and came by for directions. Oh, I see Nathan over by the window. I’ve been looking for him. He has the name of the fantastic art dealer in the city who sells antique Chinese rugs at a discount. Nathan!” She ran off into the crowded living room.
“What’s she in such a rush about?”
Jerry turned and found Gloria Bower behind him, a plastic bag in her hand. “Something about oriental rugs,” he answered. “Did I see you with an infant?”
“Yes. We decided to bring Missy. Actually, we couldn’t bring ourselves to leave her at home with a strange sitter. Harvey is upstairs with her now.”
“Hey, maybe I’ll take a break and go see them,” Jerry said, heading toward the stairs.
“I wouldn’t. They’re together in the bathroom. We changed the formula that the hospital was using and she’s got a slight problem. She’s getting a quick wash. I was just going to the garage to get rid of her dirty diapers—we didn’t want to deposit them in the wastebasket. She’s a beautiful baby, but, right now, she smells.”
“They all smell. Well, tell me when she’s presentable, and I’ll go take a look. In the meantime, I think I’ll find Kathleen.”
She was in the dining room, munching on shrimp and talking about another spate of burglaries in Hancock.
“… well planned. I really don’t understand it because evidence suggests that someone who knows the homes is involved …”
“Cleaning women! It must be the cleaning women we hire. I’m going to call Flora in the morning and tell her not to come back …”
“No, I think it’s the lawn men. They’re always around our houses and they know when we’re home and what’s available. Or, you know, it could be the pool companies. They dash into the backyard once a week and clean out filters and add chemicals. They could be using those times to case things out!” Another woman offered her opinion as she reached across the table for a napkin in which to wrap the shells.
“Oh, that’s a problem,” said the woman who was going to fire Flora. “I could clean the house myself if I had to, but Brad’s too busy at his office to deal with two acres of lawn, and neither of us know anything about the garden or the pool.”
“Face it, Nadine, we’re at the mercy of these people. How do we even know that the man who comes in to wire our burglar alarm system isn’t a thief?” said the woman who was depositing her shells in a convenient ashtray behind the group.
“You’re panicking. What you’re saying just isn’t true. In the first place, most of the pool services and lawn services are checked out pretty carefully by the Hancock police. And if there’s a problem, they’re the first to be suspected. And as for the security people that come into your home, most of them are bonded. If there’s ever any problem, the company takes care of it,” Kathleen insisted, knowing that she was exaggerating. The truth was that this suburban town depended on outside help and that if the members of the community ever sat down and counted how many people they let into t
heir homes during the year they would be amazed: from delivery people to chimney sweeps to floor refinishers to wallpaper hangers. The list went on indefinitely.
“So how can we stop these constant burglaries?” Nadine asked. “You’re running your own security company, you must know what can be done.”
“No work. It’s party time!” Kathleen was relieved that her husband had interrupted at this moment and spared her an answer. Because she knew there wasn’t any. He handed her a fresh glass of champagne and passed on to another group.
“I keep hearing about this woman, Dawn … Enright was it?”
“Elliot. Yeah. She’s back in town. You’ll keep hearing about her forever. Not that some of the women in this room aren’t trying to forget her.”
“What do you mean?” Kathleen asked, more to keep the conversation going than because she was interested.
“Well, Dawn loved to imply that she was sleeping with other women’s husbands. I don’t think that anybody knew just who, though. It made some women nervous.”
“Some women?”
“Well, not me,” Nadine replied with a rueful laugh. “I love my Arthur, but I don’t think that anyone else would be interested in him.”
Kathleen privately agreed, but still didn’t know what to say. Chad’s arrival spared her more embarrassment.
“Mrs. Ward, how do you like your new 944?”
“My new what?” Nadine Ward looked down at the boy as though he had asked a question about her sex life.
“Your Porsche 944,” he answered, looking equally amazed.
“You’ll have to ask my husband that question, Chad. It’s his car,” she continued to Kathleen as Chad ran off, presumably in search of the owner of the Porsche. “If I had told him the truth, I’d have had to say that I hate it.”
“Oh?”
“Yes. In the first place, it cost more than a college education and how Arthur thinks that we’re going to pay Janie’s tuition at Brown and keep Heather in Darby Day if he continues to buy expensive sports cars is beyond me. In the second place, he loves that damn automobile more than he loves me and his daughters combined.”
The Fortieth Birthday Body Page 4