CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

1

“The private-duty nurse will be arriving there at ten o’clock tomorrow to get everything ready.” Dana held the phone handset, waiting for her husband to reply. “Ken, did you hear me?”

“A private-duty nurse?” he replied vaguely.

“Yes. They’re releasing Mary tomorrow around eleven. Don’t tell me you forgot.”

“No, I didn’t forget.” Pause. “A nurse?”

“I told you yesterday that I don’t feel competent taking care of Mary as soon as she comes home. They gave me a list of private-duty nurses and I hired one to stay with us for a couple of days. Maybe three. Frankly, I’d feel better if she’d stay all week.” Silence. “Ken, are you listening to me?”

“Huh? Oh yes. A nurse. For Mary.”

“Ken, what’s wrong?”

“Bridget didn’t come to work today.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know. She didn’t call. When she was an hour late, I called her. I only got her voice mail.”

“Oh. Well, maybe something came up—family troubles or something.”

“She doesn’t have any family here. Besides, she would have called me. I tried getting her again. Three times. Still just voice mail.” His voice rose slightly. “Dana, she’s over three hours late!”

Bridget had been late twice over the last year, but she’d always called to explain her tardiness. Still, annoyance rushed through Dana that Ken didn’t sound frustrated or even a bit angry—he sounded upset. “I’m sure Bridget is fine.”

“You don’t know that she’s fine!”

“The Bridgets of the world are usually fine, Ken.” Normally he would have snapped back at her sarcasm, but today he didn’t seem to notice. Silence spun out. “Ken, please stop worrying about Bridget. She’ll have a great excuse both for being late and for not calling you.”

“Do you really think so?”

Damn him! Dana fumed inwardly. Couldn’t he try to hide his feelings for the woman, even when talking to his wife?

“Yes, Ken. I’m absolutely certain. Now can we get back to the subject of your daughter?”

2

As Catherine drove home, she looked out the car window at the beautiful, clear autumn afternoon. She knew that after getting only three hours of fitful sleep last night and suffering from a crashing headache she should have canceled all of her appointments and taken off the whole day; however, she’d had two patients—one at one o’clock and another scheduled for two thirty—whom she felt she must see today. Both had reached serious points in their therapy, and her sense of responsibility far outweighed her fatigue. The sessions had gone well—especially one in which she believed her patient had accomplished a crucial breakthrough—and Catherine was extremely glad she hadn’t skipped, or even delayed, the appointments. Next to Marissa and James, Catherine’s patients were her priority.

But now it was almost four o’clock, and as she pulled into the garage Catherine felt almost too tired to exit the car and go into the house. All she wanted was to close the automatic garage door behind her, lie down on the front car seat, and go to sleep for about eight hours.

Wouldn’t that cause an uproar? she thought, and couldn’t help smiling. The surveillance cop would assume Catherine had gone inside the house. Marissa would arrive home, pull into the garage, see Catherine stretched out like a corpse in the car, and go berserk. As she climbed from the car and headed for the door leading into the kitchen, she let her thoughts run free, imagining official vehicles with sirens blaring and lights blazing converging at the Gray home. Eric would come, of course. And Robbie. Paramedics. Other deputies would be stringing a ton of crime-scene tape around the place. If the news shows got wind of it, television vans might be parked out front, reporters with microphones and camerapeople covering the lawn. The ever-vigilant Steve Crown and his wife would be stationed at their front window, Steve itching to come over and get involved, even though he hadn’t completely recovered from Nicolai Arcos’s attack.…

Lindsay barked, startling Catherine out of her dramatic daydream. The dog rushed into the kitchen and barked again, tail wagging. “Hello, Lindsay,” Catherine said. “Sorry it’s not Marissa, but she’ll be home soon.”

Lindsay laid her stuffed penguin at Catherine’s feet and looked up expectantly. “Well, maybe you’re as glad to see me as you would be to see Marissa.” Catherine stooped and rubbed the dog’s ears, feeling her stomach clench at the dog’s display of affection. She’d felt so much horror, fear, and doubt the last few days, she felt as if it might not take much to tip her over the edge.

“Gosh, Lindsay, I think I’m on the verge of a crying jag.” She laughed shakily. “How about taking a nap with me?”

*   *   *

Two hours later, Marissa arrived home from work to find Catherine on her bed curled up in her bra and panties, partially covered by a down comforter, and Lindsay lying on the bed with her back against Catherine. They’re spooning, Marissa thought, smiling as Lindsay gently thumped her tail but clearly had no intention of getting off the bed.

Marissa crept near the bed. “Sorry, Lindsay, but your Catherine has somewhere to go and I’m her date. I promise we’ll both come back safe and sound.” She placed her hand on Catherine’s shoulder, gently shaking her. “Wake up, Sleeping Beauty. We have a wedding rehearsal to attend.”

Catherine whimpered slightly.

“Sorry, honey. You promised and you never break a promise if you can help it. You have to wake up now.”

Catherine moaned, her eyes remaining firmly shut.

“Catherine, we have to be at the church in an hour. Wake up.”

Catherine’s heather green eyes flared open and she burst out, “Oh shit, dammit, hell!”

Marissa took a step back, then dissolved into giggles. Her sister rarely used “bad” language, much less shouted. Even Lindsay jumped up and fled the room. “Does that mean you don’t want to get up or that I should get out of the area while I’m still on two feet?”

Slowly, Catherine’s eyes focused. “Oh. Marissa.” Then her eyes widened. “Oh, I’m so sorry!”

“No harm done. Except maybe to your relationship with Lindsay. She took off like a rocket.”

Catherine threw off the comforter and sat up, looking mournful. “I scared her and she was really beginning to accept me.”

“She’ll get over it. She doesn’t hold grudges.”

Catherine sagged and said in a voice verging on pitiful, “Are you sure we have to be at the wedding rehearsal in an hour?”

“Yes.”

Catherine groaned. She looked and sounded so tired, Marissa felt a wave of sympathy. “Look, Catherine, you’re worn-out. Let me take your place tonight. You show me exactly what to do, which is very little, and you go back to sleep.”

“No,” Catherine said reluctantly. “Patrice will be expecting me, and tomorrow is her big day. I don’t want to disappoint her. Besides, it’s the rehearsal dinner she’s excited about, not the rehearsal itself. I can’t miss it after all the planning she’s done to make it as perfect as the wedding.” She clambered out of bed. “After a quick shower, I’ll be a new woman.”

*   *   *

After exactly fifty minutes, Catherine descended the steps to the family room wearing a shimmering pomegranate-colored silk knit jersey dress with long sleeves, a wide burnished-gold belt around her slim waist, a two-strand diamond-cut gold necklace, and matching earrings. Marissa, who sat in the lounge chair directly across from the stairs, blinked twice, raised her eyebrows, and said, “My God, you look beautiful! I wish James could see you in that dress!”

“Oh, he will.” Catherine walked into the family room and looked at herself in the mirror hanging over the hearth, fluffing her long hair and touching a smudge of lip gloss at the corner of her mouth. “I’m not the kind of woman who can wear a dress once and throw it away. Considering what I paid for this, I’ll still be wearing it in twenty years.”

“Providing you don’t put on twenty pounds,” Marissa teased. “The way you’ve been eating this week just astounds me!”

“I have a nervous appetite right now. When all of this trouble is settled, I’ll go back to eating normally.”

“Which isn’t enough. A woman can be too thin, you know, no matter what the Duchess of Windsor so famously said, and I’d say people getting murdered and attacked right and left constitutes more than trouble.”

Catherine turned to look at Marissa. “I’m trying to put on a happy face tonight for Patrice’s sake. And for Ian’s. I think he’s glad his father is finally remarrying and settling down after all of these years. In spite of everything—even James nearly being killed—I want this wedding to be as joyful as possible.”

“Catherine, you’re a saint.”

“I know,” Catherine said dryly. “Now, I want you to smile, be charming, and live up to the fine example set by your big sister.”

*   *   *

Catherine and Marissa arrived at the church only ten minutes late. Patrice seemed nervous, frequently tweaking and twisting pieces of her curly blond hair, expressing horror over the attack on James, following the sympathy by saying she’d been afraid Catherine had changed her mind about attending. Lawrence—calm and handsome—asked questions about James, cursed the person who’d shot him, and thanked Catherine for deciding to fulfill her duty as maid of honor after what had happened.

Ian, who was Lawrence’s best man, acted calmly charming. Catherine was glad he kept a suddenly slightly shy-acting Robbie close by his side instead of depositing her in a pew while visiting with his father and three of Lawrence’s friends, who would be groomsmen. Robbie wore a simple blue-gray sheath with a strand of seed pearls and matching earrings with her hair pulled up in its usual French twist. She had the prettiness of good bone structure and smooth-skinned youth, but Catherine longed to take the pins out of Robbie’s hair, to let down the shining mahogany brown mane and play up her large, dark blue eyes. In a few minutes, she could turn from pretty to beautiful.

Catherine also saw Tom, one of the deputies Eric had assigned to provide protection for her after the attack on James and her. Tom did a good job of being inconspicuous, but Catherine noticed his sharp gaze constantly shooting around the room and back to her. She trusted Jeff and she felt so much safer having him near. She couldn’t stop thinking that if someone like Arcos was seeking revenge for Renée’s murder, she was a likely candidate for their rage. After all, everyone knew she loved James and if they thought Renée posed a threat to her relationship with James—

Suddenly the minister appeared and announced magisterially that they were ready to begin the rehearsal. For a moment Robbie looked uncertain, and Catherine realized that besides herself, the young woman knew only Ian and Marissa. Catherine watched Robbie begin sidling toward the back of the church before Marissa caught her arm, murmured something to her, and then walked with her to a pew closer to the front. They settled side by side, and within moments Marissa had Robbie giggling. Dear Marissa, Catherine thought. Sometimes she drove Catherine crazy with her headstrong, stubborn impulsiveness; usually, though, Catherine was impressed by Marissa’s strength, her perceptiveness, and her consideration for others. Tonight Catherine wanted to hug her for so quickly sensing Robbie’s insecurity and putting her at ease with humor and comradeship.

The rehearsal went off so effortlessly, Catherine felt as if she’d practiced it a hundred times. Only a slight quaver in Patrice’s voice betrayed her nervousness. Lawrence was in good spirits—even making a couple of humorous remarks to the slightly stiff young minister—while Ian acted relaxed and happy, often smiling at Patrice and his father and even casting a couple of grins at Robbie.

For the rehearsal dinner Lawrence had rented one of the smaller dining rooms at the luxurious Larke Inn. “Lawrence is handling the rehearsal dinner, and I’m in charge of the wedding and the reception. Neither of us is asking the help of friends and certainly not one of those wedding planners. That’s what happens when two control freaks get married!” Patrice had laughed to Catherine a few weeks earlier.

“I think that’s wonderful,” Catherine had told her sincerely. “This way, the entire wedding will reflect the taste of only you and Lawrence. That’s what I hope to have … someday.”

She’d blushed, accidentally having said enough to make her meaning clear, but Patrice had merely smiled, not winked, or teasingly mentioned James, or in any way tried to embarrass her. Many people called Patrice brash, but Catherine had always thought the woman showed a great deal of sensitivity at just the right times.

Within an hour, the rehearsal was so polished that the wedding party was headed for the Larke Inn. Although Patrice had kept the wedding party small, she and Lawrence had invited family members of the wedding participants as well as friends to the dinner. After they’d been seated in the dining room, Catherine estimated the number of guests at around forty.

Lawrence had reserved one of the Larke Inn’s smaller dining rooms. It faced west, allowing a magnificent view of Aurora Falls through a glass wall. The water looked almost magical as it cascaded in front of strategically placed white lights, and out-of-town guests went straight to the windows, exclaiming over the beauty of the falls.

Although the outside temperature had dropped to an unusually low forty degrees, the room felt warm with its walnut wainscoting and amber carriage lights. The golden linen–covered tables were topped with fat, yellow candles surrounded by circlets of dark red and orange silk maple leaves. Inside the door stood a round glass table with a large floral masterpiece of burgundy and orange tiger lilies, gold and brown sunflowers, purple asters, and bronze and red snapdragons. Colored silk maple leaves lay scattered artfully around the arrangement as if they’d just tumbled from a towering tree. From the ceiling hung around twenty small, gold iridescent stars, obviously representing Star Air—tributes to the Star Air executives whom Lawrence had invited.

“Really striking,” Marissa murmured in awe to Catherine as they entered the room. “I know Patrice told you they weren’t using professionals to plan the wedding, but are you sure Lawrence came up with this decorating scheme by himself?”

“Are you joking?” Catherine asked Marissa before looking at Lawrence standing by Patrice’s side and holding a drink, laughing casually, the picture of the relaxed professional socializing with the ease and sophistication of long years of practice. Then Catherine glanced at Ian, seeing his smile, his hand tightly holding Robbie’s, and the glow in Robbie’s dark blue eyes. They make a great couple, she thought. Robbie would be so right for Ian: capable, intelligent, pretty, refined yet fun, totally lacking the egotistical demeanor of most of the girls Lawrence pushed Ian to date—

“You’re Cathy Gray, aren’t you?”

Catherine jumped slightly as a short woman touched her arm with a hot pudgy hand. “Yes, I’m Catherine Gray.”

“Maud Webster,” the woman announced with the familiar air of someone who’d never met a stranger. “My husband, Ed, is senior vice president of Star Air.”

“Hello. So nice to meet you, Mrs. Webster.”

“Oh, it’s Maud. Ed told me you’re the maid of honor. I know Patrice’s sister is dead and she doesn’t have any other close relatives. That’s why she’s only having a maid of honor—no bridesmaids.”

“Actually, no. Patrice does have relatives—a couple of great-aunts—”

“Oh, neither of them would do at all for a maid of honor. Too old,” the woman rushed on, less-than-subtly pushing Ian and Robbie out of her way in order to draw closer to Catherine. The young couple smiled in sympathy at Catherine before heading toward a group of other young people. Maud held a martini in her hand and Catherine had a feeling it wasn’t her first. “Lawrence told my husband, Ed, that Patrice had picked what he called a real looker for her maid of honor, although he didn’t think that was such a good idea,” Maud said loudly, although Patrice stood near them. “After all, Lawrence said, you don’t want the maid of honor outshining the bride, and you’ll certainly outshine Patrice.”

Catherine’s cheeks grew warm with a blush. “Well, I don’t know about that, but—”

“Oh, no false modesty with me, Cathy,” Maud said with a wink. “Say, wasn’t it you who found a body a week ago?” Maud tried to sound as if the memory had just returned. “Yeah, it was you. Ed told me. He said there was a woman’s body and she’d been the wife of a man you’re dating! And she’d been murdered!”

Stunned at Maud’s blatant bad manners, Catherine saw Marissa’s eyes widen for a moment, then narrow before she quickly spoke. “My sister is seeing James Eastman, who is divorced—”

“But the body Cathy found was Eastman’s wife’s. Or ex-wife’s, if you want to get technical.” Maud dismissed Marissa with a flick of a plump hand and frowned ferociously up at Catherine. “By golly that must have been a shock for you! Why, I wouldn’t know what to do if I found a dead body! Probably scream and carry on. I scare easily.”

“Catherine, you look absolutely beautiful tonight.” Patrice appeared, nearly elbowing herself protectively between Catherine and Mrs. Webster.

The woman drew a breath. “Cathy and I were just talking about—”

“I’m sorry James couldn’t be here,” Patrice said to Catherine without a glance at Maud Webster.

“He’s sorry, too,” Catherine managed. “He would have enjoyed tonight.”

“Have you talked with him this evening?” Patrice asked.

“Yes. I called as we were driving here from the church,” Catherine told her.

“How is he feeling tonight?”

“Fairly well.”

“Oh, that’s wonderful! James simply amazes me. He’s such a remarkable man!” Patrice sounded as if James had just won the Olympic decathlon. She stepped closer to Catherine, gracefully but forcefully pushing the egregious Mrs. Webster even farther away, and asked in a lighthearted voice, “What’s he up to tonight? Having a party in his room?”

“Oh, I don’t think he’s quite up to a party,” Catherine said faintly, noticing Mrs. Webster trying to push her way back to her former position, a determined look in her small eyes. Catherine relaxed and started talking to Patrice with easy humor. “James said he’s going to watch something educational on TV, but I’ll bet anything it’s a Lifetime romantic suspense movie.”

Patrice laughed. “He’ll never admit to that, Catherine!”

“I know. I also know what movie they’re showing tonight. I’ve seen it and liked it. I have a trick question all ready to spring on him tomorrow. He’ll give himself away.”

“I wouldn’t be too sure of that. After all, James is an excellent courtroom lawyer.”

“Ah, so he’s cagy, huh?” Mrs. Webster pounced with loud verbal aggression.

“Maud, there you are!” A pleasant-faced man with lips stretched into an unnatural-looking smile approached them and firmly took the plump woman’s arm. “I’ve been looking all over for you.”

“I’ve been right here! Ed, this is Cathy Gray. Cathy is the one who—”

“Nice to meet you, Catherine,” Ed Webster interrupted loudly, linking his arm through his wife’s and beginning to pull her away from the group. “Harold Sutpin and his wife are right over there, dear,” he said to Maud. “Let’s go say hello.”

“I don’t like Adele Sutpin! What I’m trying to tell you is—”

“Harold! Adele!” Ed called, and waved to a couple who had the unhappily surprised look of people who’d been caught when trying to hide. “Great night, isn’t it?”

“Ed, what’s wrong with you?” Maud snapped. “Cathy Gray found that dead woman last week. I wanted you to talk to her.” Ed Webster ignored his wife’s protests as he guided her toward the hapless Sutpins, who seemed poised for a quick escape out the main door. They didn’t make it.

“Do you think she was like that when Ed married her?” Catherine asked dryly.

Marissa and Patrice burst into laughter. “Isn’t she awful? But Ed’s nice and a very big deal with Star Air, so I have instructions from Lawrence to be extra-nice to him, which isn’t hard,” Patrice told Catherine and Marissa. “He didn’t say I have to be nice to Maud, though. I think I’ll cut her off at the bar.”

“If Ed is important to Lawrence, I hope she doesn’t report to him that I was rude,” Catherine said.

Patrice smiled. “You weren’t rude and I don’t think Ed would care if you were. According to Lawrence, Ed thinks you’re an absolute dream. He’s besotted.”

“He’s just shell-shocked from living with Maud.”

Patrice laughed again. “Dear, self-deprecating Catherine. No wonder James loves you so much.” She peered over at Lawrence. “Oh, he’s motioning to me. Someone else important to meet. Don’t worry—fifteen more minutes of socializing and then we get to eat. I’m starving.”

Catherine looked at Marissa. “So far too bad?”

“I want to sit beside Maud,” Marissa said in a humorless, demanding voice. “I want her to be my new best friend.”

Catherine didn’t crack a smile. “Monday morning I’m calling the best psychiatrist I know and setting up an appointment for you. Obviously, tonight has been too much for you and you’ve finally experienced a psychological break.”

The sisters looked seriously at each other before falling into another giggling fit. Catherine had dreaded having to come to the dinner without James, dragging poor Marissa along in his stead, certain she would be able only to worry about him through the festivities. She hadn’t even counted on being put through the wringer by Maud Webster. Still, thanks to Marissa, as the evening wore on Catherine found herself having fun with her little sister as her “date.”

The next two hours were a whirl of excellent food, toasts, and best wishes to the bride and groom. Catherine had been nervous about her speech. She was maid of honor, but she was neither a relative nor a longtime friend of Patrice. Nevertheless, she delivered a brief address Marissa later pronounced “genial and warm without being sentimental.” Catherine was beyond pleased, considering her sister was the family expert at writing and hadn’t contributed a word to the piece. Ian gave a longer, eloquent speech, full of affection for his father and Patrice and joy that they would be “wife and husband.” As Ian raised his glass of champagne to the couple, his father smiled and Catherine spotted a tear slipping down Patrice’s cheek.

“Eric and James would have enjoyed this,” Catherine said wistfully to Marissa halfway through the dinner.

“Not as much as they would have at another time.” Catherine knew Marissa was referring to all that had happened in the past week. “I know I’m being selfish, but I worry about how all of this will affect Eric’s campaign.”

“He’s doing a fine job of investigating,” Catherine said.

Marissa smiled. “All most people know is that he hasn’t found—” She broke off, coloring slightly.

“The killer.” Catherine smiled. “You don’t have to walk on eggshells with me.”

“I know. I just didn’t want to bring up anything unpleasant tonight.”

“Unpleasant?”

“Okay. Gruesome.” Marissa laughed and Catherine went on. “Maybe recent events might hurt Eric’s chances of being elected sheriff, although he doesn’t have a stellar opponent, but everyone knows about his great performance on the Philadelphia police force and that he was the person Mitch Farrell hoped would succeed him as sheriff. Mitch was highly respected and, sometimes I think more importantly, liked in Aurora Falls.” Catherine paused. “Besides, Eric is young, and if he doesn’t win this election I think he has time to try running again.”

“First that great speech to the bride and groom, and now this pep talk to me,” Marissa said, grinning. “Catherine, you’re on fire tonight!”

Catherine looked around, pleased to see that everyone seemed to be enjoying themselves. As the evening wore on, they seemed to be enjoying themselves more and more. She saw Lawrence knock over a glass of wine. So smoothly most people wouldn’t have noticed, Patrice righted the glass and laid her napkin over the wet tablecloth, then went on talking and laughing without the slightest change in her happy expression. Although Lawrence didn’t act as if he’d drunk too much, he didn’t seem aware of what he’d done. In the years Catherine had known Lawrence Blakethorne, she’d never seen him have more than a couple of drinks. Tonight, though, was a very special occasion and both his color and his spirits were obviously running high.

Shortly afterward, though, Patrice yawned and then drew attention to her sleepiness by laughing and acting as if she were trying to swallow yet another yawn. “Pardon me!” she said loudly. “I’m usually able to hold my own later than this, but I have a big day tomorrow.”

“The wedding isn’t until tomorrow evening,” someone called good-naturedly. “You can sleep late!”

“Oh, I never sleep late.” She looked fondly at Lawrence. “And I’m sure I won’t be able to sleep late on my wedding day!”

People took the hint. A few glanced at watches to see that it was nearly eleven o’clock. The food and drink had made them drowsy, and Patrice’s remark about her wedding day had reminded them that they would be attending a much bigger celebration tomorrow. Almost as if a gong had sounded signaling “leaving time,” people began to shift in their chairs, leave the dining room for what Catherine guessed to be one last stop at the restroom, and approach Patrice and Lawrence to say good night and make assurances that they could hardly wait for the wedding, which they knew would be beautiful.

Catherine and Marissa were slowly making their way toward Patrice and Lawrence when Marissa suddenly grabbed Catherine’s arm. “Oh my God, there’s Maud Webster.” Catherine looked at the woman whose small, drooping eyes widened at the sight of them. “She’s going to ask more questions about Renée,” Catherine hissed.

“What will we do?”

“We will be rude and simply run for the door. Patrice and Lawrence won’t be offended. Lawrence is so tired he looks ready to drop on the floor.” Marissa signaled to Tom, pointing to the door, and pulled on Catherine’s arm. “Come on! She’s gaining on us!”

By the time they reached the door of the dining room, Catherine felt giddy from Marissa’s hurried, giggling flight toward the main entrance to the Larke Inn. The three of them burst out the front doors and hurried down the five steps leading from the sweeping veranda to the wide sidewalk.

“It’s freezing,” Catherine complained.

“So you’re glad we didn’t bring my convertible.”

“If we had, I think you would have sense enough to put up the top and turn on the heater. Still, I like my cozy white sedan.”

“Which I see about twenty feet ahead of us. Gosh, Catherine, you have a midsize car, but the rear end is sticking out past any of the big cars.”

“You know I’m not good at judging distance,” Catherine said edgily. “Besides, I’m not blocking anyone.”

“But you’ve had that car for three years. Haven’t you learned to park correctly yet?”

Catherine turned on her. “Do you want to walk home?”

“No.”

“Then for once be quiet about my bad driving.”

“Okay. Sorry.” Marissa paused. “And sorry for being sorry. I just can’t suit you tonight.”

“I’m worn-out and my head is killing me.”

“You always get fussy when you’re tired,” Marissa said as if Catherine were a little child. “Besides, if you’d left me, I would have had Tom drive me home.”

Catherine shook her head. “I don’t know how Eric puts up with you.”

“Oh, but he does.”

Catherine had not locked her car and she swung open the driver’s side door, blinking as the interior lights snapped to life. “Well, it’s a miracle, that’s all I have to say—” She went stone still. “Tom?”

“What is it, Dr. Gray?” the young deputy asked immediately, reaching for his gun.

“The seat. Look at my seat.”

As Tom bent to look in, Marissa stepped back from the car. “What?” she demanded. “What’s on your seat?”

Catherine shuddered. “I think it’s the mask Renée was wearing in Mardi Gras Lady.”