CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

1

“That woman has been clattering around in Mary’s room for the last two hours! I can’t stand it!”

Dana Nordine stared at her handsome if frazzled-looking husband for almost a full minute before she answered in a soft, even voice. “That woman’s name is Ms. Greene. She’s the nurse I hired. Mary is coming home after major surgery today, in case you’ve forgotten. Ms. Greene is preparing Mary’s room.”

“Will she leave as soon as Mary gets home?”

“No, Ken, she will be staying for at least three days. Full-time.”

“Three days and nights?”

Dana took a deep breath, trying to hold on to her patience. “Mary could have problems in the night as well as in the day.”

“Well, if she has problems at night can’t you just call an ambulance?”

“I could, but that’s not what I want to do.” Dana and Ken stood outside Mary’s hospital room. A nurse was talking to her, asking the five-year-old for suggestions as to how her panties, robe, house slippers, stuffed dog, and precious though wilting “get well” flowers were to be arranged for the trip home. Dana could hear the little girl’s voice, louder than usual with excitement, but still took Ken’s arm and pulled him a few feet farther down the corridor out of Mary’s earshot. “Mary is your child, Ken. I hope you feel the same way I do—that she deserves the very best care. After all, it isn’t as if we can’t afford to have a private-duty nurse for three days.” She paused. “Or is she already coming on to you?”

“Coming on to me!” Ken looked horrified. “She’s at least seventy and she has a nose like a pig’s. I’ve never seen such big nostrils in my life!”

Dana glared at him for a moment before her lips began to twitch and she bent over, laughing. “Honestly, Ken, you are the only man I know who is more concerned with a medical person’s looks than her expertise.” Ken glared at her indignantly until she wiped the tears of laughter from her face and managed to look at him halfway seriously. “Ms. Greene will only be with us for three days and you don’t even have to look at her if you find her so physically repugnant. The doctor highly recommended her; she has excellent credentials; she’s supposed to be a regular pied piper with children—they love her.”

“Oh, I don’t care about her credentials. I mean, I’m sure they’re fine. She must be good enough at her job to look after a kid getting over a simple appendectomy.”

“Then what is your problem today? You look like you found out someone stole one of your father’s paintings.”

“Actually, I sold a painting this morning. A very expensive painting, but…” The indignant look faded from Ken’s face to be replaced with one of near despair. “Bridget still hasn’t turned up! No call, no text.”

No sex, Dana almost said, but now was not the time for an argument. “Have you driven past her house?”

Dana knew he would have, but she’d decided to play along as if she gave a damn about Bridget Fenmore, at least until she could get Mary home and settled.

“Yes. A couple of times.” More like twenty, Dana thought. “There’s no sign of her. The mail and newspapers are piling up.”

“What about her car?”

“What about it?”

“Is her car around?”

“Yes. It’s in the garage.” His eyes shifted away guiltily. “I looked in the garage window and saw it.”

Dana had been to Bridget’s tiny house once and knew the garage had no window. Ken had a key to the house and he’d used it, going inside to search for Bridget or any sign of her, Dana thought. In order to see Bridget’s car, he must have glanced through the door leading from the house to the garage. “Have you called her parents?”

“I don’t know where her parents live. They might even be dead. She never mentions them.”

“The information might be on her application form. However, after you got a look at her during the interview, I don’t suppose you spent much time studying her application.”

Ken’s jaw tightened. “It seems to me you’ve gotten damned cocky lately, Dana. What’s behind this new tone of yours?”

“Nothing I care to discuss with you.”

“Oh, really?”

“Yes, really. What about her friends?” Ken looked blank. “Have you talked to any of Bridget’s friends?”

“What makes you think I’d know who her friends are?” Ken asked defensively. “She’s just our employee. We don’t socialize with her.”

Talk about protesting too much, Dana thought sarcastically. “She mentioned a friend to me once.” She told him the woman’s name. “If she has an unlisted phone number, I guess you’ll have to call the police.”

“The police!”

“To report Bridget missing, if you’re so certain something has happened to her and she hasn’t just decided to take a long weekend.”

“She’s been gone since Friday. You call that a long weekend? And where would she go? Who with?”

“With whom. I have no idea. You know her a lot better than I do.” Dana waited for Ken to give her a spluttering denial of knowing Bridget better than Dana did, but he was obviously too tired. “Ken, I want you to be here when our daughter is released.”

“I came here to sign papers. That’s all taken care of. Now I need to be at the gallery. You and what’s-her-name, the nurse, can get Mary home.”

Dana took a deep breath, trying to smother her anger. Finally, she was able to talk instead of shout. “Ken, you can at least act like you care. After all, bad publicity wouldn’t be good for the gallery,” she added acidly. “I expect you to be here within the next hour. If you aren’t, I will make sure half the hospital staff knows how unconcerned you are about your daughter.”

“Don’t threaten me.”

“Don’t disappoint me.”

“You mean ‘don’t disobey me.’”

Dana, to her own bafflement, smiled. “Your vocabulary has improved since you were a stock boy at one of my father’s stores, Ken, although I’m aware of the occasional grammatical gaffe.”

Ken looked furious. “Dammit, Dana—”

“You either stay here now or you come back within an hour. Mary can barely wait to see her father. And don’t forget—people are watching you far more than they did before Arcos’s murder.” Dana leaned closer and hissed, “For your own sake, don’t screw up because of Bridget Fenmore.”

2

Eric Montgomery stood on the porch of the Gray home, hat in hand. Before he’d had a chance to ring the bell, an exhausted-looking Catherine swung open the door and demanded, “Do you know where that thing came from?”

“The mask.”

“Yes.”

“No.” She frowned at him. “No, I don’t know where it came from yet.” He waited a moment and then asked, “May I come in?”

“Oh, I’m sorry.” She moved backward and Eric saw Lindsay peeping out from behind her. “That’s quite a scary guard dog you have.”

“She’s Marissa’s dog, remember? Give me your coat and hat.” She turned and loudly yelled, “Marissa, Eric’s here!”

Eric had never heard ladylike Catherine yell. Never. This was a definite sign that her nerves were shot, he decided, and was glad when Marissa rushed out of the kitchen and flung herself in his arms. “Our knight in shining armor! Tell us all about that awful mask!”

“I called you earlier—”

“James had a setback,” Catherine announced harshly. “Apparently he got out of bed in the night—he was sleepwalking, I suppose—and … and…”

“He didn’t do much damage to his shoulder.” Marissa didn’t even look at Catherine, whose eyes were beginning to drip. “He had to go back into surgery, but the doctor said they only needed a few more stitches to close a few that had torn. The original incision had enlarged, but four stitches—”

“Five!” Catherine snapped.

“Five stitches fixed him right up. He’s snoozing away on painkillers right now. The doctor says this will only delay his recovery for a day or two.”

Catherine looked defiant. “She was just trying to make me feel better.”

“No, she wasn’t. Did she look like one of those doctors who pat you on the back and tell you everything’s fine when it isn’t? She knew Dad, for God’s sake.”

“What does that have to do with us?”

“Well, I’m sure it has something to do with respect and professionalism and … oh hell, I don’t know.”

“I’m sorry about James,” Eric said. “Does he sleepwalk?”

“Not that I know of,” Catherine replied.

“It might have been a reaction to his injury or the medicine,” Eric replied.

“Catherine, calm down,” Marissa said kindly. “Go upstairs, cry some more, and get this anxiety out of your system.”

“I’m not going anywhere until I hear about the mask.”

Marissa sighed. She looked almost as tired as Catherine and twice as frustrated. Nevertheless, Marissa was obviously working at keeping up her spirits. “You might as well spill all the details about the mask or there will be no peace this afternoon, and someone needs a nap before the wedding tonight.”

“What have you found out about the mask?” Catherine urged.

“The mask was plastic,” Eric said. “We didn’t find any prints. However, the glue on the gold lace edging wasn’t completely dry and neither was the black paint used to make the star around the right eye.”

“The paint was fresh?” Catherine asked.

“I don’t know. It was latex paint,” Eric said. “Sometimes latex paint can dry on plastic in an hour. It’s often used on stuff like model cars or ships.”

“But you can’t tell exactly how long ago the star was painted.”

“No, Catherine, I’m sorry, but I can’t. The glue used to attach it is completely dry. It could have been Krazy Glue. We’ll be testing the paint and the glue Monday, but today all I can tell you is that I think the mask was decorated yesterday.”

“But you know what that mask looks like.” Eric remained silent while Catherine stared at him. “It looks exactly like the mask Renée is wearing in Mardi Gras Lady.”

“I’ve only seen that painting once, but as I remember it, the mask does look like the one the woman in the painting is wearing.”

“Where would someone get a mask like that around here?”

“In Aurora Falls?” Eric shrugged. “I don’t know. It’s near Halloween, though. A few shops around here sell costumes. We’re already checking on them to see if anyone bought a full costume with a plastic half mask or just a white plastic mask that could be decorated any way the buyer wanted. I have a feeling the person who left that mask on your seat wouldn’t take the chance on being recognized as someone who recently bought a mask like that, though, so I looked on the Internet. You can order plain white plastic masks and have them delivered overnight. If I were going to pull a stunt like someone did on you last night, I’d be safe and order a mask, not buy one locally.”

“Do you think it could be the mask Renée wore in the portrait?”

“If she actually wore that mask and posed for the painting, Arcos could have kept the mask out of sentiment,” Eric said. “After his murder, we went over his warehouse thoroughly, though, and we didn’t find it. Of course, if it really existed, she let him keep it and then left him, he could have destroyed it out of anger or grief or … hell, I didn’t know Arcos. I don’t know how his mind worked, what he might have done with it. If the painting is just a product of his imagination, the mask in your car could simply be one made to look like the one in the portrait.”

“So the important question is who would do something like this,” Marissa said.

Eric nodded. “We have a list of people invited to the dinner. Catherine, did you know all of them?”

“Heavens, no! A lot were business associates of Lawrence. I met them, but I don’t remember most of their names.”

“Except for Maud,” Marissa said.

Catherine rolled her eyes. “Oh lord, I’ll never forget Maud.”

Eric looked at her. “Maud?”

“Maud Webster,” Catherine said. “Her husband, Ed, is senior vice president of Star Air. He seemed very nice. She was another matter. Pushy, nosy, no manners. Of course, she’d had too much to drink, but I have a feeling she’s not much better when she’s sober. She knew about my relationship with James and what happened last Saturday. She kept asking me what it felt like to discover his wife’s body. She would not shut up and she was talking loudly. People were pretending not to hear her, but I knew they could hear every word. Marissa kept trying to interrupt, but it didn’t do any good. Maud’s husband, Ed, must have finally seen what was happening. He hurried over and started nearly dragging her toward a couple named the Suskins or Sutpins. I can’t remember their exact names.” For the first time, Catherine smiled. “I do remember that they looked like they were ready to bolt for the door when they saw her coming!”

“They must know her,” Marissa said dryly. “When even I can’t get someone to shut up, you know you’re in trouble.”

“I’ll talk to the Suskins or Sutpins about Maud,” Eric said. “Maybe she had a reason for being so tenacious.”

“I think she’s one of those people who just lives for gossip, but there might be something else,” Catherine said.

Eric frowned. “You said a lot of people heard her.”

“At least half the room.”

“Did anyone look surprised?”

“Surprised?” Catherine echoed.

“Yes, like they hadn’t already heard about you finding the body.”

“Well, honestly, I was thinking more about how embarrassed I was than watching for other people’s reactions,” Catherine answered. “Why are you asking?”

“Because not everyone at the rehearsal dinner was from Aurora Falls. Some of the Star people were from at least a hundred miles away. They probably would have heard about the body being found, but they wouldn’t have known what Catherine Gray looked like.”

“Oh,” Catherine said. “So Maud might as well have pointed me out to the whole group.”

“Exactly.”

“But how would whoever did this know which car was mine?”

“It would probably be easy to slip in a seemingly casual question to Patrice or Lawrence about your car.”

“What if we’d taken Marissa’s instead of mine?”

“I doubt if there were too many convertible red Mustangs in the parking lot that night. You’re sure you didn’t lock your car last night, Catherine?”

“Fairly sure. I was nervous about giving my speech and afraid I didn’t look right in my new dress—it’s not my usual style. But how could someone know I’d leave the door unlocked?”

“Maybe it didn’t matter.” Catherine looked at Eric quizzically. “Maybe someone brought along a lockout kit for opening locked car doors.”

“This person came to the rehearsal dinner and brought along a mask and a lockout kit?”

“Both of which they could have left in their own car,” Eric said. “Did either of you notice someone being away from the dinner for fifteen or twenty minutes?”

The sisters looked at each other. Finally, Marissa said, “There was a social hour before we ate. I think it lasted about twenty minutes—maybe a little more. And I counted. Forty-one guests attended the dinner.”

Catherine looked at her. “You counted?”

“I got bored during those long-winded toasts Lawrence’s friends made. Anyway, Eric, there were forty-one guests and before the dinner actually started there was plenty of time for someone to leave for a few minutes. Even longer.”

Eric frowned, chewing on his bottom lip. “Maybe whoever left the stuff wasn’t a guest at the rehearsal dinner. The Larke Inn has three dining rooms and a very large parking area. Someone could have just waited until they saw the two of you arrive and go inside the inn. Then they went to work.” Eric looked at Catherine’s bleak expression. “This might not be as serious as it seems,” he said. “Remember, we’re near Halloween. It could have been done as a prank by someone who doesn’t even know you. They just know who you are, what happened, what kind of car you drive. After all, the car is parked five days a week where you work. They didn’t have to do much research or much work to give you a good scare.”

“Which they did. Give me a good scare, that is.” Catherine seemed to be thinking over this possibility. Then she shook her head. “No, Eric, it just doesn’t feel right. They would have had to order the mask and the decorations, copy the mask on Mardi Gras Lady perfectly, not leave any fingerprints, know the time of the rehearsal dinner—it just seems like too much trouble for a simple, harmless scare.”

Which was exactly what Eric thought, although he’d hoped to sell the “harmless scare” theory to Catherine to give her at least one calm day. “Well, I’m not ruling it out,” he said firmly.

He exchanged looks with Marissa. He could tell by the expression in her gaze that she knew exactly what he was doing. They been together too long, loved each other too long, for her not to understand how his mind worked and every nuance of his voice. Sometimes this made him feel so close to her, it was almost as if they were one person and the reassurance of not feeling alone was beyond joy. And then sometimes it was a colossal pain.

“And how did they know I’d be at the rehearsal dinner last night?”

“Lawrence Blakethorne is well-known in this city. A lot of people know he’s getting married today. People also know that the woman who found the dead body is Patrice’s maid of honor.”

“That sounds like a lot of ‘ifs’ to me,” Catherine said disparagingly.

“It sounds like a lot of ‘ifs’ to me, too,” Eric admitted. “I was just throwing it out there as a possibility.”

“Any other flimsy possibilities, Sheriff?”

“Chief Deputy,” Eric said, and failed at a grin. “Okay, Catherine, this one isn’t so flimsy. I realize you can’t break client-patient confidentiality, but I have to know if you have a patient you believe might be capable of this,” he asked uncomfortably.

Catherine looked incensed. “A patient? Absolutely not!”

“I’m not talking about a real nut job.” Catherine glared at him. “Well, that was the wrong term. But you know what I mean. Not someone who’s really mentally ill, dangerous, anything like that. Just someone you might have insulted lately. Not that you’d purposely insult anyone, but you might tell them something they don’t want to hear.”

Catherine’s glare had died. “I know what you mean, Eric. I can’t think of anyone who would do such a thing.” Except for Mrs. Tate, she thought, but Mrs. Tate certainly wasn’t angry with her. At their last session, the woman had said she was trying to act more like Catherine, and Catherine had sensed her sincerity. “None of my patients put the mask in my car.”

“Great,” Marissa said glumly. “So if we consider someone at the rehearsal dinner or just someone who has too much time on their hands and went to all the trouble of making that mask to scare Catherine because she’s become a great target for a scare during the last two weeks we have an endless supply of people as suspects.”

“I’m afraid so,” Eric said.

Catherine shook her head. “I’m convinced this wasn’t just a harmless attempt to frighten me. Someone went to a lot of trouble to make that mask, put it in the right car, et cetera. But why?” She looked at Eric. “Please don’t try to make me feel better, even though I know you mean well. I’m not stupid, Eric. Tell me why you think someone did it. And be absolutely truthful.”

“Okay.” Eric’s imagination had run dry. He couldn’t come up with any more lame theories to toss out just because he thought they’d make Catherine feel less worried for a few hours, at least so she could enjoy the wedding tonight.

“This may not be New York City, but that doesn’t mean everyone knew about Renée and James’s awful marriage, her disappearance, or the police investigation of James. Also, probably even fewer people knew you and James now have a relationship. However, because of all the news after you found her body, I’d say the number of people who learned about the whole saga increased by thousands.”

Eric could feel Marissa glowering at him, but he couldn’t soft-pedal the situation, even for her. He knew how protective she was of Catherine, but Catherine wasn’t a little girl, her told himself. She was a highly intelligent twenty-nine-year-old woman who deserved the truth.

Eric began in a slow, calm voice. “Maybe the person who did this knew Mardi Gras Lady was a portrait of Renée and wanted to hurt you by reminding you that she had been James’s wife whereas after all this time you’re … well, you’re—”

“Just his girlfriend,” Catherine said tonelessly. “Not his new wife, not his fiancée, just his girlfriend.”

“Well … yes. But the fact that you aren’t either of the others doesn’t mean James isn’t in love with you. I mean, after all he’s been through—”

“You don’t have to soothe my wounded ego, Eric.” Catherine managed a small smile. “I’ve accepted the situation and I’m fine with it for now.”

“Okay. Good.” Eric realized his palms had begun to sweat. For some reason, he’d been afraid Catherine would burst into tears. Marissa definitely had him brainwashed about Catherine’s easily wounded feelings, Eric thought, and felt a sudden, irrational wave of anger toward her. Then came frustration with himself for letting Marissa’s protectiveness of her sister influence his honesty with the person who should concern him—Catherine.

“And the second ‘maybe’?”

“What?”

“Eric, you said maybe the person who put the mask in the car did it to hurt me,” Catherine reminded him. “I can see by your face you have at least one more ‘maybe’ as to why someone placed the mask on my seat of the car.”

“Okay.” Eric drew a deep breath. “Those who do know you, or have done research about you and James, know how serious he is about you. Maybe the mask was put there as a warning of what happened to the first woman James loved.”

“A warning that James might kill me just like he supposedly killed her?”

“Yes.”

“But he didn’t,” Marissa burst out.

Catherine held her hand up, quelling her sister’s vehement defense of James. “I know he didn’t kill her, Marissa. Thanks for your belief in him, but let’s hear Eric’s third ‘maybe.’”

“Oh, you guessed there was a third. Okay. Maybe this person doesn’t know who murdered Renée but is killing the possibilities. He killed Arcos because he thought Arcos could have killed Renée for leaving him. He thought James might have killed her because she left him.”

“And what about me?”

“Maybe the murderer thinks you killed Renée because he believes you knew she returned to Aurora Falls just before the divorce was finalized and would manage to lure James back.” Eric hesitated, then plowed on. “Maybe this person thinks you killed Renée.”

“Then why didn’t he kill me the night James was shot!”

“Maybe he had trouble killing a woman he wasn’t certain was guilty.” As Catherine looked at Eric in shock, he went on relentlessly. “The mask could have been a threat. Something to scare you enough to make you leave James, leave Aurora Falls—a threat from the killer of Arcos because maybe he’s losing his reluctance to murder a woman.”

“I feel like you’re going in circles to protect me from something.” Catherine gave Eric a hard look. “Just say it.”

“Okay. Because of James, you’re part of this whole group—Renée, Arcos, and James. Most people in this town have loved and respected your parents and now you. Maybe the killer is just drawing out what he feels will be his last, most shocking, and most tragic murder.”