Diana and Willow walked out to bid Simon and Clarice good-bye as they set off for church. Willow waved as if they were leaving on a world tour. When they’d cleared the driveway, Diana took a deep breath, proclaimed it a beautiful morning, and suggested they amble around the lawn. When they came to the oak tree where Tyler Raines had stood, Diana found two mashed cigarette butts. She picked them up, certain he’d stayed longer than to smoke only two cigarettes. He’d collected the rest of the butts.
“Have the squirrels that live in the tree started smokin’?” Willow asked.
“I certainly hope not. Cigarettes could give them lung cancer.”
“But if they did start smokin’, where would they buy their cigarettes?”
“Shop-a-Minute,” Diana returned straight-faced.
Willow laughed. “No, they wouldn’t! Shop-a-Minute wouldn’t sell cigarettes to squirrels!”
“You never know,” Diana said seriously. “They’ll do anything to make a dollar.”
“Is that how much a pack of cigarettes costs?”
“More. Or three acorns, unless the price has gone up recently to four acorns.”
Willow, still in stitches at their silliness as they entered the house, soon settled down to tell the cats a story, while Diana went into another room and found the telephone directory. She looked up the number for Al Meeks, found only one listing for Al’s Best Barbecue and another for Albert Meeks. She hesitated about calling now—maybe this afternoon would be better—but her fingers pushed numbers almost without her realizing it. A moment later, a man’s deep, scratchy voice said, “Hello there! What can I do for you?”
“Mr. Meeks?”
“Yes ma’am.”
“May I speak with Tyler, please? Tyler Raines?”
After a moment, Al Meeks said hesitantly, “Well, he’s not here right now.”
So surprised by his not asking who Tyler Raines was, Diana felt temporarily thrown. After a beat, she asked, “Do you know when he’ll be back?”
“No.”
Too quick, too definite, Diana thought. Now Al was lying.
“I see. Mr. Meeks, I’m Diana Sheridan. I ate in your restaurant four or five times with Penny and Willow Conley.”
“Oh! Diana Sheridan! Sure, I remember you.” Immediately the enthusiasm left his voice. “My God, I’m sick about what happened to poor Penny. I just loved that girl. Thank the lord little Willow was spared.” He paused. “And you! Tyler told me how you missed bein’ in that house by less than five minutes.”
So Tyler Raines did know Al Meeks. Tyler had even told Al the details of the night of the explosion. She’d been sure, so sure, that Tyler was lying about knowing Al. She could feel the man on the other end of the connection waiting for her to say something. “I was supposed to be at Penny’s house over an hour earlier, but I was late. If I hadn’t been and Willow hadn’t crawled out a window to get lightning bugs for her mother, there would have been two more casualties that night. Not that Penny is dead, but . . .”
Annoyed, Diana felt tears ready to flow again. She would not burst into sobs on the phone with a man she barely knew. She swallowed hard and said, “The doctors say there’s no change in Penny. She’s still unconscious. Of course, no one can see her or even get direct information about her except family members.”
“What a shame,” Al said mournfully. “I’ll be prayin’ for Penny.”
“I’m sure she’d appreciate that. And it’s really why I called. Not about praying, but to express my appreciation and Clarice Hanson’s, and what I know would be Penny’s, for all the help Tyler was that night. He pulled my car away from the fire, he went into Clarice’s house, which was burning, and carried her out—”
“He did what?” Al nearly shouted.
“He carried Clarice Hanson out of her burning house.”
“That boy! He didn’t say a word about doin’ a thing like that. Well, I’ll be! Just like his grandpa. We were great friends. Guess it’s better he died quite a few years ago. It would’ve broken his heart if he’d known what Tyler went through when he was younger.”
“What Tyler went through?”
She could almost see Al Meeks’s expression growing wary. “Oh, never mind me. I’m just an old man who talks too much. Well listen, Miss Sheridan, I’ll tell Tyler you called and thanked him for his help. He’ll like that.” He paused. “He’s a good boy, Miss Sheridan. I’d be proud to call him my own grandson.”
“Could I ask one more question, Mr. Meeks?”
“Sorry, the Missus here is nearly pullin’ me out the door. Time for church. Thanks for callin’ Miss Sheridan. You take care now. Good-bye to you.”
“And good-bye to you,” Diana said softly as she hung up the phone, Al’s words echoing in her mind: He’s a good boy . . . I’d be proud to call him my own grandson.
“Well, I’ll be damned,” she muttered, shaking her head and smiling.
“Can we go visit Mommy today?”
Diana looked at Willow, turned out in navy blue shorts, a blue-and-pink blouse with flutter sleeves, and her rhinestone crown. “I don’t think they’re letting your mother have visitors yet,” Diana said as she held the Sunday morning newspaper. The front page bore a banner headline about a bomb causing the explosion of a house in the Rosewood neighborhood. She no longer had to keep the secret.
“But I wanna see Mommy.”
“I know, sweetheart, but we don’t always get what we want.”
Willow’s mouth trembled slightly. “Can’t Mommy have visits because she’s not getting’ well? Is that what it means?”
“It means the doctors want her to use all her strength to get well and not use it visiting with people. She’s still weak.”
“But getting well.” It wasn’t a question. Willow seemed almost defiantly pronouncing that Penny would recover. Then she wavered. “Mommy is getting better, isn’t she? You wouldn’t tell me a fib, would you?”
Being completely truthful versus making a little girl feel better fought a flashing battle in Diana’s mind. Then she looked at Willow’s questioning eyes in her sad, innocent face and knew she couldn’t dash the child’s hope.
“The doctors and the nurses are putting all their efforts into getting your mother well. You know she wants desperately to come home to her little girl that she loves more than she loves anyone else, and she’s a strong lady, Willow. Very strong.”
“I wish I could see her for just a minute,” Willow said droopingly. “If I told her I love her it might help.”
“She knows you love her, Willow. Believe me—she knows.” Diana smiled and put the newspaper aside. “Are you ready to go for a walk and take pictures with me? Uncle Simon and Clarice won’t be home from church and lunch for at least a couple of hours.”
“Yeah, I guess. Can the cats come?”
“Well, cats don’t usually take walks with people like dogs do. Besides, long walks are too hard for Romeo.”
“You could buy a wagon and pull him,” Willow suggested.
“That’s a very smart idea, but we have Christabel to consider. She’d run off. She’d hide in the woods and we’d never find her.”
“I hid in the woods and I got found.”
Diana’s senses sharpened but she tried to sound casual. “Yes, you did. A man found you. How was he able to find you when no one else could?”
“ ’Cause I hid from everyone else.”
“But you didn’t hide from him. Why?”
Willow’s gaze drifted around the room for a few seconds. “I was tired of hidin’ and I was scared of snakes.”
“I see. Did you know the man who found you?”
“Well . . . no.”
“That didn’t sound like the exact truth.”
Willow looked at her, and Diana saw a quick flash of apprehension in her eyes. She faltered then said, “At first I thought I knew him but I didn’t. I got mixed up.”
“Who did you think he was at first?”
“Well . . . I thought . . .” Willow took off her crown and began inspecting the rhinestones sparkling in the sunlight. Not looking up, she said, “I thought he was a friend of Mommy’s but he wasn’t.”
Diana knew the child was telling either a half-truth or a complete lie. But Willow was not a child who lied even when she’d done something wrong and wanted to escape punishment. Diana knew if Willow was lying now, she was following Penny’s orders. But why would Penny want to deny knowing Tyler Raines? And why did he want to deny knowing Penny?
Willow slowly edged away from Diana, growing more absorbed in watching her crown sparkle, when the phone rang. Just as well, Diana thought. Obviously she’d pushed Willow enough on the subject of Tyler Raines.
Diana answered the phone to hear a woman with a bubbly voice ask, “Is this Diana?”
“Yes. Mrs. . . . Wentworth?”
“Lenore, please. I hope I’m not calling too early.”
Diana glanced at her watch. “It’s eleven-ten. Hardly too early.”
“Some people I know sleep until noon on Sundays. Others—a very few—go to church.”
“Today I’m doing neither.”
“Then I’m so glad I was able to reach you!” Lenore paused and her voice grew more serious. “Diana, I always loved my niece dearly. I was so looking forward to being with her last night but things didn’t work out, to say the least. Jeff is going to the hospital to see Penny, and Blake is going with him. I know I should go, but frankly, I just can’t bring myself to see Penny in her condition.”
Conscious of Willow’s closeness, Diana merely asked, “Any word on her condition?”
“Jeff called the hospital but he’s in a ‘yes’ and ‘no’ mood this morning. He said they told him there’s no change in Penny. I got no other details. Maybe he didn’t either. I wish he wouldn’t try to see her, but when he makes up his mind, there’s no changing it. Anyway, I wonder if it’d be okay if I—just me—come by and see Cornelia.”
Dread washed through Diana. She didn’t want to cause more trouble by refusing, but she would not have Willow upset again. “Could you wait just a minute until I ask Willow?” she asked pleasantly.
“Oh! Well, I guess not.” Lenore must have known her voice betrayed a trace of irritation. “I mean, of course you should ask her!”
Diana put her hand over the receiver. “Willow, your Aunt Lenore is on the phone. She was here last night but I don’t think you even saw her.” Willow’s gaze grew wary. “She seemed nice and she says she always loved you and she’d like to see you.” Willow frowned. “She made a point of saying she’d come by herself.”
“No Bad Man?” Willow asked fearfully.
“Absolutely not.”
Willow appeared to think for a moment. “Only if she promises it’s just her.”
“Lenore, Willow says it’s all right with her if you promise you’ll come alone.”
“Oh, dear, it’s as bad as all that? Well, we can’t do anything about it now. I promise to come alone. Cross my heart.”
“She says she crosses her heart.”
Willow seemed to think it over then finally nodded.
“Well, there goes our walk,” Diana muttered a minute later, after she’d said good-bye to Lenore. She’d been planning to leave in about fifteen minutes, thinking of how much Willow would enjoy playing in the park on this beautiful day, and the good photographs she could get of the child. Instead, they would be stuck in the house making uncomfortable conversation with Lenore Wentworth. . . .
Sister of Jeffrey Cavanaugh, Diana thought with abrupt uneasiness. Jeffrey, with his cold, silver eyes, his hostility, his determination to see his daughter—who’d called him the Bad Man and had a shrieking fit when she had seen him. Lenore had promised she would visit by herself, but Diana didn’t know how seriously this woman took a promise made to a child. Lenore might come by herself, and shortly afterward Jeffrey would show up while Diana sat there alone in the house with Willow.
For one flashing instant, Diana wished Tyler Raines were still standing out by that oak tree gazing at the house. She dismissed the wish as ridiculous—she should have called the police when she saw him last night, but she’d told herself that she didn’t want to throw the household into an uproar.
After her immediate desire for Tyler’s presence when she felt threatened by Lenore’s visit, though, Diana wasn’t so sure that not wanting to disturb everyone had been her real reason for not calling the police. When she’d crawled back in bed, leaving Christabel to watch him watching the house, she’d felt . . . safe.
“Safe!” she burst out, stunned by the thought.
“What? What’s wrong?” Willow squealed right beside her.
Diana pulled herself back to the moment and laughed. “Nothing, honey. I was just thinking of something and a word popped out of my mouth. Ignore me. I’m silly today.”
“That’s ’cause you didn’t eat breakfast,” Willow said wisely.
“Right,” Diana agreed, and thought she probably was being silly. Reason told her that she couldn’t trust a man who wasn’t telling the whole truth. She could not believe he didn’t know Penny and Willow, at least casually. He said he lived in New York—where Penny had lived with Jeffrey. He refused to tell her his occupation, but he’d gleaned information about the explosion from the police over twenty-four hours before they were ready to make a public announcement.
She knew nothing about this man . . . except how the night of the fire he’d pulled her car to safety; or that he’d run into Clarice’s house and carried her out before she became trapped by flames; that he’d gone back to the site of the explosion to find Willow; that in the face of her irrational anger and tears yesterday because he hadn’t stayed with Willow in the emergency room, he’d pulled her close and said, ‘Don’t cry, darlin’.’ Most of all, Diana remembered that in spite of herself, she’d felt secure in his arms and both soothed and touched by Tyler’s deep, Southern voice murmuring those words with tenderness, that did not sound phony or patronizing.
Willow stood regarding her gravely, her crown listing to the right. “Diana, are you all right?” she asked cautiously.
“Yes, honey. I was just thinking about Lenore coming.”
The child immediately tensed. “You think she fibbed to us? You think she’s really gonna come with the Bad Man?”
“No,” Diana lied. “Still, I don’t believe we want to sit around here all afternoon, especially because we planned on a walk and taking some pictures.” She paused, thinking. “Willow, how would you like to have a picnic?”
“I love picnics, but maybe we should just hide in the house and not go to the door when the lady comes. I know you’re scared about the Bad Man, no matter what you say.”
The child was acutely perceptive, especially when it came to her mother and Diana. “Well, the Bad Man—I mean Jeffrey—can’t come into this house and cause trouble if we’re not here. We had a walk planned. It’s too pretty a day to miss a walk. There’s no reason why Lenore can’t come with us, and we’ll make a real occasion of it by having a picnic.”
Diana stood up and was talking as she headed for the kitchen, Willow right behind her. “I know we have lemonade. You like lemonade. And peanut butter and jelly and . . .” Diana opened the refrigerator door. “And turkey cold cuts! We can have two kinds of sandwiches! And potato chips—Nan thinks we don’t know she has a bag stashed in this cabinet but we do—and she has sugar cookies, too! Oh, bless you, Nan!”
“Bless Nan?”
“For bringing in food we need for our picnic. I don’t want to go to the store. I want to have everything ready when Lenore gets here.” So we don’t have to spend more than a few minutes alone in this house with her and God knows who else might show up, Diana thought. “It’ll be a surprise for her. She’ll get to see you and have a nice day in the park. Oh, where’s the picnic basket?” Willow pointed to a large pantry. “How did you know that?”
“Sometimes when I came with Mommy and she was workin’ with Uncle Simon, Mrs. Murphy let me explore. She’s way nicer than Nan.”
Nan. And Glen, whose class Nan took spring semester. Glen seducing a student, unless she simply had a crush on him and followed him around. Diana had a hard time believing Glen was merely the innocent object of a crush, now that she recalled a few awkward times when he and Nan had been in the same room and exchanged uncomfortable glances. She also recalled the afternoon they seemed to spring apart in the hall when Diana came down the stairs, and she’d told herself that they’d merely passed too close. And she remembered a day when every time she left the room, she came back to find the nonsocial Nan talking to Glen.
Glen was definitely involved with Nan. Diana knew she had to face it and she had to do something about it, even if it only meant she had to force Glen out of her own life. She couldn’t make Nan give up on a relationship that Diana was certain would only give the girl pain, but she didn’t have time to dwell on those two now.
Twenty minutes later, Diana had assembled a less-than-elegant collection of food in the big picnic basket. She’d just added a handful of paper napkins and three plastic cups when the doorbell rang. She opened the front door to see Lenore Wentworth waving away her husband, Blake, driving a white sedan.
She looked back at Diana. “Jeff took the Lincoln, of course. He left the car with the faulty air conditioner to us,” she said, rolling her eyes. “My! I didn’t even say hello!” She laughed. “Hi, Diana. I wish I was thin enough to wear such tight jeans and look so great in them!”
Diana laughed, slightly taken aback by Lenore’s exuberance but unable to receive her coolly. “Hello, Lenore. As for the tight jeans, I have a habit of getting busy and skipping meals. I’m glad you think I look nice. Uncle Simon complains that the modern woman is obsessed with denim. He claims he’s forgotten what I look like in a dress.” Lenore had stepped into the foyer. She smoothed her beige linen slacks and matching short-sleeved belted top that looked simple but Diana recognized as designer garb.
“It seems awfully quiet around here,” Lenore commented. “Are we alone?”
Diana spent a moment wondering if the question had significance before she decided to answer honestly. “Simon took Clarice to church.”
“And your housekeeper? Ann, is it?”
“Nan. Short for Nanette. Her mother, Martha Murphy, has been our housekeeper for twelve years, ever since she became a widow. Martha had a mild heart attack the first week in June, and she begged Simon to let her daughter fill in for her. All I can say is that we will be grateful beyond words when Mrs. Murphy returns in two weeks.”
Lenore burst into laughter. “So that’s the answer! Blake and I were baffled as to why you would have a housekeeper like Nan. She certainly has a style of her own!”
“That’s putting it mildly. Aside from being totally inexperienced, she doesn’t like us and doesn’t care about letting us know it. Oh well, we don’t have to endure her for much longer.”
“And there’s my niece right behind you. Darling, how cute you look!” Lenore effused. “When did you become a queen?”
Willow smiled tentatively. “I’m not really a queen. I don’t know if my crown’s got real diamonds. Diana bought it for me.”
“So it’s definitely not made of real diamonds,” Diana said dryly to Lenore.
“Who cares? The stones look like real diamonds and you look wonderful Cor—Willow. My husband and I decided this morning that because your mother wanted you to be named Willow, and it’s what you’ve gotten used to, we’ll both call you Willow instead of Cornelia.”
Willow smiled. “Good. I don’t like that other name.”
“That’s very considerate of you, Lenore,” Diana said.
“Well, I’d hate to be called a name I didn’t like.” Lenore looked at Willow. “Do you remember my name?”
Willow had heard Diana say “Lenore” twice in the last five minutes, but when she said, “Len-ore,” the woman clapped her hands.
“Even when you were little more than a baby, you were determined to say ‘Lenore,’ not ‘Len’ or ‘Nore,’ ” she exclaimed. “My husband, your uncle Blake, sometimes calls me Len, but you never did.”
“Oh,” Willow said, looking as if she didn’t really know how to respond to this information.
“I usually walk around the park on Sunday mornings and take pictures,” Diana intervened. “You said you’re an amateur photographer so I thought you might be interested. Then Willow and I decided it would be fun to have a picnic. Is that all right with you?”
When Lenore seemed startled and not pleased by this sudden change in plans, Diana felt a tinge of relief that she and Willow would not be staying alone in the house with this woman they didn’t know. Maybe someone else was supposed to arrive.
But Lenore’s expression quickly morphed into one of pleasure. “That does sound like fun. Maybe you’ll give me a few tips about photography. I’m sorry I didn’t know last night how accomplished you are, but it turns out my husband saw some of your photographs in a gallery in New York. He was very impressed with them. I felt like a complete idiot for bragging about the Christmas picture I’d taken.”
“You didn’t brag and the photo was quite good.” Lenore gave her a chastising look. “All right, it showed promise.”
“I consider that a compliment coming from you.” Her blue eyes darted around. “Well, I guess we have some gear to gather up for our excursion.”
Diana picked up her newest camera and a blanket, while Lenore insisted on carrying the picnic basket. Willow removed her crown and they loaded into Diana’s car and drove down the hills to the parking lot beside the wide, flat land at the front of Ritter Park. Across the street stood some imposing, beautifully maintained homes. Near the entrance to the park, a large fountain sent sparkling jets of water into the air. Several stone bridges arched over the narrow Four Pole Creek and led to rustic steps ascending a hill to rose gardens.
“My goodness, this is just idyllic!” Lenore exclaimed, looking at the acres of lush grass and towering trees. “I had no idea. Last night we focused on finding your house and today I was chattering to Blake, as usual, and not paying attention to my surroundings. How big is this park?”
“About seventy acres,” Diana said as they climbed out of her car and looked for a good picnic spot. “There are tennis courts, the rose gardens—you can see a bit of them from down here—an amphitheater, and an impressive museum at the top of the hills above the park.”
“And see those steps over there?” Willow said, abruptly showing some of her usual ebullience. “There’s about a hundred of ’em goin’ up that hill—”
“I think it’s more like twenty-five or twenty-six steps,” Diana corrected, smiling.
“Yeah, well, a lot. They go up to the rose gardens, Lenore, and there’s this building up there with lots of glass called A Room with a View where people have weddings and parties after the wedding and the guests come out and walk around the roses and look over the hill and the fountain’s all lighted up and that’s where I’m gettin’ married when I pick out the right boy,” Willow ended breathlessly.
“My goodness”—Lenore smiled—“you certainly have things well planned, Willow. Do you have any boys in mind?”
“Mommy says I have plenty of time, but I know I want a prince or a movie star or a rock ’n’ roll singer. There’s a place here where they have rock ’n’ roll concerts and Diana and Mommy took me to three of ’em and I like the guys that sing. And play guitar. If I marry one of ’em, I’ll sing with him and his band.”
Diana raised her eyebrows at Lenore, both of them swallowing laughter. “You’ve really thought this through, Willow,” Lenore said. “That’s good. But remember what your mommy told you—you have plenty of time.”
Diana cleared her throat and looked beyond Lenore and Willow. “I see a nice spot near the park entrance. No Frisbee players or sunbathers anywhere near it. We can just enjoy the day.”
“Yeah, that’s a good place,” Willow agreed, running ahead of them.
“Well, she certainly doesn’t seem afraid of me,” Lenore said, pleasure in her voice.
“I guess she isn’t. She let you in on her plans for the next twenty years of her life. Even the site of her wedding. I hope you like rock music in case she doesn’t meet a suitable prince or movie star.”
“I’m afraid my taste in rock froze when I was in my early twenties. I don’t like most of the modern stuff. Heaven knows what it will sound like by the time Willow gets married.”
When they reached the spot, they set down the picnic basket and the blanket. “I’m afraid the picnic was a last-minute idea, Lenore, and we don’t have any fancy food.”
“No chocolate-covered strawberries? No caviar? Well! I’m going back to the hotel,” Lenore laughed.
“Who eats chocolate-covered strawberries?” Willow asked.
“People who want to get fat,” Lenore answered, helping Diana spread the blanket on the grass. “I like simple food.”
Lenore seemed to doubt her own claim when she saw the peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, the bag of chips, and the Thermos of lemonade. She stared at the sandwiches with disdain before she remembered to smile. “I haven’t had a peanut butter and jelly sandwich since . . . I can’t remember!”
“We have turkey cold cuts, too. And sugar cookies!” Diana said grandly, amused by Lenore’s attempt to look enthusiastic. “I just love sugar cookies!”
“I’m watching my weight. I wish I were statuesque like you, but I’m only five-four and usually carry twenty pounds too many. I exercise like mad and even do weight training. I get stronger but not thinner. Blake says I look perfect, though,” she emphasized. “I lost five pounds staying at my mother’s, and I don’t want them back, so I think I’ll just have a turkey sandwich.”
“I’m five-six. I’d hardly call that statuesque.” Diana laughed, handing Lenore a plastic-wrapped turkey sandwich then pouring her a plastic cup full of lemonade.
During the picnic, the earlier chatty Willow ate silently and steadily, occasionally casting half-shy, half-reflective glances at Lenore. Finally she asked, “Lenore, do you go to a place like this called Central Park?”
“Central Park! You remember!” Lenore cried out, laying down her sandwich. “Central Park is in New York City and it’s even bigger than this park. Your mother took you there at least three times a week when you lived in New York. Sometimes I would come with the two of you.”
“Oh.” Willow regarded Lenore with a pensive gaze. “But other people came sometimes, too.”
“That’s right! Your uncle Blake came with us a couple of times. Then your daddy started sending a man to go along with you to protect you.”
“To protect me from what?”
“Sometimes bad people loiter in the park—muggers, homeless people who are crazy and dangerous. Not that all homeless people are crazy and dangerous—just some.”
Clearly, Willow didn’t understand “loiter,” “muggers,” or “homeless people,” but she didn’t ask for any explanations. Instead she asked, “Did my daddy ever go with us?”
“No. He was always busy, but he loved you very much.” Willow frowned. “Honey, you remember him. You saw him last night.”
Willow went still and said distinctly, “The man you said was my daddy last night wasn’t my daddy. He was the Bad Man.”
“Honey, he is your daddy. He’s a good man. What makes you think he’s bad?”
“He just is. You can’t fool me because I’m a kid,” Willow maintained stubbornly. “He is the Bad Man.”
“Willow, he isn’t bad. He loves you. He wants you to be with him always.”
Willow drew back. “I don’t want to be with that man! I’m scared of him! Diana, don’t let her take me to him!”
“Lenore is not going to take you,” Diana said in her most authoritative voice, hoping to pierce through the armor of Willow’s fear. “She didn’t come here to take you or to talk about your daddy. She came for our afternoon in the park. Didn’t you, Lenore?”
Lenore looked at Diana’s stern expression and seemed to pull away slightly. “Yes, Diana is right.” She sounded disappointed but she clearly knew that Diana thought she was pushing the child and wouldn’t allow any more talk of “daddy.” “I’m just here for a visit today, Willow. That’s all.”
The child gave Lenore a penetrating look for a moment then began to relax slightly. She made a few bland comments about the people jogging by them, and threw some pieces of bread to the small, almost tame, gray squirrels. A little girl about Willow’s age carrying a disposable camera ventured over and asked if Willow would take her picture. Diana nodded and Willow jumped up delightedly. She often said that when she grew up, she wanted to be a “picture taker” like Diana. The two girls ambled away, talking as if they’d known each other for years and looking for the perfect background for the photo.
“I didn’t want to mention this in front of Willow,” Lenore said, lowering her voice although no one was near, “but I saw the morning newspaper. The police claim a bomb caused the explosion at Penny’s house!”
“I saw the paper, too,” Diana replied carefully.
“My God, do you believe it?”
“According to the newspaper, the fire marshal has no doubt and neither does the ATF.”
“But it’s incredible! A bomb?” Who could have built a bomb?”
Diana watched Willow showing the other little girl how to pose in front of a tree. “I didn’t get the impression from the newspaper that it was a sophisticated bomb. Dynamite, a fuse, and a timer. Anyone could learn to build a simple bomb like that from the Internet.”
“But why? Did Penny have enemies?”
“Not that I knew of, but she must have had at least one.”
“You knew her so well, though,” Lenore persisted. “You must have known about her other friends and people she knew, so you must have some idea of who could want to harm her.”
A warning bell had begun to chime loudly in Diana’s mind. Lenore was trying to sound innocently shocked and curious, but her almost childlike persistence about the matter struck Diana as insincere. She decided to let Lenore know that pumping her for information was useless.
“Lenore, the only person I know who might want to harm Penny is your brother.”
Lenore looked as if she’d been slapped. Then astonishment turned to anger. “You think Jeff might have done this to Penny? My God, Diana, he didn’t even know where she was!”
“He was still searching for her and he had a lot of people searching, too,” Diana said calmly. “Are you absolutely certain Jeffrey didn’t find out where Penny was living before the authorities called him to say his wife had been in an explosion?”
“Of course I’m certain!” Lenore’s voice lifted, and someone jogging by turned to look at her. “I can’t believe you’re even insinuating that Jeff had something to do with Penny’s mishap!”
“Mishap? Is that what you call Penny suffering what are probably fatal burns? A mishap?”
“I misspoke. A . . . catastrophe. A tragedy.”
The little girls laughed and traded places. Willow began striking poses while the other child snapped photos. “Yes. I would say both of those words apply to what happened to Penny.”
“And almost happened to Willow. Are you forgetting that if she’d been in the house, the explosion would have killed her? Do you think Jeff would kill his own daughter?”
“I don’t know what Jeffrey Cavanaugh might do,” Diana said enigmatically, this time turning the tables on Lenore, getting her flustered so she might reveal all that she knew about Penny and Jeffrey.
“If you think Jeff would harm Cor—Willow, then you don’t know one thing about him!”
“That’s been my point all along,” Diana said, reaching for the camera that lay beside her. “I don’t know one thing about him, and I certainly don’t know why Penny had to run away from him and live in hiding instead of getting a divorce. There had to be a reason, Lenore. I don’t know what it was, but no one can convince me Penny wanted to live that way.”
“There wasn’t a reason!” Lenore said loudly. “Jeff was finally happy and she nearly destroyed him and no one knows why the hell she would do such a thing! Of course we want answers and you were her friend.”
“I was a friend who thought Penny was a widow from Pennsylvania. I had no idea she was the runaway wife of Jeffrey Cavanaugh. I know none of you believe me, but it’s the truth and no matter how hard you try to draw out information about Penny, that’s all you’ll get because that’s all I know. Now, please lower your voice, Lenore. People are beginning to look at us. If you want to fight with me more over what you think I know, I’ll be glad to oblige you but not now. If you love your niece as much as you say you do, you won’t ruin this day for her.”
While Lenore seemed to be fighting for self-control, Diana peered through her camera lens. The girls looked delighted, laughing, long little-girl hair shining in the bright sun, the giant tree trunk behind them, and the creek beside them, one of its banks formed by a rock-covered, light-dappled hill. They were only about seventy feet away, so the depth of field was not extreme. The camera had automatically preset for medium depth of field, so all Diana had to do was set the aperture. She immediately shot five frames in one second. Diana lowered the camera, smiling.
Lenore said nothing while the girls changed poses and Diana shot two more frames. When Diana put down the camera, she noticed that Lenore’s breathing had slowed down. Finally Lenore said, “I’m sorry we’ve badgered you if you truly didn’t know more about Penny. It’s just that everyone says you were her closest friend, and she was hiding a very big secret. I knew Penny, and I find it hard to believe she was capable of such confidentiality.”
“Then apparently neither one of us knew her as well as we thought we did,” Diana said evenly. “We’ve both learned she was very good at keeping a secret.”
“Yes . . . Yes, I guess we have.” Lenore took a couple of deep breaths then said, “I’m sorry I flew off the handle, Diana. It’s just that my brother’s life has been hell since Penny left and took the baby. Sometimes he holes up in the apartment for a week—he doesn’t even go in to work. He can carry on business fine from home, but he won’t even let anyone come see him. He simply withdraws from the world and it frightens me. I’m always afraid one day he’ll go inside and never come out again.”
“It sounds as if he needs some serious psychological help.”
“I know he does, but I think he believes his troubles started too long ago to ever be fixed. My brother hasn’t had an easy life, Diana. Our father was a cold, hard man—a self-made man who didn’t really admire anything in another person besides strength. He thought Jeff was a weakling because under that stony facade, my brother is kind and principled. Dad thought those qualities were signs of fragility and he tormented Jeff unmercifully when he was growing up.”
“That’s too bad,” Diana said, never taking her gaze off the little girls who’d come together for a quick conference and now began to walk slowly toward Diana and Lenore, their arms around each other.
“Yes, it was very bad,” Lenore said bitterly. “Then my father was murdered when Jeff was thirty. And guess who the police’s number one suspect was? Jeff. In spite of all my father’s shady connections, even his links to the Mafia, the cops seemed to think Jeff killed Dad so he could take his place at Cavanaugh and Wentworth.”
“That’s awful,” Diana said faintly, shocked. She also grew a fraction more afraid of Jeffrey Cavanaugh. “Why did they jump to the conclusion that Jeff wanted to replace your father at such a young age? The board of the company couldn’t have believed Jeffrey was ready for so much power.”
“Jeff certainly didn’t. But apparently, Dad had made some remarks to people about his son, I quote, ‘wanting to take over the throne.’ I’m sure my father, Morgan, thought he was being funny. He would have found the idea of Jeff replacing him ridiculous. Morgan Cavanaugh thought no one could replace him!
“The police dogged Jeff for over a year, but they could never find evidence to link Jeff with Dad’s murder,” Lenore went on. “Meanwhile, although a few of the board members grumbled, Jeff did replace Dad, which was lucky for the company. Jeff is a genius, Diana, and I’m not saying that lightly. He has quirks—everyone does, but especially people with genius-level IQ’s. He’d nearly doubled the company’s business and taken it public by the time he was thirty-five. But he never recovered from the stigma of being his father’s possible murderer. And then there was Yvette.”
The little girls had almost reached them before they stopped to take a few shots of two squirrels darting in circles holding acorns. “Who is Yvette?”
“Who was Yvette, you mean. Yvette DuPrés. She was Jeff’s first wife. He married her when he was thirty-three. Three years later, she plummeted out of the eighth-floor window of a hotel in San Francisco. She was as unstable as she was beautiful. Their marriage was a mistake to begin with and only got worse over those three years. She committed suicide, but . . .”
Diana jerked around to look at Lenore. “But what?”
“But the police believed Jeff threw her out of that window.”