The red Corvette sat in front of Lily's apartment. Natalie, Blaine standing beside her, knocked on the door. In a minute Lily appeared. She wore a robe and her eyes were red and slightly swollen. "Natalie," she said without inflection. "I didn't know you were coming."
"May I bring in the dog?"
"Of course. I love dogs." She shut the door. The draperies were pulled. The only light in the room came from a television. A soap opera played with the sound turned low. "Do you want something to drink? Juice? Soda? Coffee?"
"Wine."
Lily raised an eyebrow, a ghost of a smile playing around her mouth. 'It's just past noon, Natalie St. John. What would your father say?"
"The same thing he'd say if it were ten p.m." She deepened her voice. "My darling girl, alcohol is not good for you."
"You obviously disagree," Lily said, pulling a bottle of wine from the refrigerator.
"At the moment it's exactly what I need. I've had quite a nerve-wracking morning, thanks to you."
"Thanks to me?" Lily poured white wine in a glass, then ran water into a bowl and set it on the floor. Blaine lapped loudly. "What did I do?"
"You called me," Natalie said, walking back into the living room and sitting down on the couch.
"I didn't call you this morning."
"Lily, your voice is on the answering machine. You said something like, 'Natalie, it's Lily. I'm at Tamara's. Meet me. It's urgent.' "
Lily stared at her for a moment. "Natalie, I did not call you. And I don't ever remember using the word urgent. And why would I be at Tam's? Why would I want you to meet me? What time did the call come?"
"Around ten."
"And it sounded like my voice?"
"Yes, but rushed and breathless."
"So it wasn't exactly like my voice."
"Well, no." Natalie paused. "And you said Tamara instead of Tam."
"I didn't say anything. I'm telling you, it wasn't me. Don't you believe me?"
"Yes, but I don't understand why someone wanted me to go to Tam's."
"Did you go?"
Natalie nodded. "You weren't there so I wandered around a bit. Then I…" She hesitated. She didn't want to remind Lily of the vultures. "I thought you might have gone down Hyacinth Lane to the Saunders house. On the way I ran into Jeff Lindstrom."
"Jeff Lindstrom?" Lily looked blank.
"The guy who was in your store yesterday morning. Lily, he was weird."
"He didn't seem weird in the store."
"Today he was like a different person. He asked me questions about Tamara and Warren and Charlotte."
Lily closed her eyes. "I suppose everyone is talking about them."
"These weren't the questions of someone expressing normal curiosity. He was so intense. He kept looking right into my eyes and coming closer. He asked if Tamara knew Warren was having an affair with Charlotte."
"The son of a bitch." Lily's tired eyes filled with tears. "My poor sister was pregnant at last and Warren was screwing around with Charlotte."
"Pregnant?" Natalie echoed. "You didn't tell me."
"Sheriff Meredith just told Dad and me after the autopsy. She was eight weeks along. Do you know how badly Tam wanted a baby?"
"Yes." Natalie reached out and touched her hand. "Lily, I'm so sorry. I know that doesn't help."
"Nothing can help. Tam is gone. The baby is gone." Lily shuddered. "Oh, God."
"Lily-"
She held up a silencing hand. "No. Don't indulge me. I have to pull myself together. I was doing better yesterday until I heard about the baby. I need to be strong, though. There's the visitation tonight and the funeral tomorrow." She drew a deep breath. "Tell me more about Jeff."
"Well, obviously he made me uncomfortable with all those questions. I said I had to go, but he wouldn't move. I was getting scared, when Jimmy Jenkins came flying up on his bike. After Jeff left, Jimmy told me he'd been hanging around Tam's house earlier."
"What do you suppose he's up to?"
"I don't know. I'm going to call Nick Meredith this afternoon and ask him to check out this guy."
"Good idea. He's not Tam's murderer, though."
"You don't know that."
"Oh yes I do," Lily said vehemently. " Warren killed Tamara. I know it."
"And left that note saying something about tombs?" Natalie said, careful to sound vague about the quotation. She had not told Lily about the anonymous phone call or the voice in The Blue Lady. As far as Lily knew, Natalie had only seen the quotation once, briefly, on a blood-stained note. "Why would Warren do that?"
Lily's attention quickened. "I think he left the note to throw off the police, to make them think some nut killed my sister. He was a psychologist-it's the kind of thing he would think of."
Natalie was taken aback. She hadn't liked Warren, but she knew he was extremely bright. If he were capable of killing Tamara to get rid of her, the murder would be care fully plotted. He'd already lied about his alibi for the night of the murder. He'd even somehow coerced someone into verifying the alibi. But why had he invented an alibi in the first place? Simply because he had no alibi and he was afraid he would be the number-one suspect? Or because he was guilty?
"If Warren killed Tamara, then who killed Warren and Charlotte?" Natalie asked evenly as the simmering hatred in Lily's eyes alarmed her.
"I don't know. I don't care. If I'd had any idea what Warren had been doing to my sister…"
"You'd have killed him yourself?"
Lily blinked and her expression grew guarded. "Now you think I'm a murderer? Natalie, I would have felt like killing him, but feeling and doing are different things."
For the first time in their long friendship Natalie felt a flicker of doubt about Lily. She hated the feeling. Would she be having it if Nick Meredith hadn't raised the possibility that Lily had killed Warren and Charlotte? Lily looked at her questioningly, and she realized she hadn't responded.
"I understand how you must have felt about Warren," Natalie said quickly. Then she thought of the other possible killer she had discussed with Nick. "How is Alison doing now that her beloved is dead?"
"Last night she was moving around like she was in a trance," Lily said, her face growing defenseless again. " Warren 's father Richard stopped by. He has acquired this very young, flashy wife since you met him at the wedding. He also brought along his hulking younger son Bruce. Richard had already had a few too many drinks before they arrived, then he started in on Dad's brandy. He acts mad at Warren for getting killed."
"Well, they say anger is one of the stages of grief."
"It isn't that kind of anger. He was ranting and raving about how this was typical of Warren -he never showed good sense. What the hell was he doing with that Bishop woman? Did we all know about the affair? Did we all know what a complete ass Warren was making of himself? He was shouting and glaring at all of us. Alison started to cry. Her whole body shook. Viveca left with her. As soon as they were gone, Richard said Alison looked crazy. His wife told him to hush, but he just got louder and drank more and went on about what an idiot Warren was."
"I remember Richard Hunt from Tam's wedding. I thought he was awful."
"We all did. Thank goodness we haven't seen much of him and probably will never see him again after this mess is cleared up. As much as I detested Warren, I could see why he turned out the way he did."
"He certainly set off Alison for the evening," Natalie said, clumsily steering the conversation back to the direction she wanted. "Do you think she's worse?"
Lily looked away for a moment. "Yes. I hadn't really thought about it, but she's different than she was when Dad and Viveca began seeing each other."
"Do you think she's capable of violence?"
"Violence? Well, I've seen her throw a couple of tantrums that were pretty scary. She's stronger than she looks and her temper is fierce. She's been wandering around at night. I know Viveca is really worried."
"Alison is very unstable. And she had a wild crush on Warren." She paused. "Lily, Alison probably saw Tam as a rival."
Lily's eyes widened. "Do you think Alison might have killed my sister?"
"Maybe. And as for Warren -well, with her rival out of the way, Alison could have thought Warren would turn to her. But he didn't, of course. He ran straight to Charlotte."
"He did, didn't he? Two nights after his wife was murdered, he was with his mistress."
Lily suddenly sounded vague, detached. Was it because she'd been profoundly shocked by the possibility that Alison killed Warren? Or was it because she knew Alison had not murdered him?
Natalie had brought no clothing suitable for a funeral. How could she have guessed a two-week visit home would include the murder of one of her closest friends? She'd never known anyone who was murdered. But no matter how she had died, the rituals of death would be observed for Tamara.
Natalie was never an enthusiastic shopper, but when she tried on clothes at the slightly antiquated local department store, she had to choke back tears. Lily never shopped for clothes in Port Ariel, but Tamara did. In a few months she might have stood in this dressing room trying on maternity tops. She would have been so happy.
Finally Natalie chose a short-sleeved black dress for the visitation and a navy blue suit for the funeral. She knew she would wear each outfit only once. The associations with Tam's death would always be too strong.
When she arrived home she felt as if she'd run a marathon. A telephone encounter with Kenny, the unnerving meeting with Jeff Lindstrom, a visit to Lily's, and a dreaded shopping trip had all occurred before three o'clock. To top it off, her head still hurt ferociously. She took two more aspirin and went to her bedroom, stripping to her underwear and slipping beneath the sheet and coverlet. Sleep came with the abruptness of a door slamming in her face.
"Coming to see me tonight?" Tamara asked. She sat in a wicker rocker, a filmy white gown flowing around her. On a small table beside her glowed a Tiffany-shaded lamp throwing soft colors over the perfection of her profile. Then the light brightened, and Tamara turned her head full face toward Natalie. The skin was checkered with bloody gashes, her eye sockets were empty. "Look what's happened to me, Natalie," she said sadly. "Just look what's happened."
Natalie jerked up in bed, her heart throbbing, a strangled scream tearing at her throat. Alarmed, Blaine leaped onto the bed and leaned forward to lick Natalie's sweaty face. She put her hand on the dog's sleek head. "It's all right, girl," she murmured. "A horrible dream, that's all."
She swung her legs to the side of the bed and glanced at the clock. Five-fifteen. Less than two hours until Tamara's wake.
If Kenny were here he would be trying to cheer me up, she thought. He would be saying that Tamara had been happy in her twenty-nine years of life. He would tell me that everyone has a time to go and it was simply her time to go and that one shouldn't mourn over what fate has decreed.
He would be annoying the hell out of me, Natalie thought abruptly. Kenny never wanted to face the dark side of life. He'd never had the need. Nothing awful had ever happened to him. Her life had been different. No slick, superficial phrases had been able to wipe away the realization that her mother had walked away from her and barely looked back. She'd faced heartache and loss when she was young and although the experience had been rough, it had challenged her to do some deep thinking that Kenny had escaped.
A bit stunned by her realization, she absent-mindedly took another quick shower and dressed for the visitation, dusting powder over her face and adding some blush and lipstick to hide her pallor. The black dress made her look somber. She slipped on her watch and added small silver filigree earrings. Silver filigree earrings. She'd given Tamara dangling filigree earrings and one had fallen from Jeff Lindstrom's pocket this morning. Had Tam been wearing the earrings the night she was murdered? As soon as possible she had to tell Nick Meredith about Jeff and the earring. She hoped he would come to the wake.
At quarter to seven she headed to Leery's Funeral Home. The parking lot sat full of cars. Natalie opened one of the double doors and stepped in on incredibly thick forest-green carpet. Doleful organ music reverberated through the rooms. A tall, thin man with thick silver hair and melancholy expression descended on her. "Leonard Leery," he said just above a whisper. "This is my establishment."
"I know, Leonard. I'm Natalie St. John."
He squinted, then blushed. "Natalie! I didn't recognize you."
"It's been a long time."
"Yes. Not since Grace Peyton died." His melancholy expression intensified. "Oh, my, this is just awful. Dear Tamara. Such a fine woman. Oliver and Lily are devastated."
A short, plump woman appeared beside him. Leonard and Loretta Leery had always reminded Natalie of Jack Sprat and his wife. "Natalie, you sweet thing!" Leonard winced at his wife's fluting voice. "How slim you are!"
Natalie wished she could say the same for Loretta. Her black skirt was stretched tightly over a substantial girdled derriere and huge ruffles decorated her gray blouse, giving her the look of a pouter pigeon. She'd dyed her gray hair a brassy copper color and swept it up in a mass of hairspray stiffened curls. "What do you think of my hair?" she asked, preening.
Leonard saved Natalie by saying softly, "Dear, I don't think now is the time to be discussing hair color."
Loretta smiled good-naturedly. "Lenny's right as always. I have the finesse of a rhinoceros. You go sign the guest register, Natalie. Then I'll show you your basket of flowers. They aren't the biggest, but they're one of the prettiest!"
Leonard blushed again. Loretta, wafting clouds of Opium perfume, hustled Natalie over to the register and then into the "slumber room." Candles glowed everywhere. "Here they are!" Loretta called cheerily as she stood beside a basket of glads and orchids. "The only basket like it! The mayor sent a dinky little planter-I'd be embarrassed-but the governor sent three dozen roses!"
"Oliver Peyton is close friends with the governor."
"Yes. The family's blanket was all carnations. I was sur prised. Cheap. Doesn't make a good impression. I would have expected something like that from Warren, but Oliver?"
"I think carnations were Tamara's favorite flowers."
"Still…" Loretta said meaningfully. Then she frowned. "Of course, I shouldn't be throwing off on Warren even if I didn't care for him. Charlotte is another matter. I love Muriel Bishop. One of the sweetest women on this earth even if she is a bit dim. But that girl! Spoiled rotten. I told Muriel over the years, 'Muriel, you're spoiling that girl!' but she always gave that weak little smile and said, 'She only listens to her Max.' Max! Now there's a role model! No wonder Charlotte was so insufferable. Of course we'll be taking care of her. Do you think Paul Fiori will come to the funeral? Wouldn't that be exciting! Charlotte 's coffin will be open, not like poor Tamara's. I tell you, Natalie, when they brought Tamara in I took one look at her and ran out of the room crying!"
"Loretta!" Leonard stood behind his wife, flushing to the roots of his exquisite silver hair. "Dear, I really could use your help with the mourners."
Loretta winked at Natalie. "He just wants me to quit blabbing, but I know you and I understand each other." Natalie wondered what would make her think so, although in spite of Loretta Leery's loose tongue Natalie had always liked her. "You're so much like your father, Natalie," Loretta said. "Thank goodness you take after him and not your mother."
Leonard turned fuchsia and looked as if he were going to pass out. Natalie almost laughed, marveling that someone as proper as Leonard, a mortician no less, had ever married the egregious Loretta, especially in his line of business. The only answer must be love, she decided. A great deal of love.
Loretta took her Opium-scented self over to another group while Leonard drooped back to the door. Natalie wondered if he'd ever walked jauntily, or had trudged solemnly even in the days of his youth, practicing for the time when he would inherit the family undertaking business.
"I didn't think she'd ever leave."
Lily stood beside her. She wore a dark blue long-sleeved dress and had skinned back her gleaming blond hair with a bow at her neck. She'd lost weight and with no makeup or jewelry, she'd also lost her glamour. Even her hazel eyes lacked their usual sparkle. Natalie felt a wave of pity and pushed down the treacherous doubts she had had earlier in the day about her best friend.
"Loretta is never at a loss for words," Natalie said, "but she means well."
"She's a sweetheart. Tactless but a sweetheart. She doesn't approve of the casket blanket I chose, but Tam loved pink and white carnations. Simple and unassuming." She rolled her eyes. "I sound like Warren talking about wine."
"No, Warren would have used words like piquant, impertinent, imposing, provocative." Lily grinned with a trace of her usual mischievous self. "Where is your father?" Natalie asked.
"He fell apart when we first came in. Viveca took him into a back room and I was sent away."
Bitterness edged her voice. Natalie had thought Lily resented Viveca because she was so different from Grace Peyton. Now she wondered if Lily might be jealous because Viveca had become so important to Oliver. Lily liked responsibility. She liked having her father and her sister lean on her. Now Tam was gone and Oliver had turned to Viveca, who would do everything she could to control him. It seemed to be working. He depended on her more and more. Natalie knew this would not have happened to her father. Andrew St. John would never let someone dominate his life.
"Please tell me Alison isn't here," Natalie murmured.
Lily shook her head. "Wish I could oblige. She's swathed in black, and I do mean swathed. She came in wearing a black lace mantilla on her head. She looks like something from the nineteenth century."
"Ariel Saunders?"
"Good call. She's definitely playacting."
Natalie lowered her voice to a whisper. "Are you getting any sense that she might have been responsible for Tam's death?"
Lily's eyes darkened with fury at the thought, but she hesitated. "I honestly can't say. She doesn't look or act guilty, but then she looks and acts so weird all the time, who could tell? I'm keeping an eye on her, though. I hope you will, too, when she finally emerges from seclusion with Viveca and my father. In the meantime, I'd better circulate. Looks like this dreadful little ceremony has been dropped in my lap."
"I see the Keatons coming in. I'll handle them. She'll want to go over every death in her family for the past twenty years."
"As if we haven't heard it all before. And there's Miss Ginsler. Can you believe she's still teaching second grade? I'm sure she was at least eighty when we were in her class."
Natalie grinned. "She's in a time warp. She's always been eighty. And a grouch. She couldn't bear me. She sent a note home to my father saying she thought I'd be in prison before I graduated from high school."
"You almost proved her right when you freed all those lab frogs when we were in high school." Lily smiled. "I'll handle her. Then I'm rousting out Dad, Viveca or no Viveca."
Half an hour later a gray-faced Oliver Peyton nodded solemnly to a few mourners. Loretta had dragged Viveca away from him to admire the flower tributes. Alison sat like a cold, sharp ice sculpture about two feet from the coffin.-She watched it narrowly as if any moment she expected the lid to snap open and Tamara to pop up bursting with life. Was it fantasies or guilt that made her so vigilant? Natalie wondered.
Sheriff Meredith walked in. He still wore his uniform and he was the tallest man in the room. Voices quieted. People stared. Alison went rigid. Viveca's lips parted in either distress or surprise. Natalie strolled toward him. "You've dazzled your audience."
"So I see." He looked around self-consciously. "What's wrong? Have I sprouted horns? Grown fangs?"
"A lot of people immediately act guilty around the police even when they've never broken the law in their lives. I'm not so sure that can be said of this crowd. See anyone who looks suspicious?"
He smothered a smile and played along. "So far everyone looks like they have something to hide. Have you picked up on anything?"
"I'm afraid not. Except for Alison. She's the one in the front row with long blond hair and yards of black cloth. She's acting very strange, but as Lily pointed out, Alison always acts strange. I thought Oliver was going to lurk in the back room throughout the festivities, but Lily dragged him out."
"Is Warren 's family here?"
"I caught a glimpse of his stepmother, I haven't seen his father. Apparently he only came to Port Ariel to see what he could find out about Warren 's death. I think he's showing terrible manners by not putting in an appearance tonight, but I don't think Richard Hunt gives a damn about manners. He certainly doesn't fit the stereotype of the mousy accountant."
"Who's that beautiful blond woman who keeps looking at Alison?"
"Her mother Viveca. I'm sure she's glad Alison isn't throwing one of her tantrums, but the statue act is almost as unnerving."
A look of reluctance passed over Nick's strong features. "I should offer my condolences to the Peytons."
"Yes. They're both staring at you."
"Be right back."
Neither Lily nor her father smiled at the sheriff. Natalie knew Lily didn't care for him-she liked Sheriff Purdue's down-home demeanor. Oliver Peyton liked Purdue because he was a puppet. Nick Meredith was no one's puppet.
Loretta was bearing down on Nick as he walked back to Natalie "Is there somewhere we can talk?" he asked suddenly. "Somewhere private?"
Loretta struck. "Sheriff Meredith!" She beamed, showing her perfect teeth. "I've been wanting to meet you. Loretta Leery. I voted for you!"
"Thank you," Nick said awkwardly.
"Loretta, is the back room empty?" Natalie asked.
"Need a cigarette?"
"I don't smoke," Natalie said, then could have bitten her tongue for fumbling the perfect excuse. "I need to sit down. My shoes are too tight; my feet hurt."
"Right this way," Loretta answered, then glanced back in surprise as Nick followed them. "Do your feet hurt, too?"
"Uh, I thought you might have some coffee back there. I've been going since five this morning."
"Oh, you poor thing!" Loretta exclaimed loudly. People looked again. "Why, of course we have coffee. And some doughnuts and Danish. The pastries were my idea. Leonard didn't approve, but I said, 'Leonard, people need a little boost to get them through ordeals like this.' And do you know that we received nothing but compliments on the addition of food? Sometimes I do have a good idea. I just have trouble making Leonard come around to my way of thinking. Well, here we are. Coffee, food, and the freedom to smoke."
"Thank you, Loretta," Natalie said as the woman hovered at the door. "We'll just be a few minutes."
"Take as long as you like." Loretta gave her an exaggerated wink of conspiracy indicating she knew Natalie's real intention was to get the handsome young widower alone. Natalie felt color tingeing her cheeks. Loretta the perpetual matchmaker. Naturally she would interpret the situation romantically. "Just relax, you two. Everything is in control out front, and it's very private in here."
She fluttered her fingers in farewell and rushed down the hall, no doubt to tell Leonard that something was going on with Natalie and Sheriff Meredith. It couldn't be helped and really didn't matter, Natalie told herself, although she hoped Nick hadn't been as aware of Loretta's sly looks and innuendoes as she had been.
Nick was already drawing coffee from the big urn. Natalie felt if she had any caffeine, she might shoot right through the roof. Her nerves tingled.
"Okay, what is it?" she demanded. "Don't tell me someone else has been murdered."
He looked at her in surprise. "No. Sorry I scared you. I just wanted to talk to you. Hysell has an interesting theory about the connection among the murders."
"Hysell? Ted Hysell?"
"Yes. Don't look so shocked. He has more on the ball than I thought."
Natalie shrugged. "Will wonders never cease? What's his theory?"
"Do you remember Eugene Farley?"
Natalie took a deep breath. "He used to date Viveca Cosgrove. She was dating my father until she met him."
"Really?" Nick shook his head. "I didn't know about that."
"I was glad when Viveca stopped seeing Dad. Ever since her husband died she's gone through men like tissues. I was afraid he'd really fall for her and then she'd dump him. Well, she dumped him, but I don't think he felt anything serious about her." She frowned. "But you asked about Farley, not Viveca. Farley was head accountant at Bishop Corporation. He embezzled funds. He was tried and found guilty. Right after the trial he shot himself and died."
Nick sat down on a folding chair and took a sip of coffee, saying nothing. Natalie waited, then said impatiently, "I don't get Hysell's brilliant connection."
Nick looked at her. 'Think about it. Oliver Peyton was Farley's attorney, and he lost the case. Richard Hunt was the accountant who exposed Farley. Max Bishop owned the company Farley stole from. He could have fired Farley and let things slide, but he brought up Farley on charges. Now a daughter of Peyton, the son of Hunt, and the daughter of Bishop have been murdered."
"They are all children of people involved in the Farley case," Natalie said slowly.
"Right."
"My God." Natalie sat down on a folding chair beside him. "That can't be the connection. It's too farfetched."
"You'd chalk the connection among the victims to coincidence?"
"Saying it's a coincidence sounds just as far-fetched." Nat alie thought for a moment. "But, Nick, these three people had more in common than being children of people who knew Eugene Farley. They were involved in a love triangle."
"In a case involving a love triangle only one or two people are murdered. If there's a third death, it's a suicide. None of these was a suicide." Natalie's forehead creased in thought and her gaze grew far away. "Today I called Constance Farley, Eugene 's mother," Nick went on. "Her husband died just weeks after Eugene. She lived in Columbus at the time of the deaths, but six months ago she moved to Knoxville, Tennessee. I learned that tidbit from Ted, who is dating a woman who was involved with Farley."
"Good Lord, what an incestuous little town we are!"
Nick grinned. "I wouldn't go so far as to say incestuous, but it's hard for me to get used to all these relationships. I like it, though. It makes getting information easier."
"Who needs paid snitches when everyone knows everyone else's business and loves to talk about it? So what did you ask Mrs. Farley? If she'd been in Port Ariel slashing people's throats?"
"I tried something more subtle, but she got my meaning. She seemed shaky, but she told me she hadn't left Knoxville for months. She claimed she didn't know anything about the murders and she didn't want to know. She said, 'I just want to be left in peace.' "
"And you left her in peace."
"I didn't push it, but I called the Knoxville police and gave them the story. Very cooperative bunch down there. Two hours later they called back and told me they'd talked to Mrs. Farley's neighbors. Seems she's never been gone for even one day since she moved in almost six months ago."
"The neighbors have seen her every day?"
"Yeah. She has a dog and walks it rain or shine."
"How about when they can't see her? She could have come up here at night."
"It's approximately a sixteen-hour drive from Knoxville to here."
"She could fly."
"I thought of that, but the Knoxville police also told me Constance doesn't have a driver's license, which eliminates car rental. She'd have to fly into Cleveland and take a commuter flight to Port Ariel. The commuter flight schedules don't fit. She couldn't leave Knoxville at night and be back early the next day."
"You are thorough." Natalie tapped her fingers on her cup. "So Constance Farley hasn't been running back and forth to kill people in Port Ariel?"
"Seems not, and the Knoxville cops found the idea a stretch. I joked along with them, but I felt like a fool for suggesting it. When you say it, it does sound crazy, but I can't ignore the connection of the victims' parents with Eugene Farley, much as I hate to give up on the idea that Lily or her father had something to do with the double homicide." He paused. "You look uncomfortable. What is it?"
"This morning someone pulled another prank." She told Nick about the call from a woman claiming to be Lily and her meeting with Jeff Lindstrom. "You're going to ask if the voice on the machine sounded like Lily's," she said. "I saved the message and played it back twice. It's close, but it isn't Lily's voice. The enunciation and pace are right but not the quality."
"Did it sound like the voice you heard in The Blue Lady?"
"Yes, only more breathy."
"So you went where the voice asked you to go and you ran into Jeff Lindstrom, who'd been hanging around for hours and who asked you a lot of questions and acted like he might do something to you. Maybe he has more to do with this than we guessed."
"You think he could be the murderer? What does he have to do with Tam, Charlotte, and Warren?"
"Maybe Charlotte is the key. Maybe there was something between them before she came back here."
"She threw over Jeff for Warren? Well, that could explain him killing Charlotte and Warren, but why Tam?"
"I don't know. I'm just throwing out possibilities."
"What about my anonymous calls and the incident at The Blue Lady?"
Nick's face had turned tired and grim. "The voice on the phone and in The Blue Lady sounded like Tamara's. It couldn't have been Lindstrom unless he electronically altered his voice."
"I don't know how that works."
"It's fairly easy to come by the devices you need. Or he might have gotten someone to make the calls for him. How long did you walk on the shoreline before you went to the pavilion?"
"Around twenty minutes."
"If Lindstrom was watching you, that would have given him plenty of time to make a call on a cell phone and get someone to the pavilion."
"How could he know I'd go to The Blue Lady?"
"He could have lured you there-done something to set off the dog so she'd follow him and hoped you'd go inside. Hell, maybe he knew you actually used to go in there and might not be afraid."
"How could he know that?"
"He learned it from the woman who's making these calls for him, someone who's involved with him, someone who knows you."
"Nick, he hasn't been in town long enough to get seriously involved with anyone."
"We don't know how often he's been in this town, Natalie. This doesn't have to be his first visit."
"I guess you're right. Then there's the earring."
"Are you sure it was Tamara's?"
"If it's not hers it's one exactly like it and what are the chances of that? Two years ago I gave Lily and Tamara earrings for their birthday. Lily's had amethysts in a modern bezel setting. Tam's were the old-fashioned filigree." She reached in her pocket and withdrew the earring wrapped in a tissue. "The back is gone. Also, Jimmy handled it, so there probably aren't any good fingerprints."
"You never know," Nick said, holding up the earring by the post. The small amethyst glittered in the light. "I'll check to see if Tamara was wearing only one earring. Some killers take trophies from their victims, you know."
"That would explain him carrying it around."
Nick stood. "I think I need to have a talk with Mr. Lindstrom." He set his Styrofoam cup down beside the coffee urn. "I'll call you tomorrow and tell you what I found out. I also need to talk to Viveca Cosgrove and Oliver Peyton."
"Why?"
"Farley stole the money, because he wanted Viveca back. Peyton was his lawyer. They both have daughters who need to be careful."
"Do you really think this person might go after Alison and Lily?"
"Yes, I do." He paused. "Natalie, Farley didn't die immediately from the shot to the head. He was taken to the hospital. He died while your father was performing surgery, surgery someone claimed your father botched." He gave her a long, penetrating look. "And Andrew St. John has a daughter, too."
Andrew and Ruth arrived only minutes after Nick left. Andrew wore the haggard look that meant he'd done several surgeries. Ruth was bright-eyed and stylish in dark green and pearls.
"Sorry I'm late, honey," Andrew said to Natalie. "Harder day than I expected."
"That's all right. Even Oliver delayed his appearance."
"I thought I saw the sheriff in the parking lot," Ruth offered. "Has he learned anything else about the case?"
"I don't think so," Natalie said vaguely. Now was certainly not the time to go into Ted Hysell's theory about the connection among the victims. "He just stopped by as a courtesy. He'll probably come to the funeral, too. Come say a few words to Lily, Dad. She's not in good shape."
Andrew might have disapproved of Lily through the years, but he was all gentle concern tonight. Oliver did not unbend, looking at Andrew as if he'd never seen him before.
Viveca rushed over. Natalie cringed inwardly, but her father showed no emotion. Viveca might have bewitched Eugene Farley and Oliver Peyton, but apparently she had little effect on Andrew St. John. He introduced her to Ruth, and Natalie smiled inwardly as she noticed Viveca's blue eyes sweep over Ruth, quickly calculating the cost of her clothes and deciding whether the pearls were real. Ruth was probably ten years older than Viveca, but she held her own in the style department. Ruth looked calm and secure as she talked quietly with mourners. The woman had class, Natalie thought appreciatively. She also seemed to have made quite a few friends during her short time in Port Ariel, judging by the familiar way she talked to many of the guests.
The wake officially ended at nine o'clock. A few stragglers stayed behind talking about everything except the murder. "I'm going to take Ruth home now," Andrew told Natalie.
"All right. I'll stay and help Lily-"
"No you won't." Lily had materialized in front of her. "You look exhausted, Nat. Please go home. I feel drained, and I still have to get through the funeral tomorrow. I'll really need you then, so you'd better get some rest."
Natalie put up a feeble argument, then dropped it. Lily was right. She was tired, and tomorrow would be long and nerve-wracking. She needed to soak some of her tight muscles in a hot bath and try to drift into what she hoped would be a dreamless sleep.
Andrew had brought Ruth, who asked him to take her by his house so she could retrieve the sunglasses she'd left when she dropped by that morning. Natalie followed the couple in her car, and ten minutes later Blaine joyfully greeted everyone, her tail wagging at the sight of human company. Natalie realized she felt as if the dog had always been part of her life.
She talked Ruth into staying for pie and coffee. They all settled into the living room that glowed with soft lamplight to rehash the evening.
"So many people!" Ruth said. "Tamara had many friends."
"I think most were friends of Oliver and Lily," Natalie explained. "Tamara stayed to herself."
Ruth smiled. "So I've heard. I've been to Curious Things several times and met Lily. She seemed like an extrovert, a fun-lover."
"That's an understatement," Andrew put in. "I used to wish Natalie were closer to Tamara than Lily. Tamara might have curbed my daughter's rebellious streak."
"You weren't able to," Ruth returned tartly. "Frankly, I find high-spirited young women charming. I used to be one. Now I'm quite tame and boring."
"You aren't boring," Andrew announced.
"Church work and a cat. I am boring, just like most women my age." Except for my mother, Natalie thought sourly. "Local gossip tells me Tamara lived like someone at least twice her age, but everyone agrees she was goodhearted." Ruth sighed. "It's such a shame she had to die."
Natalie felt tears well in her eyes. She blinked furiously and stood. "More coffee or-" Her voice broke and she emitted a ragged, "Oh!"
Ruth stood and came toward her. "Natalie, you're a wreck." She patted Natalie's shoulder while Andrew looked at her apprehensively. He'd never known how to handle emotional scenes. After Kira left, Natalie had frequently burst into torrents of tears for her lost mother. Andrew always responded with an agony of blundering, ineffectual distress. Natalie had felt so bad about his misery at the sight of hers that she'd learned to save her tears for times when she was alone. Finally she had squelched them completely, pushing her grief far down and covering it with a blanket of resentment. Bitterness Andrew could handle, anguish he could not.; "I'm sorry," Natalie squeaked out around the lump in her throat. "This is so silly…"
"You're exhausted and upset," Ruth said. "You should get some sleep."
Andrew looked at Natalie warily as if he expected her to start jumping up and down and shrieking. "Would you like a sleeping pill, honey?"
"No. Kira was the one with a taste for downers, not me." That's better, she thought in satisfaction. Andrew appeared relieved that his daughter was issuing acid remarks instead of standing in the middle of the living room weeping. "I'll just clear up the dishes-"
"No, I'll do that," Ruth said, heading for the kitchen. "Off to bed and have golden dreams."
"I never heard of golden dreams before, but I'll try." Nat alie managed a weak smile. "Good night, Dad."
"Good night, my dear. Do you have plenty of blankets?"
It was June, and even if it had been January with a blizzard howling in off Lake Erie, Andrew was not one to worry over bed linens. She must have really rattled him. Natalie tried not to let her amusement show in her eyes. "I'm fine, Dad. Come on, Blaine. Bedtime for us."
The dog obediently followed her into the bedroom. Natalie shut the door against the murmur of Andrew's and Ruth's voices, immediately kicked off her high heels, and sat down at her vanity table. She looked awful, hollow-eyed and pale-skinned. She removed her earrings and wiped off her lipstick. Tonight she wouldn't worry about dousing her face in her usual expensive cleansing cream she'd let a pushy saleslady at cosmetic counter tell her she couldn't live without. Tonight a bit of equally expensive moisturizer would do. What had she been thinking when she bought this overpriced stuff? Kenny. She'd been thinking of looking like an eternal twenty-one-year-old for Kenny.
Disgusted with herself, she stood quickly and slid out of the unflattering black dress. She was unfastening her bra when suddenly Blaine trotted to the tapestry-covered bench beneath the window and jumped up. "No, no, Blaine," Natalie said. "Dog nails aren't good for the fabric."
Blaine ignored her. She nosed apart the curtains and stared intently for nearly ten seconds, then let out a low rumble.
Natalie went still for a moment, watching the black hair along Blaine 's backbone rise and her stance stiffen. Someone was out there.
Without thinking, Natalie swiftly covered herself with her silk kimono, not from a sense of modesty but from fear, as if the delicate cloth could protect her. She turned off the overhead light and crept near the window. She peeked through the crack in the curtains Blaine had made and saw-
Nothing.
She squinted into the night. The carriage-style light mounted on a pole near the side of the house threw dim illumination over the rock garden Andrew had built for Kira thirty years ago. A few brave Grecian windflowers, crocuses, and grape hyacinths stood against the cool darkness. Near the rock garden a weeping willow tree.
The weeping willow tree. Had she caught a hint of movement? Blaine rumbled again, leaning forward until her nose pressed against the glass. Natalie's heart beat harder. Possibly the dog had seen an animal, although if it were a small animal it would have to be climbing on the tree to equal the height at which she'd noticed movement. Besides, she'd seen Blaine spot a squirrel on a branch yesterday. The dog had looked interested but not especially excited. Natalie did not think the sight of an animal had caused Blaine 's raised hackles and stiff legs.
Her breath suspended, Natalie watched. She had inherited her father's sharp vision, better than 20/20. If anything-or anyone-was out there, she would see.
And there it was.
The glow of a cigarette tip. A lazy arc up, the brightening of the lighted ashes as someone inhaled, a lazy arc down. The watcher was calm and deliberate. How long had he been out there? What did he want?
Natalie jerked away from the window, startling Blaine who let out a sharp, loud bark. The yellow end of the cigarette shot away from the tree. Natalie rushed to the phone extension on her nightstand, called police headquarters, and reported the watcher. A slightly patronizing deputy told her not to worry as long as no one was trying to break into the house. "Is Sheriff Meredith in?" she asked.
"No ma'am, but we wouldn't need to bother the sheriff for some teenager trying to sneak a peek at a pretty lady undressing."
Anger flashed through Natalie. "Is Ted Hysell on duty?"
"Now, miss-"
"Is he on duty?" she demanded.
"He's not on duty, but he just stopped in-"
"Let me speak to him."
"It's not necessary-"
"Put him on the phone!" Damn, damn, damn! Precious time was slipping by. "Tell him it's Natalie St. John."
The deputy let out a furious sigh and yelled, "Hey, Hysell, some hysterical woman named St. John wants you!'"
In seconds Ted Hysell asked, "Natalie? What's wrong?" She told him about the watcher with as few words as possible. "Be right there," he said and hung up.
Natalie clutched the kimono around her and rushed into the living room. Her father and Ruth had left. She ran to the front door to make sure it was locked, then went to her bedroom and pulled on a pair of jeans, a sweatshirt, and Reeboks.
Once dressed, she walked back to the living room and turned on every lamp, then sat down on the Boston rocker. Blaine sat beside her, frequently looking up at her face for signs of anxiety. Natalie had never been afraid in this house. Unhappy. Angry. Bored. Never frightened. But three people had been savagely murdered in Port Ariel during the past week. Three people who were children of people linked to Eugene Farley, just like her own father was. And now someone stood in the dark and watched this house.
She rocked faster. Where was Ted? Had he only been humoring her? Had he and the other deputy laughed over her panic as soon as he'd hung up? Maybe she should call Nick Meredith. Yes, that's what she should have done in the first place.
Natalie jumped up and was striding to the phone when she heard noises outside. She rushed to the window. Two men with flashlights, talking. They walked toward the house and in a moment knocked on the front door. She had already seen one in uniform. She swung open the door. "Ted! How long have you been out there?"
"About five minutes. No lights, no sirens. Didn't want to scare off the creep, but there's no sign of anyone."
"Ted, someone was out there under the weeping willow."
"Thought that's where he was. We found two cigarette butts and a crumpled Marlboro package. I got the cigarette package for prints."
Natalie smiled. "You don't know how glad I am you're taking me seriously. Sheriff Meredith told me your theory about the connection among the murder victims."
"He did? I figured he just blew it off."
"Well, he didn't. He even talked to Constance Farley today. Didn't he tell you?"
"It's my day off."
Which explained his jeans and work boots. The other deputy was in uniform. "I'm sure he'll tell you about it tomorrow. He doesn't think she's a suspect."
Ted looked disappointed. "I thought I was on to something."
"I think you are, in spite of Constance 's alibi. So does the sheriff." She hesitated. "He respects your abilities, Ted."
The man's plain face slowly suffused with ill-suppressed surprise and joy. "He does?"
"Yes. He told me so." She didn't know what to say next. She might have already said more than Nick would like, but Ted had looked like he could use some bolstering. "Do you and the other deputy want to come in for some coffee?"
"No, no thanks," Ted said hurriedly. "Got to get back to write this up. Are you here alone?"
"Temporarily. Dad should be back soon."
"I'll have someone drive by once an hour anyway. 'Night, Natalie. Be sure to lock that door."
Oh, I certainly will, Natalie thought as she closed the door behind Ted. She had no doubt the watcher had been here before tonight and no doubt that he'd come again.