In the Event of My Death (5 page)

They gamboled after her into the kitchen, starving as usual. She opened a can of food for each and poured fresh water. When they finished and dashed through the dog door into the backyard, she fixed herself a cheese sandwich. She could have used something more substantial, but she didn’t have time.

Twenty minutes later she was headed north toward Oglebay Park. Laurel had always loved the fifteen-hundred-acre resort, particularly around Christmas when it became the showplace for America’s largest light show. Ever since the Winter Festival of Lights began in 1985, she’d made the tour. In the beginning the show was somewhat humble, with only a couple of thousand lights. Now there were over nine hundred thousand lights covering three hundred acres of land. Claudia laughed at Laurel’s continued childish delight with the lights, but Laurel ignored her. Christmas had always been her favorite time of year. At least until this year.

Earlier she’d called Crystal from the store and she had agreed to meet with Monica. As Laurel drove up the last hill and circled the lodge, she looked for Crystal’s red Volkswagen but didn’t see it. Maybe she was simply late. Laurel hoped she hadn’t changed her mind about coming.

She parked, taking a moment to look at the hills surrounding the lodge. They formed a dark silhouette against the lighter darkness of the night. Below her was Schenk Lake and in the distance the glow of lights from some of the giant Christmas displays. How nice it would be if she were here merely for her yearly tour, not to see Monica about Angie’s murder.

She found Monica’s room quickly and tapped on the door. In a moment Monica answered. “Hello, Laurel,” she said pleasantly. “You’re the first to arrive. Come in.”

Laurel was amazed at how little Monica had changed since she’d seen her over twelve years ago. Her hair was still shining mahogany, worn halfway down her back and nearly straight except for a slight curve at the ends. The luminous skin was free of lines, her eyes a brilliant, clear green. She was around five feet ten with wide shoulders and perfect posture and she looked even slimmer than she had as a teenager, tight black slacks and a cashmere turtleneck sweater revealing a body that obviously underwent regular workouts.

“You’re looking well, Laurel,” she said, closing the door. “You’ve cut your hair.”

“Years ago. It’s easier to take care of.”

“It suits you.”

“Thanks. You look remarkably the same.”

Monica cocked an arched eyebrow. “Is that good or bad?”

Laurel smiled. “Good and you know it. I thought a high-pressure job like yours would take more of a toll on your appearance.”

“I’ve learned to manage stress.”

“Like we’re under now?”

Monica merely nodded and took Laurel’s coat, laying it across one of the beds. She had a comfortable double room with blue-green carpet, white bedspreads with an ivy pattern, and a big window overlooking snowy rooftops and the hills beyond. A door led to a narrow balcony.

Laurel sat down on a bed. “We could have met at my place.”

“I heard you moved back into your parents’ house. We need to be alone.”

“I didn’t give up my apartment until my parents moved to Florida. I live alone in the house.”

“I know, but someone might stop by. You
are
dating a cop, aren’t you? That’s what Angie told me. It wouldn’t do for him to find us all together.”

“Yes, I’m seeing Kurt Rider. Do you remember him?”

“Vaguely. One of those big jock types.”

Laurel decided to overlook the faint derision in her voice. “Well, he’s a deputy with the county sheriff’s office now, but I already told him you were coming to town.”

Monica’s face tightened. “Why did you do that? Now he’ll be suspicious.”

Laurel felt herself stiffening, anxious to make excuses to appease Monica. She had to remind herself she was a thirty year-old woman who should no longer be daunted by Monica, no matter how self-possessed and authoritative she was. “Monica, Kurt was not suspicious,” she said firmly. “I explained you were coming for Angie’s funeral. He remembers we were all friends. He wouldn’t think it was odd if we got together for an evening.”

“Did you tell him about the evidence at Angie’s apartment pointing to the Six of Hearts?”

“Of course not. He doesn’t know about the Six of Hearts. He doesn’t know anything except that Angie was murdered.”

Someone tapped on the door. Monica opened it and Laurel heard Denise’s voice. “Well, I’m here. Satisfied?”

“I see time has done nothing to dull that sharp tongue of yours.”

Over the years a tension had developed between Denise and Monica. They were the only two of the Six of Hearts who had started to squabble by the time they were sixteen.

Denise strode into the room. She was scowling, her gray eyes angry behind attractive metal-rimmed glasses. She’d let her curly black hair grow to almost shoulder length but it was carelessly pushed back on either side with tortoiseshell combs. She looked careworn and slightly flushed.

“Hello, Denise.”

Denise’s expression softened. “Hi, Laurel. Sorry if I was short with you on the phone last night. It hadn’t been a good day.”

“That’s all right. Is Audra feeling better?”

“She stayed home from school, but I don’t think she has the flu.”

“How old is your daughter?” Monica asked.

“Eight, and a real handful. Where’s Crystal?”

“Just late, I hope,” Laurel said. “I talked with her this afternoon and she said she was coming.”

Denise sat down but didn’t remove her pale gray wool coat. “I really don’t know what you expect to accomplish, Monica. Are you going to organize another club? A group of amateur detectives who can catch Angie’s murderer?”

Monica’s eyes narrowed and Laurel braced for a scorching retort when another knock sounded at the door. Crystal rushed in looking flustered. “I’m sorry I’m late. My car is so undependable. I didn’t think it was going to start. You probably thought I wasn’t coming. I should have called. Hello, Denise. Monica.”

“Glad you could make it,” Monica said, seemingly oblivious to Crystal’s agitation. “Shall we get down to business?”

Same old Monica, Laurel thought. Always taking charge. As she glanced around the room to see Denise looking truculent, Crystal scared, and Monica commanding, she wondered how they’d all become friends. Maybe it could only have been possible a long time ago when they were softer, more malleable, before the dominant traits of their personalities took control. Or maybe they had all changed after Faith’s death.

“I assume Laurel has told you about the evidence at the scene of Angie’s murder that points to it having something to do with the Six of Hearts.”

Denise said yes. Crystal nodded, watching Monica with wide, worried eyes.

“I know some of you feel this is flimsy evidence—”

“Excuse me, Monica, but there’s something you don’t know.” Laurel withdrew the envelope from her purse. “I received this yesterday. Crystal got an identical piece of mail today. They’re both postmarked New York.”

Monica reached for it with a long slender hand with perfectly manicured nails. She glanced expressionlessly at the paper with its red six and heart, next at the photos, then said flatly, “I got the same thing yesterday. Aside from the symbols in Angie’s apartment, it’s what made me determined to come here.”

Monica held the items out to Denise. She took them, cringing when she saw the picture of Angie’s body. “I didn’t get anything like this.”

“Why would the killer send this awful stuff to Laurel, Monica, and me and not to you?” Crystal asked Denise.

“I have no idea.”

Laurel’s voice sounded to her as if it were coming from someone else. “Because the rest of us live alone. The killer didn’t want Denise’s family to see the photos.”

After a moment, Monica said, “You could be right.”

“How considerate of him,” Denise returned dryly.

“You should be glad,” Crystal said sharply. “What if Audra had seen that picture of Angie?”

Denise shut her eyes. “It would have been dreadful.” She looked at the rest of them. “But I can’t be sure he
won’t
send me this stuff later. I have to watch the mail closely every day. If Wayne saw this…”

“Denise, did you tell him about the Six of Hearts and Faith?” Laurel asked.

Denise shook her head emphatically. “
No
. I’ve never told
anyone
.”

Monica looked at Crystal. “Did you ever tell?”

“N-no.”

Monica pinned her with an icy green gaze. “You don’t sound too sure.”

Crystal twisted her hands nervously in her lap. “It’s just that after my baby was stillborn I was sedated. Chuck said I kept muttering things about ‘fire’ and ‘Faith,’ but he thought I was just rambling about her death.”

“Are you sure you didn’t say anything about the club or our being there when Faith died?” Monica demanded.

“I don’t think so.”

Monica rolled her eyes. “You don’t
think
so. Great.”

“I’m sure if I had, Chuck would have mentioned it. He would have asked what I was talking about.”

“All right. Stop looking so terrified.” Monica sighed. “
I’ve
never told anyone and Laurel says she hasn’t. We don’t know about Angie.”

“Or Faith.”

“If Faith told someone about the Six of Hearts and that person figured out we had something to do with her death, they sure waited a long time to get revenge,” Denise said. “Besides, who would she have told? Certainly not her father. Zeke Howard is a religious fanatic. He would have beaten her senseless. How about her sister?”

“Mary works for me,” Laurel said. “She has for over a year. If she bears any animosity toward me, I’ve never seen a trace of it.”

“How about Neil Kamrath?” Crystal asked. “He was her boyfriend and the father of her baby.”

“He got married,” Laurel said. “He’s a successful writer. If he knew, why would he suddenly decide to start striking back after all this time?”

“His wife and son were killed in a car wreck less than a year ago,” Denise told them. “As a matter of fact, he’s in Wheeling because his father is dying of cancer.”

“He’s
here
?” Monica exclaimed.

“Yes. For a couple of weeks now. Wayne is his father’s doctor. He says Neil is pretty shaky. First his wife and son, then his father all within one year.”

“Pretty shaky?” Monica repeated. “Angie’s fiancé, Judson Green, told me that a couple of weeks before she was killed, he was away on a business trip and she told him she had a visitor. An old friend from Wheeling was all she’d tell him. He was certain it was a man. I
know
it wasn’t any of us. It could have been Neil. She was fairly friendly with him in high school and he could have been in New York to see an editor or agent or something.” Monica pinned Denise with a glance. “Do you think after Neil’s wife’s and son’s deaths he’s emotional enough to suddenly fixate on Faith?”

Denise frowned. “How should I know? I haven’t talked to him, and even if I had, I’m not a mind reader. Wayne did invite him to our Christmas party Saturday night. I doubt if he’ll show up, but if you want to come and see…”

Monica looked interested. “It might be worth it.”

“
I
don’t want to see Neil Kamrath,” Crystal said. “He was so weird in high school, the big brain who always stayed to himself. I never understood why Faith dated him. She said he was interesting, but how on earth anyone could find
him
interesting I’ll never know.”

“You found Chuck Landis more interesting?” Monica drawled.

Crystal flushed. “As a matter of fact, I did. At least he’s normal. Have you read any of those awful books Neil writes?”

“They’re horror novels and I think they’re great,” Laurel said.

Crystal frowned. “They’re gruesome and you’d have to be nuts to come up with some of that stuff he does.”

“You don’t have to be nuts,” Denise said. “You just need a good imagination.”

Crystal shook her head. “No. Ghosts, vampires, monsters. I think you’d have to be crazy to think about stuff like that all the time and actually write
stories
about it.”

Monica looked impatient. “Can we save this highly literary discussion until later? We have a much more urgent issue to solve. We have to figure out who murdered Angie and who’s trying to terrorize at least three of us.”

“Isn’t that up to the police?” Denise asked. “Don’t the New York police have any suspects?”

“Only one—Angie’s ex-husband Stuart Burgess,” Monica said. “He is
not
a nice guy, but for some reason he gave Angie a small fortune in the divorce settlement. The police wonder if she was holding some damaging information over his head. Nasty rumors about him have circulated for years, but no one has ever known anything definite. Maybe Angie did. Anyway, she never got around to changing her will so now that she’s dead, all that he gave her, plus all that she made on Broadway, belongs to him. He’s been arrested.”

“Well, there you go!” Crystal said hopefully. “He probably did it.”

“Maybe,
if
he knew about the Six of Hearts and Faith. If he didn’t, why would he have put a six and a heart on her mirror? Why would he be sending
us
mail with Angie’s and Faith’s photos?”

“To throw the police off the track?”

“The police don’t know about the Six of Hearts, Crystal.” Monica shook her head. “I agree Burgess had an excellent motive, but I don’t think he did it. And the problem is that Angie was killed between midnight and three Tuesday morning. It’s now almost eight o’clock Thursday night. After twenty-four hours the trail gets cold.”

“That’s still not such a long time,” Crystal insisted. “I can’t believe they solve all murders in twenty-four hours.”

“Certainly they don’t. I’m just saying the more time that passes, the harder things get for the police. In the meantime, three of the four of us have received what I interpret as warnings that our turn is coming.” Monica gave each of them a hard stare. “I, for one, don’t intend to sit idly by and let it happen.”

“Go to the police,” Laurel said promptly.

“No!” chorused three voices. “Absolutely no way,” Denise stated.