“Me, too,” Nicole agreed. “I think I’d scream if I had to teach tomorrow.”
“Mommy, do you think Daddy’s in jail now?”
“No. I think he’s probably already out”
“What if he comes back here and tries to take me away?”
Nicole hugged her. “The policeman is still outside. He won’t let Daddy in.” He won’t let Roger near, Nicole thought. Not with a restraining order. Lisa had come for his car earlier.
“Could we have some popcorn?” Shelley asked.
“Sure, kiddo.”
She had just placed a bag of popcorn in the microwave when the phone rang. Nicole picked it up to hear her mother blurting, “Nicole Marie Sloan, murders happened in your house and you didn’t tell me!”
“I didn’t want to upset you, Mom. There was nothing you could do.”
“I could have been there for moral support. But this person, this Iggy Dooley, what was he doing in your house?”
“Izzy Dooley,” Nicole said, setting the microwave for two minutes. “I didn’t invite him here, Mom, he was robbing the place.” At the very least, she thought.
“Well, who killed him?”
“I don’t know.”
“So there were two people in your house, one robbing it, one killing the robber, and you didn’t hear anything?”
She wasn’t about to tell her mother about the drinking, the mugging, the Seconal. Phyllis would be even more appalled. “I know it sounds incredible.”
“And a young police officer was also killed?”
“Yes. That was very sad.”
“It’s awful. It’s also awful that you didn’t tell me.”
“Mom, I—”
“Didn’t want to worry me. Kay’s been saying the same thing. You were in on this together.”
“Mom, don’t you get mad at Kay. She didn’t know what happened—only that I didn’t want you to read the newspaper yesterday evening.”
“I’m not going to get mad at her, especially knowing how persuasive you can be. She’s as much of a pushover when it comes to you as your father was.”
The first kernel popped and Nicole jumped. “Mom, I’m sorry you feel betrayed, but I really was trying to protect you. Besides, Shelley wasn’t even here—she was spending the night with Jill—and I wasn’t hurt.”
“But you must have been shocked out of your mind. And I didn’t even have a safe place for you to come because of that ridiculous carbon monoxide leak,” Phyllis snapped, as if she held the leak personally responsible for everything that had happened.
“Is the new furnace in?”
“Yes. I’m going home tomorrow. Then you and Shelley will move in with me.”
“We’re settled back in our own house, Mom.”
Phyllis’s voice became shrill. “You are not staying in a place where murderers lurk!”
“Murderers don’t usually lurk here, Mom. Besides, the house has been completely cleaned and we have a patrolman outside.”
“That didn’t help much the last time. That unfortunate young man.”
“I know. I feel terrible about it. I ordered flowers for his funeral, although I don’t know how his wife will feel about that—he did die because of me.”
“He died doing his duty, Nicole,” Phyllis said firmly. “You have nothing to feel guilty about. And flowers are always appreciated.”
“Mom, I do have a piece of good news. Jesse was found.”
“Oh, thank goodness!” her mother exclaimed. “I was so worried about what losing him might do to Shelley. Who found him?”
“I’m not sure,” Nicole said vaguely. “He was taken to a veterinarian’s, and they called me.”
“How did they know where to call?”
“His ID tag.” Nicole hated lying to her mother, but she certainly couldn’t tell her the truth. “He had a bad scratch on his side, but otherwise he’s fine.”
“I’m glad. And I’m sure Shelley is ecstatic.”
“She is.”
Her mother paused. “Well, if I can’t talk you into moving in with me, will you at least come to the house tomorrow afternoon, just so I can assure myself you and Shelley are really all right?”
“Sure, Mom,” Nicole said, then remembered the bruise on her jaw. Tomorrow would call for heavier makeup than usual and staying out of bright light. “Will you be home around noon?”
“Yes. I’ll fix a light lunch.” She paused. “And you may even bring that little ragamuffin dog, if you like.”
Her mother must really be worrying about them to issue an invitation for Jesse, too, Nicole thought. “I’m sure Shelley would love to bring him.”
The corn was now popping wildly and Shelley appeared in the kitchen. “Aunt Carmen’s here.”
Nicole nodded. “Mom—”
“I heard. You have company. Have a nice evening and I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Carmen had come armed with some late-edition fashion magazines “which I’m sure you haven’t had time to read,” and their senior high school yearbook “for laughs.”
Nicole took up the popcorn, melted a whole stick of butter in the microwave (so much for calories and cholesterol, she thought), and drizzled it over the bowl. Then she fixed soft drinks and carried everything back to the living room.
Carmen really looked at her for the first time. “What happened to your face?”
Nicole was about to say she’d bumped it on the door when Shelley volunteered, “Daddy was here, shouting and stuff about the murders. He wanted to take me away, and when Mommy wouldn’t let him, he tried to hit the policeman and then he did hit Mommy. The policeman put him in handcuffs, read him his rights, and took him to jail.”
Carmen’s lips parted and she looked at Nicole. “Really?”
“I’m afraid so.”
“I can’t believe it!” Carmen exclaimed. “Well, yes, I guess I can. He’s out of control.”
Nicole sat down on the couch. “Oh, it wasn’t such a big deal,” she said for Shelley’s benefit. “He didn’t mean to do it, and my jaw doesn’t hurt at all.” Carmen looked as if she didn’t want to let go of the subject, but Nicole’s voice was firm. “Why didn’t you bring Jill?”
“Jill is spending the night with a friend. I thought you might find it creepy being back here, so I decided to spend the evening with you.”
Nicole smiled. “It’s a pleasant surprise. Just the three of us girls, hangin’ out.”
“Us girls and Jesse,” Shelley said, burrowing between Nicole and Carmen on the couch, reaching forward for the popcorn bowl and offering it to Carmen. She stared at it for a moment then dived in, obviously not worrying about the diet tonight. When the bowl was empty, they turned to the yearbook. Shelley looked at her mother’s senior picture—stiff, unnatural, her young face crowned with layered, puffy hair—and laughed. “Your hair doesn’t stick out like that anymore, Mommy.”
“No. Styles change, thank goodness. You don’t know how much time I spent trying to get my naturally straight hair to curl and pouf. I hate to think of how much hair spray I used. Your Aunt Carmen was blessed. Her hair curled all by itself.”
They looked at Carmen’s photograph. Her hair was indeed full, her face thinner. “Aunt Carmen, you look sad in that picture,” Shelley said.
“Yeah, I guess I do,” Carmen said softly.
Nicole remembered the day those photos were taken. Carmen and Bobby had had a fight in the morning. Carmen was upset out of all proportion, it had seemed to Nicole. She didn’t know then that Carmen thought, probably correctly, that Bobby would immediately turn to another girl.
“Let’s look at some more,” Shelley said. “Are there any other people in here I know?”
“I don’t think so,” Carmen told her. “But there are others of your mother and me.” Carmen flipped pages. “Here’s your mother—the head cheerleader all the boys wanted to date.”
“Oh, sure,” Nicole laughed. “I sat home lots of Saturday nights. I was afraid I wasn’t even going to be as
ked to the prom.”
“That’s because your parents scared off everyone,” Carmen said. “Boys nearly had to be cleared by the FBI before they could date you.”
“Blame that on Mom. The general taught her interrogation techniques that would frighten off the bravest soul.”
“Were you a cheerleader, Aunt Carmen?” Shelley asked.
“No, I was in the band. I wore a heavy uniform and hid behind a saxophone.”
“Were you a good player?”
“No, I was awful.”
“Then how come you did it?”
“I guess I just wanted attention.” Carmen turned more pages. “Oh, look, Nicole. Here we are in that Thespian Club play.”
Nicole peered closely. “We are? What play?”
“Don’t you remember? The principal’s son was a drama major in college. He wrote that horrid play about the Salem witch trials, and the principal nearly forced the Thespian Club to put it on. It was long, boring, factually inaccurate.” Carmen laughed. “There we are—Witch Number One and Witch Number Two. We had to wear hoods, Shelley, which the real victims of the witch trials never wore.”
“Hoods?” Shelley echoed as Nicole felt herself going hollow.
“Yeah. Hoods to symbolize death—we all had to come back and give a speech after we’d been hanged, and the hoods were sort of gruesome reminders to the audience that we were dead. You made such a big deal about it all, Nicole. About the hanging, and especially about the silly hood. You hated it. You were nearly obsessed with it. You threatened to burn yours after the play.”
“I’d forgotten,” Nicole said weakly. “In the play we were hanged as witches and wore hoods.”
Carmen suddenly frowned. Shelley touched Nicole’s arm. “Mommy, why do you look so weird? And how come you’re so cold?”
Nicole couldn’t answer. She simply stared at Carmen and saw one word mirrored in her eyes: “hood.” Hoods exactly like the ones Magaro and Zand wore fifteen years ago. Hoods like the one Izzy Dooley wore yesterday morning as he hung from the tree in her yard.
Nineteen
1
Phyllis half rose from the couch. “Nicole, he’s raising his leg again,” she said nervously.
“Shelley, take Jesse outside,” Nicole said for the fifth time since they’d arrived an hour ago. As Shelley called for Jesse to follow her into the large fenced-in back lawn, Nicole looked at her mother apologetically. “Sorry, Mom. I guess we shouldn’t have brought him.”
“No, that’s all right,” Phyllis said insincerely, “but I thought he was house-trained.”
“He is. He’s only putting a drop here and there to mark his territory.”
“Oh, how charming.”
Nicole smiled. “Mom, you’re making a tremendous effort today, but we’ll go soon. I know you don’t like animals.”
Phyllis shook her head. “I don’t want you to leave. I’ve been so worried about you. And I don’t dislike animals. Kay finally told me about her illness last night, and I’ve promised to take her cats when she’s no longer able to care for them.”
Nicole looked at her mother in shock. “Her cats! Both of them?”
“Well, don’t look at me in such amazement, Nicole. I do have a few warm bones in my body.”
“I think they’re all warm, although you try not to show it. What about your animal allergy?”
“Apparently the allergist made a mistake. Kay’s cats didn’t bother me in the least. It might be nice to have them here.”
“Pets are a big responsibility.”
“I’m not a child, Nicole, I know they are. But what am I supposed to do with my life now?”
“You still have Shelley and me.”
“Shelley is getting older. She’ll be dating soon and wanting to run around with her own friends. When you get out of this mess with Roger, you’ll start dating again, too. The last thing either of you will want to do is spend every Saturday or Sunday entertaining me.”
“But what about your friends?”
Phyllis hesitated. “My only real friend was your father. He’s gone. I could have been great friends with Kay, but I waited too long to find that out.”
“But what about all the ladies in your reading club?”
“Oh, like Mildred Loomis? Good heavens, every visit from her would clean out the kitchen. And she’s a dreadful gossip. The others? They’re involved with their own families. So what do you suggest? I’ve explained why I don’t want to keep the store. I don’t believe anyone is going to hire a sixty-year-old woman who has never had a professional job, who can’t even type much less work one of those wretched computers. I really don’t see myself sitting here day after day watching soap operas and crocheting doilies.”
Nicole smiled. “Some days that would sound like heaven to me.”
“That’s only because your life is so full and you don’t have to do it. No, I don’t want to drain other people, but whatever I occupy my time with, I want it to be warm and alive, someone, or something, who can love me in return.”
Nicole had never felt she loved her mother more than at that moment. She knew how proud of her Clifton Sloan would have been, as well. Nicole’s father had adored animals. Maybe that was figuring into Phyllis’s offer to take Kay’s cats, too.
A thought suddenly struck Nicole. “Mom, before Shelley comes back in, I need to ask something.” Phyllis raised a penciled eyebrow. “Do you remember a play Carmen and I were in during high school?”
“The senior play?”
“No. Something the Thespian Club produced. It was a dreadful thing about the Salem witch trials—”
“Oh, yes!” Phyllis burst out. “The worst play I’ve ever seen. And the gruesome costumes! A lot of pretty girls wearing those awful hoods.”
Nicole grew tenser. “It’s about the hoods I’m concerned. Do you know what happened to mine?”
“Your hood from that play? Why on earth would you want it?”
“I just want to know if you know where it is.”
Phyllis raised her hands. “Well, I made it—”
“You made my hood?” Nicole asked in surprise.
“They don’t sell glamorous hoods like that in local department stores,” Phyllis said dryly. “Yes. I had to make it. On the first try I got the eye holes too low. The second one was all right.”
“So there were two hoods?” Nicole asked slowly. “What did I do with them after the play? Throw them away?”
Phyllis was looking at her strangely. “Why are you so interested in those hoods?”
She’s forgotten about the hoods on Magaro and Zand, and she knows nothing about the hood on Dooley, Nicole thought. “Carmen was over last night. She brought our senior yearbook. There was a picture of us wearing the hoods. I’d completely forgotten about it, but I got curious. It’s not important.”
“I don’t think he could squeeze out one more little drop of water,” Shelley exclaimed, bounding back into the perfect living room with Jesse, who let out a noisy sneeze.
Shelley looked at her grandmother. “Sorry. Sometimes he sneezes when he doesn’t like someone. Sometimes he sneezes when he’s happy. It’s kind of a problem.”
“Jesse has many problems,” Phyllis said forbearingly, “but he’s still a good boy who loves his mistress.”
Shelley beamed. Nicole sat astounded by her mother’s good will. Jesse looked as if he were going to sneeze again in pure joy.
The phone beside the couch rang and Phyllis picked it up. She listened for a moment, then said in a tense voice, “Yes, she’s here. What’s the problem?” Another pause. “Well, I don’t see why not. I am her mother.”
Nicole rushed to the phone and took the receiver from her mother’s hand. “This is Nicole Chandler.”
“Mrs. Roger Chandler?”
“Yes. To whom am I speaking?”
“Mrs. Chandler, this is the Texas Medical Center. Your husband has just been brought in. He was in a bad car wreck and has serious injuries.”
2
>
Nicole hung up. “Roger’s been in a car accident. I have to go to the hospital.”
“You have to go?” Phyllis said indignantly. “Why?”
“Because he’s still my husband.”
“Daddy’s hurt?” Shelley asked, her voice distressed and guilty at the same time. She thinks I’ll be angry with her for caring, Nicole thought.
“Yes, Shelley, he’s hurt. I know you still love Daddy and you’re upset, but I’d like for you to stay here with Grandma while I go to the hospital.”
“Why can’t I go?”
“Because I might have to sit around for hours in an emergency room, and that’s no place for a child.” Nicole went to her, kneeled, and put her hands on Shelley’s shoulders. “I’ll call you the minute I know something. Okay?”
Nicole glanced up at Phyllis, who looked as if she’d like to keep Nicole from going, too, but she only said, “Yes, Shelley, stay with me. Emergency rooms are full of germs. You don’t want to get sick, do you? How will you take care of Jesse?”
“I don’t want Mommy to get sick, either.”
“I won’t,” Nicole said. “I’m older and tougher than you.”
“But you got hurt last night,” Shelley argued, reaching out to touch her mother’s jaw.
Phyllis’s gaze snapped to the spot. “Nicole, I thought I saw a shadow on your face, although you’ve tried to keep that side turned away from me. What happened?”
“I banged my jaw on a cabinet door,” Nicole said quickly, winking at Shelley.
But Phyllis wasn’t fooled. “You’re so creative, Nicole, I wouldn’t think you’d use the oldest excuse in the book for that kind of bruise. And you’re rushing off to see him?”
Nicole stood. “Mom, he’s Shelley’s father.” She kissed Phyllis lightly on the cheek. “I’ll call soon.”
Nicole drove quickly to the hospital, surprised by how much concern she still felt for Roger’s welfare. He’d never been the love of her life, and for the last two months, he’d embarrassed her, deserted her, threatened her, and even hit her. But she still cared. She didn’t want her marriage resurrected, but she wanted Roger’s health and well-being restored.
As soon as she entered the emergency waiting room, her eyes fell on Lisa Mervin. She sat huddled in a corner chair, her legs tucked beneath her, her long hair pulled over one shoulder so she could comb her fingers through it nervously.
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