"Hi! How're you doin'?"
A kid's voice. Jeff looked past Natalie. She turned her head. A black-haired boy rode a bike toward them. "Hi!" she called gaily as if she knew him. He looked familiar. Wasn't he the boy who'd hung around the day they found Tamara's body?
"I saw you come out the road, Natalie," he said, grinding to a halt beside her and hopping off his bike. "You brought Blaine. Hi, girl."
Natalie? Blaine? How did he know their names? "She looks a lot better than the first time you saw her, doesn't she?" Natalie asked.
"She sure does." He looked at Jeff. "I'm Jimmy Jenkins. I live in that big blue house across from the Hunts."
"Jeff Lindstrom." Tight voice. Tight smile. "Nice to meet you, Jimmy."
"Do you live around here?"
"No. Just visiting. Natalie and I were headed back. Are you going to the Saunders house?"
Jimmy shook his head. "I don't care about that old house. I just came out to see Natalie and Blaine. I'll walk with you guys."
Bless you, Natalie thought. Jimmy grinned at her. He'd known something was wrong and he'd come to her rescue. She felt like throwing her arms around him.
When they reached the paved street, Jeff gave them an overly hearty farewell and began striding east. Natalie looked at Jimmy. "Thanks."
He shrugged. "No big deal. I saw him hanging around here eyeing the Hunts' house. Then he went out Hyacinth Lane. Then you came and I saw you take off running. I thought something was wrong."
"I was supposed to meet Lily here. When she didn't show up I got scared. I saw vultures flying around and… well, I thought of Tamara, but it was only a dead opossum."
"I've been around here all day and I haven't seen Lily."
Natalie frowned. "You couldn't have missed her?"
He flashed that grin again. In a few years he'd be a heartbreaker. "The way she drives her 'Vette? I couldn't have missed her screeching into the driveway."
"I don't understand," Natalie muttered. Then: "Jimmy, how did you know my name and the dog's?"
"Paige Meredith told me. We're friends."
"Oh, I see." Natalie remembered Paige mentioning a "Jimmy" four or five times last night. She obviously had a crush on him. "I'm certainly glad you came after me."
"I had to. There's something creepy about that guy." Jimmy looked at the ground and frowned. "I thought I saw something drop out of his pocket. There it is."
He pointed. Natalie bent and picked up an object. It sparkled in spite of the overcast day.
"What is it?" Jimmy asked.
"A silver and amethyst earring," Natalie said thinly. "It belonged to Tamara."
"You sure?"
"Yes. I gave these earrings to her for her birthday." Natalie frowned and asked slowly, "Could he have just found this on Hyacinth Lane?"
"Maybe." Jimmy looked at her solemnly. "Or else he's been carrying it around since the night Tamara got murdered."
12
WEDNESDAY AFTERNOON
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."
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