“At the top of the lawn, near the service entrance.”
“I’ll be there in a few minutes, Grace. Wait right where you are.”
CHAPTER
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It was amazing how careless people were on their cell phones. Holding private conversations right out in the open. Just because they didn’t see you listening didn’t mean you hadn’t heard every word they said.
Mickey stood beneath the canopy of leaves that sheltered the path into the service entrance and waited for the tightness in his chest to lessen.
Tonight had been a triumph, the Ball Bleu a resounding success. Some of the guests had taken his business card, raving about the evening and inquiring about his availability for future events. Elsa Gravell was so pleased that she had stopped on her way out to tell him that she would be using Seasons Catering for the fund-raiser next year.
He should have been ecstatic, but he wasn’t. His history with Charlotte Sloane continued to haunt him. There was no getting away from it. No matter how successful he became, the victory was bitter.
CHAPTER
133
Something was wrong.
As she waited for Detective Manzorella to arrive, Grace spotted Frank and Jan walking up the lawn together. Lucy wasn’t with them.
Grace walked the few yards down to meet the couple.
“Where’s Lucy, Frank?”
Her former husband looked at her with confusion.
“Isn’t she with you? I thought she had wandered off to be with you.”
“No! Damn it, Frank. You were supposed to be watching her.” Grace wanted to slap him.
“What’s the problem?” Detective Manzorella asked, trying not to show that he was out of breath after his run from the parking lot.
Grace turned to the detective, feeling a bit of relief. “My daughter is missing.”
“Our daughter,” Frank corrected her. “And don’t be so dramatic, Grace. Lucy isn’t missing. I’m sure she’s around here somewhere. She’s probably just exploring the place.”
“She better be, Frank,” Grace said, trying to hold her anger in check. “If anything happens to her…” Her voice trailed off. The thought was too much to even allow herself to consider now.
They were only wasting time bickering.
They had to find Lucy.
They fanned out to search the property, enlisting B.J. and Lauren to help. Grace’s instincts told her that Lucy would head for the mansion. Her daughter would be curious about a home like The Elms, so unlike anything Lucy had been exposed to before this week in Newport, and she’d been especially interested in the tunnel. Still, the property was expansive, with lush plantings, providing places for Lucy to hide or, in a worst-case scenario, places for a murderer to stash a young body.
Every foot of the grounds had to be inspected. They needed more help.
It was as if Detective Manzorella had read her mind. Grace was profoundly thankful as she heard him take control, giving assignments, telling each of them where they should search.
“I’m going to call for backup, Grace,” he reassured her. “Don’t worry. We’ll find your daughter.”
She heard them calling her name.
Lucy peeked over the third-floor balustrade into the lamplit darkness, looking down at people scattered around the edges of the property. The search party was busily peering behind bushes along the fence that edged the lawn.
“Lucy. Lucy.” She recognized her father’s voice calling out to her.
Man, she was going to be in big trouble now. She had just wanted to see what this mansion was like. She’d found the tunnel first, and then it had been fun to climb the stairs and poke her head in the big rooms, pretending that the home was her own, that she was a daughter with rich parents and lots of servants to make her bed, pick up her room, and anything else she told them to do.
She never thought this would happen.
Her mother was going to be really ticked off. She had told her to stay with her father and Lucy had disobeyed. Maybe, if she just kept out of sight a little longer, her mother would be so relieved to see her that she wouldn’t be mad when she finally came out.
Lucy crouched down behind the balustrade to wait it out awhile.
CHAPTER
134
The dark-clad figure kept close to the wall, careful to maintain a safe distance, following Grace into the house. Inside the kitchen, the caterer’s carving knives rested on the counter, available for the picking.
Grace walked through the spacious laundry area, her heels clicking across the hard floor. She clutched her purse, hoping to hear her beeper go off, signaling that Lucy had been found. As she reached the end of the long space, she paused at the top of the stairs to the boiler room. Sensing movement behind her, she looked back over her shoulder. She saw nothing.
The new sandals were killing her. Blisters had formed where the straps rubbed against the sides of her feet. Grace slipped the shoes off, climbed down the stairs, and went directly to the mouth of the coal tunnel. The coal truck stood right where it had when she’d been there with Professor Cox yesterday morning. Electric lights, affixed to the brick walls, dimly illuminated the dark passageway.
“Lucy. Lucy,” she called. When she heard no response, Grace’s heart sank. She had been hoping to find her daughter here.
Dear God, let Lucy be all right.
With desperation, Grace turned around to continue her search. She was met by a figure looming at the top of the stairs, blocking her way out.
Frank was finally getting worried now. He didn’t want to think about what his life would be like if something had happened to his daughter.
It was worth a shot. Maybe Lucy had gone out to the car in the parking lot. Maybe she was sound asleep in the backseat.
He jogged across the crushed gravel, noticing, with no particular interest, the vanity plate on a dark sedan.
SEANNA.
“Oh. Detective Manzorella. You scared me.” Grace put her hand over her chest.
“Find anything?” he asked as he started downward.
Grace watched as the long legs navigated the stairs. The detective held his left arm behind him, gripping the railing with his right hand.
“No. She’s not here,” Grace answered.
Why was he continuing down the steps? He should turn around. They had to keep looking for Lucy.
“I need that photograph, Grace.”
“Sure. Of course, I’ll give it to you. But let’s not stop for that now. We have to find Lucy first. Then I’ll tell you everything I suspect.” Where the hell were his priorities? Didn’t he see she couldn’t focus on anything else until she was certain her daughter was safe?
“Give it to me, Grace. Now.”
She was taken aback by the fury she saw in his dark eyes.
Lucy had to face them sometime.
She got up from her hiding place, went back inside the mansion, walked slowly down the flights of stairs, came out at the service entrance, and braced herself.
“I guess you never called for that police backup,” Grace said softly as she saw Manzorella switch the knife from his left hand to his right.
As Manzorella took another step closer, she backed up against the coal truck and tried to scream. Instantly, his one hand was upon her mouth, the other holding the knife to her neck.
“You should have stayed out of this, Grace.”
His palm blocked her answer. He had to find out what she knew so he could ascertain whether there was any danger of being found out after he killed her.
“I’ll take my hand down, but if you try to scream again, this blade slits your throat.”
Grace nodded, her eyes bulging.
“Now, tell me what you know.”
If she told him everything, he would surely kill her. If she refused, he would kill her as well. Grace knew she had to buy time.
“I know about the sundial earrings. I know that the police found one in Charlotte’s gown.” Even now she wasn’t going to tell about
the other one that Rusty had. She wasn’t going to drag him into this.
“Fine. That’s no big deal,” Manzorella muttered. “What else?”
“And I know about Charlotte’s diary. I’ve read the entry from the night she died.”
Manzorella was impressed. “Where did you get that?”
“Someone gave it to me.”
“Who?”
“The same person who gave me the photograph. So you see, I’m not the only one who could piece this together, Detective. You’d be better off letting me go and turning yourself in.”
“Nice try, but don’t make me laugh.” Manzorella sneered. “So Izzie O’Malley finally turned over the picture. She and her husband held on to that damned thing for all these years, terrified that the wallet he left in the playhouse would make them look guilty. No problem. I can take care of Izzie. As for the diary, that doesn’t worry me either. I’ve read it again and again. Charlotte wrote her last diary entry before I came to Shepherd’s Point to see her that night. There’s nothing in the diary that points to me as her killer.”
“But, why did you kill Charlotte?” Grace asked point-blank.
Manzorella had to admire the woman for having the moxie to put the question directly to him. Grace was brave and she was smart, too smart for her own good. But he could tell her now, since she wasn’t going to have a chance to tell anyone else.
“I didn’t mean to kill Charlotte, I really didn’t. I loved her. I knew we could have been happy together in a world where it didn’t matter what your social or economic status was.”
“That’s not this world, Detective.”
“Charlotte agreed with you. That was the problem. She wouldn’t consider leaving that cheating husband of hers, even when the evidence of his infidelity was right in front of her in that photograph. I had noticed the same thing myself at the country club that night. Oliver was all over Elsa Gravell, whenever they thought Charlotte couldn’t see them.
“But I was glad. It meant there was hope for me with Charlotte. When no one answered at Seaview, I called Shepherd’s Point and went there after I got off duty. I had to tell Charlotte that I still loved her, would always love her. I begged her to leave Oliver and be with me. She spurned me and I snapped. It’s as simple as that.”
Manzorella’s eyes welled up.
Grace felt the cool steel blade pressed against her neck and prayed that he wouldn’t snap again.
“But why kill Madeleine?”
“I heard the two of you talking at the Vickerses’ house. Madeleine was getting too close. I couldn’t take the chance that she would remember seeing me at the gate at Shepherd’s Point that night.”
“And when Sam was advertised as an eyewitness to Madeleine’s murder,” Grace reasoned aloud, “you had to get rid of him.”
“Yep. And that Quigley woman happened to run by as I was leaving the scene. She had to go, too. It was just as you said, Grace. Dominoes.”
“And the S-E-A license tag?” Grace asked.
“Only Zoe, you, and I know about that. I never did anything with the information you gave me on that, never ordered the DMV to do a search.”
Grace knew where this was going. Manzorella was making sure there wasn’t some bit of incriminating evidence floating out there that he didn’t know about. After he had pumped her for everything she knew, he was going to kill her.
The group clustered around Lucy were visibly relieved as they listened to the girl’s explanation of where she had been. There was none of the scolding that Lucy had feared.
“Where’s my mother?” she asked, knowing she still had to face the final judge.
“Good question,” said B.J. “She’s probably still inside looking for you. Let’s beep her.”
B.J. entered a text message. LUCY SAFE. SERVICE ENTRANCE.
She heard the beeper go off in her purse.
“There’s one more thing,” said Grace, clinging to the hope of still getting out of this and being able to tell the authorities what she knew. “The yellow silk handkerchief. I know that it was found in Charlotte’s dress, too.”
“Ah, yes. Finally we do come to a problem.” Manzorella nodded. “I couldn’t take that from the evidence room because it had already been logged in, and if it disappeared, it would look like an inside job and might lead to me.”
“Your DNA is on it,” Grace pointed out.
“True. But nobody’s going to think of trying to match it to me. And I’m certainly not going to order that test.”
Grace cast about in desperation, trying to think of something else that could make Manzorella see he couldn’t get away with this. “You can see you’re wearing the yellow handkerchief in the file tape we have,” she said, averting her eyes as she lied.
Manzorella laughed. “You may be smart, Grace, but you’re not a good liar. The pocket square doesn’t appear in the videotape, does it?” He didn’t wait for her affirmation. “Not to worry, though. Even if I do appear wearing it in the video, it’s highly unlikely that anyone is going to think anything of it if they haven’t so far.
“No, the photo is the only link, and if I hadn’t been so crazed that night, I never would have dropped it down over Charlotte’s body. I should have taken it with me and destroyed it. Instead, I left my fingerprints all over it.
“Fingerprints can last for years and years, Grace. Did you know that?” His eyes narrowed with menace. “Now give it to me, like a good girl. Drop your purse,” he commanded.
Where was Grace?
Why hadn’t she come running after he paged her? Something must be terribly wrong. Nothing would keep Grace from her daughter.
B.J. ran into the mansion, his video camera still on his shoulder, shouting her name. Frank grudgingly followed.
Manzorella instinctively shielded his face against the hurled purse as Grace struggled out of his grasp, putting the coal truck between herself and her attacker. She stood at the opening of the tunnel, wanting to run through to the hatch and the street above. But she remembered what the professor had told her. The coal hatch was locked now and alarmed. She couldn’t get out that way.
But maybe she could set off the alarm.
Grace ran barefoot over the cool bricks on the tunnel floor, hearing Manzorella behind her. She came to the tunnel’s end, and there it was, overhead. But she couldn’t reach it. She looked around in desperation for something to knock at the hatch. From a pile of coal, left for the benefit of tourists, a shovel protruded. Grace lifted it and smashed it at the double iron doors above her.
B.J. and Frank were in the ballroom when the alarm sounded in the distance.
“It’s coming from downstairs somewhere,” called B.J., as he sprinted across the polished floor.
Grace felt the searing pain as the knife pierced her back. Using all her energy, she spun around to face her attacker, swinging the coal shovel as hard as she could into Manzorella’s head. Both of them fell to the ground, one unconscious, the other bleeding.
Grace lay there, staring at the detective’s motionless body for what seemed like an eternity until she heard the voices at the end of the tunnel calling her name. It was only then that she let herself slip away.
EPILOGUE
Grace felt the gentle lips that kissed her forehead. Slowly, she opened her lids to find a pair of brown eyes peering intensely into hers. They were B.J.’s.
“What time is it?” she whispered groggily. They must have given her some sort of sedative.
“Almost seven o’clock,” he answered, taking her hand.
“At night?”
“No. In the morning.”
When she tried to sit up in the hospital bed, the soreness in her back brought the rushing memories. Detective Manzorella, the tunnel, the knife. She had focused on Elsa and Oliver because that was where her personal outrage lay. That had been a mistake.
“Easy,” said B.J., helping her up. “You’re going to be fine, but take it easy. You were lucky, Grace. No internal organs were affected. They
say you might be able to leave later today, tomorrow for sure.”
Grace scanned B.J.’s rumpled shirt, the one he’d worn at the party.
“Have you been here all night?”
“Yep,” he answered. “Believe it or not, Linus assigned someone else to finish Lauren’s piece on the Ball Bleu. He was all for me staying here with you.”
“That was nice of him,” Grace said. “Maybe he has a heart after all.”
“Maybe. Or maybe he’s worried about you suing or something.” B.J. smiled at her tenderly. “I’m so relieved that you are all right, Grace. I couldn’t take it if someone else I cared about so much died so violently.”
Grace looked at him questioningly.
“It’s a long story, honey,” he said. “I’ll tell you all about it sometime. We’ll have lots of time to talk about my past and anything else you want.” He bent over and kissed her on the lips.
Grace closed her eyes and kissed him back, her wound, for the moment, forgotten.
“Lucy. I need to call Lucy.” Grace reached for the phone on the table next to the bed. She was suddenly frantic as she remembered. What kind of mother was she? Making out with her new boyfriend before giving a thought to her child.
“Lucy is fine, Grace. She’s with Frank. He’s going to bring her over later.”
Again, Grace looked at him in puzzlement. “How do you know Frank’s name? I never mentioned it to you.”
“I have my ways.” He grinned as he glanced at his watch. “Could you stand watching the show?” he asked, changing the subject.
“Okay,” Grace agreed as she lay back gingerly in the bed.
Constance and Harry made their introductions, opening the Thursday morning edition of KEY to America from The Elms—not from the mansion’s lawn, as had been originally planned, but from the coal tunnel.
“A fourteen-year-old murder mystery has seemingly been solved,” announced Constance, “a mystery that began in one tunnel and culminated in another, this one beneath The Elms, one of Newport’s most renowned mansions.”
Hide Yourself Away Page 23
