The Guest List

by Michaels, Fern

  Abby shaded her eyes to see down the winding street. “I never in my life thought I’d see a real Stepford community. It’s too damn perfect. Nothing is out of place. For God’s sake, there isn’t even a leaf on the grass. Where are the trash cans? There are no cars. The only thing missing is a bunch of robots. It’s spooky.”

  “I’ll second that,” Mallory said. “Shhh, here comes Carol.”

  “What do you think?” she said, waving her arm expansively.

  “Really tidy. Excessively neat. Everything seems … perfect,” Mallory said.

  Abby was at a loss for words. Carol appeared to accept their reaction as a compliment.

  “Would you like to see the inside of the model? It’s the one Donovan is selling to Mrs. Lascaris.”

  “The raisin-cookie lady from New Jersey? How did that come about?” Abby asked.

  “Oh, he visited her a couple of weeks back, when Bobby was in the hospital. You know Donovan, he felt sorry for her because her children had moved away and she seemed low on funds.”

  “So where is she?” Mallory asked. “I can’t wait to see her again after all these years. I wonder if she’ll even remember me.”

  “She was supposed to have lunch with us, but she called and said she wasn’t feeling too well. It’s probably all the excitement. Donovan is going to have her picked up at her hotel and brought here for the dedication, then she officially moves in. She’s going to be here all alone until the other owners move in the first of the year. Donovan engaged the entire security force just for her. Do you believe that? He says a gated community is a gated community, and that calls for top-of-the-line security. That was one of the major selling points. Every single unit has been sold.”

  Abby stepped over the threshold and was reminded of the day she entered her own house for the first time and saw all the perfection. She craned her neck to see if there was a green ceramic bowl with yellow roses in the dining room. There was, dead center in the middle of the table, just the way hers had been in the kitchen.

  “It’s so bright and light and airy,” Mallory said. She dropped back a step, at which point she crossed her eyes and screwed up her face. “Oh, look, Abby, here are your books, just waiting to be read. That’s a really nice touch, Carol.”

  “Donovan liked the idea. Do you think the silk trees are too much? I just couldn’t make up my mind.”

  “They’re perfect,” Mallory said.

  “Do the dishes match?” Abby asked.

  “Match what?”

  “The pots and pans and the carpet in the kitchen.”

  “Yes, why?” Carol said.

  Abby shrugged. “I just wondered. What about the bathroom?”

  “There are two. One is really a powder room. I did them in blue and white. Fresh and kind of powdery if you know what I mean.”

  “Did you fill her refrigerator, freezer, and pantry?” Abby asked.

  Carol wrinkled her nose. “Donovan insisted. There must be a dozen boxes of raisins and four or five sacks of flour for her cookie baking. So, do you like it?”

  “Very much,” both girls said in unison.

  Carol led the way outside. “I think we have time for a short stroll. Over there we have a movie theater, a supermarket, a drugstore, a gas station, an entire little village with one-of-akind shops. We actually had to hold a drawing to decide which shops we wanted. We had a mile-long list of applicants. As Donovan said, this is the wave of the future. We have two churches and one synagogue. A person could move in here and never have to leave.”

  “Kind of like the Amish country villages. Remember that movie, Witness? A criminal could move in here and no one would ever know,” Mallory said brightly. “Is that a pool?”

  “Yes, and to your right is the park,” Carol said, pointing off to the right. “There’s also a tennis court and a clubhouse. Farther out is a nine-hole golf course. Donovan has certainly come a long way from those days when he used to drive that backhoe for that awful company he worked for in New Jersey. Moving here was the smartest thing he ever did. Of course, he was always a hard worker,” she said, smiling. “We need to start heading back. The speeches are going to take a little while, and then everyone is going to want to see Mrs. Lascaris move in. She told me on the phone that she wears Depends. I hope she doesn’t leak all over the furniture.”

  Mallory’s tone of voice dropped to that of chilled milk. “Will it make a difference? I mean if she bought this place and it’s hers, what business is it of yours or anyone else what she does with it?”

  Carol whipped around, her face pinched with anger. “I’m trying, Mallory, I’m really trying. There was no need for you to make a remark like that. None at all. You haven’t changed one damn bit.”

  “Neither have you, Carol. Guess that kind of makes us even,” Mallory shot back.

  “Which way is the clubhouse?” Abby asked.

  “That way,” Carol said, then pointed up ahead. “I have to lock Mrs. Lascaris’s door. They’re going to make a big production of her opening it with her key. I’ll meet up with you at the clubhouse.”

  “You really had to set her off, didn’t you? It’s okay. You had the guts to say what I was thinking,” Abby said. “If I didn’t know before, I know now: She hates us both.”

  Mallory stared at her sister for a long minute before she fell into step with her for the walk to the clubhouse.

  Arms swinging, Abby and Mallory walked to the clubhouse to find Donovan standing next to an elderly lady. “Ah, here you are,” he said, watching them cross the lawn. “Mrs. Lascaris, these are those ‘little tykes’ you were wondering about. This is Mallory, and this is Abby.”

  “My goodness you girls are all grown-up. The last time I saw you both you were just little bitty things and so sad.”

  “And you baked us cookies and made us feel better,” Mallory said. “Raisin cookies. They were the best cookies I ever ate.”

  Donovan put his arm around Mrs. Lascaris. “As soon as Estelle settles in, she’s going to start baking cookies again, so you girls will have to invite yourselves over.”

  “Not a problem,” Abby said. “I’d come even without the cookies.”

  “Here comes Carol,” Donovan said. “You remember my wife, don’t you, Mrs. Lascaris?”

  Mrs. Lascaris’s happy expression vanished, wiped away to be replaced by what looked to Abby as astonishment. “Why, yes,” she said. “I just didn’t realize you were the one.”

  “The one what?” Carol questioned her.

  “The one he married,” she stammered. She reached for Donovan’s hand. “I need to sit down. My goodness, I don’t know what came over me. I just suddenly grew light-headed. Please, don’t fuss. I’m fine. I think it’s the excitement,” she stammered, her eyes never leaving Carol’s and Donovan’s faces.

  Donovan showed his concern for the fragile lady. “If you will all excuse me. I’m going to seat our guest of honor and get this show on the road.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  Abby took a step back from the Christmas tree, flipped on the light remote, and admired her handiwork. She’d always wanted a tree with a country look, and this year she’d accomplished just that. She and Mallory had worked for hours stringing popcorn and cranberries and baking gingerbread man cookies. The end result was everything she’d imagined and more.

  “Umm, something smells good,” she said, entering the kitchen. “Irish stew is Steve’s favorite meal, and when he sees you made fresh bread, too, he’s going to be beside himself.” She glanced up at the kitchen clock. “I wonder where he is. He said he’d be here at five, and it’s almost six. It’s not like him to be late. Usually, if he knows he’s going to be late, he calls or has one of his assistants call.” Abby grabbed the long-handled spoon out of Mallory’s hand, dipped it into the pot, and scooped up enough for a mouthful. “That is soooo good, Mallory. You’re a great cook.”

  Mallory flushed with her sister’s praise. “Anything worth doing is worth doing well. Constance taught me th
at. She said that’s how a person takes a measure of herself. Whatever I do, I give one hundred percent. When you exert yourself to do whatever it is you’re doing, you have to concentrate. Total concentration was one of the hardest things for me to learn.” She smiled. “You need to learn to cook, Abby.”

  “No thanks. I’ll leave the cooking up to you.”

  “Listen, Abby, I didn’t tell you this because I didn’t want to spoil it for you when you decorated the tree. But on the way home from the grocery store, I had a flat tire and almost drove into a ditch.”

  Abby gasped, “What did you run over? Glass? A nail?”

  Mallory shook her head. “When the auto-club guy checked the tire, he said there was nothing wrong with it, that it looked to him like someone had let the air out of it.”

  “Who would do that?”

  “That’s the question. Who would do that? And why?” Mallory stared at her sister, her eyes wide and shining. “I know you don’t want to believe Donovan is a murderer but if he is and if he killed Constance for the reasons I already told you, then it would stand to reason that I’m next because I’m a threat to him.”

  “Then so am I,” Abby said.

  Mallory tilted her head and narrowed her eyes. “I’m not so sure about that. He loves you. He always has.” Mallory turned her back to resume cooking, her shoulders rigid under her pale blue sweater. “When I started all this, I knew I would be taking a risk by letting him think I was on to him. I guess it never occurred to me he would kill again. I’m not going to lie to you and tell you I’m not scared because I am. Petrified would be a better description of my feelings right now. Especially after what happened today. I’m also frustrated. No matter what we do, we don’t seem to be able to make any headway in getting the goods on him. He’s either very clever or he’s—”

  “Not guilty,” Abby cut in. “You’ve already convicted him, Mallory, and the truth is we don’t have one ounce of proof. Granted it looks bad for him. But looks can be deceiving.” Abby walked over to the back door and made sure the porch light was on. “The guy from the fence company did fix the front gate, didn’t he?”

  “I don’t think we need to worry about anything here. All we need is concertina wire at the top of the fence and we could pass as a maximum-security prison. We are wired, as the saying goes. Even if someone did try to break in, Beemer would get them and the others would back him up. They’d shred him to pieces.”

  “Our own personal Dog Squad.” Abby laughed. “From now on when you need to go anywhere, I’ll go with you. One of us will stay with the car.”

  “I have an idea,” Mallory said. She held up her hand to forestall whatever it was Abby was going to say next.

  “Please. I hate it when you get ideas. Ideas mean trouble.”

  Mallory waved her spoon. “No, no. You’ll like this idea,” she assured her. “Why don’t we invite Mrs. Lascaris over for a few days? She could stay in the guestroom and have Christmas Eve and Christmas morning with us. We could get her a couple of little presents, perfume and powder, a book, a new night-gown. Feminine things. I bet she’d love it. It would be kind of like us having a grandmother for the holidays. She’s going to be alone. What do you say, Abby?”

  “I think this is one of your better ideas, Mallory. Let’s call her and invite her.”

  “Good thinking, and speaking of phone calls, I’m getting nowhere fast with the receptionist at Argone. She must be new. Anyway, I’ve decided to fly up there after the New Year and get in her face. Legally, I am entitled to have copies of all my medical records … that is if they have them. While I’m there, I think I’ll look up Dr. Malfore and see if he’s enjoying his retirement.” Mallory put the lid on the stewpot and turned the heat down to the lowest setting. “I don’t suppose you’ve heard from Connor’s brother about the autopsy?”

  Abby shook her head. “I guess I should take his silence as a no.”

  “I’d call him again and tell him there has been another murder. Maybe that will help change his mind.”

  “I see headlights. Steve’s here.” A minute later, Abby opened the door for him. His face was paper white. Abby and Mallory said, “What’s wrong?” at exactly the same moment.

  He could only shake his head.

  With Mallory’s words about the car ringing in her ears, Abby panicked. “Are you all right? What happened?” She looked him over from head to toe, searching for anything out of the ordinary.

  “I’m fine,” he managed.

  “Did something happen at the clinic? Are the animals okay? What, Steve? What’s wrong?”

  Mallory thumped Steve on the back. “Here,” she said, handing him a bottle of brandy. “Take a swig of this. You’re whiter than milk.”

  Steve took a swig from the bottle, then reached behind him and pulled a folded piece of newspaper out of his hip pocket. “I didn’t see this until just a little while ago. Obviously you two haven’t seen it either.”

  Mallory snatched The Post and Courier from Steve’s hand. “Tragedy Strikes Mitchell’s Paradise Setting.” She glanced over the paper at Abby. “Eighty-two-year-old Estelle Lascaris, Donovan Mitchell’s first tenant, succumbed to a fatal heart attack,” her voice dropped to a whisper, “last night, only two weeks after moving into the exclusive retirement community. When Mitchell was contacted, he expressed heartfelt sadness and grief over Mrs. Lascaris’s passing. He was quoted as saying ‘she was a dear friend and will be sorely missed.’”

  Abby collapsed into the closest chair, covered her face with her hands, and sobbed.

  Mallory crunched the newspaper into a ball and tossed it across the room. “I thought it was strange that Donovan would be so good to someone he hadn’t seen in over twenty years.” She stared down at Abby. “I bet he brought her here to find out if there was anything she knew that could hurt him.” She rubbed her cheek, thinking. “I remember Daddy calling her the neighborhood busybody, that she knew everything about everybody. Old people like to talk about the past. Donovan couldn’t take the chance she might say the wrong thing to the wrong people … so he murdered her.”

  “I wonder why nobody called us,” Abby said, only halflistening. “Does the article list her next of kin?”

  “A daughter and a son,” Mallory said. “We need to get on the phone right now and find out where she is so we can get an autopsy.”

  “Listen, dammit,” Steve shouted. “It’s time to take your suspicions to the police. Forget the damn book and forget the damn party. This is dangerous stuff you two are messing with. One of you could be next!”

  Both women ignored him.

  “Carol will know where Mrs. Lascaris is,” Abby said. “I’ll call her and tell her I saw the paper and that we want to visit her at the funeral home.” Abby picked up the phone and pressed the automatic-dial button for the Mitchell house. “Hello, Carol, it’s Abby. I just read about Mrs. Lascaris’s death. What happened? Why didn’t someone call us to let us know?” Abby pressed the speaker phone button so everyone could hear the conversation.

  “Oh, Abby, it has just been crazy around here. Donovan went off the deep end and took off in his truck. He’s been gone all day. I have no idea where he is. He thinks the retirement community is jinxed now, which is silly, but I understand his thinking. He adored that old lady.”

  “What happened exactly? Who found her?”

  “The security guard. Donovan had asked him to keep an eye on her and call her twice a day, once in the morning and again in the evening, to make sure she was all right and didn’t need anything. Last night, when she didn’t answer her phone, he went over to check on her. He found her slumped over on the couch. He said she appeared to have died peacefully watching TV. A death at Christmastime is just terrible, not that it isn’t terrible at any other time, too. I’m just babbling, Abby. I’m sorry. Is everything all right with you?”

  “Fine. We’re fine. Maybe Donovan took the plane and went up to the cabin,” Abby suggested.

  “I tried calling, but the phon
e just rings and rings.”

  “He could be there and not answering. You could call the park rangers and ask them to go by and see if he’s there.”

  “That’s a good idea, Abby. Maybe I will.”

  “Carol, before I hang up, I’d like to know what funeral home they took Mrs. Lascaris’s body to. Mallory and I want to pay our respects.”

  “I don’t know, dear. Donovan took care of all the details and didn’t tell me a thing.”

  “What about her son and daughter? Where can I reach them?”

  “I have no idea. Donovan didn’t say. I’m sorry I can’t help you. You’ll just have to wait until Donovan gets back from wherever it is he went. If I hear from him before you do, I’ll tell him you called. Okay?”

  “Yes, please. Oh, and … Merry Christmas, Carol.” She hung the phone up. “Well that got me a whole lot of nothing. Hand me the phone book, Steve. I’m going to start calling all the local mortuaries and the coroner’s office.”

  An hour later, Abby was no closer to finding Mrs. Lascaris than when she started.

  Mallory put dinner on the table and insisted everyone eat.

  “How can this be?” Abby asked. “It’s like she just disappeared.”

  “Maybe her son or daughter came and got her and took her back to New Jersey,” Steve said. “That’s probably what happened. They could have called ahead to make arrangements and are on the way to wherever it is they sent her. They could also be shipping the body to where they live.”

  “She just died last night. They would have to be awfully fast on their feet to get all that arranged so quickly,” Abby muttered.

  “I say we try to track down Donovan,” Mallory suggested. “Let’s start with Bobby, then the cabin, then Steve Franklin.”

  The moment the meal was over and the dishes in the dishwasher, Mallory took her turn on the phone. She called Bobby on his private line. She turned on the speaker phone. She told him Abby had just talked to Carol but had gotten so little information they thought they’d call him to see what he knew.

  “All I know is that Dad got real upset. I’m not sure, but I think he was crying.”