“Did he say anything to you or Carol?” Mallory prompted.
“Just that the security guard had found Mrs. Lascaris dead.”
“Come on, Bobby, think. What else did he say?” she pushed.
Bobby groaned. “He said something to Mom that was kind of weird. He said, ‘I hope you’re happy now.’”
“Anything else?”
“He told her he’d see her later, that he was going to take care of this himself and didn’t want her interfering.”
“Thanks, Bobby. By the way, we’ve been meaning to talk to you about the urn in your closet …”
“Urn?”
Mallory hesitated. “It looks like a jar.”
“Oh, you mean that ugly vase? I think Mom must have thrown it away. It’s not there anymore.”
Mallory opened her mouth to explain, then realized she didn’t have to. Bobby had no idea what she was talking about. “Never mind. Thanks, Bobby. I’ll talk to you later.”
As soon as she hung up, Abby said, “You should have asked Bobby if Donovan was home yesterday afternoon and evening.”
“I can call him back,” Mallory volunteered.
“No. Let’s call the guard station and ask the security guard to check the log. That will tell us.”
But it didn’t tell them anything. The security guard explained that Donovan and Steve Franklin came and went as they pleased without logging in or out. Their other phone calls, to the cabin and to Steve Franklin, proved just as worthless.
“I can’t believe this,” Mallory said. “We’re like that little guy on the battery commercial who keeps banging his head against the brick wall. Nothing we do gets us anywhere. Nothing!” She paced the length of the kitchen.
Steve tapped his fingertips against the table. “Maybe the reason you can’t get anywhere is that you don’t have the right resources. Take what you know and what you think you know to the police and let them see if they can make anything of it. What can it hurt?”
“If Donovan is innocent,” Abby said, “it could hurt a lot.”
Steve raked his fingers through his hair. “All I do anymore is worry about you two,” he said. “One or both of you could be next. You put too much faith in that electric fence and Beemer. If somebody wants in here bad enough, they’ll get in.”
“We aren’t without protection, Steve,” Mallory said. “I do have a gun, and I wouldn’t hesitate to use it if the situation warranted it. For your own safety, I’d suggest you call from now on before coming over here.”
Steve blinked up at Mallory. “Thanks for the warning.”
“Enough of this,” Abby said, pushing her chair back from the table. “Tomorrow is Christmas Eve. Let’s get in the spirit. We put the tree up. Let’s have some eggnog or something and stand around our handiwork and admire it.”
Steve held back, his expression angry.
“Please, Steve, don’t be upset with us. We have to do this our way. I know it doesn’t make sense to you, but have some faith in us, okay? We aren’t stupid,” Abby said.
“Yes, you are stupid. All I can say to you, Abby, is that this had better not be about book sales.”
The shock of his accusation hit her square between the eyes. “You know what, Steve? You can go home right now. How dare you say something like that to me! How dare you!”
“Fine. If that’s the way you want it, I’m outta here.”
“So go and good riddance,” Abby shouted.
Mallory blinked when the kitchen door slammed. “Kind of hard on him, weren’t you?”
“He deserved it. He knows me better than to think I would use people to promote my book.”
“He just said that because he’s upset. He’s worried for you, Abby, for both of us. And he feels as helpless as we do. Call him back in here. You don’t want to be mad at each other now. It’s Christmas.”
Mallory was right. Swallowing her pride, Abby ran to the front door and called out his name.
Steve grimaced as he twisted around to stare at Abby. She saw that he was scowling. “What?”
“I’m sorry I yelled at you,” she said, closing the door behind her. A cold wind whipped around her, chilling her. “Come back inside and we can talk about this a little more.”
“Okay. And I’m sorry I called you stupid and accused you of using all this to promote your book. It’s just that all this is so damn upsetting. I don’t want anything to happen to you, either of you.”
“I know. And I love you for that. I love you for everything, Steve Carpenter,” she said, reaching for his hand.
Christmas Eve
The morning was spent wrapping the Christmas presents. The moment all the foil paper, glossy ribbons, and tape were placed in the closet and the room tidied up, Abby and Mallory showered and dressed for the drive over to the Mitchell house to deliver their Christmas presents. The Christmas spirit had taken hold of them and they’d decided to make an all-out effort where Carol was concerned, to put the past behind them and try to build a new and solid relationship. If Donovan was guilty of the crimes they suspected him of committing, Carol would be left alone and would need all the emotional support she could get.
“Merry Christmas!” Abby and Mallory shouted the moment Carol opened the door.
Carol’s face went white as she stared at them. “Come in, come in,” she said. “I don’t know where my manners are today. Donovan still isn’t home.”
She looks flustered, and why would her face drain of color at the sight of us? Abby wondered. “Carol, are you all right? You look … I don’t know, strange, for want of a better word.”
“I’m fine,” Carol said as she stepped aside to allow the girls entrance into the foyer. “I’m just worried about Donovan. It isn’t like him to go away without letting me know where he is. He knows how I worry.”
Her words and her tone didn’t compute, Abby thought irritably. She dismissed the thought a moment later and chalked it up to her imagination. This was supposed to be a pleasant visit.
“I’m sure he’s just upset and needed some time to himself,” she said.
“You’re probably right,” Carol said, hugging each of them in turn. “I’m so glad you came by. I have presents for you, too. I’d intended to drop them off this morning but didn’t want to leave the house for fear of missing Donovan.” She ushered them through the foyer into the kitchen, her voice as jerky-sounding as her movements. Carol had a melodious voice most of the time and always moved with grace as she glided from one place to the other. Not so today.
Abby hung back, her mind telling her that something wasn’t quite right. She felt herself shivering in the hallway that led to the warm, sunny living room.
The moment Carol turned her back, Mallory grabbed Abby’s arm and squeezed it. “She hugged me,” Mallory whispered.
Abby shrugged and continued to follow Carol.
The house looked like an ad for a Christmas issue of a home-decorating magazine. Garlands graced each doorway. A nativity scene sat beneath the tree. Beautifully wrapped presents were piled high on the window seat behind the tree. Everywhere the eye could see there were bowls of red-and-white-striped candy, nuts, and chocolates. The tree was at least ten feet high, embellished with delicate ornaments, gathered from Carol and Donovan’s world travels.
“I also have those two boxes of your parents’ things,” Carol said as she reached the kitchen. “Let me put on the teakettle, then I’ll get them for you.”
“That would be great,” Abby said, looking around at the familiar surroundings. She used to love this kitchen. Especially the way it smelled. Carol was always cooking or baking something. It was also the place where they all gathered to eat, talk, laugh, and love. But all that was before she went off to college. Before she became independent. Before Connor.
The moment Carol was out of earshot, Mallory whispered, “There’s something weird about the way Carol is acting. She seems nervous to me. Tell me you’re picking up the same vibes I am, Abby.”
“I know,
” Abby agreed. “She’s probably just worried about Donovan.”
Carol carried in one box and then the other and set them on the floor between Abby and Mallory.
When Mallory made a move to open one of the boxes, Abby stopped her. “Wait a minute, sis. Let’s not do this now. Let’s do it tonight when we open the other presents. It’ll be our parents’ Christmas present to us. What do you say?”
Mallory pulled a face that expressed her displeasure. It was obvious she wanted to open the boxes right then, in front of Carol. She gave Abby a long, irritated look before she returned to her chair. “If that’s what you want, it’s fine with me.”
Carol set a tea tray down in the center of the table. Her hands trembled as the china cups clinked on the saucers. She immediately jammed her hands into the pockets of her sweatpants.
Seeing the Chintz tea set brought back memories for Abby. “I remember how Mama loved tea. Earl Grey was her favorite, I think. She liked herb teas, too. And … didn’t she have a window herb garden that she used to make tea? Funny that I would suddenly remember something like that,” she said quietly. “Actually, it’s weird that I would think of that now after all these years.”
“Donovan loves tea, too, but only loose tea, not the bagged variety,” Carol remarked. She set a basket full of hand-labeled tea canisters on the table. There were fruit teas, flower teas, exotic teas, and herb teas in the pretty basket.
As Abby reached for one of the canisters, a vision of her mother pouring tea into two cups came to mind. Startled, she pulled her hand back and stared at the canisters, trying to make sense out of what she’d seen. She was about to mention her memory to Mallory, but instinct told her to keep it to herself, at least until she had time to think about what she had just remembered.
“I’ll have whatever you’re having, Carol,” Abby said, deferring to her expertise.
“Are you sure? It’s not the most flavorful tea. It’s more for medicinal purposes than anything. A little rosemary, which is good if you’re feeling low, and peppermint, which helps get rid of headaches. My favorite is green tea, but you pretty much have to acquire a taste for it.”
“Whatever you suggest,” Abby said as she watched Carol spoon tea leaves into a small sterling-silver strainer before she positioned it over her cup. They could have been crushed oak leaves for all she knew about teas and herbs. Next came the hot water.
“Let it sit for a minute or two before you drink it,” Carol suggested. She then prepared Mallory’s tea.
Abby’s eyes narrowed at the kindness Carol was showing Mallory. She couldn’t detect a trace of the animosity she knew Carol felt. The optimist in her wanted to believe Carol had meant what she’d said in her letter and was trying to make amends. But the pessimist in her couldn’t help but think it was all an act.
They sipped tea and chatted like old friends getting reac-quainted after a long separation. Two cups of tea later, Abby looked at her watch and made an excuse for them to leave. Carol helped them out to the car with their mementos and presents. She kissed each of them on the cheek and hugged them tightly. She stood in the driveway waving until they were out of sight.
“I can’t believe how nice she was to me,” Mallory commented on the drive home.
“I can’t believe it either. That in itself is suspicious. I wonder what she’s up to.”
“See, now you’re getting the hang of it.” Mallory grinned. “She is, you know. Up to something, I mean. We need to stay alert. We may not be the only ones who suspect Donovan. What else would make her so damn jumpy? That tea was really shitty.”
“You can say that again. I was gagging as I drank it. Let’s go home, Mallory.”
“Yes, ma’am!” Mallory said smartly.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Abby had a delightful surprise waiting for her when she got home; Bunny stood on the front porch shouting, “Merry Christmas!” She waved wildly as she jumped up and down imploring Abby to hurry.
Abby turned off the ignition and jumped out of the car. “Bunny! I can’t believe it! Why didn’t you tell me you were coming? This is so wonderful! My God, I can’t believe you’re here.” She ran up the steps into Bunny’s waiting arms.
“I wanted to surprise you.” Bunny laughed through her tears as they hugged each other. “By the way, just so you know, Steve let me in.”
Abby broke away and stood back. “You look different somehow. What have you done? Changed your hair? Your makeup? You’re absolutely glowing. Whatever it is, I want some.”
Bunny grinned impishly. “Being in love will do that, I’m told. I hope you don’t mind, but I brought someone with me.”
Abby’s expression turned to mock dread. “Please don’t tell me you’ve brought me another dog. Seven is really enough. Did you say you’re in love! This calls for champagne!”
“No.” Bunny giggled. “I definitely did not bring you a dog. I think I’d be inclined to call him a fox.” She turned and held out her hand. “Mike, I’d like you to meet my best friend in the whole world, Abby Mitchell and her sister, Mallory. Abby, Mallory, this is Mike Stone, my fiancé.”
Abby’s mouth dropped wide open as she stared at the tall, blond, handsome, smiling man walking toward them. “Your fiancé? When did this … How …” Realizing she wasn’t making any sense, she clapped her hand over her mouth, her eyes sparkling with excitement.
“It’s nice to meet you, Abby,” Mike said, extending his hand. “I’ve heard a lot about you. All good stuff.” He looked around Abby at Mallory. “I’m happy to meet you, too, Mallory. You’re even more beautiful than Bunny described you.”
Bunny snuggled against Mike’s chest. “We made ourselves at home in your absence and whipped up a batch of really mean eggnog.”
Abby put her hands on her hips and glared at Bunny. “How could you get engaged and not tell me? When did this happen? Where did you meet? Tell me everything and don’t leave out anything. I feel so cheated.”
“I’ll tell you all about it, I promise,” Bunny said, laughing. “But first take off your coat, sit down, and warm up.”
In the living room, Bunny served eggnog along with a plate of cheese and crackers. “I just made myself at home. Hope you don’t mind,” she said, stuffing her mouth with a huge hunk of cheese.
“Not at all. My home is your home. Talk, Bunny.”
Steve left Abby and her friend alone to renew their friendship. It was his job to carry in the boxes and presents from Abby’s car while Mallory busied herself in the kitchen making dinner.
Abby listened raptly as Bunny explained that Mike was a staff writer for TIME magazine and an aspiring male-adventure novelist. He and Bunny had met three months ago at a party in New York. They’d had a whirlwind courtship and decided to become engaged on his parents’ anniversary, December 22.
“Oh, Bunny,” Abby cried, “I’m so happy for you. This is wonderful. Can I give you a party or take you out to dinner? I want to do something for you. Tell me more. I know there’s more. Share, girlfriend.”
They talked nonstop for what seemed like hours until Mallory called everyone into the dining room for dinner.
“My God, Mallory, you’re a meal magician,” Abby said, when she saw the beautifully set table and a complete dinner featuring chicken divan.
“Are you going to open your presents tonight or tomorrow morning?” Bunny asked as she helped Abby clear the table an hour later. “Sit, Mallory. You cooked, we ate, and now we’ll do the cleaning up. It’s fair.”
“Mallory and I took a vote and decided to do it tonight so we could sleep in tomorrow morning. Boy, it’s a good thing I’m as unorganized as I am or I would have mailed your Christmas present off two weeks ago,” Abby said, laughing. “You’ll never guess in a million years what it is. When I realized I’d forgotten to mail it, I thought I’d save it and give it to you at my party in February, but since you’re here now …”
“So you’re finally going to have that party you’ve always wanted, huh?” Bunny shook
her head. “God knows you’ve waited long enough. I can hardly wait to hear who’s on your guest list.” She looked across at Mallory. “This girl always said she was going to throw a fabulous party someday and invite important people—the Pope, the president, the CEO of General Motors, and all her friends. Is it that party?”
“I haven’t made out the guest list yet. No, it’s not that party. This is a rehearsal party for the big one.” She giggled. “I thought I’d wait until after the holidays to get into the swing of it.” She rubbed her hands together. “Let’s get this show on the road and start opening presents. Mallory and I will do Carol and Donovan’s presents first to get them out of the way. You did bring them in, didn’t you, Steve?” When Steve didn’t answer, Abby glanced around. “Where did he go?”
“Ho! Ho! Ho! Merry Christmas. Merry Christmas,” a voice sounded from the hall.
For the second time in one day Abby’s mouth dropped open in surprise as Steve stomped his way into the living room wearing a Santa Claus costume, complete with a shiny black belt, boots, and a bag slung over his shoulder. Abby giggled like a little girl when his long, white beard slipped down off his chin. He leered at her, then winked.
“Where are the children?” he asked, looking all around the room. “We can’t have Christmas without the children.”
Mallory jumped up and went to the French doors. “Here they are, Santa!” She opened the door and all seven dogs came bounding in. Beemer, wearing a red velvet Santa hat, led the pack, followed by Olivia, who had stuffed antlers tied around her head, then Woody, wearing a collar of jingle bells, Harry, prancing in patent-leather dog boots and the others, wearing Christmas bows on their collars.
“Sit, Beemer! Sit, Olivia! Sit, Woody! Sit, Harry! Sit, the rest of you!” Steve commanded, then waited patiently for the dogs to obey him. “I said sit, Harry!” When all seven dogs were sitting, he said, “Stay!”
Not wanting to interfere with Steve’s commands, Abby muffled her laughter into a couch pillow. She wished she had a camera, when she saw a flash go off. She turned and saw Mallory standing at the back of the room. Mallory winked at her before she lowered her head to squint into the camera.
The Guest List Page 31
