She held out the phone and stared at it. Obviously, Drew Delaney had hung up on her. Her face grew red, her eyes angry. “Damn,” she muttered. “Bruce. He wants Bruce to check out la Belle this afternoon. Bruce can’t write his way out of a paper bag. I can’t believe Drew won’t let me cover this story!”
“Is Drew the gorgeous guy you said looks like George Clooney?” Skye asked innocently. Rachel flushed and gave her a look that clearly told her to shut her mouth. “Gosh, I’m sorry you can’t do the story, Rachel,” Skye said lamely, to cover her gaffe.
“It’s not your fault.” Rachel jammed her cell phone into her purse. “I just thought Drew had more faith in me.”
“Bruce is a full-time reporter,” Adrienne said, searching for a way to appease the furious girl. “You’re an intern who will be leaving in a couple of months. Drew is probably thinking of whom he has to work with for the next few years. He’d rather ruffle your feathers than Brace’s.”
“Or else he’s playing up to Bruce because his father owns the paper. I don’t like to think Drew would let that influence him, but maybe so,” Rachel said, her spirit suddenly gone flat “According to Mom, you know Drew a lot better than I do.”
Adrienne felt color rise to her cheeks. How long ago it seemed she’d had a teenage romance with Drew. How she’d daydreamed about him, pined for him with all her teenage devotion, spent days sunk in angst because he didn’t seem to know she was alive. Then suddenly, when she was a junior and he was a senior in high school, he’d begun dating her. She’d thought she was madly in love with him. No, she’d known she was madly in love with him, known it without an ounce of adolescent delusion. They’d even talked of marriage someday soon.
Right after he’d graduated from high school, he’d left for college in New York City, bidding her a tempestuous farewell. She’d been heartsick and lived for his letters and phone calls. But the calls dwindled from twice to once a week, then stopped altogether. Impersonal postcards replaced the long letters. Through friends Adrienne learned he spent Christmas in New York and by the next summer, he’d charmed his way into the inner circle of an affluent family and married the lovely daughter. Adrienne had been crushed. Furious. Devastated. And she was embarrassed to think that even now, the memory of Drew’s desertion brought a sharp prick of pain, even though another disastrous marriage to a minor Broadway starlet had followed what turned out to be his first failed attempt at nuptial bliss. After the last, he’d returned home just eighteen months ago to a job as editor of the Point Pleasant Register.
Adrienne knew Vicky had probably told Rachel old stories about Drew in order to underscore his feckless nature and tendency to use his considerable charm to flatter and get what he wanted from people. She doubted if Vicky’s point had been made, though. Lately, Adrienne had wondered if Rachel were developing a crush on Drew. And the girl had certainly come to think she was an indispensable asset to the newspaper and to Drew Delaney. Adrienne doubted that anything Vicky could say would change Rachel’s mind in the slightest.
“Well, I have to get on to this earth-shattering story about the county fair,” Rachel suddenly announced, standing up. “Thanks for lunch.”
“It wasn’t much and I’m sorry it had to spring from such awful circumstances,” Adrienne said.
Surprisingly, Rachel cocked her head, the anger vanishing from her gaze. “Well, at least Kit Kirkwood won’t be losing her inheritance in the next few weeks. The cops certainly won’t be quick to allow the destruction of the site where a world-famous model was murdered, and Ellen Kirkwood isn’t in the best of health.” She lifted her shoulders. “Who knows? Kit may end up with la Belle after all.”
THREE
1
When Rachel left, Skye loaded the dirty dishes in the dishwasher and wiped clean the kitchen counters without being asked to, a sure sign that she was still in shock. Afterward, Adrienne announced she needed to lie down for a while, and Skye curled up beside her on the bed as she hadn’t done for years. Brandon abandoned his plush cushion in the living room, stretched out on the floor beside them, and in two minutes began snoring loudly.
Meanwhile, Skye stared at the ceiling, clearly suffering the same nervous weariness as Adrienne, but unable to sleep. “Do you think Rachel loves Drew Delaney?” she asked after a few minutes.
“I hope not. He’s old enough to be her father.”
“You used to date him. Rachel told me.”
“I dated him about a century ago.”
“And then you met Daddy.”
“I already knew Daddy. I just didn’t know how much I liked him until he finally asked me out. We got married a year later.”
“So you really liked him!”
“Yes. I really loved him. I always will.”
“Me, too.” Skye reached out and touched a strand of Adrienne’s hair, twisting it gently around her finger like she’d done since she was a toddler. “Mom, I think there’s trouble between Aunt Vicky and Rachel. They fight a lot.”
Adrienne sighed. She was desperate for a nap, a brief escape from the horror of the morning, but now was not the time to push away her daughter. “I think Vicky is having trouble with Rachel becoming an adult. She’s twenty. In less than a year she’ll be a college graduate. And she’s so independent, so self-sufficient. I think Vicky is upset about losing her little girl. She tries to cling to her, and the harder she clings, the harder Rachel tries to pull away. So they end up arguing.”
“Oh. I guess that makes sense. But Mom?” “Yes?”
“I’ll never want to pull away from you. I’ll always want to be just as close as we are right now.”
Adrienne smiled. “I wish that were true, but a day will come when you’ll find hanging out with me to be a colossal drag. But it’s natural, honey. It’s just part of growing up. I promise to handle it a little better than Vicky is doing.” She paused. “At least, I’ll try.”
“I don’t think I’ll ever want to stop hanging out with you.” Skye yawned hugely. “I’m having a good time talking to you, but I’m so sleepy I can’t keep my eyes open. Can we take a nap together?”
Adrienne smiled. “It would be my pleasure, sweetie.”
2
Adrienne awakened with a heavy, dazed feeling, as if she’d taken a sleeping pill. She glanced at the bedside clock and saw that three hours had passed. Skye lay curled into a fetal position beside her, and Brandon still snored by the bed. Adrienne wanted nothing more than to go back to sleep, to block out the afternoon, but she knew if she slept more now, she would never sleep tonight. Reluctantly, she quietly got up and padded into the kitchen to brew a pot of coffee.
The coffee did little to clear her head, but she was at least capable of coherent speech when Lucas Flynn called half an hour later. “How are you doing?” he asked.
“I feel like I’ve been run over by a truck, and the bad thing is, I don’t think the reality of the whole thing has even hit me yet.”
“Losing anyone you love is bad, but it’s even worse when the person is young and vibrant and, worst of all, a murder victim. You have all that rage on top of the grief.”
“I felt rage when Trey died, but it was different. I was mad at him for being so stupid as to ride a motorcycle he couldn’t handle. Julianna didn’t do anything stupid.”
“Didn’t she? She wasn’t spending the night at the Belle of the hell of it. It’s pretty evident she was having an affair.”
“I didn’t know anything about it, and Julianna wasn’t one for keeping secrets.”
“Well, she had at least one she didn’t share.”
Adrienne knew he was right, but she didn’t want to admit it to the county sheriff no matter how obvious it was. Instead, she said, “You sound tired, Lucas.”
“I am. That’s the problem with being a sheriff in a relatively quiet county. Not a lot of murders, thank God, particularly not like this one. I’ve lost my stamina.”
“Have you found out anything about who might have been with Julianna at the
Belle?”
“No. Of course, the trace evidence is still being checked, although in a hotel room, working with trace is a nightmare, even if the room hasn’t been officially rented for a year. Also, there are no fingerprints. None. Someone spent a lot of time wiping down that place.”
“What about Claude?” Adrienne nervously carried the receiver of the cordless phone to the front window and looked out at the paperboy jamming today’s edition of the Register into the paper box at the end of her driveway. “Could he have murdered Julianna? I mean, I know Claude wasn’t having an affair with her, for God’s sake, but he could have been jealous of whoever was. He could have murdered her to punish her.”
“I’ll admit he makes the perfect suspect. Erratic, unstable, possessive. Mrs. Kirkwood shouldn’t have kept him around, even if he did take over just as the Belle was closing and there wasn’t much damage he could do to the place, not that she cared anyway. But you saw him this morning. Do you think he was alert enough to wipe away all the fingerprints? And why would he even bother? There’s a logical reason for him being there. Besides, Claude has an alibi. He got lucky last night at that topless bar just out of town, the Cat’s Meow. Met a young lady named Pandora Avalon.”
Adrienne stopped pacing. “Please don’t try to convince me that’s her real name.”
“No. It’s Maud Dorfman. Anyway, the forty-four-year-old Miss Avalon went home with Claude for a night of unbridled passion. She swears she was at his cottage until the sound of the crash woke them. According to her, she got out of there as fast as she could, leaving Claude heaving into the commode from downing too much bourbon the night before. She said, and I quote, ‘I never saw nobody puke so hard. I thought his damned stomach was gonna spew right up outta his mouth.'”
“I always thought Claude would be a fun date,” Adrienne said drolly.
“Yes. Along with his ax. The idiot. Anyway, I don’t think he was in any shape to have killed Julianna, much less brushed her hair and posed her so carefully on the bed before he came reeling down the hill to get me at the site of the wreck.”
“Do you think there was any connection between the wreck and the murder?”
“No. Two fifteen-year-olds were illegally driving one of the cars. They caused the wreck and they both died. The three people in the other car were seriously injured. None of them claims to have known Julianna, not to mention that two of them are Amish. The Amish aren’t known for lying, or for Covering for murderers, if you’re thinking the driver of the car they were in could have been the killer.”
“That leaves Claude. Do you believe he’s completely in the clear?”
“I don’t think he killed her, but I have a feeling he may know more than he’s saying. Unfortunately, I’m not allowed to arrest people based on my feelings.”
“You should speak to someone about that.”
“Maybe your brother-in-law. I’m sure he’s going to be our next governor.”
“I hope so. Otherwise, Vicky’s going to have a tough time over the next few years. Philip doesn’t take defeat well. He’s one of those golden boys who almost always get what they want.” She sighed. “That was a bitchy thing to say.”
“It was truthful. I can’t say I’m a Philip Hamilton fan, either, but I’ll probably vote for him.”
“Not because of me, I hope.”
“No. Because he’s the lesser of two evils.”
Adrienne laughed. “I guess you should know. After all, you used to work for him. Still, I’ll pass along the compliment.”
“I worked for him many years ago when I was young and stupid. I’ve always hoped people would forget about my tenure with the Hamilton camp. Besides, nowadays he’s not crazy about me, either. He was dead set against my becoming sheriff.”
“He can’t charm you. Philip doesn’t like it when he can’t charm people. Then he can’t use them, and using people is what he does best.” Adrienne paused. “Clearly the nap I took with Skye didn’t do much to improve my disposition.”
“You’ve just lost one of your closest friends. It’ll take more than a nap to make you feel better. And to make things worse, we can’t find Julianna’s mother.”
“Lottie? She’s missing?”
“She hasn’t been home all day, and no one we’ve talked to has seen her.”
“My God! Do you think something happened to her, too?”
“There’s no sign of violence at her place.”
“But it’s in the woods not far from the Belle. She could be anywhere around there, hurt, maybe even dead.”
“We’ve been searching the woods. There’s no reason to think she hasn’t just gone wandering. She does that sometimes.” Adrienne sensed that Lucas wasn’t as calm about Lottie as he was trying to sound. “How’s Skye doing?”
“I’m not sure. She seems all right, given the circumstances, but kids can keep a lot to themselves. When Trey was killed, she was sad but calm for over a week. Then nightmares, storms of sobbing, and depression started. It was nearly six months before I got back my sunny little girl.”
“Poor kid. Now this. I know she liked Julianna.”
“What wasn’t to like? She was beautiful, fun, a former model, for heaven’s sake. Julianna and Rachel were Skye’s idols.”
“Rachel is probably the better role model. She seems like an exemplary girl. Julianna, on the other hand … well, no disrespect, but with her problems with drugs—”
“Former problems,” Adrienne said stiffly, immediately defensive about her friend. “Julianna worked hard at getting herself straightened out and she never returned to her old life for fear of messing up again. I admired her tremendously for that. I think everyone should.”
“Yes, I suppose so. But I need to warn you and Skye not to tell Rachel or anyone else the details of the crime scene. You haven’t already, have you?”
“No, although Rachel was here at lunch.”
“Good. You know the drill—we like to keep some things secret so that when the nuts come in and start confessing, we can trip them up on details.”
“Yes, indeed. I know the drill from all my reading of murder mysteries. And Skye will keep her lips sealed if she knows the order has come from you.”
“Good girls.”
“Women. Smart, savvy women. Both of us.”
“Yes, ma’am!” His laugh sounded weary and strained. “I’m going to let you go, now. Talking about what happened can only be making you feel worse. Watch some television or read if you can. And try to get a good night’s sleep. I’ll call you tomorrow.”
“Thanks, Lucas. I’m sorry for my bad temper when we had to stay at the hotel so long this morning until you could question us.”
“You never need to apologize to me.” Which was true, Adrienne thought. Lucas was always kind, always patient, always earnest, always doing the exactly the right and responsible thing. A good, steady man. “Love you, Adrienne. Good night.”
“’Night, Lucas,” she said quickly, wishing she could say, “Love you, too.” But she couldn’t. She hung up the phone feeling frayed and mean, unworthy and ungrateful. But at least she hadn’t been dishonest. Small comfort, she thought miserably. They should put on my tombstone, “Adrienne was a bitch, but she had integrity.”
“Oh, for God’s sake,” she said aloud. “Now you’re wallowing in self-pity.”
“Mom, what are you talking about?”
Skye stood at the entrance to the living room, looking rumpled and depressed.
“I’m indulging in self-analysis.”
“Oh.” She yawned. “That’s weird.”
“Tell me about it.” Adrienne put the phone receiver back on the cradle. “Neither one of us finished even one sandwich earlier. Hungry?”
“Yeah. But I don’t really want to hang around here. The house seems lonely and sad this evening. Could we go to Fox’s for pizza?”
Adrienne thought of the warm little restaurant with its huge portions of food, and occasional spirited performance on karaoke night. “
That’s a wonderful idea.” She glanced out the window. “But a storm is predicted, although everything looks fine now. Get your windbreaker. And don’t wake up Brandon. He’ll want to go with us.”
“I’m going to be too fat to get into my jeans tomorrow,” Skye announced an hour later before she popped a bit of pizza into her mouth.
“You could use a couple of extra pounds, kiddo. You’re getting taller but not putting on weight.” Adrienne frowned. “You’re not doing anything unhealthy to keep your weight down, are you?”
“You mean like throwing up after I eat?” Skye made a face. “No way. That’s so gross. Besides, Fox’s Pizza Den has the best pizzas I ever ate. It would be sacrilege to eat one, then throw it up.”
“I’m glad you think so,” Adrienne said, biting into what she swore was going to be her last piece.
It was karaoke night and an intrepid soul approached the microphone. After some adjusting, unnecessary blowing into the live mike, and murmuring “testing, testing,” he gradually slipped into a rendition of “You’ve Lost That Lovin’ Feeling” by the Righteous Brothers. The longer he sang, the more confidence he gained and the louder he got Unfortunately, he couldn’t sing. At all. Although the guy was clearly pouring his heart into the song, he was slaughtering it
Skye and Adrienne struggled not to giggle. Finally Skye got enough control to ask, “Do you remember a couple of months ago when Julianna talked you into getting up there?”
Adrienne rolled her eyes. “Unfortunately, yes. She was driving because I drank beer and way too much of it. Please don’t remind me.”
“I can’t help it.” Skye’s eyes twinkled. “You were singing that disco song—”
“Gloria Gaynor’s ‘I Will Survive.'”
“You were flinging your arms around and making all these faces! And your voice …” Skye nearly doubled over with laughter. “Mom, you were just awful”
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