by Tracy Kiely
Looking at her now, I realized that Claire had inherited some of her mother’s toughness after all. Her eyes held that same steely firmness that I’d seen displayed in Elsie’s hundreds of times. “I wish I could help you,” she continued, “but I just can’t.” She abruptly stepped toward me. Instinctively, I stepped back, out into the hallway. With a decisive movement, she shut the door in my face. Standing in the empty hallway, still clutching my hair dryer, I heard the soft click as she turned the lock.
I was halfway back to my room when something Claire said hit me. She had said that she usually got up early and went downstairs to drag David back to their room.
Had she done that the morning after the wedding?
Chapter 20
Getting out of bed in the morning is an act of false confidence.
—JULES FEIFFER
I slept late the next morning. Megan was already gone. I was glad to not have to talk to her right then, and I couldn’t help wondering if her absence had something to do with the discovery of Roni’s necklace. Whether that “something” was a suspicion I had actually taken it or personal knowledge that I hadn’t wasn’t a detail I felt up to dwelling on at the moment.
I glanced out the window over my bed; the weather matched my mood. Rain spit at the glass, and the sky was an endless blanket of gray. I couldn’t blame the weather for my bad temper, though. Who needed a mass of storm clouds to make you feel lousy when you had murder, betrayal, spousal abuse, and lies to do it for you? Pulling myself into a sitting position, I rested my head against the bed’s wooden headboard and tried to mentally organize questions I had about the night of the murder.
First, why had Avery lied about being in his room all night? Where had he been? Had he been lying about the state of his recovery? Could he, in fact, walk? And if he could walk, did Millie know? Was she a willing participant to this lie?
Second, Claire claimed to have immediately come back upstairs after realizing Avery wasn’t in his room, but had she?
Third, David had definitely been having an affair with Roni, just as Bridget suspected. Had he gone downstairs the night of the murder to drink more as he had last night? If so, what did that mean? Could David have killed Roni in a drunken rage? If so, why did he have a room key from the Jefferson Hotel?
Fourth, what was the source of the thump heard by Claire and Chloe? Could they be lying? Why would they both lie? Was Chloe’s reason for being here more than just professional?
I don’t know how long I sat lost in thought, letting the questions swirl about unanswered in my head, but eventually they were interrupted by loud banging on my door. Pulling on my bathrobe, I eased the door open an inch and peeked out. It was Bridget, her face incredulous.
“You broke up with Peter?” she hissed at me as soon as she saw me. “You’re such a shit. Are you okay?”
I sighed and opened the door, and she swept in, highly agitated. I shut the door behind her. Seeing my face, she pulled me into a tight hug. She continued to berate me as she held me.
“I can’t believe you! Peter is the greatest guy you have ever dated and you break up with him? Why?” she demanded.
“Because he was about to marry Chloe a few years back,” I said, pulling away from her. “The only reason they haven’t tied the knot is they decided to take a break and date other people. They wanted to make sure they were ‘meant to be,’ ” I said, illustrating the thought with air quotes. “I’m nothing more than litmus paper for their relationship. He never even told her about me.”
Bridget’s mouth fell open at this and she sank down onto the bed. “Peter used to date Chloe? Peter was going to marry Chloe? Impossible! I can’t believe it. When did you find this out?”
“The day of your wedding. Chloe made a point of telling me.”
Bridget gaped at me. “You’ve known since then and you didn’t tell me! Why?”
“It was your wedding day! I wasn’t going to bother you with my dramas! Then afterward, well, it seemed unimportant in comparison with Roni and helping Harry.”
“So you’ve been worrying all this time about Peter and Chloe? God, no wonder you’re not thinking straight. When left with only your own imagination, you always invent the worst possible scenario.”
“I didn’t invent this! Peter finally admitted to me last night that they used to date!”
“Exactly, Peter told you that they used to date. So what? He’s not dating her now—he’s dating you now. Or at least he was, until you stupidly broke up with him!”
“I broke up with him because it’s clear to me that I’m nothing more than a test for his relationship with Chloe! He never bothered to call her and tell her that he’d moved on—permanently.”
Bridget rolled her eyes and stood up. “So what are you saying? That they had some melodramatic plan to stay apart for a year, dating other people, and at the end of that year, they’d meet up again. Say, for instance, on the top of the Empire State Building?”
“Don’t mock me. I have no idea what their exact plan was, I only know that there was one. Besides, aren’t you the one who’s always rattling on about people having only one true love in life, that anything else is just a pale copy? I don’t want to be the pale copy. I want the real thing. And the real thing doesn’t neglect to break it off with the old girlfriend!”
“Listen to yourself! You’re the one who’s always telling me not to be guided by my emotions! Yet here you are, letting your fear of losing Peter paralyze you.”
“What do you mean, paralyze? I broke up with him!”
“You took the safe, coward’s way out because you’re afraid of getting hurt. But if you want Peter, you’re going to have to take a risk. Fight for him!”
I folded my arms across my chest and shook my head. “No. I will not run around acting like an idiot over this. I have some dignity. Not a lot, granted, but some.”
Bridget shook her head in disgust. “I don’t understand you at all. You’re just going to give up?”
“It’s not giving up. I know when it’s pointless to fight.”
“How can you be so blasé about losing Peter? You love him! None of this makes any sense to me. You can’t mean any of this. And if you think you’re going to get me to agree that breaking up with Peter was a good idea, you’re crazy!” Pausing, she added, “You know, Elizabeth, that this is a kind of talking which I cannot bear. If you only hope to have your assertion contradicted, as I must suppose to be the case, you ought to recollect that I am the last person in the world to do it. I cannot descend to be tricked out of assurances, that are not really wanted.”
I tried to smile but couldn’t. “Not now, Bridget.”
“Wow. You are in bad shape if a little Jane can’t bring you around.”
“I don’t want to talk about this anymore,” I said, heading off another lecture. “Besides, there’s something more important we need to discuss,” I added, remembering the events of last night. I paused, unsure how to begin. Bridget was not going to like what I had to say.
She looked at me expectantly. “Well?”
“I’m not sure how to tell you this and I want to make sure I say it the right way.”
“Oh, for God’s sake, don’t give me that namby-pamby crap. Just spit it out!”
“I’m going to, but I want you to understand that what I have to tell you won’t be easy to hear—”
She stamped her foot in annoyance. “It can’t be any harder than listening to you not say anything. Now give!”
“Fine!” I said, now equally vexed. “Last night I heard David hit Claire and found out that Claire lied about seeing Avery in his room the night of the murder. She went to Avery’s room, but he wasn’t there. After Avery told the police he’d been in his room all night, Claire decided to back up his lie with one of her own. And you were right about David and Roni. According to Claire, they were having an affair.”
Bridget’s eyes widened in surprise and she sank slowly back onto the bed.
I continued, trying
to get the worst part out in a rush. “Detective Grant doesn’t believe that an outsider killed Roni, especially not after our discovery of the necklace. He thinks the room key and the note were planted to make us think that.”
“Holy shit,” Bridget said after a stunned moment. “Jesus, you’d make a lousy diplomat, you know? I can’t believe you just dumped all that on me like that.”
I rolled my eyes in exasperation. “Well, you didn’t exactly give me another option. Besides, I have a pounding headache, I haven’t eaten breakfast, and I’m working on roughly four hours of sleep. Peter... ” My voiced cracked. I closed my eyes.
“Elizabeth?”
“I’m fine. I’m fine.”
Bridget rubbed her hands across her face and mercifully did not press me. Knowing that I was shutting down, she changed the subject. “So David hits Claire, does he? Is Claire all right?”
I nodded. “That rotten bastard,” she continued. “I mean, I guess I’m not surprised—we’ve all known for years that he’s an SOB, but to actually have evidence is different.” She looked up at me. “Does Elsie know?”
I shook my head. “No, nobody knows but you.”
Bridget shook her head in silence. “Well, I’ll tell you this much, I want to be there when she does find out. I want a front-row seat for what she does to David.”
I hadn’t thought about that. Bridget was right. Elsie would go after David with the vengeance of a lioness protecting her cub. Maybe I’d better make sure that Detective Grant was on hand when I told Elsie. As much as I despised David, I couldn’t in good conscience leave his punishment in her hands. It would be signing his death warrant.
“Before we tell Elsie, we need to find out where Avery was and what he was doing when Claire went to his room.”
“None of this makes any sense,” Bridget said. “Why would Avery lie?”
I paused, unsure how to put it into words. I didn’t need to bother. Bridget’s head snapped up, anticipating my next words. “No!” she cried. Springing to her feet, she stepped back from me. “Is that what you think?” She eyed me incredulously. “You can’t really believe that Avery killed Roni? It’s absurd! This is Avery we’re talking about!”
I took a step toward her. “I’m not saying anything , Bridget. All I know is that Claire told me Avery wasn’t in his room when he said he was. And I think we should find out why.”
Bridget ran her hand through her spiky red hair. “What could he have been doing that he felt he needed to lie about it?”
I hated this. I had hated having to tell Bridget that Avery had lied and now I hated having to make assumptions as to why. The throbbing of my temples increased and my face began to ache. “I was wondering, well, I was wondering, if maybe Avery might be able to... ”
“To what?” she snapped.
I took a deep breath. “To walk.”
My words were greeted with stunned silence. Bridget burst out, “Are you crazy? Why the hell would Avery lie about being able to walk?”
“I don’t know!” I said, raising my hands in frustration. “I don’t know why he lied at all!”
“Well, to suggest it’s because he can walk is one of the stupidest ideas I’ve heard from you in a long time!”
“It’s not stupid! Did you see him yesterday when he went after David? He almost pushed himself out of his chair. I think if Millie hadn’t shoved him back, he would have gotten out of it!”
“Your imagination is getting the better of you.”
“That may be true,” I conceded. “But I don’t think we can just ignore the possibility. Who knows, maybe it’s the reason he lied.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Well, if he can walk, maybe he was up that night and saw something. Maybe he saw the murderer.”
“But if he saw the murderer, then why wouldn’t he say so?”
“Given what we’ve just learned about Roni and David, maybe he was afraid that no one would believe him. Maybe he couldn’t see her attacker. Maybe he was afraid the police might suspect him . If he can walk, he has means and motive.”
Bridget slowly nodded. “I see what you mean, but I’m still not convinced. I want Colin to hear this. Let me get him—and my parents.” She paused. “Oh, shit. They went out to run some errands. I think they’re going to be gone for a while. Oh, well, never mind. Meet me and Colin in the boathouse in ten minutes. We can figure out what to do there.”
I threw on jeans, a sweater, and my jacket. I glanced at my reflection in the mirror and sighed. I had never been one of those girls who spring from bed dewy fresh and lovely. However, this morning I had managed to surpass my usual unkempt look. There is a simple equation in my life: with the rain comes humidity and with humidity comes frizzy hair. True to form, my hair was obeying this equation in spectacular fashion. I was now a good three inches taller and my head was several inches wider. I shrugged. It wasn’t as if Peter was going to be around to see me.
I made it down the stairs and to the terrace without being seen. It was still raining. I pulled the hood of my jacket over my head in a purely reflexive gesture—the rain certainly wasn’t going to make my hair look any worse—and sprinted across the wet grass to the boathouse, where Colin and Bridget were waiting for me.
I shook some of the rain off my jacket and glanced questioningly at Bridget.
“I’ve brought Colin up to date,” she said briskly.
“How is Claire?” Colin asked. “I can’t believe that bastard hit her.”
I shrugged. “She’s fine. I think she’s dealt with it so often that she’s almost becoming numb to it.”
Colin shook his head in disgust.
“I explained your theory about Avery, too,” said Bridget. It was clear it was a theory that she was still reluctant to believe. “I guess that if he could walk and did see something that night, he might lie about it out of worry that he might become a suspect, especially if he didn’t have a good description.” She bent her head and stared at the worn wooden floor as she processed this scenario. As she did, Colin glanced at me with worried eyes. I knew what he was thinking. It was the same thing troubling me. There was another reason Avery might have lied about seeing Roni’s attacker: because he could describe her attacker.
“Bridget?” said Colin. “The three of us can stand around and guess all day and it won’t help anything. Why don’t we just ask Avery why he lied?”
I looked at Bridget. She stared back at me, her expression sober. “Okay,” she said softly, “let’s go find Avery.”
When we got back to the house, Avery was in the living room. Against the backdrop of a cheery fire, he, Julia, and Megan were bent over the low coffee table, playing Scrabble. Julia and Avery teased Megan over a word choice while Megan good-naturedly deflected their barbs. Millie sat in one of the nearby fireside chairs, reading a book. It looked like a family scene out of the pages of Southern Living . In fact, so natural and effortless was their banter, it was hard to believe that instead of an average family enjoying a rainy day inside, they were suspects in a murder case.
My step faltered and I glanced uncertainly at Bridget. Coming up with the plan to confront Avery about his lie had been the easy part; enacting it, I suspected, would be another matter. At our entrance, they all looked up. Avery greeted us with a relaxed smile, and I thought with sadness that it had been a long time since I’d seen him so at peace.
“You three look like drowned rats,” Julia said affably. “What in heaven’s name were you doing out in this weather? It’s dreadful out there.”
Suddenly tongue-tied, none of us replied. We stared dumbly first at each other and then back again at Avery. Being an intelligent man, he sensed our tension. His eyebrows pulled together and he asked tersely, “What’s happened?”
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Millie lay her book down on her ample lap. Bridget threw me a pleading look and I realized with a sinking feeling that if we were going to learn anything, it would be up to me. “Nothing’s happened, exactly,”
I said slowly, as I sat down in one of the empty chairs. “It’s just... it’s just that I talked to Claire last night.”
Avery started to shake his head as if he didn’t understand, then the meaning of my words hit him. With an apprehensive glance at Julia, he said, “Oh, I see.”
Both Julia and Megan tensed at the tremor of nervousness in his tone. Megan turned to me, her face pale. “What’s going on?” she asked.
Avery looked at her with pained eyes. “Nothing’s going on,” he said, forcing his voice back to normal. “But I think I need to talk with Elizabeth alone for a minute.”
Julia said firmly, “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
Giving her a desperate look, Avery nodded almost imperceptibly toward Megan. Megan’s eyes were focused on Julia, so she missed it. However, Millie, with her uncanny sensitivity to her patient’s wants, did not. “Megan,” she said in a brisk tone that left no room for argument, “please come with me. I need you to help me make tea.”
Realizing that she was being got out of the way, Megan threw a curious glance at us before pulling herself to her feet and trailing on reluctant feet after Millie to the kitchen.
“What is this about?” asked Julia, her tone uneasy.
I looked at Avery.
He sighed. “I... I lied to the police about where I was the night Roni... ” His words caught in his throat. He tried again. “I lied about where I was the night Roni... died.” He did not look at Julia as he spoke. “Claire knew and lied to protect me.”
Julia shifted uncomfortably in her chair. Avery’s eyes fell to his lap and stayed there.
“What really happened?” I asked.
Avery’s anguished eyes briefly landed on Julia before turning my way. His next words came out haltingly. “I wasn’t in my room all night as I told the police. Around one thirty, I went to the study to make a phone call. My cell phone was dead and there isn’t a phone in my room.”
“And you called... ?” I asked.
Avery did not respond. He fixed his eyes on his lap again. I repeated the question. “Avery, who did you call?”
