Claws of Death

by Linda Reilly

  Lara smiled to herself. No doubt Joy had gone all aflutter when Deanna called her. Lara was happy for her. The woman had seemed incredibly lonely.

  “Can I eavesdrop when you have your tealeaves read?” Lara teased.

  “Sure, why not,” Deanna said with a laugh. “It’ll be fun.”

  Visions of the kittens swam in Lara’s head, clinching her decision.

  “Deanna, I accept your invitation. With pleasure.”

  “Excellent! I told the tealeaf lady one o’clock. That’ll give Nancy time to work her magic in the kitchen. She’s a marvelous cook. Wait till you taste some of her concoctions.”

  Chlorine-free, I hope, Lara thought.

  “One’s fine. Can I bring anything?”

  “Only yourself, and tell Fran I wish her a speedy recovery.”

  After Lara disconnected, she dashed into the kitchen. She told her aunt about her date at the mansion with Deanna.

  “Lara, I don’t mind at all being left out of the luncheon. The thing I’m concerned about is your going there alone.”

  Lara smiled, but her heartbeat quickened. “Come on, Aunt Fran. Now you sound like Gideon. You’re a pair of worrywarts.”

  “We worry for a reason. Something about Nancy Sherman still bothers me. We haven’t quite figured her out yet, have we? I’ve been meaning to ask Jerry about her, but I haven’t seen him since I got sick.”

  “Aunt Fran, look at it this way. If it’s true that she helped her husband rob banks, that’s all the more reason I should check on the kittens. This gives me the perfect excuse, right? Besides, what can she do with Deanna and Joy right there?”

  Her aunt blew out a long sigh. “At least I’ll know where you are. But text me when you’re leaving, okay? And if you get a chance, take a few pics of Noodle and Doodle.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Lara said with a mock salute. “And now I need to gussy up for tea and luncheon at the manor.”

  “What about Kayla?”

  Lara glanced at her watch. “She’ll be here in about twenty minutes. I’ll explain where I’m going. She’s totally capable of working independently. I have every faith in her.”

  Her aunt smiled. “I do, too.”

  Chapter 26

  Taking advantage of the slightly cooler day, Lara had donned a patterned, scoop-neck peasant blouse—another eBay bargain—and a pair of gauzy, butter-colored pants that were straight out of the 1980s. Her wardrobe couldn’t compare with Deanna’s, but then, it didn’t have to.

  Kayla had been more than agreeable to taking over the shelter duties on her own for a few hours. Lara had spoken briefly to her about the topics she wanted to discuss, each one eliciting a smile from the young woman. Kayla promised to come up with some preliminary ideas and make notes. If she was disappointed at not being invited to Deanna’s, she didn’t let on. She graciously wished Lara an enjoyable lunch. Lara also remembered to ask her if she’d gone back to the library to research Nancy Sherman. As she’d suspected, Kayla hadn’t had a chance to go back there, but promised that it was high on her “to do” list.

  On the way to Deanna’s, Lara’s phone pinged with a text. She made a mental note to check it before she got out of the car.

  When she reached the mansion, she navigated the Saturn along the circular driveway and parked directly in front. Another car was parked up ahead, at the point where the driveway curved. One of those old VW bugs.

  Lara took a moment to gaze at the mansion through her car window. She loved the way the ivy wrapped around the offset stone column, embracing it with a blanket of lush green leaves.

  Such a peaceful scene.

  Almost too peaceful, Lara thought. As if time had stopped and frozen everything in its path. Something was out of place. What was it?

  Lara glanced at her watch—it was ten to one. She remembered she wanted to check the text message on her phone, and pulled it out of her tote. The name attached to the text made her smile. Gideon.

  She tapped it, and read his message.

  First of all, miss you! Hey, will you call me? I have some info on that society we talked about. Kisses.

  Excited, Lara punched his number. “Gid?”

  “Hi, sweetie. You got my text.”

  “I sure did. My heart’s pounding a mile a minute.”

  “Listen, I lucked out. I have an elderly client, a crusty old-timer who changes his will at the drop of a hat. He was in here this morning. I asked if he’d ever heard of that society we talked about. Not only did he know of it, but the founder was his next-door neighbor.”

  “Gideon, that’s unbelievable. What did he tell you about it?”

  “We already knew the founder was Wilbur Tardiff. My guy knew him and his family quite well. In fact, he took a family photo for them on Christmas Eve, not long before Tardiff died. He thinks he might have a copy at home. If he finds it, he’s going to come back with it.”

  “Gideon, this is good information. Can I call you back later? I’m about to join Deanna Daltry for a tea party-slash-luncheon at her mansion. She invited the tealeaf reader, Joy, to join us.”

  After a pause Gideon said, “Have fun, Lara, but be careful, okay? I’m still not convinced of that woman’s innocence. Text me if you need anything.”

  “I will, and don’t worry. Deanna’s a well-known and beloved figure. She certainly isn’t going to harm me. She’d have to answer to her fans, right? Besides, I need to see those kittens. For my own peace of mind.”

  After promising to give him a full report later, Lara disconnected.

  Lara was right on time for her date with Deanna, but now her head was spinning like a toy top. She hoisted her tote onto her shoulder, and was opening the car door when a face appeared in the driver’s side window.

  Lara shrieked and tried to pull the door shut, but the man gripping it was stronger. She recognized his grizzled beard and shaggy hair. He was the man she’d caught peeking inside the Saturn the day of the welcome event for Deanna.

  He reached in and grabbed her arm. “You have to come with me. You have to help!”

  “Let go of me,” Lara demanded, even as terror rushed through her veins. “I don’t have to go anywhere.”

  The man let out a sob. “Yes, you do. You have to make it stop.”

  He dragged her by the arm, ignoring the pummeling she was inflicting on it. When they reached the top step, he yanked her toward the front door.

  It was open about three inches.

  That’s what was out of place. The door should have been closed.

  He rushed inside and pulled her behind him. She stumbled into the vast entryway, blinking at the abrupt absence of sunlight. A smell like burned eggs assaulted her senses.

  Noodle and Doodle. Where were they? She had to get them out of there.

  The man still had her arm in a vise-like grip. His face looked wild, his eyes red-rimmed and puffy. To their left was another doorway, its carved mahogany door hanging open about a foot.

  He pushed through it, tugging Lara with him.

  The room was stunningly furnished with antiques. A fainting sofa upholstered in plush velvet sat beneath one of the Roman-style windows. Thick carpets, ornately patterned, covered the dark wood floor.

  A low piecrust table with carved legs sat in the center of a cluster of three tapestry chairs. On the table was a tea set Lara recognized immediately. The butterfly finials danced atop the teapots as if trying to escape their captivity. A roll of duct tape rested on the table, along with a pair of scissors.

  Deanna was slumped in the head chair, her ankles and wrists bound with duct tape. A longer length of duct tape was wrapped around her chest, pinning her to the chair. Her face the color of flour, she wept quietly.

  Lara gave a start, and her feet wobbled.

  To Deanna’s left, Joy Renfield sat in one of the tapestry chairs. Her eyes looked gla
zed. Her lipstick was the same shade as the message scribbled on Deanna’s car. A gun sat in the voluminous folds of her tie-dyed muumuu.

  “I’m sorry, Lara,” Joy said earnestly. “I didn’t want you to be a part of this. I wish Deeny hadn’t invited you. I specifically told her I wanted time alone with her.” She shook her head and looked at her watch, her lips curving into a sad smile. “At least you’re on time. Deeny said you’d be here at one, and you’re right on the button. I don’t like it when people are late. It’s very, very bad when people are late. Isn’t it, Deeny?”

  Deanna cried harder and nodded.

  Lara tried to swallow, but her mouth was desert dry. Her arm was still trapped in her captor’s iron grip. “Joy, whoever this is, tell him to let me go.”

  The man sucked in a noisy sob. “Make her stop,” he rasped in Lara’s ear. “Please make her stop.”

  “Where are Nancy and the kittens?” Lara demanded.

  “Nancy?” Joy’s brow furrowed. “Oh, you mean the housekeeper. Don’t worry about her, Lara. She won’t be troubling us.”

  “Are the kittens with her? Where are they?” Tears blurred her vision.

  “Stop yammering about them. They’re fine. Since you’ve already ruined things, sit down and keep your trap shut. I already set up a chair for you.” She nodded at the vacant chair. “I’m going to pour us some tea and tell us all a story. It’s a story that comes with a lesson, doesn’t it, Deeny?” Her voice rose on a note of hysteria, sending a cold chill through Lara.

  Deanna’s head dipped in the slightest of nods.

  “I’ll warn you, though. It doesn’t have a happy ending. Except for the princess over here.” She reached over and slapped Deanna’s arm. “You’ve been enjoying quite the charmed life, haven’t you, princess?”

  “Joy, I wanna leave,” the man whined, his opaque brown eyes overflowing with tears. “Can’t we go now?”

  “Not yet, Will,” Joy said gently. “We have some unfinished business. Then we can go. Okay?”

  Lara forced herself to smile at the man. “Will, is that your name? Will, I think Joy wants to hurt…Deeny. Can you find a phone and dial nine-one-one?”

  Will shook his head, sobs racking his chest.

  “Shut up and sit down, Lara. Will isn’t going to help you. You’re only upsetting him.” Joy’s face softened. “Bring her over to the chair, honey. She needs to learn some manners.”

  “I wanna go home, Joy. You said we could have ice cream.”

  “We can, sweetie. As soon as we’re through here, okay?”

  Will pushed Lara over to the vacant chair. She sat down hard, every limb feeling like molten lava.

  Joy poured tea into three cups, one for each of them. “Sugar, Deeny? Oh wait, never mind. You won’t be able to drink with your hands like that, will you? Lara, sugar?”

  “I don’t want tea,” Lara said quietly.

  Joy pursed her lips and glared at her. “How rude. And after I set out a cup for you.” She plopped two sugar cubes into her own tea, her other hand resting on the handle of the gun.

  Lara considered her options. She could run like the devil and try to get help. Or she could try to overpower Joy and get the gun away from her.

  Neither option was promising. She’d already found out how strong Will was.

  Her cell phone was in her tote. Where was her tote? Had she dropped it outside when Will roughhoused her into the mansion?”

  “Joy,” Lara suggested, as if they were at a real tea party, “why don’t you give Will the gun and have him put it in your car for you. That way it will be safe and we can enjoy our tea. I think I will have that sugar cube after all.”

  Joy tossed her head back and laughed. “Safe? Oh my, that’s priceless, but don’t try to manipulate me, Lara. As for the sugar cube, you had your chance. Now you can just drink it bitter.”

  She’s speaking like an angry child.

  Joy sipped from her cup. “Mmm, excellent. Chamomile’s always been my favorite. Now Deeny, tell Lara what we learned today about being late.”

  Deanna lifted her head. Terror shone in her gray eyes. “That it’s im-impolite,” she said in a ragged whisper.

  “Good. What else?”

  “Th-that it…hurts people,” she said dully.

  “And how does it hurt them, Deeny?”

  “I-it makes other people late, and th-then they have to rush to get to the Thanksgiving play.” Deanna broke off into tears.

  “Stop bawling. And what happens when they rush to the Thanksgiving play?”

  “Joy, please, listen to me,” Deanna said, crying harder now. “I’ll give you whatever you want. I’ll buy you a pretty little house and you can—”

  “A pretty little house?” Joy slapped Deanna’s arm again. “Do you think that makes up for the misery we suffered?”

  “Joy,” Lara interjected. She waved a dismissive hand at Deanna. “Never mind about De…Deeny. Tell me the story. I haven’t heard it yet. I-I’d like to hear your side of it.”

  Joy appeared to consider it. She looked at her watch. “I don’t suppose we’re in any rush. You may as well hear the ugly truth.”

  Lara let out the breath she was holding. “Thank you.”

  “When I was a kid, Deeny used to babysit me. She was a fun babysitter, too, weren’t you, Deeny? My favorite part was when she let me read her Hollywood magazines. She always brought a few with her so we could drool over all the stars.”

  Joy’s gaze shifted to the side. Lara made a quick scan of the room, hoping to land on something she could use as a weapon.

  “But Deeny had one problem,” Joy went on. “She could never be on time. Of course, if Mom and Dad were only going out for dinner, it didn’t really matter. What’s fifteen minutes, give or take, right?”

  Deanna’s eyes fluttered, and she slumped. Lara was afraid she’d passed out.

  “Then one day my sister Pauline found out she was going to be Priscilla Alden in her school’s Thanksgiving play. Dad was so excited. He couldn’t wait to take our whole family to see her perform, even my Aunt Agnes. My uncle had beat up my aunt so many times she had to come and live with us.”

  Lara closed her eyes and tapped into her memory. The photo—the one in Joy’s shop. In the picture, a row of stockings hung on the mantel behind the family, so it could have been taken on Christmas Eve.

  Christmas Eve. The flowers. The Wild Carrot Society.

  The few final dots connecting…

  “Joy,” Lara said softly, “are you Wilbur Tardiff’s daughter?”

  Joy snapped her head at Lara. “You…knew that?”

  “Not until a minute ago.” She forced a smile. “I know what your dad did, though. He tried to help abused women. He was a courageous man, wasn’t he?”

  “He was, in every way.” For the briefest of moments, Joy’s eyes softened. Almost immediately they morphed into a pair of dark brown marbles.

  Lara looked over at Will. He’d dropped to the floor and now sat crossed-legged, his head cradled in his arms. If only she could persuade him to call for help.

  “Go ahead, Joy,” Lara urged. “You were talking about the play.”

  Joy licked her lips. “Two days before the play, I came down with the flu. Dad said I’d have to stay home with a babysitter while they went to the play. He felt bad for me, but I honestly didn’t mind. I loved it when Deeny babysat us. This way I’d have her all to myself. We could read her magazines and watch TV and put makeup on. But Deeny never made it that night, did you Deeny?”

  Deanna was silent. Lara prayed she was all right.

  “Deeny and her boyfriend Donald were too busy necking in his car to be on time. My mom had already taken my sisters to the school. One of the other parents had driven them. Dad had to wait for Deeny before he could leave, so Will stayed with him. Gosh, he was such a cute little boy. Sma
rt as all get-out, too. He could do simple arithmetic when he was four years old. We all spoiled him.”

  “Couldn’t your dad find someone else to sit for you?”

  Joy fingered the gun. “When the play was about to start, Dad finally brought me over to a neighbor’s house. After that, he and Will headed to the school. I never saw him again.” Tears streamed down her cheeks.

  “I’m so sorry,” Lara said.

  “We were almost there,” Deanna cried, her shoulders heaving with sobs. “If he’d only waited. We were almost there!”

  “Dad never drove fast,” Joy said, her voice a scary monotone. “He was always so careful. But that night he had to drive fast. He didn’t want to miss Pauline’s debut.”

  With the tidbits she’d gotten from Claudia, Lara guessed the rest. The road was slick with freezing rain. Wilbur skidded on the bridge, crashing through the guardrail. He drowned before anyone could rescue him. And Will?

  “Joy, I know about the accident,” Lara said.

  Joy shook with rage. “Dad drowned in the car. Do you know what a horrible death that is?” She rocked forward, and the gun shifted slightly. “They thought they’d lost Will, too, but at the hospital they revived him. He’d been under water too long…”

  And suffered brain damage, Lara surmised.

  “They sent Will home from the hospital on the morning of November twenty-second. Hours later, President Kennedy was shot. No one cared about us anymore, not even about Will.”

  “I’m sure they cared, Joy.”

  “You’re wrong, Lara.” She said it in such a quiet voice that Lara’s heart wrenched. The sad little girl was now a vengeful woman, determined to make someone pay for her father’s tragic death.

  “Mom couldn’t deal with Dad’s death. She was a young widow with four kids to raise. And Will—” She shook her head. “Seven months later, she met a man at church—Kenneth Renfield. He was kind to her and attentive to us. That is, until the ink dried on the marriage certificate.

  “He ran our home like a drill sergeant. Mom cringed every time he spoke. We had chores galore. Our favorite TV shows were banned. He insisted on adopting us so our last names would be the same as his—he said it gave him more control. He used the college money Dad saved for us to start up his own business. You know what he said? Girls didn’t need college. They’re supposed to be homemakers. His business failed, of course. He went through all of Dad’s savings, what was left of it.”