by Judith Gould
"I don't think they'll be able to accomplish anything," Eddie said. "I can't imagine who would do anything like this, so I couldn't be any help to them."
"Have you thought of anybody, Jonathan?" she asked. "Or any reason?"
"No," he said. "I can't think of anybody. Maybe not everybody's crazy about us, but I can't think of anybody who actually hates us this much. I think it's got to be some kind of nutcase. That's all I can figure."
"I guess you're right," she agreed. "It's just so hard to imagine. Anyway, I'll drop this by the clinic, but I'll be back home in an hour or so at the most. If you need anything, anything at all, let me know."
"Thanks, Val," Eddie said. "You're a champ." He kissed her cheek, and they hugged again.
She hugged Jonathan next. "I'll get on my way," she said.
"We'll walk you to the car," Eddie offered.
"No," she said, turning to leave. "That's okay. You two do what you have to do. I'm fine."
She walked through the grounds, on through the verdant garden, and then into the courtyard parking area. I wish I really was fine, she thought, shaking her head. But something about Noah's death—Noah's murder, she reminded herself—disturbed her deeply. Something she couldn't put her finger on.
Who on earth would do such a thing? she asked herself. Perhaps Jonathan was right. Maybe it was some nutcase. A random act of violence. But why go to so much trouble? Buying the poison and the meat; parking at a distance so as not to be seen or heard; taking the path down from the bridge along the creek in the darkness of night? And what about the invisible fencing, if that was actually a factor? Some nutcase knew about that?
She got in the car and started it, headed to the clinic to put the meat-filled bag in the freezer there. A shudder went up her spine. This is so malicious, she thought. Why would anyone deliberately kill a dog?
Chapter Twenty-Three
Are you sure you'd rather not have dinner with us?"
Bibi Whitman asked. "It's not a large party, just twenty or so." She took a sip of her vodka martini, then set it down on the table next to the white wicker chair on which she was perched. She sat erectly, one leg crossed carefully over the other, one low-heeled spectator pump planted firmly on the stone terrace.
"You're very kind, Bibi," Lolo said, "but I think after I get out of this polo gear and get cleaned up, we'll take a nap and go out for a hamburger or some¬thing. Make it an early night."
"Well, it's no wonder," she said, looking at him understandingly. "You must be exhausted. You played like a demon, Lolo. I bet every owner there wishes you were on his team. In fact, I bet you get some nice offers after the way you played today."
Lolo grinned. "Well, thanks, Bibi," he said.
"Are you sure that Joe's okay?" Arielle asked.
"Oh, yes, Arielle," Bibi said. She trilled laughter. "It's just age, dear. He tries to do too much. You know how men are. He'll be fine after a little rest."
"Oh, good," Arielle said, "I was worried about him." Arielle smiled at the older woman sweetly. It's no wonder the old goat's half dead, she thought. A dinner party every single night, a luncheon every day, mimosa-soaked breakfasts, and scotch-laced teas—it's enough to kill a man half his age. On top of which he has to put up with the dragon lady.
Arielle took a cigarillo from the pack on the coffee table, and Lolo lit it for her. "Thanks, Lolo," she said.
Bibi and Lolo began talking about the polo practice session, analyzing it play by play, and Arielle planted a smile on her face and tuned out, bored by the conversation. She'd decided she hated polo, but she liked the men who played it.
She watched her hostess with fascination, convinced that Bibi was flirting with Lolo, who seemed to be enjoying it enormously. It was all Arielle could do to keep from giggling aloud, the idea was so ridiculous. Bibi's chestnut-dyed hair looked as if it had been set with mayonnaise, and her perfectly made-up face could only be described as horsey at best. Her couture- tailored suit with matching everything only made her look older than she was.
She's somewhere north of sixty, and she looks like somebody's maid playing dress-up, Arielle thought unkindly.
She took a long drag off of her cigarillo and heaved an inaudible sigh along with a plume of smoke. It didn't matter one iota how old or ugly the warhorse was, she thought. Bibi came from big bucks, older and cleaner and better-connected than most, and she could have looked like a walrus. The society columnists would always kowtow, referring to her as a great beauty and legendary hostess and style-maker extraordinaire.
Not like me, Arielle thought enviously. I've had to work for every dress, every piece of jewelry, every goddamn cent.
"Well, I'd better go see to the details for dinner," she heard Bibi saying, "but you two young lovers do whatever you want. Stay out here and enjoy the terrace as long as you like, take a swim . . . whatever." She smiled meaningfully.
"Thanks for a wonderful day," Lolo said. "I look forward to the match tomorrow."
Arielle came to attention. "Tell Joe I hope he feels better," she said.
"I will, dear," Bibi said. "Oh, and don't forget. The keys are in that little Jeep. The dark green one. Help yourselves. Come and go as you like."
"Thanks, Bibi," Arielle said. "You're a lifesaver."
"Don't mention it," Bibi said. She rose to her feet, and Lolo followed suit.
"We'll see you in the morning," he said.
"Ta-ta," she said, disappearing through an open door into the house.
Arielle stood up and stretched. "Let's go," she said.
"Finished with your drink?" Lolo asked.
"We can have another one in the guest house," Arielle said.
They strolled arm-in-arm through the lushly planted gardens toward the immaculate cottage that served as a guest house. "I think Bibi's taken a real liking to you, Lolo," Arielle said, her stiletto-heeled Jimmy Choo sandals click-clacking noisily on the stone path.
Lolo laughed. "You must be kidding."
"I saw the way she was looking at you," Arielle said teasingly. "I've been wondering why she's always so nice to me, and I thought it was just because I'm getting a big settlement out of Wyn." She pinched Lolo's ass. "But now I know that's not the only reason. She likes to look at you, and I don't blame her."
"You're crazy," he said, slipping his arm around her shoulder and kissing her cheek. Then he looked at her with a serious expression. "You know, I do think one reason she's so nice to us is because you're divorcing Wyn. Joe was sort of the undisputed king of the polo world until Wyn came along and got all the attention."
She laughed. "Joe hasn't played polo in a hundred years," she said. "I bet he hasn't been on a horse in fifty."
"Yes, but he owned winning teams," Lolo said, "and Wyn's teams came along and started beating his."
Arielle looked surprised. "I hadn't really thought about that," she admitted. "I guess you could be right. Bibi's a competitive old coot, and she wouldn't like to think her husband's team was losing."
"That's right," he said.
"So it's not just your body she's interested in?" Arielle teased.
"No," he said. "I don't think so." He leaned down and kissed her cheek again.
"That's better," Arielle said.
"And it'll get a whole lot better than that," Lolo said with a lewd look.
"Promise?" she replied.
"Have I ever failed you?"
"No," she said. "Not yet."
Arielle, her head on Lolo's shoulder, ran a fingernail down his muscular chest, on down past his six-pack abs, and into the dampness of the curly black mat at the base of his torso. She squeezed his heroic toy. "That was better than ever," she said. "I think playing polo makes you horny."
Lolo laughed. "I don't have a thing for horses, if that's what you mean."
"No," she said, "it's not what I meant. I think you're like old Bibi. You get a charge out of the competition . . . and the danger."
"Maybe," he said hesitantly, looking at her with curiosity. "I never really thought ab
out it, but I guess I do."
"You like a challenge," she said. "Don't you?"
"I. . . usually do," Lolo replied, knowing she was leading up to something but uncertain as to exactly what it was.
"I know you do," she said, a fingernail trailing down his biceps and onto his forearm. She took his hand in hers. "Lolo, you've got to help me with something," she said. "Maybe something challenging." She looked up at him.
"What?" he asked. Then he frowned. "Jesus, Arielle. Don't tell me. You've still obsessed with this crazy idea of going to Wyn's. Right?"
She nodded. "Not exactly," she said. "I called Santo yesterday, and we—"
"You what?" he exclaimed, sitting up.
"I called Santo," she said, sitting up next to him, "and we had a very interesting conversation. I'm supposed to meet him tonight."
"I don't believe this," Lolo said, looking away from her. "The lawyers have told you to lay off and mind your own business. To wait. And you won't pay any attention to them."
"Lolo," she said cajolingly, "listen to me. You know and I know that Wyn's so rich he can drag this out in court forever. Do you want to starve in the meantime?"
"No," he said, his dark eyes fiery. "But I don't like the idea of you messing with Wyn. Or that creep Santo."
"Oh, I can handle Santo. He's just a big pussycat," she said. "At least with me. And there's no danger involved. I just want you there when I talk to him . . . as a witness."
"But what are you going to talk about?" he asked, exasperated. "How the hell can Santo help you?"
"That's exactly what we're going to talk about," she said. "How we can help each other."
"I don't like this, Arielle," he said, a hard look in his eyes. "I don't like it one single little bit."
She cupped his chin in her hand and turned his face to hers. "You're not scared, are you, Lolo?"
He stiffened. "Of course I'm not scared."
"Then, please," she said. "For me?" She stared into his eyes pleadingly. "I've asked for so little from you, and I love you so much. Don't you love me?"
His features melted immediately, and he wrapped his arms around her. "Oh, you know I do, Arielle," he said. "I love you very much."
"Then you'll go with me tonight?"
He sighed. "I think my plan to talk to Wyn man to man was a better idea, but I'll go," he said. "I don't like it, but I'll go."
"Oh, thank you, Lolo," she said, peppering his face with kisses. "You won't regret it. I promise."
"I hope not," he said thoughtfully.
Colette hung up the telephone and sighed. "Oh, Hayden," she said, brushing a finger across the tiny hedgehog's quills, "poor darling Val. We must go to her at once." She made kissing noises in his direction, then carefully placed him in the pocket of one of the big linen smocks she habitually wore around the house. She traipsed into the bathroom, flipped on the light switch, and looked at herself in the mirror. "Dear, dear, Hayden," she said. "We mustn't let anyone see Mummy looking like this."
She picked up a little case of blusher on the vanity and brushed at her cheekbones extravagantly. "Too much is not enough, Hayden," she whispered. "Not at my age." With a final flourish she finished, then snapped the case shut and picked up the tube of pale pink lipstick. She expertly applied it, then blotted her lips. "There," she said. "Mummy's almost ready. Just a bit more mascara." She picked up the bottle and unscrewed the top, pulling out the brush, then flicking at her eyelashes quickly. "Now," she said. "All better." She flipped off the light, closing the bathroom door behind her.
"Oh, Puff Puppy," she said. "There you are. I almost tripped over you." She leaned down and stroked the Maltese, then straightened back up. "Mummy must go next door. You be an angel, and I'll give you something special when I get back." She blew kisses in his direction.
Through the kitchen she hurried, then stopping near the back door, she grabbed one of the big straw hats on a coat rack there. She put it on, adjusted it just so, and rushed on through the doorway, out the porch door, and through her garden to the gate that led into Valerie's.
"Oh, darling, there you are," she exclaimed, seeing Valerie and Elvis walking toward her. "Kiss, kiss, Elvis," she said, bending over to give him a pat on the head.
"Oh, Colette, I'm so glad you could come over," Valerie said. "Do you have Hayden in there?"
"Yes, of course, I do, darling," Colette replied. "But do let's hug. Only carefully."
They embraced, then Colette stood back and looked up at Valerie. "I think we both needed a nice hug today."
Valerie nodded. "It's been one of those days."
"You must tell me all about it," Colette said. "I've already talked to Eddie, of course, and cried my eyes out. Poor, sweet Noah. It's such a tragedy."
They settled themselves on Valerie's screened-in porch with iced tea, and Valerie told her about the scene at Eddie's.
"What kind of monster would do such a thing?" Colette asked worriedly after she'd heard the complete story.
"I don't know," Valerie replied, "but it gives me the creeps."
"Me too, darling. I'm not letting Puff Puppy out in the garden without me," Colette said. "And Hayden will be with me at all times. I don't suppose it was anything, but I thought I heard someone or something outside late last night. I started to call you, then saw that your car was still gone, so I didn't."
"You heard someone?" Valerie asked, looking at her. "You're sure?"
Colette shook her head. "No, I'm not the least bit sure," she said. "I didn't see a thing, so I guess it was just an animal of some sort." She shrugged. "A raccoon trying to get in the garbage or something like that probably, but never mind that. I'm dying to hear what happened this morning at your mother's." She paused and looked at Valerie conspiratorially. "And last night at Stonelair, of course."
Valerie laughed. "I'll tell all," she said, "but I think I'll get this morning over with first."
She told Colette everything that had transpired at Marguerite's. She realized, even as she told Colette the story, that it was already beginning to seem like a distant memory because of the terrible scene at Eddie's that followed it.
"This is almost too much for one person to bear in a single day," Colette said sympathetically. "It's horrible, of course, the way Marguerite treats you, the way she's always treated you, but there is one marvelous thing to come of it." She turned her beautiful blue eyes on Valerie and smiled. "It gave you the perfect opening to give Teddy the old boot to the backside."
"There is that," Valerie agreed. "It certainly wasn't what I had in mind, but what could I do?"
"Exactly what you did do," Colette said. She seemed lost in thought for a moment, then added, "I don't like Teddy, frankly, and I never did. He always seemed too good to be true, and a lot of things that seem that way are. But I hope he doesn't take it badly."
"Teddy's been really moody and irritable lately. Even nasty at times. I guess it's just work and me being too busy to see him, but I don't know. It's really sort of worrisome. And Mother, well, you know her. I don't think either of them is going to take it lying down."
"No," Colette said, "come to think of it, I'm sure you're right. I think that underneath all those lovely manners they're both real fighters who'll fight for the sake of fighting. But imagine! Those two in cahoots like that! And that stinking cousin of yours in on it, too. Well, they deserve each other, is all I can say."
Valerie smiled. "Somehow I don't think they'll find much comfort in each other."
"Ha! Cold comfort at best," Colette said. She took a sip of her tea, then looked over at Valerie. "How do you feel about it now, darling?" she asked. "Do you have regrets?"
Valerie shook her head. "None whatsoever," she replied. "I wish it hadn't happened the way it did, but I didn't plan it that way."
"Do you think you're going to be terribly lonely and blue?" Colette asked. "Any port in a storm and all that?"
"No," Val said, looking off toward the pond in the distance. "I don't think I'm going to be lonely at a
ll." She turned and looked at her friend and couldn't help the smile that hovered on her lips.
Colette's mouth, too, slowly spread in a smile and her eyes brightened considerably. "Well, well, well!" she finally said. "I don't believe it. But I do! Yes, I do believe it." She clapped her hands together. "Is it the mystery man at Stonelair, Val?" she asked eagerly. "Who is he, or shouldn't I ask? You don't have to tell me a thing, but I'm dying to know."
Valerie was silent for a minute, then quietly said, "Yes, it's Wyn Conrad at Stonelair."
Colette's eyes widened enormously. "You-you don't mean it?" She clapped her hands together again. "It is the mystery man. This is better than I could've ever imagined. You must tell me all about it."
Valerie took a sip of her iced tea, then set the glass down. "I've been taking care of the animals out at Stonelair."
Colette nodded but remained silent, waiting for more.
"Well, when I first met him," Valerie went on, "I didn't get a good impression. In fact, he seemed like an imperious smart-ass. Then he told me about the polo accident and all, and since then, well . . . I've found out he's anything but the man I thought he was at first." She turned and looked over at Colette. "I feel like I've known him all my life."
Colette smiled dreamily. "Like an old shoe?" she said.
"Something like that," Valerie replied. "The first time we actually talked—not the first time when we just met each other—I think sparks began to fly between us. No, I know they did. Then last night at dinner, we got to know each other a lot better. It's just . . . fabulous." She looked at Colette again and shrugged. "So, there you are."
"I'm so thrilled for you, Val," Colette said. "This really is the best news, and the timing! Well, it couldn't be better, could it? It's almost as if it were planned this way."
"It is odd, isn't it?" Val agreed. "It almost makes you believe in some kind of fate."
Colette took a sip of her tea and sighed wistfully. "What's he like?" she asked. "I know he must be wonderful, or you wouldn't feel the way you do. And I know he must like animals or he wouldn't have them. But can you give me an inkling?"
