The Sea Star

by Nash, Jean

  Jay had once spoken about murdering her, but Susanna had known it was just talk. It was on the night he confessed to her that he was jealous of Teddy. “Every time I’d open another letter from you filled with praise for Teddy, I’d wish that I could choke the life from your body.”

  People talked about murder. They didn’t commit it.

  And yet, as she tossed and turned in bed, she remembered more about that night, she remembered Jay saying that he used to toss and turn every night, devising ways to do away with her and Teddy. “Which way would be best?” he’d said. “Bullets? A blade? A garrote?”

  Susanna sat bolt upright. What was a garrote? She’d wondered at the time what it meant, but she hadn’t been curious enough to ask. Suddenly, it was of the utmost importance that she know.

  She threw back the covers, got out of bed, and slipped on her dressing gown and slippers. She made her way quietly downstairs to Ford’s library, switched on the desk lamp, and hastily scanned the shelves until she found the dictionary. Pulling the heavy book out, she lugged it to Ford’s desk and skimmed through the pages until she came to the letter G.

  There it was, the word she was looking for. “Garrote: Spanish mode of strangling criminals, originally with a cord placed over the neck and twisted tight by a stick.”

  She stared at the words until they blurred before her eyes. “Spanish mode of strangling...” Jay had been to Spain. Susanna still had the fan he had purchased in Barcelona. Is that where he’d learned what the word meant? Had he also learned how to employ that method of murder?

  She closed the book with a slam and quickly replaced it on the shelf. What was she thinking? Her husband was not a murderer, nor was anyone else she knew. The police had been mistaken. Teddy had killed himself—in remorse over what he’d done to Jay. The matter was closed. Susanna would think of it no more. But when she returned to her room and climbed wearily into bed, she found she could think of nothing else.

  Seventeen

  Against Augusta’s protests, Susanna left New York on the day after Thanksgiving. She was thinking too much. She wanted to go home. She needed the solace of familiar surroundings.

  “Darling, don’t leave,” Augusta appealed to her. “Jay is still in Chicago. Stay until after the holidays.”

  “Mother, I can’t. Dallas spent Christmas and New Year’s Day alone last year. I want to be with him this year. Why don’t you and Ford come to Atlantic City for the holidays?”

  “Why, yes!” Augusta brightened, then immediately became gloomy again. “Susanna, we can’t. I just remembered. Ford wants to spend the holidays in Hartford with Bobby. He’s afraid this may be his last Christmas.”

  Though Susanna had never met Robert Weston, the thought of his dying made her suddenly want to cry. She’d been feeling that way for days, ready to weep at the drop of a hat. That was why she had to go home. As soon as she was in sight of the beautiful ocean she loved, the suspicions that tormented her would vaporize like sea mist and be banished forever from her thoughts.

  She arrived at the Sea Star on an overcast afternoon. The hotel was bustling with guests, thanks to the campaign she and Teddy had initiated. Seeing the Sea Star so busy in winter was yet another reminder of what she wished desperately to forget.

  Colin Baxter spotted her at the door and crossed the lobby to greet her. As he approached her, impeccably groomed, dark eyes alight, radiating energy like heat from a kiln, Susanna couldn’t help thinking how markedly alike were all the dynamic members of Jay’s staff.

  “Susanna!” Colin said, signaling a bellboy to attend to her luggage. “I’m glad you’re back. Jay was looking for you this morning—and rather in a bad temper to find you gone.”

  “Jay’s here?” Despite her unspeakable suspicions, Susanna’s melancholy disappeared, replaced by a surge of joy. “Where is he?” She looked excitedly about the lobby, as if expecting to see him sitting on a chair, waiting for her.

  “He’s at the Excelsior.”

  “I must go to him at once!”

  Colin put a lightly restraining hand on her arm. “Susanna, you look done in from the trip. Let me telephone him and tell him you’re here.”

  The concern in his eyes was impossible to miss. Did she look that dreadful? The truth was, she felt tired to the bone. “Yes, all right,” she said gratefully. “Thank you, Colin. Perhaps it is better if Jay comes here.”

  She didn’t have long to wait. She had just shed her clothes, slipped into her dressing gown, and was taking down her hair, when she heard the tower apartment door open and close. A smile curved her lips. She rose from the vanity table as Jay entered the bedroom. She opened her mouth to greet him, then froze when she saw the dangerous look in his eyes.

  “What the devil were you doing in New York?” he asked roughly.

  His attitude so unbalanced her that she was unable to reply. She stared at him blankly, never thinking that her silence might be misconstrued as guilt.

  “Well?” he demanded. “What were you doing there?”

  “I spent Thanksgiving Day with my mother,” she said, too shocked by his conduct to be angered by it. “I didn’t let you know where I was because I didn’t know how to reach you.”

  “Why didn’t you take Grace Pascal with you?” he persisted. “I specifically engaged her so that you wouldn’t have to tire yourself.”

  “Jay, I feel perfectly fine. I knew I wouldn’t need Grace at my mother’s house, so I gave her the week off.”

  “You gave her the week off? Since when do you give orders to my employees? Why did you come home today? If you were in New York for Thanksgiving Day, why didn’t you stay for the weekend? And how do you explain this rush of filial devotion for a woman you used to wish would disappear from your life?”

  “Jay, what’s wrong with you?” she cried. “I went to see my mother. Why are you acting as if I had murdered someone?”

  When she said the last, her mouth dropped open. The quality of her silence fairly shrieked with naked guilt. But then, suddenly enraged, she wondered what she had to be guilty about. She never kept secrets from her husband. She never made it a habit to put distance, both physical and emotional, between them.

  Her tender mouth hardened and she glared at him defiantly. “How dare you speak to me like that?” she burst out. “You’re always leaving me under one pretext or another. You never confide in me. And just because I go to visit my mother, you have the unmitigated gall to interrogate me like a criminal.”

  Her white face and shadowed eyes brought Jay abruptly to his senses. His fierce expression changed. Apologetically, he made a move to reach out to her, but she drew back from his touch as if scorched.

  “No!” she said sharply. “You won’t mollify me by taking me in your arms and petting me like a mindless puppy. I want to know what prompted that inexcusable outburst. And I demand to know what you were doing in New York and Boston when you told me you were going to Chicago.”

  “Who told you that?”

  “No, Jay,” she said adamantly. “You’re going to answer my questions for a change. Why did you lie about where you were?”

  He stared at her with a mixture of lingering anger and remorseful self-reproach. Then he sighed, shed his greatcoat, and tossed it on the bed.

  “Come here,” he said, holding out his arms. “I apologize with all my heart for behaving like a bastard. But I must hold you, Susanna. These past weeks without you have almost been my undoing.”

  She couldn’t help herself, she started to cry. Jay’s unexpected violence, followed by an equally unexpected confession of his need for her, was simply too much for her to cope with.

  “Jesus, I’m sorry!” He crossed the room and pulled her into his arms. “Susanna, don’t cry, I beg you. My God, I love you so much. If you only knew how much you mean to me.”

  His words, meant to comfort her, only increased her tears and awakened a new guilt. She had suspected him of the foulest crime imaginable. What a fine wife she was! This man who was holding her
so lovingly could never do anything to hurt anyone.

  “Come now,” he murmured, gently kissing away her tears. “Stop crying. Do you want to harm the baby?”

  He sat down on the rocker, took her on his lap, and cradled her like a child. “How is the little scamp, Susanna? Has he been bothering you with his Herculean kicks?”

  She smiled through her tears, though her guilt continued to gnaw at her. “Silly man,” she said shakily, “I’m only in my fifth month. I feel flutters, that’s all, and not very often.”

  “Flutters?” he said, as if that were the most interesting fact he had ever heard. “What does that feel like? Describe it to me, if you can.”

  She knew what he was doing, and she was intensely moved by it. She took his face in her hands and kissed him gently on the mouth. “It feels like this,” she whispered, her lips moving against his. “It feels like all the love I have for you is coming to life inside me.”

  His arms tightened around her and his mouth crushed hers with a sudden urgency he couldn’t control. She grew weak in his embrace. She loved him so profoundly. She hadn’t forgotten that only a few moments earlier they’d been at each other’s throats. But he was the husband of her heart, the father of her child. She loved him with every ounce of her strength.

  For a moment, she thought he would make love to her, but he raised his mouth from hers and looked deep into her eyes.

  “Despite my brutish greeting,” he said soberly, “I’ve missed you, I love you, and I’m sorry I made you cry.”

  She straightened up on his lap. “Jay, where were you all this time?”

  “I was in Chicago originally,” he said. “The hotel there is not what I was looking for. Afterward, I went to New York on some business connected with the Imperial. From there I went to Boston. You see....” He paused. “I neglected to tell you this before, but the police suspect Teddy was murdered.”

  Susanna rose and drew up the vanity chair to sit opposite him. “I know Teddy was murdered, Jay. I want to know why you didn’t tell me so in the first place.”

  “How do you know?” he probed.

  “Ford told me. He also told me where you’d gone.”

  “Ford.” He leaned back with a sound of disgust. “Quite the fountain of information, isn’t he?”

  “What’s happened between the two of you?”

  “Didn’t he tell you?” His voice was hard. “He seems to have told you everything else about my personal life.”

  “Jay,” she said pointedly, “I’m your wife. Doesn’t that give me the right to know everything about your personal life?”

  “I’m sorry, Susanna. I’m not used to....”

  “Trusting people,” she finished when he left the rest unsaid. “But you can trust me, Jay. Don’t you know that? I’d never betray you. What must I do to convince you of that?”

  He leaned over, took her hand and pressed it to his cheek. “Don’t make me feel worse than I already do. I know I’ve been unfair to you. My only excuse is that I’ve been acting out of habit. Be patient with me, Susanna. I promise I’ll change.”

  “Jay, I don’t want you to change. I just don’t want any secrets between us. I trust you with my life, and I want you to feel the same way. You must understand that there’s one person now whose loyalty you’ll never have to question.”

  He looked at her, his eyes reflecting a host of diverse emotions. His stern mouth curved downward, the look Susanna had once mistaken for disapproval, but which she had come to know as passion. At length, he rose, drew her up with him, and took her in his arms. She quivered in his embrace and moved close against him, as if to fuse her flesh with his.

  “I want to make love to you,” he said in a low voice that thrilled her. “I want to kiss every part of your body, to hold you, be inside you, until the end of eternity. I never thought I could feel for anyone what I feel for you. I love you so much. I don’t want to love you as much as I do, but I can’t help myself. You’ve completely bewitched me.”

  “It’s not bewitchment,” she murmured, twining her fingers in his hair. “It’s only love, Jay. It’s the way I love you. I’m not afraid of loving you, as you are of me. I trust you without reserve. I know you’ll never hurt me.”

  His arms tightened painfully around her. “I’d never hurt you!” In his voice there was an odd ring of fear. “Never, do you hear me?”

  “I know that, Jay,” she assured him, but wondered vaguely why he feared something that she knew he’d never do.

  She moved back into the Excelsior, and for more than a month she was the happiest woman in the world. Jay was the perfect husband, warm, loving, and breathtakingly passionate. There was nothing he wouldn’t do for the woman who had “bewitched” him.

  It was a time of true beginning for their marriage. Each morning, they would walk on the deserted Boardwalk, inhaling the winter sea air that put a tint of summer roses in their cheeks. During the day, Susanna would assist Jay at the Excelsior, where she learned firsthand how vastly different his luxury hotels were from her beloved homey Sea Star.

  “No wonder you’re always running back and forth among all your hotels,” she said to him. “So many things can go wrong in a place this size.”

  “And usually do,” Jay said dryly.

  Evenings were the best time. Each night, Susanna would wear a different dream of a dress, white silk with coral bands, light blue satin with royal blue velvet trim, powder pink crepe-de-Chine, or Jay’s favorite, a lime green creation with white lace and jade green ribbons that brought out all the emerald sparkle in his beautiful wife’s eyes.

  They would dine in the main dining room, a magnificent room in the Byzantine mode. Amid the opulent setting of gold-touched mosaics, ivory diptychs, and bronze-cast pendant lamps, Susanna’s lovely simplicity shone like a fine white rose against a multi-hued tapestry.

  Dinner was always a delight. They might have pigeons with green peas, or mullets with d’Antin sauce, or sirloin beef à la Dauphiness. Each delectable course would be complemented by a choice wine from the Excelsior’s incomparable wine cellar. Later, in bed, Jay would make slow delicious love to her, the perfect end to an endless succession of perfect days.

  Their first Christmas as husband and wife was an especially happy time. In the sitting room of their suite, a tall fir tree was decorated with cheery ornaments, golden daisy chains, colored electric lights, and topped by a shining sea star.

  They spent Christmas Eve alone. Dallas had another engagement. After dinner in their suite, Susanna fetched a package from under the tree and handed it to Jay with a dramatic flourish.

  “What could this be?” he asked, opening the box to reveal a slim cigarette case with a delicate tracery of reticulated gold. “I see you’ve been to Tiffany’s again.”

  “How do you know?”

  “I recognize the craftsmanship.”

  “Open the case,” she said. “There’s an inscription.”

  He did so and read: “From S. G. to J. G. - Christmas 1900. If I leave all for thee, wilt thou exchange and be all to me?”

  He gave her an affectionate smile. “Mrs. Browning isn’t the most subtle poetess,” he said, “but this sentiment is rather appropriate. The answer is yes, Susanna.”

  She reached up to kiss his mouth. “I hoped it would be. Do you like the cigarette case?”

  “It’s very handsome. Did you get it in New York?”

  “Yes.”

  She said nothing more. They hadn’t discussed her trip to New York, nor why he’d dismissed Ford, nor any other unpleasant subject since the day Susanna returned to Atlantic City. Although she’d made a great point of their trusting each other, she couldn’t bring herself to tell Jay that she’d suspected him of murder. Some truths are too shameful to admit.

  Perhaps Jay, too, felt that the past was better left buried, for he put down the cigarette case, took another package from under the tree and handed it to Susanna. “I hope you like this.”

  She opened the box and saw a magni
ficent diamond comb, from which nine flexible streamers of solid diamonds fell like a shimmering waterfall. “Jay, good heavens! It looks like something fit for a queen.”

  “It is,” he said. “For an empress, actually. It belonged to Eugénie, wife of Napoléon the Third. Two of the diamonds are certified Mazarins. Let me see how it looks on you.”

  She went to the mirror and set the comb at the back of her upswept hair. The diamonds brushed heavily against the nape of her neck. The feeling was both luxurious and oppressive.

  “Jay, I couldn’t possibly wear such a treasure. This piece belongs in a museum.”

  “No doubt it does.” He came up behind her and kissed one bare shoulder. “But it suits you. I’d like you to wear it.”

  “Where did you get it?”

  “I know someone who deals in hard-to-find pieces. He let me have it at a bargain price. I had to mortgage only four of my hotels to pay for it.”

  “That’s probably not far from the truth.” With troubled eyes, Susanna gazed at her glorious reflection. “Jay, it’s not stolen, is it?”

  “Susanna, what a question! Do you think I’d give my wife stolen goods?”

  “I’m sorry.” She turned to face him contritely. “I shouldn’t have said that. It’s just that....”

  “It’s just what?” He lifted her chin with a finger and kissed the tender curve of her mouth.

  “It’s nothing,” she said, twining her arms around his neck. She couldn’t define what was bothering her about his extravagant purchase. It was almost as if he were buying her love. But that was absurd. Didn’t he know how completely she loved him? If he didn’t know by now, he never would.

  On New Year’s Day, Susanna and Jay dined with Dallas at the Sea Star. To Susanna’s delight, the two men she loved most in the world couldn’t have been more cordial to each other. If their warmth was forced, their cordiality studied, Susanna didn’t see it. She was too blissfully content to notice undercurrents.