Laurel pulled into the garage and shut the door behind her. These days, like Crystal, she left the garage light on so she wouldn’t have to step from the car into darkness. The dogs were waiting on the other side of the door for her.
“Guess what, guys?” she said as they bounded after her into the kitchen. “We’re having company tonight. One of your favorite people—Audra.”
They sat looking at her expectantly, at this moment more interested in their dinner than a prospective guest whose name they didn’t yet recognize. “I know. Alpo time. You both look famished.”
Laurel had just finished feeding the dogs when someone knocked on the front door. Wayne stood on the other side holding Audra, who was dressed as if she were going on an expedition to the North Pole. Wayne was clearly being overprotective, but Laurel understood. “Hi!” she said cheerily. Both managed weak smiles. “Come in.”
“I hope we’re not early,” Wayne said.
“You’re right on time. How are you feeling, Audra?”
“Okay. And thank you very much for letting me stay the night.”
She’d been coached, sounding like a formal little adult. “It’s my pleasure, Audra. The dogs are just finishing their dinner in the kitchen if you’d like to go see them. Right in there.”
Audra’s smile brightened as Wayne set her down and she headed in the direction Laurel was pointing. Laurel turned back to Wayne. “How are you?”
“Not too well. I don’t know how I’m going to get through this evening.” He set down a small suitcase. “I finally tracked down Denise’s parents, but they can’t get here until tomorrow. They’re furious with me, as if it’s my fault Denise’s mother screwed up the itinerary.”
“That’s their primary reaction? Anger at you?”
“I don’t think the situation has really sunk in with them. It’s easier to get mad at me than accept that their daughter has been murdered.”
“Will they be back in time for the funeral?”
“I think so.”
“Wayne, this is probably none of my business, but do you think Audra should attend the funeral?”
He shook his head. “Absolutely not. Even if it weren’t her mother being buried tomorrow, she’s just not well enough. I’ll find someone to stay home with her.”
“Why don’t you let her stay with me? People will be coming back to the house after the funeral. You don’t want her around all that commotion, all that talk about the murder.”
“No, I don’t. But don’t you want to go to the funeral?”
“Well…I…”
“Of course you don’t. Who wants to go to a funeral? People do it out of respect for the family—either that or curiosity. Your offering to look after Audra shows more affection and respect for Denise than going to the funeral. Yes, I would really appreciate your looking after Audra if you’re sure you don’t mind.”
“I would enjoy it.”
He gave her that weak smile again, bent and opened the suitcase. “Audra’s medicine is in here. There’s just an antibiotic, cough syrup, and some Tylenol. She’s been having headaches. I’ve written down the dosages. If you have any questions, call me.”
Audra came back into the living room, both dogs scampering after her. “Daddy has to leave now,” Wayne said, sweeping her into his arms. “You be a good girl.”
“I will, Daddy. And will you give Mommy my special flowers?”
Yesterday Wayne had called the store and asked if Laurel could put together a wicker basket of spring flowers as Audra’s offering. Mary had designed it with daisies, violets, pansies, and moss roses interspersed with babies’ breath and tied with a pink ribbon. Laurel thought it was one of the loveliest arrangements Mary had ever done.
“Certainly I’ll give her your flowers, sweetheart,” Wayne said.
“And they’re very pretty,” Laurel told her. She found her purse and withdrew a Polaroid. “We took a picture.”
Audra looked at the photograph. “Oh, they’re beautiful! All the flowers Mommy had in her garden.”
Wayne nodded and Laurel could tell he was unable to speak. “We’d better let your daddy be on his way,” she said quickly. “He should drive slowly on slick roads, and you and I need to decide what to have for dinner.”
Wayne gave his daughter a final, hard kiss and hurried out the door as if he didn’t trust himself to say anything. Audra looked at Laurel. “I don’t really know what a visitation is.”
“It’s when people go to the funeral home to say goodbye to the person who died.”
“Oh.” Audra’s big brown eyes clouded. “I didn’t get to say good-bye to Mommy.”
Laurel sat down on the couch and patted the spot beside her. Audra joined her. “Don’t worry about it, honey. You don’t really have to say good-bye. Your mommy will always be alive in your heart, and you can talk to her any time in your prayers.”
A bit of gloom left Audra’s face. “Any time?”
“Absolutely.”
“That’s good ’cause I’m gonna have lots to tell her.” She paused. “Laurel?”
“Yes?”
“I’m starving.”
Laurel laughed. She didn’t underestimate Audra’s pain or devastation over losing her mother, but children had such a charming way of throwing off their troubles, even for a little while. “I’m really hungry, too. Any requests?”
“Pizza!” Laurel had imagined fixing healthy things for the child in her charge. “Hospital food is yucky and Daddy said when I got out I could have a nice big gooey pizza.”
“Okay. You tell me what toppings you want and I’ll call the pizza shop.”
Forty-five minutes later, as Audra downed her sixth piece of pizza loaded with enough toppings to clog Laurel’s arteries for the next year, Audra said, “My boyfriend, Buzzy Harris, called me up today and said another lady got murdered just like my mommy.”
“Well, isn’t Buzzy a fountain of information?”
“Huh?”
“Maybe Buzzy shouldn’t be telling you things to upset you.”
“He didn’t want to upset me. He thinks we should find the killer as soon as I get well.”
That’s what Monica had wanted to do, Laurel thought. Denise had scoffed at the idea of amateur detectives, but she wouldn’t consent to go to the police. And now she was dead.
“I think tracking down killers should be left to the police,” she told Audra. “They’re the experts.”
“They didn’t find who killed my mommy.”
“They will.”
Audra looked soulfully at her plate for a moment and Laurel braced for another comment about Denise’s murder. Instead Audra asked, “Can April and Alex have some pizza?”
The dogs had been sitting stolidly on either side of Audra, avidly watching each bite that went into her mouth. “They can each have a couple of bites of crust. The toppings might upset their stomachs. And just drop the crust into Alex’s mouth. He likes fingers.”
Audra giggled and carefully tore off four pieces of crust, explaining to the dogs why that’s all they could have. Afterward she sat back, puffed out her cheeks, and said, “I think I’m gonna pop.”
“Me, too. How would you like to have a big fire in the fireplace and watch TV?”
“Neat! There’s a Peanuts special tonight.”
“Good. I love Peanuts. Why don’t you take April and Alex in the living room? I’ll clean up in here and be in there in about four minutes.”
Cleaning up after pizza was easy. Shortly afterward she found Audra curled up on the couch with April and Alex. Laurel had never seen the dogs bond with anyone like they did with Audra. She was telling them a story about a beautiful princess named April and a handsome prince named Alex. Both dogs looked at her as if they were following every word.
Laurel built a fire. “We never had fires at my house,” Audra told her.
“Well, they can be messy. You have a fancy house. I don’t. A little smoke doesn’t bother me.”
The four of them
cuddled under the afghan and watched the Peanuts special. By the time it was over, Audra was yawning ferociously. “I think it’s bedtime for you, little one,” Laurel said. She gave Audra her antibiotic and took her into her old room. “There is where I slept when I was growing up.”
“It’s pretty. I like all your stuffed animals.”
“Would you like to sleep with one?”
“Yeah!” Audra went straight for raggedy old Boo Boo Bear. “I like this one.”
“That’s Boo Boo and he was my favorite, too.”
“Are there any real bears this color, sort of orange-red?”
“I don’t think so. Whoever made him got creative with the dye for his fur. Now, let’s get your pajamas on and then into bed with you.”
Ten minutes later she pulled the covers up to Audra’s chin. “Comfy?”
“Yes. But can I have a night-light?”
Laurel walked over and flipped on a night-light with a seashell cover. “Okay?”
“Great.”
Laurel kissed her. “If you want anything, just call out. I’ll be right down the hall.”
“Okay. Sometimes I have bad dreams.”
Tell me about it, Laurel thought. “If you do, wake me up. Good night, sweetheart.”
She wanted to make a couple of calls, so she closed Audra’s door. The child didn’t object since she was guarded not only by Boo Boo, but April and Alex. When she went in the living room, she looked at the time. Nine-thirty. Monica should be back from the visitation by now and Laurel wanted to get a clearer perspective on Crystal’s situation than she knew Crystal could give her.
No one answered in Monica’s room. Maybe she’d gone home with Crystal, but she didn’t want to call there. She was concerned about Crystal, but she didn’t want to deal with Crystal’s high-strung reactions tonight. She tried Kurt’s number but got only the answering machine. She was too embarrassed to say she was calling to get information she knew she had no right to have and hung up quickly.
The fire had died and she suddenly felt cold. She tiptoed in to check on Audra. The child slept deeply, clutching Boo Boo Bear, with April and Alex planted on the bed on either side of her. Alex was snoring, but April looked at her. “Little guardian angels,” Laurel whispered. “Take care of her tonight.”
Before Laurel climbed into bed, she stood gazing out the bedroom window at the snow still falling heavily. The yard looked so cold and lonely with only the dusk-to-dawn light, considerably weakened by the white veil. It seemed impossible that summer would ever come, that the lawn would be alive with green grass and multicolored flowers and daylight would last until nine o’clock.
Laurel got in bed, and pulled the comforter close. She didn’t know why she felt so chilled tonight. She used the remote control to turn on the television. She watched old situation comedies for a while, then dozed off, the television still going.
Soon she was in the bam again. Sick. Cold. Leaping shadows. Chanting. “Hail the Lords of darkness.” The shoes going round and round. Fire. Faith hanging. Screams. Screams.
Laurel jerked awake. She had heard a scream. She threw off the comforter and was jumping out of bed when she heard a door opening, then footsteps running down the hall. Audra appeared in her doorway and streaked to the bed, April and Alex pounding along behind her. “Honey, what’s wrong?” Laurel cried, opening her arms for the child.
“My mommy’s dead!” Audra sobbed, clutching Boo Boo and burying her face against Laurel’s shoulder. “It was snowing and I was running and there were lights everywhere and I saw somebody following Mommy—” She heaved a deep breath, then hiccuped.
“Audra, it was just a dream,” Laurel said, holding her tightly. April and Alex panted anxiously, sensitive to Audra’s distress.
“I know it was a dream but somebody hit Mommy real hard over and over. I saw her with blood all over her and in the snow and—”
“Audra, remember how I told you your mother is in a beautiful place?” Laurel asked quickly. “It’s tme. You forget about that night in the snow.”
“I can’t.”
“Yes, you can if you try. Don’t let that be your last memory of your mother. Concentrate on the happiest times you had together.”
Audra shuddered and looked off in the distance. “Like when we went to Disney World last summer and Mommy screamed and laughed on the rides?”
“Yes. That’s good,” Laurel said in relief. “Audra, why don’t you sleep with me? It’s such a big bed and I’m lonely.”
“You are? Okay,” Audra sniffled. She scooted under the covers and April and Alex promptly jumped up. Good thing this is a king-sized bed, Laurel thought as the dogs stretched out. Audra, on the other hand, squeezed as close to Laurel as she could. Laurel was around children so seldom she’d forgotten how small and fragile they felt. How desperately Denise must have wanted to protect this vulnerable little girl. Laurel hugged her.
“You hug just like Mommy,” Audra said.
“That’s good. I know your mommy gave good hugs.”
“Were you and my mommy friends when you were my age?”
“Yes, we were. We met when we were in the same third-grade class.”
“So long ago,” Audra marveled, making Laurel feel ancient. Suddenly she asked, “When you get to be a grown-up like you, do you stop having bad dreams?”
“No, I’m afraid not.”
“What do you have bad dreams about?”
Oh, Lord, if you only knew, Laurel thought. “Dogs.”
“I love dogs, but Mommy never let me have one.” She sighed. “Will you tell me a story?”
Laurel began a rambling tale about a little girl who lived in the forest and could talk to all the animals. She had no idea where she was going with it, but she knew it didn’t matter. Audra was yawning and her eyes were half-closed. In a minute they closed completely. Laurel continued in a soft voice until seconds later when Audra’s long lashes fluttered. “Boo Boo rattles and he has a tear in his side. I didn’t tear him, honest.” Then her eyes closed firmly as she lapsed back into what Laurel hoped was a peaceful, dreamless sleep.
Laurel gently extricated her arms from around Audra. In sleep the child had released Boo Boo and the teddy bear rolled over to Laurel. She picked it up, smiling at it in the semidarkness created by the light of the television screen. Poor old Boo Boo. He’d been through a lot. She squeezed him the way she used to do. Something made a noise. She squeezed again. It sounded like paper being crushed. What had Audra said? “Boo Boo rattles and he has a tear in his side.”
She reached over, turned on the soft blue hurricane lamp beside her bed, and inspected the teddy bear. His right side was intact. The seam along the left side was split about two inches. His stuffing hadn’t fallen out because a safety pin held together the two edges of material. She hadn’t put in the safety pin. She’d barely touched Boo Boo for years, but if she’d known he was torn, she would have mended him.
Laurel took out the safety pin and inserted careful fingers, not wanting to make the tear larger or pull out stuffing. Almost immediately her fingers touched paper. It was folded into a small square. She pulled it out, laid down Boo Boo, and unfolded the paper. Her eyes widened when she saw a title written in Faith’s ornate, sloping handwriting:
In the Event of My Death
Twenty-four
1
Laurel’s gaze flew to the date written in the upper right hand corner of the paper. December 10. Faith died on December 17. This had been written one week before her death, the last night she spent in this house. Laurel’s mind flashed back to Faith’s odd mood, her forced gaiety that frequently lapsed into cold, distracted silence. She’d thought Faith was mad at her. But could the silence have been fear? She’d awakened in the night to find Faith writing at her desk. Is this what she’d been writing and then hidden in Boo Boo?
Laurel’s hands shook. Finding this note was like receiving a letter from the grave. She sat up in the bed and began to read:
Dear Laurel,<
br />
Soon it will be no secret that I’m going to have a baby. I probably should run away, but doing that would mean I have to leave the man I love. He says he’s too young to get married, too young to handle the responsibility of a wife and a baby. He wants me to get an abortion. He nearly forced the money on me last week, but I won’t take it. He’s furious. I can’t help it. I love him. I won’t give up his baby.
But Laurel, I’m really writing this because I’m scared. My mother says she always had a touch of clairvoyance. I think I do, too, and I have a feeling of doom. My locket is missing. I’ve always felt I was safe if I had my locket. I talked to one of those phone psychics yesterday. She said someone is burning black candles against me, which means they want to hurt me. She said they have something of mine, like a piece of jewelry. She couldn’t have known my locket was taken. I believe her. I believe I’m in danger. I believe I will die soon. If I do, I want you to know someone wants me dead. I can feel it.
Laurel, you’re my oldest, dearest friend. If I die soon, and it isn’t an accident, find the killer of me and my baby. I know you can do it.
Love always,
Faith
Laurel’s heart pounded when she put down the paper. No wonder Faith had acted so strange those last weeks of her life. Not only was she pregnant, she was afraid she was going to be murdered. Why hadn’t she told someone? Because she thought no one would believe her, the daughter of a religious fanatic and a mother institutionalized for killing her child? Of course few people knew about Genevra, but Faith had probably lived in fear that the Lewis sisters might tell. “Faith, why didn’t you say in the letter who the father of the baby was?” Laurel muttered. “Did you tell anyone? Your mother?”
She felt as if her head were spinning. Someone had been murdering the Six of Hearts. Could that person be the father of the child? Why? The father obviously hadn’t wanted Faith or the baby.
Suddenly a possibility flashed across her tired mind like a comet, a possibility that led to another and another so quickly Laurel put her head in her hands, feeling as if it were going to burst. “I know. Dear God, Faith, you were right. I’ve known all along. I just didn’t remember.”
In the Event of My Death Page 29
