Long, Lean, and Lethal

by Heather Graham

  He and Conar shook hands and embraced like old friends.

  Conar turned to Jennifer. “Jennifer, Liam Murphy. Liam, my stepsister, Jennifer Connolly.”

  “How do you do? Naturally, Miss Connolly, I’d have recognized you anywhere.”

  “Oh? It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Murphy, but I’m afraid I don’t recognize you, though you are obviously great friends with … with my stepbrother.” She arched a brow, trying to sound as natural as Conar. But then, he hadn’t been the one in the middle of a tirade when company came. It was so hard to sound casual and courteous when she knew that her cheeks were a thousand shades of crimson.

  “I knew Conar way back when, Miss Connolly.”

  “Jennifer, please,” she said ruefully, glancing at Conar. “After all, any friend of my stepbrother’s … well, you know the saying.”

  “Oh, yeah. I’m sure he can just imagine,” Conar murmured.

  “I had meant to do proper introductions,” Edgar said dolefully. He remained where he had been, in the doorway to the room.

  “It’s all right, Edgar,” Conar said.

  “Yes, of course, Edgar, it’s fine,” Jennifer said.

  Edgar remained red-faced.

  So, she was certain, did she.

  Liam Murphy was nonplussed. He grinned, accepting the hand she offered him, shaking it politely. Then his grin faded, and he seemed to be studying her. She stared back, feeling that the situation was going from bad to worse.

  “Liam, why do I get the feeling you didn’t just come to welcome me back to town?” Conar asked, breaking the awkward freeze.

  “I’m sorry I didn’t come just to welcome you back to town,” he said, glancing at Conar. “You’ve heard about the Brenda Lopez murder?”

  “We heard, of course,” Jennifer said. “It’s horrible. Absolutely horrible.”

  “You knew her?” the newcomer said.

  “I didn’t know her really well, but I certainly knew her,” Jennifer said, frowning and wondering why this man was asking questions about Brenda Lopez and why she was answering him.

  “She wasn’t a close friend?”

  “No, but, of course, it’s still horrible, and I’m so sorry for her.”

  “And you knew her, too, of course?” he said, looking at Conar.

  “Of course,” Conar said.

  “Excuse me, but what’s going on? Why are you asking all these questions?” Jennifer demanded. He and Conar were obviously old friends. So why was Conar’s friend giving them the third degree about Brenda?

  Doug, who’d been standing in the doorway with Edgar, strode into the room to give her the answer, his eyes alight with curiosity. “He’s a cop,” Doug supplied, and he took up a defensive stance behind her.

  “A cop?” she repeated blankly, staring at him. She frowned. “I thought you were an old friend of Conar’s.”

  “Well, I am. A very old friend.”

  “She assumed you were an actor,” Conar provided.

  “We met doing dive and rescue work,” Liam said. She still continued to stare at him blankly. “Scuba. We both subbed as police divers out of the military; the police force hires outside divers frequently for big jobs. I went on to become a detective, and …” He paused, flashing Conar a smile. “Conar there went on to become … a heartthrob.” He said the word teasingly, as only a real friend would do.

  “Heartthrob, hm,” Conar retorted. He turned to Jennifer and Doug. “He’s trying to tell you he has a real job and we’re all making a disgusting living playacting.”

  “I didn’t mean to offend anyone,” Liam assured Jennifer.

  “The truth in this case isn’t offensive,” Conar said. “We do make a disgusting living at what we do.”

  “Some of us make a more disgusting living at it than others,” Jennifer said sweetly.

  “She thinks I’m overpaid, but naturally, she isn’t.”

  “You are paid much more,” Doug murmured. “From what we’ve heard, of course.”

  “They’re giving you more money?” Liam said incredulously. He winked at Jennifer, still taunting Conar. “You? She’s much better looking.”

  “But Conar is kind of like the prodigal son,” Doug exclaimed.

  “You worked for the soap before?” Liam asked.

  “He left Hollywood for New York,” Doug explained.

  “And so they’re giving him more money?” Liam said, shaking his head as if there were no justice in the world. “Aha! Sibling rivalry here?” he asked Jennifer.

  “Oh, no, not really. We’re just thrilled to have Conar,” she said, offering a brittle smile to Conar. “After all,” she added softly, “a good heartthrob is hard to come by.”

  As Liam laughed, Conar arched a brow. Doug suddenly decided to defend Conar.

  “Conar will be great to write for,” he said cheerfully.

  Jennifer inadvertently turned on him.

  “Fresh blood, you know,” Doug said.

  Liam cleared his throat. “And speaking of fresh blood …”

  “Yeah. You mentioned Brenda’s murder,” Conar said, frowning. “Are we involved somehow?”

  “Is someone here a … suspect?” Jennifer asked incredulously.

  From the corner of her eye, she saw Doug turning toward Conar. She looked at him herself, feeling a strange chill. She wasn’t happy that he was here, but she’d never thought that badly of him.

  Just how well had he known Brenda … ?

  “Good God!” Edgar said from the doorway, startling them all.

  “No, no, I haven’t come here to accuse anyone of anything,” Liam said. “I don’t have a good grasp on time of death yet, because the medical examiner hasn’t finished with his report. But I think Conar would have had to move darned quickly to have flown in, gotten to Brenda, and back here and all cleaned up.”

  Of course he would immediately clear Conar, Jennifer couldn’t help but think. Conar was his very good friend.

  Don’t be an ass! she warned herself. She didn’t want him here, but she certainly had never suspected him of anything horrible.

  “Was she raped?” Doug asked suddenly.

  “Again, I’ve not seen the complete autopsy report,” Liam told them.

  “Liam,” Conar asked, shaking his head, “just why did you come, then? Not that we’re not glad to have you, but …”

  “It’s where the body was found.”

  “What?” Conar said, startled.

  “Here?” Jennifer protested. “What on earth do you mean?” Suddenly, chills were snaking down her spine. She felt forced to make a strong denial. “The body wasn’t found here.”

  “Very near, I’m afraid.”

  “Brenda’s body was found down in the canyon,” Jennifer said.

  Liam nodded. “Yes, that’s true. But you see, I can tell you this. Most of the information about her death is already in the news reports—or it will be. She was found in the canyon, but she wasn’t killed there. She was dumped there. And according to the forensic experts, she might well have been thrown down into the canyon.”

  “Thrown down?” Jennifer asked.

  “From this very property,” Liam finished.

  Chapter 5

  HER MOTHER’S ROOM WAS never totally dark. Far down the hallway from the den, parlor, dining room, and other entertainment areas, it was quiet and large. And grand. The furniture was antique mahogany, handsomely carved. The headboard was magnificent. The sheets were Laura Ashley, and Abby always went to bed in a beautiful gown, her makeup removed, her hair brushed. Keeping up morale was very important. Jennifer had never liked affectations, but now, even when Abby was feeling worn and careless, Jennifer was insistent. Abby had an innate beauty, but keeping up a certain regimen made her feel better. Jennifer even insisted they get pedicures now and then. She teased her mother, telling her she had great toes, they had to keep them in shape.

  When Jennifer tiptoed in that night, she thought that her mother was sleeping. Her head was on the pillow and her eyes were
closed. She didn’t seem to move. As she always did when she came into her mother’s room, she approached the bed and touched Abby’s cheek softly. She couldn’t help but feel a certain panic every time she came near. She had to assure herself that Abby was alive.

  “Hi, sweetheart.” Abby’s eyes were open.

  “Mom! I didn’t mean to wake you.”

  “You didn’t. I wasn’t sleeping. I was just lying here.”

  Jennifer sat by her mother on her the bed, taking her hand, squeezing it. “Edgar said you’d had a long day.”

  “No longer than any other.”

  “Yes, but you had the excitement of Conar arriving.”

  Abby laughed softly, squeezing Jennifer’s hand, then releasing it to push herself up in the bed. “Don’t sound so reproving. You’d think you were the parent.”

  “I’m not reproving.”

  “You hate that I asked him here. I really am sorry that you feel that way. You’ve seen him, I assume?”

  “Yes.”

  “You weren’t too unpleasant, were you?”

  “Mother, I was completely charming.”

  “Yelled at him, did you?”

  “I didn’t mean to—he was just so condescending.”

  “I think he’s really trying to be nice.”

  “Of course. And I’ll try, too.”

  Abby stared at her, beautiful eyes luminous in the shadowy room. “Now, that scares me. I’m not so fragile, you know.”

  Jennifer hesitated. “I’m not so fragile either, Mom, you know.”

  She was sorry she spoke. Abby’s fingers began plucking at the bedcovers. Stress and worry made the tremors much worse.

  “Look, Mom, things are going to fine, honest. So we’re both a little tense. We’ll get past it, okay?”

  “Is Liam still here?” Abby asked.

  Jennifer started, wondering how her mother could be aware the cop was in the house—or even how she knew him.

  “Liam?”

  “Yes, dear, Liam Murphy, Conar’s friend.”

  Jennifer frowned. “How did you know—”

  “My hearing is excellent.”

  “But … you heard us from the den?”

  “The doors to the pool must be open, and my sliding door is open, I believe. I didn’t hear everything, but … voices carry, you know.”

  “Yes, he’s still here.”

  “And Doug?”

  “You knew that Doug was here, too? I wouldn’t let him come see you tonight—I thought you were sleeping.”

  “Honey, I heard Doug, too.”

  Had her mother heard her ripping into Conar? Of course, that had been the loudest monologue of the night.

  She was glad of the darkness; she felt her cheeks reddening. For an actress, she had pathetically little control over her blushing.

  “I hope you don’t mind. He kind of insisted that he come for the weekend.”

  “I don’t mind. Moral support against your evil, money grubbing stepbrother, right?”

  “Mom!”

  Abby laughed. Jennifer was glad of the sound.

  But then she sobered. “Jennifer, please …”

  “Mom, I’m going to get along just fine with Conar.”

  “Honey, please, let him … let him watch over you.”

  “I don’t need anyone to watch over me.”

  “I wonder if Brenda Lopez felt the same way.”

  Again, Jennifer started, angry that Abby had heard about the latest sensational L.A. murder. “Who told you about Brenda?” Had Conar done so? She gritted her teeth. He should know better than to play into her mother’s fantasies. “Who told you about Brenda? Really, Mother, he shouldn’t have—”

  “He didn’t. I’m not blind, deaf, or dumb. I spend hours watching television. Her death was in the news immediately.”

  Jennifer inhaled slowly, nodding. “Of course. Mom, I’m very sorry about Brenda.”

  “I’m sure you are. I know that you thought well of her.” Abby suddenly wound her fingers around Jennifer’s wrist. Her grip was surprisingly powerful. “Please, baby, just let Conar hang around you.”

  “Mother, I’ve got a life to lead, you know.”

  “Not really. You’ve been doting on me too long.”

  Abby broke off.

  Her disease often made her feel as if she were choking. As if she couldn’t breathe, and couldn’t swallow. She always kept a handkerchief at hand, ready to discreetly soak up any saliva she couldn’t manage.

  “Mom, Mom, please!” This time Jennifer took her mother’s hand, and her grip was tight. “I’m going to be okay. You know I’ve never been anything like Brenda Lopez.”

  “And what does that mean? That she was killed for being a ‘bad’ girl or something of the like?”

  “No! Of course not! But she was known for throwing her weight around, for being demanding—and ruthlessly ambitious. She had enemies. To the best of my knowledge, I haven’t stepped on any toes. I’m very happy where I am.”

  “A job structured so that you can stay with me,” Abby gasped out.

  Jennifer shook her head. “I love the soap. Honestly. And you are the priority of my life right now, and that’s that.”

  “I’m glad, then. But you’re still in danger.”

  “Mom, you know that the people in the walls talk to you, so why can’t you believe that threats against me might have been … a dream?”

  “I’m not crazy,” Abby whispered. “I do know reality from fantasy. I’m trying to keep you safe, Jennifer.”

  “Oh, Mother, I know that. But I can’t have Conar following me around. I’m careful—I’m street smart. When I go out, if it’s late, if I need protection, I never head out alone. I have my dog. Lady. My very big dog.”

  “She’s a lamb.”

  “But no would-be attacker knows that.”

  “Unless the would-be attacker knows Lady.”

  “Mom, no would-be attacker would know my dog. And what if I’m out on a date?”

  “Jennifer, you have no love life. You’ve been looking after me.”

  “But you never know when I just might get a love life.”

  “Jennifer …”

  Abby was starting to gasp again.

  “Do you need your pills?”

  “It’s almost time.”

  “I’ll get them.”

  “Edgar will come. He’ll be here any minute. Edgar is always looking after me. The poor man, he really has no life of his own.”

  “Edgar Thornby is indeed a gem. But—”

  “I don’t want to take any more medication than I have to!” Abby said firmly.

  “All right.”

  “Help me.”

  “Mother, you know that I would do anything—”

  “Then tolerate Conar.”

  Jennifer opened her mouth, then fell silent. She was more or less trapped.

  She had trapped herself.

  “Mom,” she said suddenly, thinking of a way to change the conversation. “You know how you said you wanted to have a little welcome party? Well, word got out. We’re having a party. Maybe more than a ‘little’ party. The cast and crew started inviting themselves today; I hope that’s all right. I keep trying to explain that it’s not my house.”

  “What’s mine is yours; you know that,” Abby said. Her voice was raspy, as if she didn’t have quite enough breath.

  How was she going to manage a party?

  “We’ll be warm and inviting and welcome them in—and get them out fast,” Jennifer said, laughing. “Serena was great, of course. She said she could end it all in two seconds if I wanted, but of course, I know that you did intend to have something for Conar—”

  She broke off at the sound of a light tap at the door. Turning, she saw Edgar coming in. He brought her mother’s medications on a silver tray. She stood.

  “Miss Jennifer,” Edgar said. “I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

  “You didn’t, Edgar. Mother needs her medicine. And you know what? I’m bushed mys
elf. I’m going up to bed. Good night, Mother.” She kissed Abby’s forehead.

  Abby found strength and hugged her back.

  “Mr. Markham is in the Granger Room, Miss Jennifer. Mr. Henson is down the hall in the Blue Room.”

  Conar was in the Granger Room. The “master’s room” in the house. It had once been her mother’s room. Before that, it had belonged to Granger, the master magician, the creator of the mansion himself. Naturally, they had put Conar there. It was the nicest room in the house.

  She could have taken it anytime she wanted. She hadn’t wanted it, so it was ridiculous to resent Conar being there now.

  She smiled. Hard. “That’s wonderful. Great. Thank you,” Jennifer said sweetly.

  She glanced at the tray that held a carafe of water and her mother’s medications. So many pills. Dopamine, cinamin. Parkinson’s was a neurological disease. It tormented the brain. Naturally, the medications messed with the mind.

  She kissed Abby again. “Sorry,” she whispered.

  “Love you, Jenny.”

  “Love you, too, Mom. Good night, Edgar,” Jennifer added, and left her mother to her privacy, her pills.

  And her delusions.

  “So why did you come back?” Liam asked.

  Conar was seated on the leather chesterfield. Liam had taken the huge wing-backed sofa and was slowly sipping a Scotch. He wasn’t on duty. He might be a cop and he might have come with a few questions, but he was here as a friend.

  “A good job offer,” Conar said with a shrug.

  “That’s bullshit,” Liam said flatly. “You said you’d never come back. After your wife was killed, you said you hated California.”

  “I did hate it … and I didn’t. I hated what happened. It was horrible. But …” He paused, lifting his hands. “A violent man with a chip on his shoulder killed the beautiful woman who was my wife. She was killed by a man, not a place.”

  Liam lifted a brow. “Still,” he said, “the last time I talked to you, you were living in New York, and you said you liked it a hell of a lot better than L.A. You were thinking of doing an ‘on location’ movie somewhere in the Caribbean.”