Let Me Call You Sweetheart

  “What was she saying?”

  “Something to the effect of ‘You gave them to me and they’re mine. Now get out. You bore me.’ ”

  You gave them to me and they’re mine. The jewelry, Geoff thought. “So that must mean that Jimmy Weeks had changed plans and arranged to pick Suzanne up that night,” he reasoned.

  “Oh, no. I heard a man shout, ‘I have to have them back,’ but it was much too refined a voice to have been Jimmy Weeks, and it certainly wasn’t poor Skip.” Arnott sighed. “At that point, I dropped the frame in my pocket, almost unconsciously. A dreadful copy as it turns out, but Suzanne’s picture has been a pleasure, so I have enjoyed having it. She was so entertaining. I do miss her.”

  “You dropped the frame in your pocket,” Geoff prodded.

  “And realized suddenly that someone was coming upstairs. I was in the bedroom, you remember, so I jumped into Suzanne’s closet and tried to hide behind her long gowns. I hadn’t closed the door completely.”

  “Did you see who came?”

  “No, not the face.”

  “What did that person do?”

  “Made straight for the jewelry case, picked among Suzanne’s baubles and took out something. Then, apparently not finding everything he wanted, he began going through all the drawers. He seemed rather frantic. After only a few minutes he either found what he was looking for or gave up. Fortunately he didn’t go through the closet. I waited as long as I could, and then, knowing that something was terribly wrong, I slipped downstairs. That’s when I saw her.”

  “There was a lot of jewelry in that case. What did Suzanne’s killer take?”

  “Given what I learned during the trial, I’m sure it must have been the flower and the bud . . . the antique diamond pin, you know. It really was a beautiful piece: one of a kind.”

  “Did whoever it was that gave Suzanne that pin also give her the antique bracelet?”

  “Oh, yes. In fact, I think he was probably trying to find the bracelet as well.”

  “Do you know who gave Suzanne the bracelet and the pin?”

  “Of course I know. Suzanne kept few secrets from me. Now mind you, I can’t swear he was the one in the house that night, but it does make sense, doesn’t it? So see what I mean? My testimony will help to deliver the real murderer. That’s why I should have some consideration, don’t you agree?”

  “Mr. Arnott, who gave Suzanne the bracelet and pin?”

  Arnott’s smile was amused. “You won’t believe me when I tell you.”

  96

  It took Kerry twenty-five minutes to drive to Old Tappan. Every turn of the wheel seemed interminable. Robin, brave little Robin, who always tried to hide how disappointed she was when Bob sloughed her off, who today had so successfully hidden how scared she was—it had finally become too much for her. I never should have left her with anyone else, Kerry thought. Even Jonathan and Grace.

  Even Jonathan and Grace.

  Jonathan had sounded so odd on the phone, Kerry thought.

  From now on, I’ll take care of my baby, Kerry vowed.

  The momma and the baby—there it was again, that phrase stuck in her mind.

  She was entering Old Tappan. Only a few minutes more now.

  Robin had seemed so pleased at the prospect of being with Grace and Jonathan and of going through the photo albums.

  The photo albums.

  Kerry was driving past the last house before reaching Jonathan’s. She was turning into the driveway. Almost unconsciously she realized that the sensor lights did not go on.

  The photo albums.

  The flower-and-bud pin.

  She had seen it before.

  On Grace.

  Years ago, when Kerry first started to work for Jonathan. Grace used to wear her jewelry then. Many pictures in the album showed her wearing it. Grace had joked when Kerry admired that pin. She’d called it “the momma and the baby.”

  Suzanne Reardon was wearing Grace’s pin in that newspaper picture! That must mean . . . Jonathan? Could he have given it to her?

  She remembered now that Grace had told her that she had asked Jonathan to put all her jewelry in the safe-deposit box. “I can’t put it on without help, and I can’t get it off without help, and I would only worry about it if it were still in the house.”

  I told Jonathan I was going in to see Dr. Smith, Kerry realized. Last night, after I came home, I told Jonathan I thought Smith would crack, she said to herself. Oh my God! He must have shot Smith.

  Kerry stopped the car. She was in front of the handsome limestone residence. She pushed the driver’s-side door open and rushed up the steps.

  Robin was with a murderer.

  Kerry did not hear the faint pealing of the car telephone as she pressed her finger on the doorbell.

  97

  Geoff tried to phone Kerry at home. When there was no answer, he tried her car phone. Where was she? he wondered frantically. He was dialing Frank Green’s office when the guard led Arnott away.

  “The prosecutor’s office is closed. If this is an emergency, dial . . .”

  Geoff swore as he dialed the emergency number. Robin was staying with the Hoovers. Where was Kerry? Finally someone answered the emergency line.

  “This is Geoff Dorso. I absolutely must reach Frank Green. It concerns a breaking murder case. Give me his home number.”

  “I can tell you he’s not there. He was called out because of a murder in Oradell, sir.”

  “Can you get through to him?”

  “Yes. Hold on.”

  It was a full three minutes before Green got on the line. “Geoff, I’m in the middle of something. This had better be important.”

  “It is. Very important. It has to do with the Reardon case. Frank, Robin Kinellen is staying at Jonathan Hoover’s home tonight.”

  “Kerry told me that.”

  “Frank, I’ve just learned that Jonathan Hoover gave that antique jewelry to Suzanne Reardon. He’d been having an affair with her. I think he’s our killer, and Robin is with him.”

  There was a long pause. Then in an unemotional voice Frank Green said, “I’m in the home of an old man who specialized in repairing antique jewelry. He was murdered early this evening. There’s no evidence of a robbery, but his son tells me his Rolodex with the names of his customers is missing. I’ll get the local cops over to Hoover’s place fast.”

  98

  Jonathan opened the door for Kerry. The house was dimly lit and very quiet. “She’s settled down,” he said. “It’s all right.”

  Kerry’s fists were hidden in the pockets of her coat, clenched in fear and anger. Still she managed to smile. “Oh, Jonathan, this is such an imposition for you and Grace. I should have known Robin would be frightened. Where is she?”

  “Back in her room now. Fast asleep.”

  Am I crazy? Kerry wondered as she followed Jonathan upstairs. Did my imagination go hog wild? He seems so normal.

  They came to the door of the guest bedroom, the pink room as Robin called it, because of the soft pink walls and draperies and quilt.

  Kerry pushed the door open. In the glow provided by a small night-light, she could see Robin on her side in her usual fetal position, her long brown hair scattered on the pillow. In two strides Kerry was beside the bed.

  Robin’s cheek was cupped in her palm. She was breathing evenly.

  Kerry looked up at Jonathan. He was at the foot of the bed, staring at her. “She was so upset. After you got here, you decided to take her home,” he said. “See, her bag with her school clothes and books is packed and ready. I’ll carry it for you.”

  “Jonathan, there was no nightmare. She didn’t wake up, did she?” Kerry said, her voice even.

  “No,” he said indifferently. “And it would be easier for her if she didn’t wake up now.”

  In the dim glow of the night-light, Kerry saw that he was holding a gun.

  “Jonathan, what are you doing? Where’s Grace?”

  “Grace is fast asleep, Kerry.
I felt it was better that way. Sometimes I can tell that one of her more powerful sedatives is necessary to help ease the pain. I dissolve it in the hot cocoa I bring her in bed every night.”

  “Jonathan, what do you want?”

  “I want to keep on living just as we’re living now. I want to be president of the senate and friend of the governor. I want to spend my remaining years with my wife, whom I really do love, still. Sometimes men stray, Kerry. They do very foolish things. They let young, beautiful women flatter them. Perhaps I was susceptible because of Grace’s problem. I knew it was foolish of me; I knew it was a mistake. Then all I wanted to do was to take back the jewelry I had so stupidly given that vulgar Reardon girl, but she wouldn’t part with it.”

  He waved the revolver. “Either wake up Robin or pick her up. There isn’t any more time.”

  “Jonathan, what are you going to do?”

  “Only what I have to do, and then only with great regret. Kerry, Kerry, why did you feel you had to tilt at windmills? What did it matter that Reardon was in prison? What did it matter that Suzanne’s father claimed as his gift the bracelet that could have so desperately harmed me? Those things were meant to be. I was supposed to continue to serve the state I love, and to live with the wife I love. It was sufficient penance to know that Grace had so easily spotted my betrayal.”

  Jonathan smiled. “She is quite marvelous. She showed me that picture and said, ‘Doesn’t that remind you of my flower-and-bud pin? It makes me want to wear it again. Please get it out of the safe-deposit box, dear.’ She knew, and I knew that she knew, Kerry. And suddenly from being a middle-aged romantic fool . . . I felt soiled.”

  “And you killed Suzanne.”

  “But only because she not only refused to return my wife’s gems but had the gall to tell me she had an interesting new boyfriend, Jimmy Weeks. My God, the man’s a thug. A mobster. Kerry, either wake up Robin or carry her as she sleeps.”

  “Mom,” Robin was stirring. Her eyes opened. She sat up. “Mom.” She smiled. “Why are you here?”

  “Get out of bed, Rob. We’re leaving now.” He’s going to kill us, Kerry thought. He’s going to say that Robin had a nightmare and I came to get her and drove off with her.

  She put her arm around Robin. Sensing something was wrong, Robin shrank against her. “Mom?”

  “It’s all right.”

  “Uncle Jonathan?” Robin had seen the gun.

  “Don’t say anything else, Robin,” Kerry said quietly. What can I do? she thought. He’s crazy. He’s out of control. If only Geoff hadn’t gone to see Jason Arnott. Geoff would have helped. Somehow, Geoff would have helped.

  As they were going down the stairs, Jonathan said quietly, “Give me your car keys, Kerry. I’ll follow you out, and then you and Robin will get in the trunk.”

  Oh God, Kerry thought. He’ll kill us and drive us somewhere and leave the car and it will look like a mob killing. It will be blamed on Weeks.

  Jonathan spoke again as they crossed the foyer: “I am truly sorry, Robin. Now open the door slowly, Kerry.”

  Kerry bent down to kiss Robin. “Rob, when I spin around, you run,” she whispered. “Run next door and keep screaming.”

  “The door, Kerry,” he prodded.

  Slowly she opened it. He had turned off the porch lights so that the only illumination was the faint glow thrown off by the torchère at the end of the driveway. “My key is in my pocket,” she said. She turned slowly, then screamed, “Run, Robin!”

  At the same moment she threw herself across the foyer at Jonathan. She heard the gun go off as she hurtled toward him, then felt a burning pain in the side of her head, followed immediately by waves of dizziness. The marble floor of the foyer rushed up to greet her. Around her she was aware of a cacophony of sound: Another gunshot. Robin screaming for help, her voice fading into the distance. Sirens approaching.

  Then suddenly only the sirens, and Grace’s broken cry, “I’m sorry, Jonathan. I’m sorry. I couldn’t let you do this,” she said. “Not this. Not to Kerry and Robin.”

  Kerry managed to pull herself up and press her hand against the side of her head. Blood was trickling down her face, but the dizziness was receding. As she looked up, she saw Grace slide from her wheelchair onto the floor, drop the pistol from her swollen fingers and gather her husband’s body in her arms.

  Tuesday, February 6th

  99

  The courtroom was packed for the swearing-in ceremony of Assistant Prosecutor Kerry McGrath to the judiciary. The festive hum of voices subsided into silence when the door from the chambers opened and a stately procession of black-robed judges marched in to welcome a new colleague to their midst.

  Kerry quietly walked from the side of the chamber and took her place to the right of the bench as the judges went to the chairs reserved for them in front of the guests.

  She looked out at the assembly. Her mother and Sam had flown in for the ceremony. They were sitting with Robin, who was ramrod straight on the edge of her seat, her eyes wide with excitement. There was barely a trace of the lacerations that had brought them to that fateful meeting with Dr. Smith.

  Geoff was in the next row with his mother and father. Kerry thought of how he had rushed down in the FBI helicopter to come to her in the hospital, how he had been the one to comfort a hysterical Robin and then bring her home to his family when the doctor insisted Kerry stay overnight. Now she blinked back tears at what she saw in his face as he smiled at her.

  Margaret, old friend, best friend, was there, fulfilling her vow to be part of this day. Kerry thought of Jonathan and Grace. They had planned to be present too.

  Grace had sent a note.

  I am going home to South Carolina and will live with my sister. I blame myself for everything that happened. I knew Jonathan was involved with that woman. I also knew it wouldn’t last. If only I had ignored that picture in which she was wearing my pin, none of this would have happened. I didn’t care about the jewelry. That was my way of warning Jonathan to give her up. I didn’t want his career ruined by scandal. Please forgive me and forgive Jonathan if you can.

  Can I? Kerry wondered. Grace saved my life, but Jonathan would have killed Robin and me to save himself. Grace knew Jonathan had been involved with Suzanne and might even have been her murderer, yet she let Skip Reardon rot in prison all those years.

  Skip, his mother and Beth were somewhere in the crowd. Skip and Beth were getting married next week; Geoff would be best man.

  It was customary for a few close friends or associates to make brief remarks before the swearing-in. Frank Green went first. “Searching my memory, I cannot imagine any person—man or woman—who is more suited to assume this high position than Kerry McGrath. Her sense of justice led her to request me to reopen a murder case. Together we faced the appalling fact that a vengeful father had condemned his daughter’s husband to prison, while the real killer was enjoying freedom. We . . .”

  That’s my boy, Kerry thought. Lemonade from lemons. But in the end, Frank had stood by her. He had personally met with the governor and urged that her name be placed before the senate for confirmation.

  Frank had been the one to clear up the Jimmy Weeks connection to Suzanne Reardon. One of his sources, a small-time hood who had been a gofer for Jimmy, supplied the answer. Suzanne indeed had been involved with Jimmy, and he had given her jewelry. He had also sent the roses to her that night and was supposed to meet her for dinner. When she didn’t show up, he had become furious and in drunken anger had even said he would kill her. Since Weeks was not generally given to idle threats, a couple of his people thought he really had been the murderer. He was always afraid that if his connection to her came out, her death would be pinned on him.

  Now the assignment judge, Robert McDonough, was speaking, talking about how when Kerry came into the courtroom for the first time eleven years ago as a brand-new assistant prosecutor, she had looked so young that he thought she was a college kid on a summer job.

  I was a b
rand-new bride too, Kerry thought wryly. Bob was an assistant prosecutor then. I only hope he has the brains to stay away from Jimmy Weeks and his ilk from now on, she mused. Weeks had been convicted on all counts. Now he was facing another trial for tampering with a juror. He had tried to blame that on Bob but hadn’t been able to make it stick. But Bob had narrowly missed being indicted himself. And Weeks wouldn’t get anywhere if he complained about the juror whose father had been incarcerated. He knew that during the trial and could have asked then that she be replaced by an alternate. Maybe all this would scare Bob before it was too late. She hoped so.

  Judge McDonough was smiling at her. “Well, Kerry, I think it’s time,” he said.

  Robin came forward, carrying the heavy Bible. Margaret rose and walked behind her, the black robe over her arm, waiting to present it to Kerry after the oath. Kerry raised her right hand, placed her left hand on the Bible and began to repeat after Judge McDonough: “I, Kerry McGrath, do solemnly swear . . .”

  © Bernard Vidal

  MARY HIGGINS CLARK is the author of twenty-seven worldwide bestsellers. She lives in Saddle River, New Jersey.

  MARY HIGGINS CLARK is the author of twenty-nine suspense novels; three collections of short stories; a historical novel, Mount Vernon Love Story; and a memoir, Kitchen Privileges. She is also the author of a children’s book, Ghost Ship, illustrated by Wendell Minor.

  She is also the coauthor with Carol Higgins Clark of five holiday suspense novels: Deck the Halls, He Sees You When You’re Sleeping, The Christmas Thief, Santa Cruise, and Dashing Through the Snow. More than one hundred million copies of her books are in print in the United States alone, and her books are worldwide bestsellers.

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  Author photograph by Bernard Vidal