“A blind person couldn’t miss it,” Opal told him.
“Nobody was paying any attention to you,” he assured her. “Now we’ll just wait here a minute and see what happens.”
* * *
Laurie stamped down the stairs. She was going directly back to college. Who the hell needed to be sitting having her head taken apart? Who needed to be fussed over by long-suffering Sarah? That was something else. It was time she concentrated on those trust funds and knew exactly how much money she was worth. Plenty. And when the house sold, she didn’t want any talk of other people investing it for her. She was sick of having to deal with the wimp who said “Yes, Sarah; no, Sarah; whatever you say, Sarah.”
She was at the bottom of the stairs. Her boot touched something soft, something squishy. She looked down.
The lifeless eye of a chicken stared up at her. Straggly feathers clung to its skull. The severed neck was crusted with dried blood.
Outside, Bic and Opal heard the first screams. Bic smiled. “Sound familiar?” He turned the key in the ignition, then whispered, “But now I should be comforting her.”
33
THE JURY was filing in when Sarah’s secretary hurried into the courtroom. Word had spread that a verdict had been reached, and there was a scramble for seats. Sarah’s heart pounded as the judge asked, “Mr. Foreman, has the jury agreed upon a verdict?”
“Yes we have, your Honor.”
This is it, Sarah thought as she stood at the prosecution table, facing the bench. She felt a tug on her arm and turned to see her secretary, Janet. “Not now,” she said firmly, surprised that Janet would interrupt when a verdict was being rendered.
“Sarah, I’m sorry. A Dr. Carpenter has taken your sister to the emergency room of Hackensack Medical Center. She’s in shock.”
Sarah gripped the pen she was holding until her knuckles turned white. The judge was looking at her, clearly annoyed. She whispered, “Tell him I’ll be there in a few minutes.”
“On the charge of murder what is your verdict, guilty or not guilty?”
“Guilty, your Honor.”
A cry of “not fair!” went up from the family and friends of James Parker. The judge rapped his gavel, warned against further outbursts, ascertained that the verdict was unanimous and began to poll the jury.
Bail was revoked for James Parker. A sentencing date was set and he was led away in handcuffs. Court was adjourned. Sarah had no time to relish her victory. Janet was in the corridor holding her coat and shoulder bag. “Now you can go right to your car.”
* * *
Dr. Carpenter was waiting for her in the emergency room. Briefly he explained what had happened. “Laurie had just left my office. As she approached the outside door on the ground floor, she began to scream. By the time we reached her, she had fainted. She was in deep shock but she’s coming around now.”
“What caused it?” The concerned kindness of the doctor brought hot tears to the back of Sarah’s eyes. There was something about Carpenter that reminded her of her father. She longed for him to be with her now.
“Apparently she stepped on the head of a dead chicken, became hysterical then went into shock.”
“The head of a chicken! In the lobby of your office!”
“Yes. I have a deeply disturbed patient who is involved in a cult and this is the sort of thing he would do. Does Laurie have an inordinate fear of chickens or mice or any animals?”
“No. Except she never eats chicken. She loathes the taste of it.”
A nurse came out of the curtained-off area. “You can go in.”
Laurie was lying quietly. Her eyes were closed. Sarah touched her hand. “Laurie.”
Slowly she opened her eyes. It seemed to be an effort, and Sarah realized that she must be heavily sedated. Her voice was weak but crystal clear as she said, “Sarah, I’ll kill myself before I see that doctor again.”
34
ALLAN WAS in the kitchen eating a sandwich.
“Sweetie, I’m sorry I didn’t get down last night, but it was really important to prepare my pitch for the Wharton account.” Karen threw her arms around his neck.
He pecked at her cheek and stepped back from her embrace. “That’s okay. Want some lunch?”
“You should have waited. I’d have taken care of that.”
“You could have been another hour.”
“You never care about food.” Karen Grant poured Chianti from the decanter and handed a glass to Allan. She clinked her glass against his. “Cheers, darling.”
“Cheers,” he said unsmilingly.
“Hey, Professor, something’s wrong.”
“What’s wrong is that as of about an hour ago, I became certain that Laurie Kenyon is the mysterious Leona, the one writing those letters.”
Karen gasped. “You’re absolutely sure?”
“Yes, I was grading papers. The one she turned in had a note attached that her computer went on the blink and she had to finish it on the old portable typewriter she keeps as a backup. There’s no question it’s the same one the letters were written on—including the one that came yesterday.” He reached in his pocket and handed it to Karen.
It read: “Allan, my dearest, I’ll never forget tonight. I love to watch you sleep. I love to see the way you turn and scrunch up when you’re getting more comfortable, the way you pull up the covers. Why do you let the room get so cold? I shut the window a little. Did you notice, darling? I’ll bet not. In some ways you could be the prototype for the absentminded professor. But only in some ways. Don’t ever permit me to be absent from your mind. Always remember. If your wife doesn’t want you enough to be with you all the time, I do. My love to you. Leona.”
Karen reread the letter slowly. “Good Lord, Allan, do you think that girl actually came in here?”
“I don’t think so. She certainly fantasizes all those trysts in my office. She’s fantasizing this too.”
“I’m not sure about that. Come on.”
He followed her into the bedroom. Karen stood in front of the long window. She reached for the crank and turned it. The window opened outward noiselessly. She easily stepped over the low sill onto the ground then turned to him. Her hair blew in her face as a draft of cold air sent the curtain whirling. “Easy to get in, easy to get out,” she said as she stepped back into the room. “Allan, maybe she is fantasizing, but she could have been here. You sleep like a dead man. From now on you can’t leave that window open so wide.”
“This has gone far enough. I’m damned if I’ll change my sleeping habits. I’ve got to talk to Sarah Kenyon. I’m terribly sorry for Laurie, but Sarah has got to get her whatever help she needs.”
He reached Sarah’s answering machine and left a brief message: “It really is very important that I talk to you.”
At two-thirty Sarah returned the call. Karen listened as Allan’s voice changed from cool to solicitous. “Sarah, what’s the matter? Laurie? Has anything happened to her?” He waited. “Oh God, that’s lousy. Sarah, don’t cry. I know how tough this has been for you. She’ll be okay. Give it some time. No, I just wanted to see how you thought she was doing. Sure. Talk to you soon. ’Bye.”
He replaced the receiver and turned to Karen. “Laurie’s in the hospital. She had some sort of shock reaction on her way out of the shrink’s office. I guess she’s okay now, but they wanted her to stay overnight. Her sister is about at the end of her rope.”
“Will Laurie come back to school?”
“She’s determined to be here on Monday for classes.” He shrugged helplessly. “Karen, I couldn’t lay these letters on Sarah Kenyon now.”
“You will turn them over to the office?”
“Of course. I’m sure Dean Larkin will have one of the psychologists speak to Laurie. I know she goes to a psychiatrist in Ridgewood, but maybe she needs counseling here as well. The poor kid.”
35
LAURIE WAS propped up in bed reading the Bergen Record when Sarah arrived at the hospital late Sunday morni
ng. Her greeting to Sarah was cheerful. “Hi. You brought the clothes. Terrific. I’ll get dressed and let’s go to the club for brunch.”
It was what she had said she wanted to do when she’d phoned an hour earlier. “Are you sure it won’t be too much for you?” Sarah asked anxiously. “You were pretty sick yesterday.”
“It may be too much for you. Oh, Sarah, why don’t you move and not leave a forwarding address? Honest to God, I’m such a damn nuisance to you.” Her smile was both apologetic and rueful as Sarah bent down and hugged her.
Sarah had come in not knowing what to expect. But this was the real Laurie, sorry if she put anyone out, ready to have fun. “You look better than you have in ages,” she said sincerely.
“They gave me something, and I slept like a rock.”
“It’s a mild sleeping pill. Dr. Carpenter has ordered that and an antidepressant for you.”
Laurie stiffened. “Sarah, I wouldn’t let him give me any pills, and he’s been trying. You know I hate those things. But I will do this: I’ll start the pills. But no more therapy, ever.”
“You will have to check with Dr. Carpenter about any reaction to the medication.”
“Over the phone. That I don’t mind.”
“And Laurie, you know Dr. Carpenter consulted with a psychiatrist, Dr. Donnelly, in New York about you. If you won’t see him, will you allow me to talk to him?”
“Oh, Sarah, I wish you wouldn’t, but okay, if it makes you happy.” Laurie jumped out of bed. “Let’s get out of this place.”
* * *
In the club friends invited them to join their table. Laurie ate well and was in good spirits. Looking at her, Sarah found it hard to believe that only yesterday she herself had been near despair. She winced thinking of how she had been crying on the phone with that nice Professor Grant.
When they left the club, Sarah did not drive directly home. Instead she went in the opposite direction.
Laurie raised an eyebrow. “Where?”
“About ten minutes from the house. Glen Rock. They’re about to open up some condominiums that are supposed to be great. I thought we’d take a look.”
“Sarah, maybe we should just rent for a while. I mean, suppose you decide to go with a law firm in New York? You’ve had offers. Anyplace we live should be tied to you, not me. If I do give a shot at pro golf I’ll be following the sun.”
“I’m not going with a private firm. Laurie, when I sit with the families of these victims and I see their grief and anger, I know that I can’t work on the other side looking for one damn loophole in the law to set them free. I can sleep a lot better prosecuting murderers than defending them.”
* * *
There was a model with three levels that they both liked. “Nice layout,” Sarah commented. “Dearly as I love the house, those up-to-date bathrooms are something else.” She told the agent who was showing them around, “We seem to have serious interest in our home. When we know we have a sale we’ll be back.”
She linked her arm companionably with Laurie’s as they walked to the car. It was a clear, cold day and the light wind had a bite. Even so there was a sense that spring was only six weeks away. “Nice grounds,” Sarah commented. “And just think. We wouldn’t have to worry about having them tended. Happy thought, isn’t it?”
“Dad loved puttering outside and Mom was happiest on her knees in the garden. Wonder how we both missed it?” Laurie’s tone was affectionate and amused.
Was she beginning to be able to talk about their parents without instantly being reduced to raw pain and self-recrimination? Please God, Sarah thought prayerfully. They reached the parking lot. It was busy with prospective buyers coming and going. Word of mouth about the new section of the Fox Hedge condos had been excellent. Laurie spoke hurriedly. “Sarah, let me say just one thing. When we get home, I don’t want to talk about yesterday. The house has gotten to be a place where you study me with such a worried expression, where you ask questions that are not as casual as they seem. From now on, don’t grill me about how I sleep, what I eat, do I date, that kind of thing. Let me tell you what I want to talk about. You do the same with me. Okay?”
“Okay,” Sarah said matter-of-factly. You have been treating her like a little kid who has to tell Mommy everything, she told herself. Maybe it’s a good sign that she’s starting to resent it. But what happened yesterday?
It was as though Laurie could read her mind. “Sarah, I don’t know what made me faint yesterday. I do know that it’s a terrible ordeal to have Dr. Carpenter keep after me with leading questions that are nothing but traps. It’s like trying to lock all the doors and windows when an intruder is breaking in.”
“He’s not an intruder. He’s a healer. But you’re not ready for him. Agreed on everything.”
“Good.”
Sarah drove past the security guards at the gate, noticing how all arriving cars were stopped and checked. Laurie had obviously taken that in as well. She said, “Sarah, let’s put a deposit on that corner unit. I’d love to live here. With that gate and those guards, we’d be safe. I want to feel safe. And that’s what scares me so much. I never do.”
They were on the road. The car began to pick up momentum. Sarah had to ask the question that was torturing her. “Is that why you took the knife? Was it necessary for you to have it in order to feel safe? Laurie, I can understand that. Just as long as you don’t let yourself get so depressed that you’d . . . hurt yourself. I’m so sorry to ask, but that’s what scares me.”
Laurie sighed. “Sarah, I have no intention of committing suicide. I know that’s what you’re getting at. I do wish you could believe me. On my oath, I did not take that knife!”
* * *
That night, back at college, in order to repack her tote bag Laurie dumped its contents on her bed. Textbooks, spiral pads, and loose-leaf binders tumbled out. The very last object was the one that had been concealed at the bottom of the deep carryall. It was the missing carving knife from the set on the kitchen wall.
Laurie backed away from the bed. “No! No! No!” She sank to her knees and buried her face in her hands. “I didn’t take it Sarewuh,” she sobbed. “Daddy said I mustn’t play with knives.”
A jeering voice crashed through her mind. Oh, shut up, kid. You know why you have it. Why not take the hint and stick it in your throat. God, I need a cigarette.
36
GREGG BENNETT told himself that he didn’t give a damn. Being honest, what he really meant was that he shouldn’t give a damn. There were plenty of attractive women on this campus. He’d be meeting plenty more in California. He’d have his degree in June and be on his way to Stanford to study for his MBA.
At twenty-five Gregg was and felt considerably older than his fellow students. He still looked back in bewilderment at the nineteen-year-old dope who had quit college after his freshman year to become an entrepreneur. Not that the experience had hurt. Even getting his ears pinned back had been a long-range blessing. If nothing else he found out exactly how much he didn’t know. He’d also learned that international finance was the career for him.
He’d been back from England a month and the January blahs had by now caught up with him. At least he’d been able to get in some skiing at Camelback over the weekend. The powder snow had made the runs great.
Gregg lived in a studio apartment over the garage of a private home two miles from the campus. It was a nice setup that suited him well. He had no desire to share a place with three or four other guys and end up with constant partying. This place was clean and airy; the pullout couch was comfortable for both sitting and sleeping; he could prepare simple meals in the kitchenette.
When he first arrived at Clinton, he’d noticed Laurie around the campus. Who wouldn’t? But they’d never been in a class together. Then, a year and a half ago they’d sat next to each other in the auditorium at a showing of Cinema Paradiso. The picture had been terrific. As the lights went on, she turned to him and asked, “Wasn’t that wonderful?”
> That was the beginning. If a girl that attractive gave him the signal that she wanted him to come on to her, Gregg was more than willing to make the next move. But there was something about Laurie that held him back. He’d known instinctively that he’d get nowhere if he tried anything too quickly; as a result, their relationship had developed more as a friendship. She was so darn sweet. Not sugar sweet—she could be bitingly funny and she could be strong-willed. On their third date he told her that it was obvious she’d been a spoiled kid. They’d gone golfing and the starter had overbooked. They had to wait an extra hour for tee-off time. She’d been sore.
“I bet you never had to wait. I bet Mommy and Daddy called you their little princess,” he had told her. She’d laughed and said, actually they had. Over dinner that night she told him about having been abducted. “The last thing I remember was standing in front of my house in a pink bathing suit and someone picking me up. The next thing, I woke up in my own bed. The only problem is that was two years later.”
“I’m sorry I said you were spoiled,” he’d told her. “You deserved to be.”
She’d laughed. “I was spoiled before and after. You hit the nail on the head.”
Gregg knew that to Laurie he was a trusted friend. It wasn’t that simple for him. You don’t spend a lot of time with a girl who looks like Laurie, he thought, with that marvelous ripple of blond hair, those midnight blue eyes and perfect features, without wanting to spend all the time you’ll ever have with her. But then when she started inviting him home some weekends, he’d been sure she had begun to fall in love too.
Then suddenly it came to an end one Sunday morning last May. He remembered it clearly. He had slept late, and Laurie took it into her head to stop by after church with bagels and cream cheese and smoked salmon. She rapped on the door, then when he didn’t hear, yelled, “I know you’re in there.”