Murder in the Mansion (4 page)

“Okay,”
Vivian studied her. “I don't have to tell you to be careful.”

“No,”
Nadia agreed. “I haven't had much to drink.”

“Then
I'll see you later,” Vivien replied. Her eyes passed over her husband across
the patio. He looked distracted but was heading into the house. This was her
moment to get away from everyone, and she didn't give Nadia a backward glance
as she made her way briskly toward the house.

It
was only the speech that had rattled her nerves, she told herself as she moved
quickly through the kitchen. She'd put a lot of thought into what she would say
and how she would say it and thought she had pulled it off well. About a dozen
guests had rushed onto the terrace after she'd finished to congratulate her, to
tell her how meaningful it had been, and to thank her for being so gracious.
Pamela had even had her husband film the whole thing and would send her a copy
later.

In
the powder room off the foyer she seemed miles away from the constant chatter.
She wasn't required to smile or make small talk or throw out compliments,
deserved or otherwise. She stared warily at herself in the mirror. Her dark hair
was perfectly styled, her make up unsmeared, even after so many hours of
socializing in the June heat. Her white sundress was fashionable but not
overdone. Her silver sandals were feminine but surprisingly comfortable. Vivien
had learned every trick of the trade. She felt she had mastered all of the
versions of herself she was required to portray. In her marriage to William,
she had excelled as a hostess. She had passed, narrowly, as a wife. She had
failed completely as a mother.

Maybe
if she hadn't been so busy looking the part and trying to be perfect, she
thought. She knew she had been an asset to William's career but essentially his
career had ruined their marriage and that had destroyed their children. It was
like a pyramid. Their lives had been ruined from the top down and the important
things that upheld the entire structure, were struggling at the bottom to keep
the whole thing from falling down.

She
slipped discreetly out of the powder room and down the long hallway. She loved
her house. She had made it her own. She had overseen the building of additions
and decorating, occupying herself on the many occasions when William was away.
She had improved the house as a means of consoling herself during the times she
had learned his trips were not all business and he had been visiting women in
each city. The house had kept her loneliness and insecurities at bay in the
early stages of their marriage. It was only when it was no longer enough that
she had begun to look elsewhere for revenge and reassurance.

She
paused at the base of the grand staircase as it wound its way to the second
floor. Sometimes if she was a little drunk and mentally drained, like she was
then, she could squint into the darkness and see her life the way it used to
be. She could see her children as they grew, she could see events as they had
happened. But sometimes she didn't want to see. Sometimes it was best to leave
it alone, lock it away, not relive it a thousand times as she had already done.
Imagining them would not bring them back. It was the champagne that brought
them to the front of her consciousness. It was always the alcohol that made it
seem like it had happened yesterday.

The
doors to the study were open and she wandered inside. The faded rugs stretched
across a worn, wide-planked wooden floor. Bookshelves lined the walls as high
as the ceiling and were stuffed with books. William had always loved to read,
for business or pleasure, and he had collected volumes whenever he traveled. On
the wall opposite the entrance two French doors led out onto a stone patio to
the side of the house. As the party was around the back, in the garden, Vivien
could scarcely hear them.

She
slid into one of the leather armchairs that faced the trees through the glass
doors. William's mahogany desk cast shadows on the floor in front of her. She
knew she would have to return to the party in a few minutes. It was ungracious
of her to disappear for too long. But she closed her eyes, just for now, and
enjoyed the peace. For just a moment she let herself enjoy the quiet.

When
she had been young and newly married she had jumped at any opportunity to help
William. So blinded by her love for him, she had wanted to do anything that she
could to ensure his success. It was as if the more she contributed, the more he
would appreciate her, thereby ensuring their happiness. Love and marriage,
career and money were all entangled together. Later, even after she'd
discovered his affairs, she had continued to help him, to make herself an asset
to him.

Their
marriage, her life, had not been what she had thought it would be. Vivien
supposed no ones ever was and those who claimed otherwise were lying, to her or
to themselves. People rarely showed you who they really were. People were
image-conscious. They could justify the worst of situations. Vivien was no
different. She had truly loved William and used the same justifications.

Her
marriage had been far from perfect, but she still loved him. Everything she had
said in her speech was the truth. She had made one fatal error in her life and
that had been the turning point. That had begun the downward spiral. No amount
of money or penance could fix that. No amount of regret or remorse would change
any of it now.

She
opened her eyes at the sound behind her but didn't turn around. The feeling of
dread that washed over her was indication enough. The shadow changed on the
floor as he came into the room and snapped the light on. The room was filled
with harsh, artificial light.

She
ignored the man partly for pride and partly because she despised him. She would
not rush to acknowledge his presence and often went out of her way to avoid
acknowledging him at all. Avoidance had gotten her through the last two decades
of her marriage when she'd been forced to deal with him. Staring forward,
careful not to move her head, she gazed out the French doors. Minutes passed
and still he stood there waiting to be acknowledged.

“What?”
Her voice was quiet and uninterested.

“I
need to talk to you,” he replied. He had always been arrogant and self-assured.
It showed now.

“So
talk,” Vivien answered calmly. “I've never been able to stop you from doing
anything you wanted to do, whether you had my blessing or not.”

“It's
beneath you to bring up the past at a time like this.”

“It
was beneath me to allow the past to happen at all,” Vivien rose from her seat.

“That's
neither here nor there,” he told her. They stared at each other.

“Close
the door then and be quick,” Vivien replied.

“I
was hoping you'd suggest that,” he said and shut the door.

****

Nadia
stayed at the party to hear her mother's speech and once it ended had felt she
had done her duty. She slipped past her father on her way to the house and he
reached out to snag her hand.

“Going
somewhere?”

“Just
inside for a few minutes,” she lied. “I want something cold to drink. Maybe a
few minutes of peace.”

William
nodded absently. “There's a lot of people here. I'm glad you're here, too.”

“Of
course I'm here,” she told him. “Where else would I be?”

“Anywhere
that wasn't here.”

She
thought she understood. “They didn't call. None of them called.”

“No.
But I shouldn't be surprised.”

But
you are, Nadia thought. Hurt, too. “There's a lot of water under the bridge,
now.”

“I
know.”

“Not
just between you and each of them.”

“I
know.”

“It's
been five years today, Dad, since Dani,” Nadia let out a deep breath.

“I
know what day it is.”

“I
only mean that her death further complicates an already bad situation.”

William
stared at her. “When did you get to be so smart?”

Nadia
smiled, pleased that he wasn't upset by her frankness. “I don't know.”

“If
you ever want to go into law, you let me know,” William brushed her hair back
over her shoulder. “You have an ability to cut through the bullshit.”

“You
taught me that.”

“And
you look beautiful tonight, my dear. You look more like your mother every day.”

“I
know,” Nadia told him. “I got Mom's looks and your brains.”

“Something
like that.”

“And
I had help,” Nadia glanced around. “Aunt Pamela has always been around to play
big sister. Sam and Paul have been honorary uncles.”

“I
guess so,” William said softly. “Since your own family has been so far away.”

“Even
when they were here they were far away,” Nadia heard the bitterness in her
voice and struggled to move beyond it. “Sam tutored me. Paul taught me to
drive.”

“In
his brand new BMW,” William shook his head.

“I've
never been more scared of destroying something in my life.”

“I
know.”

“But
the point is that I turned out okay,” Nadia blew out a breath. “And I'm still
here.”

“So
we did something right.”

Nadia
leaned over to kiss his cheek. “It's a wonderful party.”

“Yes
it is,” William glanced around. “And you should be with young people now.
You're free. Go drink and smoke and be reckless.”

She
laughed. “I'll take that offer.”

“I'll
see you later.”

“Yes,
you will.” Without a backward glance she crossed the patio to her mother and
waited for her to finish her conversation with her sister. “Great speech Mom,”
she said when Vivien turned away.

“Thanks,”
her mother accepted the hug that Nadia offered.

“Dad
says I'm free to go. I won't be late.”

“Okay,”
Vivian met her daughter's eyes as they parted. “I don't have to tell you to be
careful.”

“No,”
Nadia agreed. “I haven't had much to drink.”

“Then
I'll see you later,” Vivien unknowingly echoed her husband's words.

“Yes,
you will,” Nadia repeated and turned away.

Later,
she would think it terrible that her last conversation with each of them had been
so casual. When she played both conversations back in her mind, Nadia wished
she had have stayed. She wished she had have looked back, just once, over her
shoulder as she left, to see them one last time. She wished she had have told
them that she loved them. But she had done none of those things.

Instead,
she met the man she told her mother about for a drink. After a late meal at a
nearby restaurant she found herself enjoying a romantic stroll with him in a
nearby park. She found him attractive, Nadia considered, but that was all. She
thought of her mother's warning and pushed it away. She wanted to have sex with
him, she wanted to do it tonight, but she thought she wouldn't see him again.
Their relationship was a superficial one and Nadia was realistic enough to
realize that.

She
lay under him, rolling over the soft grass as trees towered over them. When it
was over she felt resigned. She was glad she had done it but disappointed. Her
relationships never lasted and this was merely another one that never began.

“I'll
give you a lift back to the restaurant,” he told her as they dressed.

“Okay.”

“You
left your car there.”

“I
did.”

What
else was there to say? Nadia wondered. He appeared to sense that it was goodbye
when she climbed out of the car. Alone in the parking lot she watched him drive
away.

The
sound of sirens, so many sirens, cut through the quiet as she made the drive
home, passed the park, passed the woods, and through the side streets. When she
got home she thought she'd check the news, curious about what might have
happened. Then, if her mother was still awake, she thought she'd tell her that
she had been right about love and sex.

While
she had harbored few expectations for the man in the park, she felt unsettled
for not wanting to see him again. He must have felt the same, she realized,
because he didn't seem to expect a relationship either. Shouldn't she have
wanted one? Nadia worried. This was becoming a regular habit of hers: physical
attraction that went no further that a one night stand, and it bothered her.
This was the kind of conversation for an older sister, Nadia thought bitterly.
But then, she didn't have any of those anymore.

She
turned onto her street and stopped abruptly. The road ahead was blocked by an
emergency crew with flashing lights. Police officers stood in clusters talking
with paramedics. There were two fire trucks, three ambulances, a chief
ambulance, and five police cruisers, Nadia calculated with horror. Not knowing
what to do, unable to think clearly, she simply got out of the car and walked
toward her house. The car was still running in the middle of the street but
Nadia didn't notice.

Why
were there so many ambulances?

The
party was over. The house looked too quiet. There were hardly any cars. Her
chest began to tighten and she felt the air being drained out of her. The
closer she walked the harder it became to breathe.

The
emergency crew stood around, as if waiting for orders, or something to do. They
were in no hurry. Which, to Nadia, seemed a very bad sign.

Someone's
dead.

It
was too familiar, too indicative of what she had been through before. She
didn't want to believe it. She didn't want to let her thoughts go there, but
deep down she knew it was true.

“Excuse
me, Miss,” the police officer stopped her.

“I
live here,” Nadia could barely get the words out.

“You
do? What's your name?” he asked.

“Nadia.
Nadia Halingsford. I live here.”

“Nadia,
I'm Detective Delaney. We've had a bit of a situation here tonight,” he took
her by the arm and led her toward the side of the road. Dazed, Nadia let
herself be pulled to sit on the curb.