OUT ON A LIMB (23 page)

“Strictly Doris Day and Rock Hudson,” she assured me before promising to call in the morning.

I was too distracted to do more than nibble a cracker as I paced within the limited confines of the apartment. Daphne most certainly had not had a gun in her possession when she fled from the courthouse—but she’d had one when she drove away from Oakland Heights. She could have tossed it out the car window, as Peter had suggested, or she could have stashed it somewhere, as he’d also suggested.

When my legs began to protest, I sat down and dialed Sheila Armstrong’s number.

“Hello?” she answered, her voice slurred.

“This is Claire. Have you heard from Daphne today?”

“I’ve already told you a dozen times today that I haven’t. Why do you insist on badgering me like this?”

I wasn’t sure who she thought I was. “I’d really like to talk to her.”

“I’m not granting interviews unless I get paid. Put your best offer on the table, whoever you are.”

“And then you’ll tell me where she is?”

“I gotta go. There are some girls at the door, probably selling magazines. Like I need magazines, ferchrissake!” she snapped, then hung up.

I resumed pacing, and had done several hundred laps around the sofa when the telephone rang. Praying that Caron and Inez had not been arrested, I answered with a subdued, “Hello?”

“Claire? Is this you?” said a breathless voice.

“Yes, it is. Who’s this?”

“Adrienne, silly. I wasn’t sure about your last name, so I’ve been trying all kinds of possibilities. There are a shocking number of vulgar people in this town. I was even accused of being a telemarketer, if you can imagine. Do I sound like someone selling long-distance plans? I was so absolutely offended.”

“Why are you calling me?” I asked, perplexed.

“I’m not exactly calling you. I was wondering if Chantilly might be there.”

I was glad I hadn’t had so much as a drop of scotch. “Why would Chantilly be here, Adrienne?”

“I was just hoping,” she said as she began to sniffle. “She borrowed my car more than three hours ago to pick up a few items at the drugstore. She hasn’t come back, and I’m beginning to worry. You did hear about Daphne, didn’t you?”

“I heard about her, but what does that have to do with Chantilly?”

“Don’t sound angry with me, Claire. All these relatives of Anthony’s have been coming by all afternoon. If I’d known about his family, I would have thought twice about marrying him. They all look so, I don’t know, diseased. They kept insisting on squeezing my hand and kissing me until I thought I was going to throw up. Then this hideous man who’s supposedly an uncle cornered me in the dining room and had the audacity to put his hand on my …” She gulped several times. “Anyway, it was all I could do not to slap his greasy face. I’ve only been widowed for three days, and I deserve respect. You must have gone through this kind of thing.”

“Not exactly,” I said. “So why do you think Chantilly might be here?”

“Because I can’t think of anywhere else she might be. She met a few of my Mends at the fitness center, but I don’t think she’d remember them. You were such a big help this morning.”

“She might be on her way to Atlanta.”

“She wouldn’t do that to me. Well, she would, but not without telling me. We’re very close. Just before she left, I told her how much I appreciated her staying until after the funeral. Both of us almost cried.”

I could not envision ekher of them risking mascara madness. “What does this have to do with Daphne? She hasn’t shown up at your house, has she?”

“Of course not. She knows perfectly well that the first thing I’d do is call the police. I’m convinced she came here to steal money. When she went into the office, dear, sweet Anthony was there, immersed as usual in paperwork. He came around his desk to reason with her, and she shot him. I’m not saying that she intended to do it The gun might have gone off by accident. But it doesn’t matter, does it? Anthony’s at the mortuary. He wanted to have more children, you know, especially a son to carry on the business. There’s a room upstairs that would have been perfect for a nursery, once we’d ripped down those posters. Only last week I called the decorator to bring out some wallpaper and fabric samples. I told her I wanted a nontraditional effect, earth tones but with a bit of whimsy.”

“I’d be surprised if Chantilly remembers my last name, and I still don’t see why Daphne’s causing you concern.”

“Some policemen came by to warn me that Daphne had escaped and might have a gun. They still don’t know where she is. In the meantime, I’m out here all by myself. I can’t believe Chantilly is doing this to me. She knows perfectly well that I’m on edge. There’s no one within shouting distance except for that peculiar person in the tree, and I can’t see her coming to my rescue if Daphne shows up, waving a gun and making accusations. Maybe I should call the police to report Chantilly as a missing person.”

“Three hours isn’t the same as three days. She left voluntarily, and she may be doing nothing more than shopping at the mall for a scarf to wear tomorrow. The police won’t even take your report for forty-eight hours.”

“Forty-eight hours?” Adrienne said, hitting a note that eluded many sopranos. “That means she won’t be here for the funeral! I cannot face all these people without support. You are coming, aren’t you, Claire? I don’t know what I’ll do if you say no. Yes, I do—I’ll call the whole thing off and check into a hotel under a false name. Then Sunday I’ll book a flight to Palm Springs and spend two weeks at a spa.”

I felt as if I were trying to reason with the pigeons that pooped on the portico in front of the bookstore. “You have lots of Mends, Adrienne. Cling to Mary Margaret and let h«r fend off the lecherous uncle.”

“Mary Margaret would just die if I asked her to do that. She had hysterics when we saw a groundhog on the sixteenth fairway last month. By the time she told the story in the bar, she was sure it was a bear cub and she’d heard the mother bear in the woods. Last week her husband had to come home from the office because she found a spider in the bidet. You have to do this for me, Claire, or wait in front of the church and tell everybody to go home.”

“I was planning to come at ten o’clock to oversee the preparations. I won’t go to the funeral, but I suppose I can stay for the luncheon.”

“Thank you so much! You’re the best friend I have. When things have settled down, you must let me take you to lunch to show my gratitude.”

“We’ll see about that later,” I said, imagining myself eating a salad of field greens and arugula. Our conversation was likely to be limited to the weather, as long as we focused on its impact on her hair.

“I don’t guess you could come out now and stay with me until Chantilly gets back? I realize the house is within the city limits, but it feels like it’s in some remote forest. Daphne could be hiding out there, watching the house and waiting for a chance to sneak inside. I’m already a nervous wreck, and it’s not even dark yet. We can heat up some of those casseroles people have been bringing and have a picnic in the living room. There’s all kinds of wine in the cellar. Oh, do come, Claire! It’ll be fun.”

I started to tell her it was impossible because I didn’t have a car, but I didn’t want to pretend that was my sole impediment and have her insist on picking me up in Anthony’s car. “I can’t do it tonight. Chantilly’s likely to show up any minute with bags from the mall. If you’re worried about Daphne, lock the doors.”

“What if she still has a key?”

“If you hear her come inside, lock yourself in your bedroom and call 911.”

“We don’t have to eat the casseroles. There are at least half a dozen cakes and pies in the refrigerator, and Anthony stashed away all kinds of gourmet ice cream in the back of the freezer where he thought I wouldn’t find it. The doctor was constantly on his case about his cholesterol, and I did everything I could to control his diet. He always stayed up later than I did, and I’d hear him easing open the freezer door like a naughty littie boy. I didn’t want to be a nag, though, so I never said anything to him. He never criticized me about spending so much time at the fitness center, and he didn’t mind that we went out to dinner every night, since I can’t cook anything more complicated than toast. That was why our marriage was so happy.”

“Good-bye, Adrienne. I’ll be at your house when you get back from the cemetery.”

“Oh, all right,” she said sulkily. “I don’t know what time that will be. Reverend Simpleton has refused to fast-forward through even one tiny prayer or homily. Everybody better bring an umbrella.”

“Tomorrow, then,” I said, and hung up.

Caron and Inez came slinking back an hour later, annoyed at their lack of success. We were all thinking of Skyler as I fixed macaroni and cheese, adorned it with slightly brown lettuce, and suggested we watch the local news.

“So we can hear what?” said Caron.

“We don’t know what’s been happening,” I said. “Daphne might have been found and taken back into custody.”

“Yeah, if they implanted a chip with a homing device. We looked everywhere, Mother. Inez even went inside the pool hall on Thurber Street. I would have gone with her, but I had to double-park outside in case we needed to retreat.”

“I did not enjoy it,” said Inez. “It had a nasty smell, and all of the patrons had excessive body hair and tattoos. Several of them are probably featured on those‘most wanted’ shows. If they’re not, they should be.”

Caron curled her lip at the macaroni and cheese. “What’s your mother cooking?” she asked Inez.

“This layered thing with lentils and leeks.”

“Leeks or leaches?”

“Leeks. They’re like—”

“I know what leeks are,” Caron said scathingly. “Let’s go to the pizza place and see if Rhonda dares show her face. Do you have any money?”

“I’ll give you some money,” I said, relieved that she was willing to be seen in public after a very difficult week. “If Rhonda’s there, you’d better not turn your back on her.”

“She’s more likely to be rigging a bomb in Waylan’s pickup truck. He told a couple of guys on the football team that she’d been hitting on him and begged him to take her to the dance at the end of the semester. Come on, Inez. We’ll get a large pepperoni with leeks.”

I handed over a reasonable amount of cash and turned on the news as they thudded down the back stairs. Jessica was
in
the studio, indicative that there were no latebreaking stories to be shared with her faithful viewers.

“Good evening, and thanks for turning to KFAR, your hometown news station. As many of you know, there was chaos at the courthouse today, when Daphne Armstrong escaped from custody while awaiting arraignment.” She related the earlier events, then added, “The authorities have acknowledged that they are still searching for the fugitive, who is thought to have changed into inconspicuous clothing and may be armed. No one from the police department agreed to be interviewed on the air, and repeated calls from KFAR have not been returned. Our sources tell us that tomorrow the county prosecutor will hold a press conference shortly after Anthony Armstrong’s funeral. Daphne Armstrong’s mother is in seclusion at her home on Willow Street.”

“What about the widow of Anthony Armstrong?” asked Jessica’s coanchor, pretending they weren’t reading off the same TelePrompTer. “Has she issued a statement?”

Jessica’s eyes glinted for a nanosecond. “Adrienne Arm-strong has said through the family lawyer that she is deeply distressed by everything that has taken place in the last three days, and prays that Daphne will turn herself in before anyone else is harmed. Although she declined to speak to the media, she has been cooperating with the authorities.”

“And she has no theories about where Daphne might have taken refuge?”

“How would I know!” Jessica growled, then regained control of herself and smiled, albeit sternly. “Moving along, Miss Emily Parchester has now maintained her vigil in the oak tree at Oakland Heights, Phase Two, for five days, despite inclement weather earlier in the week and the possibility of thunderstorms tomorrow. The spokesman for the Farberville Green Party, Assistant Professor Finnigan Baybergen, declined to speak on camera but issued a statement that although his group sympathized with Anthony Armstrong’s family, the party would not back away from its moral commitment to die local environment.”

Their focus drifted on to other stories. I switched off the TV, glumly ate as much of the congealed macaroni and cheese as I could stomach, then tried to sort through what I knew. It took very little time. At some point I heard footsteps downstairs, but they were followed only by the sound of the tenant going into his or her apartment. My novel did not appeal. Network TV was tedious, and my accountant had forbade me from paying for additional channels. Next door, the Kappa Theta Etas squealed, as was their custom, then subsided. I flinched as a branch scraped against the side of the house, and again when a car slowed down on the street. I realized I was quite as paranoid as Adrienne Armstrong, and her pretext was stronger than mine.

When the telephone rang, I lunged for the receiver as though expecting the governor to grant a last-minute reprieve. “Yes?” I gasped.

“Are you okay?” demanded Caron. “You sound like there are rabid monkeys beating at the window.”

“No, I’m fine,” I said as I untangled my feet and sat up. “The monkeys gave up half an hour ago.”

“You are so bizarre, Mother. I just called to say that Inez and I are going to sleep over at Luanne’s tonight. We’re going to watch movies.”

“Luanne is more than capable of looking after Skyler. She has two children who both started out as babies.”

“I know that. We just think we ought to be there in case something happens. At the press conference, Luanne was pushing the stroller. Daphne could have shopped at Secondhand Rose, or at least seen Luanne through the window.”

“That’s a little bit far-fetched, isn’t it?”

“It may be, but it’s what Inez and I want to do, and Luanne was agreeable. You don’t need the car, do you?”

“No, I’m not planning to go anywhere,” I said. “However, I want you to be home tomorrow morning at nine o’clock. I promised Adrienne I’d go out there at ten to flap my hands at the caterer, who’ll probably respond in kind with a butcher knife. If we don’t have adequate lemons and limes, I’ll have to go to the grocery store. Randy’s wife doesn’t appear to actually go anywhere, but she seems to feel strongly that their car should be parked in front of their condo.”