The Guest List (27 page)

“The one he married,” she stammered. She reached for Donovan’s hand. “I need to sit down. My goodness, I don’t know what came over me. I just suddenly grew light-headed. Please, don’t fuss. I’m fine. I think it’s the excitement,” she stammered, her eyes never leaving Carol’s and Donovan’s faces.

Donovan showed his concern for the fragile lady. “If you will all excuse me. I’m going to seat our guest of honor and get this show on the road.”

Abby took a step back from the Christmas tree, flipped on the light remote, and admired her handiwork. She’d always wanted a tree with a country look, and this year she’d accomplished just that. She and Mallory had worked for hours stringing popcorn and cranberries and baking gingerbread man cookies. The end result was everything she’d imagined and more.

“Umm, something smells good,” she said, entering the kitchen. “Irish stew is Steve’s favorite meal, and when he sees you made fresh bread, too, he’s going to be beside himself.” She glanced up at the kitchen clock. “I wonder where he is. He said he’d be here at five, and it’s almost six. It’s not like him to be late. Usually, if he knows he’s going to be late, he calls or has one of his assistants call.” Abby grabbed the long-handled spoon out of Mallory’s hand, dipped it into the pot, and scooped up enough for a mouthful. “That is soooo good, Mallory. You’re a great cook.”

Mallory flushed with her sister’s praise. “Anything worth
doing is worth doing well. Constance taught me that. She said that’s how a person takes a measure of herself. Whatever I do, I give one hundred percent. When you exert yourself to do whatever it is you’re doing, you have to concentrate. Total concentration was one of the hardest things for me to learn.” She smiled. “You need to learn to cook, Abby.”

“No thanks. I’ll leave the cooking up to you.”

“Listen, Abby, I didn’t tell you this because I didn’t want to spoil it for you when you decorated the tree. But on the way home from the grocery store, I had a flat tire and almost drove into a ditch.”

Abby gasped, “What did you run over? Glass? A nail?”

Mallory shook her head. “When the auto-club guy checked the tire, he said there was nothing wrong with it, that it looked to him like someone had let the air out of it.”

“Who would do that?”

“That’s the question.
Who
would do that? And
why?”
Mallory stared at her sister, her eyes wide and shining. “I know you don’t want to believe Donovan is a murderer but
if
he is and
if
he killed Constance for the reasons I already told you, then it would stand to reason that I’m next because I’m a threat to him.”

“Then so am I,” Abby said.

Mallory tilted her head and narrowed her eyes. “I’m not so sure about that. He loves you. He always has.” Mallory turned her back to resume cooking, her shoulders rigid under her pale blue sweater. “When I started all this, I knew I would be taking a risk by letting him think I was on to him. I guess it never occurred to me he would kill again. I’m not going to lie to you and tell you I’m not scared because I am. Petrified would be a better description of my feelings right now. Especially after what happened today. I’m also frustrated. No matter what we do, we don’t seem to be able to make any headway in getting the goods on him. He’s either very clever or he’s—”

“Not guilty,” Abby cut in. “You’ve already convicted him,
Mallory, and the truth is we don’t have one ounce of proof. Granted it looks bad for him. But looks can be deceiving.” Abby walked over to the back door and made sure the porch light was on. “The guy from the fence company did fix the front gate, didn’t he?”

“I don’t think we need to worry about anything here. All we need is concertina wire at the top of the fence and we could pass as a maximum-security prison. We are wired, as the saying goes. Even if someone did try to break in, Beemer would get them and the others would back him up. They’d shred him to pieces.”

“Our own personal Dog Squad.” Abby laughed. “From now on when you need to go anywhere, I’ll go with you. One of us will stay with the car.”

“I have an idea,” Mallory said. She held up her hand to forestall whatever it was Abby was going to say next.

“Please. I hate it when you get ideas. Ideas mean trouble.”

Mallory waved her spoon. “No, no. You’ll like this idea,” she assured her. “Why don’t we invite Mrs. Lascaris over for a few days? She could stay in the guestroom and have Christmas Eve and Christmas morning with us. We could get her a couple of little presents, perfume and powder, a book, a new night-gown. Feminine things. I bet she’d love it. It would be kind of like us having a grandmother for the holidays. She’s going to be alone. What do you say, Abby?”

“I think this is one of your better ideas, Mallory. Let’s call her and invite her.”

“Good thinking, and speaking of phone calls, I’m getting nowhere fast with the receptionist at Argone. She must be new. Anyway, I’ve decided to fly up there after the New Year and get in her face. Legally, I am entitled to have copies of all my medical records … that is if they have them. While I’m there, I think I’ll look up Dr. Malfore and see if he’s enjoying his retirement.” Mallory put the lid on the stewpot and turned the
heat down to the lowest setting. “I don’t suppose you’ve heard from Connor’s brother about the autopsy?”

Abby shook her head. “I guess I should take his silence as a no.”

“I’d call him again and tell him there has been another murder. Maybe that will help change his mind.”

“I see headlights. Steve’s here.” A minute later, Abby opened the door for him. His face was paper white. Abby and Mallory said, “What’s wrong?” at exactly the same moment.

He could only shake his head.

With Mallory’s words about the car ringing in her ears, Abby panicked. “Are you all right? What happened?” She looked him over from head to toe, searching for anything out of the ordinary.

“I’m fine,” he managed.

“Did something happen at the clinic? Are the animals okay? What, Steve? What’s wrong?”

Mallory thumped Steve on the back. “Here,” she said, handing him a bottle of brandy. “Take a swig of this. You’re whiter than milk.”

Steve took a swig from the bottle, then reached behind him and pulled a folded piece of newspaper out of his hip pocket. “I didn’t see this until just a little while ago. Obviously you two haven’t seen it either.”

Mallory snatched
The Post and Courier
from Steve’s hand. “Tragedy Strikes Mitchell’s Paradise Setting.” She glanced over the paper at Abby. “Eighty-two-year-old Estelle Lascaris, Donovan Mitchell’s first tenant, succumbed to a fatal heart attack,” her voice dropped to a whisper, “last night, only two weeks after moving into the exclusive retirement community. When Mitchell was contacted, he expressed heartfelt sadness and grief over Mrs. Lascaris’s passing. He was quoted as saying ‘she was a dear friend and will be sorely missed.’”

Abby collapsed into the closest chair, covered her face with her hands, and sobbed.

Mallory crunched the newspaper into a ball and tossed it across the room. “I thought it was strange that Donovan would be so good to someone he hadn’t seen in over twenty years.” She stared down at Abby. “I bet he brought her here to find out if there was anything she knew that could hurt him.” She rubbed her cheek, thinking. “I remember Daddy calling her the neighborhood busybody, that she knew everything about everybody. Old people like to talk about the past. Donovan couldn’t take the chance she might say the wrong thing to the wrong people … so he murdered her.”

“I wonder why nobody called us,” Abby said, only halflistening. “Does the article list her next of kin?”

“A daughter and a son,” Mallory said. “We need to get on the phone right now and find out where she is so we can get an autopsy.”

“Listen, dammit,” Steve shouted. “It’s time to take your suspicions to the police. Forget the damn book and forget the damn party. This is dangerous stuff you two are messing with. One of you could be next!”

Both women ignored him.

“Carol will know where Mrs. Lascaris is,” Abby said. “I’ll call her and tell her I saw the paper and that we want to visit her at the funeral home.” Abby picked up the phone and pressed the automatic-dial button for the Mitchell house. “Hello, Carol, it’s Abby. I just read about Mrs. Lascaris’s death. What happened? Why didn’t someone call us to let us know?” Abby pressed the speaker phone button so everyone could hear the conversation.

“Oh, Abby, it has just been crazy around here. Donovan went off the deep end and took off in his truck. He’s been gone all day. I have no idea where he is. He thinks the retirement community is jinxed now, which is silly, but I understand his thinking. He adored that old lady.”

“What happened exactly? Who found her?”

“The security guard. Donovan had asked him to keep an
eye on her and call her twice a day, once in the morning and again in the evening, to make sure she was all right and didn’t need anything. Last night, when she didn’t answer her phone, he went over to check on her. He found her slumped over on the couch. He said she appeared to have died peacefully watching TV. A death at Christmastime is just terrible, not that it isn’t terrible at any other time, too. I’m just babbling, Abby. I’m sorry. Is everything all right with you?”

“Fine. We’re fine. Maybe Donovan took the plane and went up to the cabin,” Abby suggested.

“I tried calling, but the phone just rings and rings.”

“He could be there and not answering. You could call the park rangers and ask them to go by and see if he’s there.”

“That’s a good idea, Abby. Maybe I will.”

“Carol, before I hang up, I’d like to know what funeral home they took Mrs. Lascaris’s body to. Mallory and I want to pay our respects.”

“I don’t know, dear. Donovan took care of all the details and didn’t tell me a thing.”

“What about her son and daughter? Where can I reach them?”

“I have no idea. Donovan didn’t say. I’m sorry I can’t help you. You’ll just have to wait until Donovan gets back from wherever it is he went. If I hear from him before you do, I’ll tell him you called. Okay?”

“Yes, please. Oh, and … Merry Christmas, Carol.” She hung the phone up. “Well that got me a whole lot of nothing. Hand me the phone book, Steve. I’m going to start calling all the local mortuaries and the coroner’s office.”

An hour later, Abby was no closer to finding Mrs. Lascaris than when she started.

Mallory put dinner on the table and insisted everyone eat.

“How can this be?” Abby asked. “It’s like she just disappeared.”

“Maybe her son or daughter came and got her and took
her back to New Jersey,” Steve said. “That’s probably what happened. They could have called ahead to make arrangements and are on the way to wherever it is they sent her. They could also be shipping the body to where they live.”

“She just died last night. They would have to be awfully fast on their feet to get all that arranged so quickly,” Abby muttered.

“I say we try to track down Donovan,” Mallory suggested. “Let’s start with Bobby, then the cabin, then Steve Franklin.”

The moment the meal was over and the dishes in the dishwasher, Mallory took her turn on the phone. She called Bobby on his private line. She turned on the speaker phone. She told him Abby had just talked to Carol but had gotten so little information they thought they’d call him to see what he knew.

“All I know is that Dad got real upset. I’m not sure, but I think he was crying.”

“Did he say anything to you or Carol?” Mallory prompted.

“Just that the security guard had found Mrs. Lascaris dead.”

“Come on, Bobby,
think.
What else did he say?” she pushed.

Bobby groaned. “He said something to Mom that was kind of weird. He said, ‘I hope you’re happy now.’”

“Anything else?”

“He told her he’d see her later, that he was going to take care of this himself and didn’t want her interfering.”

“Thanks, Bobby. By the way, we’ve been meaning to talk to you about the urn in your closet …”

“Urn?”

Mallory hesitated. “It looks like a jar.”

“Oh, you mean that ugly vase? I think Mom must have thrown it away. It’s not there anymore.”

Mallory opened her mouth to explain, then realized she didn’t have to. Bobby had no idea what she was talking about. “Never mind. Thanks, Bobby. I’ll talk to you later.”

As soon as she hung up, Abby said, “You should have
asked Bobby if Donovan was home yesterday afternoon and evening.”

“I can call him back,” Mallory volunteered.

“No. Let’s call the guard station and ask the security guard to check the log. That will tell us.”

But it didn’t tell them anything. The security guard explained that Donovan and Steve Franklin came and went as they pleased without logging in or out. Their other phone calls, to the cabin and to Steve Franklin, proved just as worthless.

“I can’t believe this,” Mallory said. “We’re like that little guy on the battery commercial who keeps banging his head against the brick wall. Nothing we do gets us anywhere.
Nothing!”
She paced the length of the kitchen.

Steve tapped his fingertips against the table. “Maybe the reason you can’t get anywhere is that you don’t have the right resources. Take what you know and what you think you know to the police and let them see if they can make anything of it. What can it hurt?”

“If Donovan is innocent,” Abby said, “it could hurt a lot.”

Steve raked his fingers through his hair. “All I do anymore is worry about you two,” he said. “One or both of you could be next. You put too much faith in that electric fence and Beemer. If somebody wants in here bad enough, they’ll get in.”

“We aren’t without protection, Steve,” Mallory said. “I do have a gun, and I wouldn’t hesitate to use it if the situation warranted it. For your own safety, I’d suggest you call from now on before coming over here.”

Steve blinked up at Mallory. “Thanks for the warning.”

“Enough of this,” Abby said, pushing her chair back from the table. “Tomorrow is Christmas Eve. Let’s get in the spirit. We put the tree up. Let’s have some eggnog or something and stand around our handiwork and admire it.”

Steve held back, his expression angry.

“Please, Steve, don’t be upset with us. We have to do this
our way. I know it doesn’t make sense to you, but have some faith in us, okay? We aren’t stupid,” Abby said.

“Yes, you are stupid. All I can say to you, Abby, is that this had better not be about book sales.”

The shock of his accusation hit her square between the eyes. “You know what, Steve? You can go home right now. How dare you say something like that to me! How dare you!”