Equivocal Death (40 page)

form of the gun at the head, is revealed as inadequate to explain the so-25

cial construction of women’s sexuality. . . .

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Gun at the head.

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The phrase leaped out from the page. Pictures flashed through 28

Kate’s mind. Madeleine’s mutilated body. Madeleine shot through 29

the head. It was the gunshot wound that had killed her, that’s what 30

the newspapers said. The rest of it had come later. What had 31

Madeleine been thinking when she read these words? Why had she 32

underlined them?

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Kate’s eyes slid to the next sentence and the next. She flipped ort 34

ahead twenty, then thirty, pages before again coming to a stop.

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Abuses of the person, such as rape and murder, are not condoned by
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public policy although they may “satisfy a personal urge” of the perpe-1

trator. Not all urges are given free rein in society, heedless of their im-2

pact on others. . . .

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“Kate Paine. Kate Paine.” Over the hum of voices, someone was 4

calling her name. Startled, Kate raised her head.

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The hostess was waving her forward; her table was ready now.

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Saturday, January 16

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The

trip to Sag Harbor passed peacefully. During the summer 4

months, the Hampton Jitney was packed to capacity with jazzed-5

up weekenders on cell phones. Today, it was almost empty. Kate 6

grabbed two seats for herself and promptly fell asleep. She dozed for 7

the next couple of hours, waking as the bus reached town. Through 8

the window, she saw a snowy village street lined with small shops 9

and restaurants. Stepping down from the bus, Kate was glad that 10

she’d come.

11

“Kate!” Sam Howell was moving toward her, flashing an easy 12

smile. Dressed in a navy parka and jeans, he was taller than she re-13

membered, taller and better-looking. They shook hands, then 14

stood for an awkward moment. Howell gestured across the street.

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“I thought we’d grab a bite to eat and then stop by the gallery.”

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“Good. Fine.” Face to face with Howell, Kate felt a little shy.

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The restaurant had leather booths and a black-and-white reg 18

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checked floor. It smelled of sausage and roast potatoes and was do-1

ing a steady business.

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“The Paradise,” Howell said, as they slipped into a booth. “My 3

favorite local place.”

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Kate took a deep, satisfied breath then turned her attention to 5

the menu. She finally settled on bacon and blueberry pancakes.

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And orange juice and coffee, too.

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“I’ve never been out here,” Kate said, after they’d placed their 8

orders. “It seems almost magical, like something from another 9

time.”

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Howell smiled. “I love it,” he said. “I moved out from the city a 11

number of years back, and I’ve never regretted it. Small-town life 12

suits me.”

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“You do photography full time?”

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“Yeah, I’ve been lucky. I haven’t worked at a day job since my 15

early twenties. That’s how I managed to live out here. I still have 16

to be in the city a lot, but I can pretty much set my own schedule.”

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Kate nodded politely. She couldn’t imagine planning her own 18

time. Not just a day here and there but weeks and weeks at a 19

stretch. She was about to say something to that effect, but Howell 20

was talking again.

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“That firm where you work, Samson & Mills. Isn’t that the place 22

a woman was killed?”

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The question caught Kate off guard. “Well, she wasn’t killed at 24

the firm. But yes, one of the partners was murdered.”

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“Did you know her?” Howell asked.

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“Not well,” Kate said.

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Howell seemed to be studying her. Then, after a pause, he went 28

on. “So what’s life like at those big city firms? Do you work for one 29

person at a time?”

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At least it was a harmless inquiry, one she didn’t much mind an-31

swering. The mechanics of Samson & Mills she could deal with.

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“That’s usually how it works for associates,” she said. “Lawyers who 33

aren’t partners yet. Sometimes people split their time between two 34 sh

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people. It all depends on the firm’s needs.” She sounded like a re-2

cruiting manual.

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“I used to know someone who worked at Samson & Mills.

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I can’t remember his name, though. Who do you work for there?”

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“His name’s Carter Mills. He’s the managing partner.” Her ear-6

lier discomfort forgotten, Kate experienced a thrill of pride. Even 7

with all that had happened, she still felt the mystique of her posi-8

tion. “Who was the person you knew?”

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“Oh, I forget his name. It was a long time ago now.” He seemed 10

suddenly preoccupied.

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“Are you okay?” Kate asked.

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Howell quickly looked up, the smile returned to his face.

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“Sorry,” he said. “I was thinking about something else. Something 14

I have to do tonight.”

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After polishing off her food, Kate followed Howell a short way 18

down Main Street to a small gallery. A slim, blond woman stood up 19

from a small desk to greet them. Her smile widened when she saw 20

Howell.

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“Sam. Good to see you!”

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Howell turned to Kate. “I’d like you to meet Virginia Cava-23

naugh, the owner of this wonderful place. Ginny, this is Kate 24

Paine. She came out from the city today.”

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Kate smiled and extended her hand. Cavanaugh was elegantly but 26

simply dressed in black pants and a white silk shirt. There were a few 27

faint lines around her eyes. Still, she didn’t look much over thirty.

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The gallery was airy and bright, with polished light wood floors.

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There appeared to be several rooms. “Have you been here long?”

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Kate asked.

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“A couple of years. I paid my dues in Manhattan. I was with a 32

gallery on Fifty-seventh for about five years. But I always planned 33

to move out here when I could.”

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Howell touched Kate’s shoulder. “Let’s get started,” he said.

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shot of an empty beach. The image seemed ordinary at first. But as 1

Kate’s eyes focused on the scene, she sensed an opening, a sort of 2

expansion. She thought of 3-D postcards, the kind that offer up 3

holographic images when you stare at them long enough. Only 4

here, it wasn’t so much a visual shift as something that happened 5

at a physical level. As if the picture was taking root inside her.

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Kate turned to Howell. “You’re really good,” she said.

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“Don’t sound so surprised.”

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Kate blushed. “It’s not that. I just . . .” She let her voice trail off 9

as she turned to the next framed image. A rocky coastline and an 10

angry sea. Kate furrowed her brow. Hadn’t she seen this somewhere 11

before?

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“That picture, where was it taken?”

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“Maine. Up around Penobscot Bay.”

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She wasn’t sure why it looked familiar. After a puzzled moment, 15

she moved on.

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All in all, there were several dozen prints, some black and white, 17

some color, all showing ocean scenes. While the settings were dif-18

ferent, Kate could clearly see they were the work of a single artist.

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In each picture, the elements were assembled against a backdrop of 20

sky. There was a bleakness to the scenes, but a bleakness that 21

hinted at secret riches. Something to be revealed. You stood before 22

the pictures waiting.

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“Thanks so much for inviting me,” Kate said, as they stepped 24

from the gallery back onto Main Street. It was still early, a little be-25

fore three, but daylight was fading fast. The air had grown windy 26

and colder. The town seemed to be folding in on itself, hunkering 27

down for night.

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“What time’s your bus?” Howell asked. Kate could see the icy 29

haze of his breath, rising in the air like frozen smoke.

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“Around five,” Kate said. “But I’m fine. I’ll get a cup of coffee 31

and read.”

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Howell frowned. “Listen, there’s no point in you hanging 33

around by yourself. I live right down the street. How about I make 34 sh

us some coffee and then run you back up here in time for your bus?”

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Kate struggled to frame a reply. “Oh, thanks, anyway,” she de-2

murred. “But I don’t want to cause you any trouble.”

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“It’s no trouble,” he insisted. “I have to go out again anyway.”

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Howell’s hands thrust deep in his parka pockets. Dark hair 5

curled across his forehead. Heathcliff meets L. L. Bean. Kate felt 6

her resolution waver. After all, this wasn’t New York City. And 7

Howell was hardly a random stranger. Still, something held her 8

back. For days she’d been nervous, on edge. The residue of Chuck 9

Thorpe. Just the thought of his name made her mouth go dry. Her 10

body seemed to shrink inward. Then from nowhere, she was hit by 11

a blast of rage that overpowered every other thought. Who was 12

Chuck Thorpe to dictate her actions, to force her to live in fear?

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With sudden defiance, she raised her chin. “I’d love to stop by your 14

house,” she said. “If you’re sure you really don’t mind.”

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Sam Howell’s home turned out to be a restored fisherman’s cottage; 18

at least that’s what it felt like to Kate. It was small and snug, with 19

a row of windows facing the bay. The main room was simply and 20

sparely furnished. A sofa. Two chairs. A handsome round table in 21

some dark wood. The space had a settled aspect, as if everything 22

had been there for years. After pointing Kate toward an armchair, 23

Howell headed back down the hall.

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“It must be beautiful here in the summer,” Kate said, raising her 25

voice to be heard.

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“It is,” he called back. “But fall and spring are best. Before the 27

tourists descend.”

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Kate could hear the hollow sound of water pouring into a kettle.

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Her eyes took in the room. The walls, painted a soft terra-cotta, 30

showed no signs of Sam Howell’s work. There were several paint-31

ings, though. Kate’s eyes lingered on one of them, a faded folk-art 32

depiction of a young girl holding an apple.

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The sound of footsteps on the smooth wood floor, and then ort 34

Howell was back with two mugs.

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“I already added milk. I hope you don’t mind.”

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“That’s just how I like it,” Kate said, accepting one of the mugs.

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“No sugar, though.”

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Howell raised his eyebrows. “In a good cup of coffee? Never.” He 3

flopped into the armchair across from hers, his legs stretched out 4

on a rug.

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Sipping her coffee, Kate was struck by the quality of silence 6

here. While her own apartment was fairly quiet, there was always 7

some background noise. The muted bass of a neighbor’s stereo. A 8

distant car alarm. Footsteps in an upstairs apartment.

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“You must sleep really well here.”

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Howell smiled. “Yes, I suppose that I do.”

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“Why no photographs on the wall?”

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“Everyone asks me that. I’m not sure I have an answer. Maybe 13

it’s just that I need a break. To look at photographs while I’m eat-14

ing or having coffee . . . it would be like I was working all the 15

time.”

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“Which would make you like me,” Kate said wryly.

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“Long hours?”

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Kate nodded. “I mean, I’m not complaining. Law firms get a bad 19

rap, but I actually like what I do. It’s just that, sometimes . . .” She 20