For Every Evil (11 page)

Kate handed her the bouquet. “How are you feeling?”

“Much better. The doctors just wanted to keep me overnight for observation. I should be released first thing in the morning.” She gave her a sheepish smile. “I guess I must have mixed up my pills. Although —”

“Although what?”

“Well, I don’t believe any doctor I’ve ever had has prescribed a diuretic. Hale said he used one years ago, but he assured me he’d thrown the bottle away. I just don’t understand how they could have gotten into my medicine cabinet.”

Kate’s eyes narrowed. “I don’t mean to upset you, but don’t you see any connection between this and someone taking a shot at you the other night?”

“Well … actually,” said Ivy, straightening her robe, “I did consider the possibility.”

“And?”

“What do you want me to say? That someone is trying to — to murder me? I won’t accept that. It’s too crazy!”

“Is it?”

“Yes,” she said, though she knew her voice carried little conviction. “Look, nobody has access to my medicine chest except me and —” Her attention strayed to the window.

“Have you informed the police about what happened this morning?”

“Well, Max did say something about calling them.” She slid farther down in the bed. “I can’t handle this right now. Could we change the subject?”

Kate hesitated. “Sure,” she replied after a few seconds, pulling up a chair and sitting down. “Has Hale been in to see you?”

“For a few minutes. He couldn’t stay.”

“You two lead very busy lives.”

She sighed. “I suppose we do.”

“IAI must take up a lot of his time.”

“It does. But you know something? Years ago, it didn’t seem to matter. We always made time for each other. We loved being together. But then he started having to work evenings. Weekends, too — though I could never locate him if I needed something. Once upon a time, this would have been hard for me to admit, but now … well, I guess I just figure he’s seeing other women.”

“You’re brave to be able to talk about it so calmly.”

She gave a small shrug. “I don’t have any proof, mind you, and he denies it vehemently, but what else am I to think? Thank God for my friends. Louie was here today for over an hour.”

“Louie?”

“Louie Sigerson. My lawyer. We’ve been close for many years. He’s having a rough time right now. His wife is dying of emphysema.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Sometimes I get so worried about him. He buries everything deep inside. I don’t think he sees how all of this has affected him.” She glanced at Kate out of the corner of her eye. Why had she come? Was it simple kindness — or did she want something? “He’s shut himself off from everyone — except me. I wouldn’t
let
him shut me out. We’ve always had a very special bond. But I’m not enough. I wish he would just bust loose. Get drunk. Smash his best china. Find a woman. Anything to let off some steam.”

“But he won’t?”

Ivy shook her head. “At least I got him to promise he’d come to our annual Piero della Francesca birthday bash. If nothing else, it’ll get him out of the house. You came last year, didn’t you?”

“I did.” Kate smoothed a wrinkle in her dark wool slacks. “It was quite a party.”

Ivy’s smile turned wistful. That had been the first time she and Max — No! Now was not the time to daydream. She had to keep her wits very carefully about her. Especially with Kate. For some reason, the young woman’s scrutinizing stare unnerved her. “Anyway, you should have your invitation in the mail any day. This year we’re going to celebrate Piero’s birthday on the twenty-second. That’s next Friday night.”

Kate looked up at the TV set in the corner. The six o’clock news was on, though the sound had been turned off. “Where did you get the idea to celebrate his birthday?”

“Actually, nobody knows when he was born. Since both Hale and I love his work, we decided one winter that his birthday would make a great excuse for a party. We’ve been doing it ever since.”

“Well … I’m looking forward to it. Who else will be there?”

“Oh, all the usuals. Friends from the
Times Register,
as well as other business associates of Hale’s. Some colleagues of mine from Morton. Sophie and Bram. And Charles Squire — he’s Hale’s new assistant. By the way, I was hoping that artist you’re featuring …”

“John Jacobi?”

“Yes. I was hoping he could come. If I send an invitation to your gallery, would you pass it on to him?”

“I’d be delighted to. But are you sure Hale would want him there?”

Ivy waved the question away. “Don’t worry about that. On all important matters, Hale’s opinion doesn’t count.”

They both laughed.

“Well,” said Kate, rising and dragging the chair back against the wall, “I suppose I should be going. I’ve got to get back to the gallery.”

“You were a dear to come. By the way, how did the rest of the show go this morning? I was so embarrassed, leaving you in the lurch like that.”

“Don’t give it another thought. Everything was fine. Actually, some guy called in and wanted to talk about NEA grants. We spent the rest of the time arguing about Jessie Helms and Robert Mapplethorpe. Bram loves that kind of controversy. He says it makes for great radio.”

“I’m glad I missed it.”

“Yeah. I could have skipped it myself. Anyway, I’m happy to see you’re feeling better. And look, I don’t want to upset you, but please promise me you’ll be careful.”

Ivy raised her hand. “You have my word. But don’t upset yourself. And don’t give it another thought. Nothing’s going to happen to me that I can’t handle.”

“I don’t suppose my son is still here?” asked Sophie as she bustled into the Chappeldine Gallery late the following morning. She had several hours to kill before she needed to be back to her office.

Kate looked up from a stack of paperwork. “You just missed him. He had a study group he wanted to attend before his afternoon class.” She tossed her pencil on top of the desk and stretched.

“Nuts. I was hoping to interest him in a bite of lunch. Oh, well. I guess I’m doomed to eat alone. Unless … ?” She raised an eyebrow, giving Kate a hopeful look.

Kate glanced at her watch. ‘1 wouldn’t be able to leave for another half hour.”

“No problem.” Sophie pulled up a chair and sat down. “So. What’s new?”

“Not much.”

“You look kind of tired.”

“Really? I guess I haven’t been sleeping too well lately.”

It was a common malady, thought Sophie. She’d been tossing and turning herself. Mostly she was concerned about Rudy. “Are you going to the Micklenbergs’ party next Friday night?”

“You must have gotten your invitation. Me, too.”

“You don’t sound thrilled.”

“I’m not. The Micklenbergs aren’t exactly my favorite people.” She shook her head. “I’m really sorry about what happened to Rudy the other day.”

“Excuse me?” Sophie pricked up her ears.

“Didn’t he tell you?”

“He didn’t tell me anything.” Not that she hadn’t wondered what was going on. On Wednesday afternoon, Rudy had come home from work and bolted up the stairs without so much as a word. He’d slammed his bedroom door and hadn’t come out until the next morning. Sophie tried to get him to talk, but he refused. Ever since then, his moodiness had concerned her, but she knew she was helpless in the face of his continued silence. At least now maybe she’d find out something. “What happened?”

“Well, Hale stopped in to see some work I’d just received from an artist in northern Minnesota. Rudy was sitting at the desk here, working on his studies. He offered to run back to the storage area to get me. While he was gone, Hale started reading a poem Rudy had written — a love poem, I suspect. When we returned to the gallery, Hale was laughing so hard I thought he was going to fall off the chair. He even quoted some of the passages out loud.”

Sophie could feel the muscles in her neck tighten.

“Needless to say, Rudy was furious. He grabbed his books and left. He hasn’t mentioned it since, but I know it’s still bothering him.”

God, how painful, thought Sophie. She remembered her own youthful attempts at love poetry. To have one read out loud and then laughed at … “Hale Micklenberg is a menace,” she muttered angrily.

“In more ways than one.”

She looked up. “What do you mean?”

“Didn’t you hear what happened to Ivy yesterday?”

“Sure. Bram called me as soon as the program was over. Ivy took the wrong medication. I guess it could have been quite serious.”

“You’re damn right it could. Except, there was no reason for that drug to even be in her house.”

“What are you saying?”

“Think about it, Sophie. First, someone takes a couple of shots at her. Then, she takes a drug that could have been fatal. But how did the drugs get mixed up? Who brought the drug into the house in the first place? Not Ivy.”

“You think Hale had something to do with it?”

“He had tons of opportunity. And he’s a hateful man.”

Sophie didn’t disagree.

“Like a lot of critics, he’s a frustrated artist. He can’t create himself, so to feel powerful, he places himself above those he can’t hope to emulate.”

“So? What’s that got to do with … ?”

“Hurting Ivy?”

Sophie nodded.

“I don’t know specifically, but I think it’s all part of his malevolence — and his desire to control.”

Sophie didn’t feel comfortable jumping to such a broad conclusion. Besides, she distrusted this kind of off-the-cuff psychology on general principle.

“Speak of the devil,” whispered Kate.

Both women looked up as Hale strode briskly into the gallery, a cigar clenched between his teeth.

“Good morning, ladies.” He whisked the cigar out of his mouth as he came to a stop directly in front of them.

“I’m sorry,” said Kate, pushing an ashtray toward him, “but you’re going to have to put that out while you’re in here.”

Giving an annoyed grunt, he tapped the ash off the end and then lovingly crushed the tip against the glass. “I’m here to see Ezmer’s latest installment.” His normal grandiosity was noticeably absent.

“Sure,” said Kate, rising from her chair. “It’s in the back, still boxed up. I haven’t looked at it yet myself.”

“Ezmer?” asked Sophie, a questioning look on her face.

Kate reached into the top desk drawer and drew out a letter. “Ezmer Hawks. That artist from northern Minnesota. I’ve featured his work here before.”

The light dawned. “Oh, sure. The one who does pastels.” Sophie found the man’s work rather childish. She’d never paid it much attention.

“Well?” said Hale, his expression full of impatience. “Let’s get on with it.”

“Of course. But first, this is for you.” Kate handed him the letter. “It came in the morning mail.”

“What is it?”

She shrugged. “It’s from Mr. Hawks. It’s addressed to you.”

Hale’s hand shook ever so slightly as he ripped it open. Taking out his reading glasses, he remained silent while studying the contents. When he was finished, he folded it and stuffed it into his pocket.

“I didn’t know you two were corresponding,” said Kate.

“We’re not.” His voice was cold. “I want to see that drawing. Now.”

“Certainly. Sophie, you’re welcome to come with us.” Kate moved around the desk and headed into the hallway.

“Don’t mind if I do.” She was entirely too intrigued by Hale’s strange behavior to turn the invitation down. Picking up her purse, she followed them back to the storage room.

As Kate unwrapped the small package, Sophie stood near the door and watched. Hale seemed uncharacteristically nervous. He kept fidgeting with his bow tie. His hands dipped in and out of his pockets. Finally Kate pulled the drawing free and handed it to him. At first, he just stared at it. No reaction. After another few seconds, Sophie noticed a muscle in his cheek begin to twitch. His forehead had become bright with sweat. Something truly extraordinary was happening and she had no idea what it was.

Crossing to where he and Kate were standing, she peered at the small pastel. It was more realistic — and at the same time, more surrealistic — than any she’d seen before. It appeared to be the frame of a door set directly at the edge of a cliff. Below was a river.

Slowly Hale handed it back. “Thank you,” he said, his voice strangely flat. He took off his glasses and put them away. “I have to go.” As he reached the door, he turned. “What’s that box number? The one in Soldiers Grove?”

“Ezmer’s?”

He nodded.

“Box 183. It should be on the letter he mailed you. Why?”