In the Event of My Death (2 page)

“Yes. I think it’s important that I talk with you.”

“Me?” Laurel was genuinely puzzled.

“Yes. You, Denise, and Crystal.”

They’d all been friends growing up. Friends forever, they thought. When they were twelve, they’d formed a club called the Six of Hearts—Monica, Laurel, Crystal, Denise, Angela, and poor dead Faith. Anxiety abruptly gripped Laurel. “Monica, what’s wrong?”

“You know Angie’s been living here in Manhattan, too?”

“Of course. She’s always kept in touch. I just got a card from her. She’s the lead in a Broadway play.”

“Not anymore.” Laurel could hear Monica take a deep breath. “Laurel, Angie was murdered night before last. She wasn’t found until yesterday, when she didn’t show up for an interview and the theater couldn’t reach her. It was…brutal. She was bludgeoned to death in her own bed.”

“Oh, my God,” Laurel gasped, her stomach clenching as she pictured Angie’s lovely face, remembered her beautiful voice. “How horrible!”

“Yes. But there’s more, Laurel. I don’t know how to tell you this, but Angela’s death had something to do with the Six of Hearts.”

1

Laurel’s face slackened in shock. She saw the quick look Mary threw her way before she managed to speak again. “Monica, have they caught her killer?”

“No.”

Laurel spoke softly. “Then what makes you think this had something to do with the Six of Hearts?”

“On the mirror in her bedroom the murderer drew a six and a heart. In Angie’s blood.”

“Oh,” Laurel said weakly. “How do you know all this?”

“I’m good friends with a detective on the case. He knows I knew Angie. He gave me the details. They aren’t known to the general public, but he thought I might have some idea of what they meant. I said I didn’t.”

“Why didn’t you tell him the truth?”

“Because we never told
anyone
the truth about the Six of Hearts. Besides, I don’t want to get involved in this. I doubt if any of us do.”

Laurel realized she was clutching the receiver and forced herself to relax her grip. “Monica, the stuff on the mirror has to be some sort of coincidence.”

“Coincidence?” Monica’s husky voice rarely rose and Laurel heard the tension in it. “It’s a coincidence that the killer just happened to put a six and a heart on her mirror when Angie used to be a member of the Six of Hearts? And something else. There was a tarot card lying beside her body—the judgment card.”

“Judgment?”

“Yes. It seems to me the killer might want revenge for an old deed committed by the Six of Hearts.”

“Judgment? Revenge? Monica, this is crazy. We were a secret club. No one knew about us.”

“Laurel, we weren’t CIA operatives. We were a bunch of young girls playing around with the idea of having a
secret
club because we were bored. It made us feel important even though most of what we did was just harmless, stupid stuff. Who says one of us didn’t talk about the club at some point? It wasn’t as if someone was going to get a bullet in the brain for revealing the Six of Hearts.”

“I didn’t tell anyone.”

“I didn’t, either, but that leaves four others.”

“Not Faith. Faith is—” She broke off as she saw Mary standing in front of her, a frown creasing her pale forehead. “Monica, I’m afraid I have to go now. We’re very busy today.”

“Laurel, this is serious. You can’t brush me off.”

“I’m not trying to. It’s just that—”

“I’m coming to Wheeling,” Monica said firmly. “I’ll be there tomorrow. Tell Denise and Crystal.”

She hung up. Laurel stood mutely holding the phone.

“Was that bad news?” Mary asked. “It’s not your sister, is it?”

“What?” Laurel blinked at her, then slowly put down the phone. “No, Claudia is fine. It was just someone telling me that an old friend of mine was murdered.”

“Murdered! Who?”

“Angela Ricci. You wouldn’t know her.”

“She was a friend of my sister,” Mary said promptly. “Is that why you mentioned Faith?”

Laurel nodded and Mary went on. “I remember Angela. Very pretty. Very talented. My goodness, what a shame!” Laurel nodded again. “Are you all right?”

“Yes.”

“Are you sure? You don’t look well.”

“I’m fine, Mary, really.”

But she wasn’t fine. She was more horrified and frightened than she had been for thirteen years.

2

Laurel spent the rest of the day in a fog. She saw Mary, Penny, and Norma watching her closely and even some of the customers threw her curious glances when she didn’t help them with her usual efficiency. She closed the store at five, forced herself to stay until six-thirty helping Mary with some last-minute arrangements, then gratefully headed for home.

April and Alex met her with one of their customary exuberant greetings. She petted both absently, rewarded each with a dog biscuit, threw her camel hair coat on a chair, and dropped onto the couch.

All week she’d felt odd. Had she somehow sensed something was going to happen to Angie? Impossible. Although Angie sent her Christmas cards and had even called when her mother told her about Laurel’s father’s heart attack, they weren’t close. In fact, if not for Angie’s efforts, they would have drifted completely apart, just like she and Monica had. After all, what did she have in common with a talented Broadway star?

Nothing. Not a thing except a shared youth in Wheeling and membership in a silly club formed by the precocious Monica when they were only twelve years old.

The Six of Hearts. Monica had come up with the name. She said symbolically the heart was the center of power and intelligence. When Crystal argued that she thought intelligence had something to do with the brain, Monica had snapped, “I said
symbolically
. Don’t you even know what symbols are? Besides, do you want to be called the Six of Brains?” Sufficiently quelled, Crystal had ceased arguing. Never sure of her own intelligence, Monica had completely overwhelmed gentle Crystal. Lord, she overwhelmed all of us, Laurel thought. Monica was always a force. Apparently she still was, announcing that she was coming back here to talk to her and Crystal and Denise about Angie’s murder, a murder she was certain had something to do with the Six of Hearts.

The club had started out so innocently. There had been a “secret” initiation, which consisted of eating foods blindfolded after being told olives were eyeballs and raw cow’s liver was a human liver. Then they’d played harmless practical jokes on students they’d unanimously decided they didn’t like. Sometimes they made anonymous phone calls to older boys, throwing their voices deep and sexy, then hanging up before they collapsed in giggles. When they were fifteen, everyone except Denise celebrated Bastille Day by sneaking out in the night armed with wire cutters, breaking out a window, crawling inside, and liberating nearly fifty dogs and cats from the local pound. That prank made the newspaper, but no one ever suspected them. It was all such fun. But as they got older, the games became darker.

The doorbell rang. Laurel frowned, wondering who it might be, then sat up slowly. Of all the evenings when she didn’t want to be disturbed, unexpected company had arrived.

But it wasn’t unexpected. “Hi,” Kurt Rider said. “Hungry? I sure am.”

Laurel closed her eyes briefly. “Oh, Kurt, I completely forgot we were supposed to have dinner.”

“Oh, well, no harm done,” he said easily, stepping inside, his six-foot-two frame towering over her. “Ready to go?”

“No, Kurt, I’m afraid I’m not feeling up to it tonight.”

Disappointment flashed over his long, good-looking face and shone in his brown eyes. “Not up to it? Are you sick?”

“Not really.” Laurel waved a hand at the big living room. “Come in.”

He strode forward, then turned to look at her. “Why is it so dark in here?”

“Because I haven’t turned on any lights?”

He grinned. “You’re hilarious.”

“You’re the one who’s supposed to make all the brilliant deductions.”

“Hey, I’m just a simple deputy sheriff, not one of your flashy television detectives. And here I am, exhausted after a hard day of fighting crime, and my girl forgets we have a date.”

“I’m really sorry, Kurt.”

He flipped on a lamp and sat down on the long leather couch. “Stop apologizing and tell me what’s wrong. You’re pale. Getting the flu?”

“No. I got bad news.” She sat down beside him. “Do you remember Angela Ricci?”

“Angie? Sure. She was just a year younger than me. She was in your class. Her mother’s been telling everyone in town she made it big in some play in New York.”

“Angie’s dead, Kurt. Murdered.”

Kurt stared at her blankly for a moment. “Murdered? What happened?”

“Angie was beaten to death in her own bed.” And it seems to have something to do with a club we were in when we were kids, Laurel thought, although she said nothing. She didn’t want to talk about the Six of Hearts with Kurt. Besides, Monica only had a theory.

“Laurel?”

“Huh?”

“I asked if you were still friends with her. I don’t remember you mentioning her since we’ve been dating.”

“I heard from her occasionally.”

“How did you find out about her murder?”

“Monica Boyd. She lives in New York, too.”

“Monica. I remember her. Tall. Bossy. Isn’t she a lawyer now?”

“Yes. She’s coming to Wheeling tomorrow.”

“Why?”

Laurel paused. “The funeral,” she said abruptly. Monica hadn’t mentioned the funeral, but the Ricci family had been summoned to New York and had called back to tell a few people about their daughter’s death and the funeral arrangements. Angie would be buried in Wheeling. Orders for funeral baskets and wreaths had begun trickling in a couple of hours before she closed the store.

Kurt frowned. “Well, it’s a real shame Angie’s dead, but you seem awfully upset about someone you hardly knew anymore.”

“But I used to know her so well. We were friends for ten years. And the
way
she died…Kurt, it’s awful.”

“I know. But then murder is always awful.” He put his arm around her. “Honey, I’m sorry.”

“Thanks.”

“I know there’s nothing I can say to make you feel better, but you’ve got to eat.”

“I’m not hungry.”

“Your stomach is growling.”

“It is?”

“Yes. Loudly.”

Laurel smiled. “I didn’t notice, but come to think of it, I haven’t eaten anything except a piece of toast and a doughnut.”

“No wonder you feel lousy. My mother is a firm believer in eating, no matter what.”

“Your mother weighs two hundred pounds,” Laurel said absently, then flushed in embarrassment. “Kurt, I’m sorry,” she said quickly. “What an awful thing to say! I didn’t mean…I don’t know where that came from,” she blundered. “Your mother is a lovely person.”

But Kurt laughed good-naturedly. “She
is
a lovely person who weighs two hundred pounds. It’s okay, Laurel. Facts are facts. And the fact is that you’re too thin to be skipping meals. If you don’t feel like going out, how about if I order a pizza for us?”

Laurel hesitated. “A pizza does sound pretty good.”

“Great. Got any beer?”

“A couple of six-packs.”

“I won’t need that much. You go feed those hungry hounds of yours that are giving me such dirty looks from the doorway, and I’ll call in the order. I guarantee that in an hour you’ll feel like a new woman.”

Kurt insisted on building a fire in the large flagstone fireplace. After feeding the dogs, Laurel sat on the hearth, clutching a pillow and warming herself. She hadn’t realized until then that ever since Monica’s call, she’d been freezing. When the pizza arrived, she ate ravenously. “Thought you weren’t hungry,” Kurt teased. “Glad I ordered the super size.”

Laurel laid down a half-eaten piece. “You’re right. I’m eating like a pig.”

“No you’re not. It’s kind of nice to see you eat like this. You usually pick at your food.”

“I don’t have my sister’s looks, but I can still stay slim.”

Kurt smiled at her. “No offense to Claudia, but I never considered her the blond bombshell everyone else did.”

“That’s because she wouldn’t go out with you.”

“That did show a real lack of taste on her part, but I don’t hold grudges. Besides, I only asked her out because it was considered a feat of success to go out with Claudia Damron. I always found your style more appealing than hers, though.”

“I wasn’t aware I had any style.”

“You do. You’ve just never known it.”

At nine o’clock, her appetite satiated, her body finally warm from the fire, Laurel asked Kurt if he’d mind leaving early. “I had a really busy day and tomorrow promises to be even worse,” she told him.

“All right,” he sighed. “First forget about our date, then kick me out in the cold.”

“Kurt, I’m sorry—”

“I’m joking.” He kissed her on the forehead. “Get a good night’s sleep. Saturday evening we’ll go out for a nice dinner. We might even stay up past eleven since you don’t have to go to work the next day.”

“That sounds wonderful, Kurt. Thanks for being so understanding.”

She watched as he went down the long walk to his car. He really is a great guy, she thought. Calm, steady, sweet. No wonder Mom wants me to marry him. I just wish I were in love with him.

As soon as his headlights disappeared at the end of the driveway, she shut the door and hurried to the phone. She hadn’t lied to Kurt—she
was
exhausted—but she had a couple of calls to make.

First she dialed Crystal’s number and was surprised when no one answered. Since Crystal’s husband, Chuck Landis, had left her six months earlier, she’d become a near recluse. Maybe there being no answer was a good sign. Perhaps Crystal was resuming her life.

Next she called Denise Price. Although Denise had been one of Laurel’s good friends growing up, after they graduated from high school Denise had cut off all contact. Laurel had been hurt at first, then she slowly accepted that none of the Six of Hearts had really wanted to remain close anymore. None with the exception of Angie. It was only through the local grapevine Laurel learned that after graduating from college with a nursing degree, Denise married a doctor, had a daughter named Audra, and was living in Chicago. Laurel was shocked when a little over a year ago Denise and her husband, Wayne, moved back to Wheeling. Shortly afterward Denise asked Damron Floral to decorate her lovely home for a Christmas party. It was then she and Laurel became casually reacquainted and Denise explained it was Wayne’s idea to move to Wheeling where he felt their daughter would be safer than in a big city.

Wayne answered. “Why, hello, Laurel.” His voice was deep and melodic. “Calling about decorations for our annual Christmas bash? You and Kurt
are
coming, aren’t you?”

“We wouldn’t miss it.” Actually she’d forgotten all about it. So much for Kurt’s plans for dinner out on Saturday evening. That was the night of the party. “I do need to speak to Denise about decorations and a couple of other things.”

“All right. I’ll see if I can find her.”

It was nearly three minutes before Denise came on the line. When she did, she sounded abrupt and peevish. “Yes, Laurel, what’s the problem?”

“No problem about the decorations.” Laurel was a bit taken aback by her tone. She and Denise had not and never would regain the kinship they’d once felt, but they were friendly. “Are you free to talk right now?”