I've Got You Under My Skin (21 page)

59

“
I
was right,” Laurie whispered as she turned off her phone. “Dr. Morris said that they’re doing an angiogram on Dad right now, that it’s just a precaution. But can I
believe
that?”

“Laurie, what exactly did the doctor say?” Alex asked.

“That Dad had heart fibrillations last night.” In a halting voice Laurie explained what the doctor had told her. “I know the reason for the fibrillations. Dad was afraid of my doing this program,” she said. “He thinks that one of these six people is a murderer, and could explode under pressure.”

He may be right, Alex thought. “Look, Laurie,” he said, “when you’re finished here tonight, let me take you straight to the hospital. You don’t have to wait for the company van. Let Jerry and Grace wrap up here.”

Then he added impulsively, “I’ll wait downstairs at the hospital until you have your visit, then we’ll get something to eat, unless you have other plans.”

“My plan for tonight was to have a hamburger with Dad. As ex-cop number one, he’ll want to know every detail of what went on today.”

“Then give him your report in the hospital and have a hamburger with me afterward,” Alex said firmly.

Laurie hesitated. Given the circumstances, she could not picture
going out alone to a restaurant. Alex Buckley is a reassuring presence, she thought. And besides, I can talk to him about the interviews we’ll be doing.

“Thanks, I’ll take you up on that.” She smiled faintly, then, as Alex watched, she called, “Jerry, will you please tell the crew and Alison Schaefer to come in?” Her voice was crisp and authoritative again.

60

A
grim-faced Regina went looking for Josh Damiano. She found him vacuuming the huge living room. She remembered how Betsy had grandly referred to it as “the salon.”
“Until the time she married Richard Powell, the only salon she ever walked into was a beauty salon.”
That’s what Mother used to say about Betsy, Regina remembered.

Josh looked up and, when he saw her, turned off the vacuum. “I knew you’d be looking for me, Regina,” he said with a cheerful smile.

Regina had turned on her iPhone and was recording every word they exchanged. “You have different jobs, I see, Josh. Chauffeur-housemaid-blackmailer. Obviously there is no limit to your talents.”

The smile vanished from Damiano’s face. “Be careful, Regina,” he said evenly. “The only reason I’m helping in the house is because Mr. Powell canceled the usual maintenance service until Thursday, when everyone has gone.”

“The housekeeper label isn’t one you like, is it, Josh?” Regina asked. “How about embezzler? Are you sensitive about being called that?”

Josh Damiano did not blink. “I prefer to think that I am defending you from being accused of murdering Betsy Powell. Your father’s suicide note gives you the greatest motive to kill her, and remember,
you lied to the cops over and over again that you had not found a suicide note on or near your father’s body.”

“I did, didn’t I?” Regina agreed. “On the other hand, I also did Robert Powell a great favor by not revealing that. Have you considered that? The note details how he let his wife have an affair with my father so she could feed him an inside tip about Powell’s hedge fund. The result was that my father lost his entire fortune, and by doing so, he bailed the Powells out.”

“So what?” Damiano asked.

“So I lied to my son in the conversation you taped in the car. I have another copy of my father’s note. Now I’m giving you an alternative: give me back the original and we call it quits. Otherwise I take the copy and my recording of this conversation today to Police Chief Penn, and
you
land behind bars. I
assume
you taped everyone else. I’ll bet they’ll all produce those tapes, if pressed hard enough.”

“You’re joking.”

“No, I’m not. I was fifteen years old when I found that note. As it was, my father’s suicide was the start of my mother’s slow decline. She would have gone quicker if she had known he was having an affair with Betsy as well.”

Josh Damiano attempted a laugh. “All the more reason you jumped at the chance to spend your first overnight in this house, to get revenge on Betsy.”

“Except that Betsy Powell wasn’t worth sacrificing the rest of my life in prison. I’m a bit claustrophobic. I hope you’re not.”

Without waiting for a reply she left the room. Once she was in the hallway, she began to tremble violently.

Would it work? It was her only hope. She went up to the bedroom where she would spend the night, locked the door, and checked her phone.

The battery was dead.

61

A
lison went into the den, outwardly calm but inwardly frantic with worry.

I was in Betsy’s room that night, was the uppermost thought in her mind.

She tried to remember Rod’s reassurances, but, oddly, all she could think of was that she had told him he couldn’t know what it was like to want something so badly and lose it.

He
couldn’t? she asked herself.

She remembered the blazing headlines when he was signed by the Giants. The speculation about his brilliant future.

All the time she had spent studying, he had spent practicing football.

From kindergarten on, Rod had always been there for her.

But I was planning to marry a scientist, she thought. We’d be the new Dr. and Madame Curie. “Dr. and Dr.” Curie, she corrected herself.

The arrogance of me. And Rod accepted it. He proposed to me and I accepted because of his promise to send me to medical school.

While he was so sick, I did manage to become a pharmacist, but I couldn’t leave him. Underneath, I’ve always begrudged him the fact that I felt obligated to stay.

And even now, I’m thinking that if I had come here alone, I wouldn’t have been talking in the car. No recording would
exist.

“Come right in, Alison,” Laurie Moran invited.

Alex Buckley stood up.

My God, he’s tall, Alison thought as she took the seat across the table from him. Her body felt so rigid that she worried some part of her would break like glass if she moved too quickly.

“Alison, thank you so much for being with us on this program,” Alex began. “It’s been twenty years since the Graduation Gala and Betsy’s Powell’s death. Why did you agree to be on this program?”

The question was friendly. Rod had warned her against letting her guard down. Alison chose her words carefully now. “Do you know, or can you imagine, what it’s like to be under suspicion of killing someone for
twenty years
?”

“No, I don’t, and I couldn’t even imagine it. As I’m a criminal defense lawyer, I have seen persons of interest live with an ax swinging over their head until a jury declared them not guilty.”

“Until a jury declared them not guilty,” Alison repeated, and he could hear the bitterness in her voice. “But don’t you see? That’s the problem. No one has formally accused any one of us, and so we are
all
treated as if we were guilty.”

“You
still
feel that way?”

“How could I not? This last year alone there were two major articles in syndicated newspapers about the case. I can always tell when a new one comes out. Someone comes into the pharmacy and buys something insignificant like toothpaste and looks at me as though I were a bug under a microscope.”

“Alison, that’s an interesting comparison. Have you been feeling like a bug under a microscope all these years? You had hoped to earn a medical degree, didn’t you?”

Be careful, Alison warned herself. “Yes, I did.”

“You had every expectation of being awarded a scholarship, isn’t that true?”

“I was in contention,” Alison said evenly. “I came in second. It happens.”

“Alison, I’ve done some research. Isn’t it a fact that just before your graduation, Robert Powell pledged some ten million dollars to your college for a new dormitory to be named ‘The Robert and Betsy Powell House’?”

“I know he did.”

“Is it true that the recipient of the scholarship was the daughter of a friend of Betsy Powell’s?”

Alison, you’re bitter. You can’t let the bitterness show.

It was as though Rod were shouting in her ear.

“Of course I was disappointed. I earned that scholarship and everyone knew it. Throwing it to Vivian Fields was Betsy’s way of getting into the club Vivian’s mother ran.

“But you see, all regret stopped right there. Rod had just signed a big contract with the Giants, and the first thing he did was to propose to me. We were engaged, and his wedding present to me was going to be sending me to medical school.”

“Then why didn’t you invite Rod to the Gala, if you were engaged to him?”

Alison attempted a smile. “Actually, it was just prior to our engagement. Rod thought I was very foolish to go to the Gala after what Betsy pulled on me.”

It sounds all right, she thought. I didn’t invite him because I wasn’t in love with him. But then when he signed with the Giants and promised to send me to school, I agreed to marry him . . . She fought to keep control of herself.

Alex Buckley’s eyes bored into her. “Alison, I would like you to close your eyes and visualize the moment you walked into Betsy’s room after you heard Jane screaming.”

His tone was almost hypnotic. Obediently, Alison closed her eyes.

She was in Betsy’s room. She stepped on the earring, and that startled her. She heard a door open and slipped into the closet behind her. She saw someone come in and take the other pillow from Betsy’s bed. Then that shadowy figure leaned over Betsy.

Through a crack in the door she watched as Betsy’s body twisted and turned as the pillow suffocated her. Her muted groans were quickly stifled.

Then the figure slipped away. Was I dreaming, Alison asked herself, or did I really see a face?

She didn’t know. Her eyes snapped open.

Alex Buckley saw the startled look on her face. “What is it, Alison?” he asked quickly. “You look frightened.”

Alison burst out: “I can’t stand this anymore! I absolutely can’t stand it. I don’t care what people think about me. Let them wonder if I killed Betsy. I did
not
, but I will tell you this: when I ran into that room and saw she was dead, I was
glad
! And so were the others. Betsy Powell was evil and vain and a whore, and I hope she’s rotting in hell.”

62

J
ane was next. She was not a heavy woman, but her broad shoulders and straight carriage gave her a formidable appearance. Her constant uniform of black dress and crisp white apron seems almost a caricature, Alex thought. Except for during formal dinners, none of his friends had their help dressed like that.

She sat in the chair vacated by Alison. “Ms. Novak,” Alex began. “You and Betsy Powell worked together in the theatre?”

Jane smiled thinly. “That sounds very glamorous. I cleaned the dressing rooms and mended the costumes. Betsy was an usher, and when a play closed, we would both be transferred to another theatre.”

“Then you were good friends.”

“Good friends? What does that mean? We worked together. I like to cook. I’d ask her and Claire to dinner some Sundays. I was sure everything they ate was takeout. Betsy was no cook. And Claire was such a sweet child.”

“Were you surprised when Betsy moved to Salem Ridge?”

“Betsy wanted to marry money. She decided living in a wealthy community was her best chance. Turns out she was right.”

“She was thirty-two when she married Robert Powell. Wasn’t there anyone before that?”

“Oh, Betsy dated, but no one had enough money for her.” Jane smirked. “You should have heard what she said about some of them.”

“Was there anyone who was especially close to her?” Alex asked. “Someone who might have been jealous when she married?”

Jane shrugged. “I wouldn’t say so. They came and they went.”

“Were you upset when she asked you to call her ‘Mrs. Powell’?”

“Was I upset? Of course not. Mr. Powell is a very formal man. I have a beautiful apartment of my own here. A cleaning service comes in twice a week, so I do no heavy work. I love to cook, and Mr. Powell loves gourmet food. Why would I be upset? I came from a little village in Hungary. We had only the barest modern conveniences—running water, sometimes electricity.”

“I can see why you have been very content here. But I understand that when you rushed into Betsy Powell’s room that morning, you screamed ‘Betsy, Betsy!’ ”

“Yes, I did. I was so shocked, I didn’t know what I was doing or saying.”

“Jane, do you have any theory about who killed Betsy Powell?”

“Absolutely,” Jane said firmly, “and in a way I blame myself for her death.”

“Why is that, Jane?”

“It is because I should have known those young women would have been in and out, smoking. I should have stayed up and made sure the door was locked after they went to bed.”

“Then you think it was a stranger who came in?”

“Either through the unlocked door or else during the party. Betsy had two walk-in closets. Someone could have hidden in one of them. She was wearing a fortune in emeralds, and don’t forget, one of the earrings was on the floor.”

Behind the camera, watching and listening, Laurie found herself wondering whether Jane was right. Claire had suggested the same
thing. And from what she could see, it was entirely possible that someone might have slipped upstairs during the party.

Jane was telling Alex that she had put a velvet rope across both the main and back staircases of the first floor. “There are four powder rooms on the main floor,” she concluded. “There would be no need for anyone to go upstairs, unless he or she was planning to steal Betsy’s jewelry.”

It’s as if they all put their heads together and decided on that story, Laurie thought.

Alex was saying, “Thank you for talking to us, Ms. Novak. I know how difficult it is to relive that terrible night.”

“No, you don’t,” Jane contradicted him, her voice even and sad. “To know how beautiful Betsy looked that night, then to see her face covered by that pillow and know she was dead, and to hear Mr. Powell moaning in pain . . . You don’t and can’t understand how hard it is to relive it, Mr. Buckley. You just can’t.”