Set the Stage for Murder (24 page)

He finally got up and went to the kitchen to make coffee. He was going to need a lot of it just to get through the day.

***

Finally, Ed had gotten out of bed and she was alone. Sally exhaled and relaxed. She had been feigning sleep for the last hour, hoping that her husband would either get up or fall asleep himself. She was aware that her behavior was childish and self-defeating. And she wanted to talk to Ed, really she did. But something, perhaps it was fear, kept her from doing so. Was the solution as simple as telling him what she observed and what she did? She turned over on her back and stared at the bedroom ceiling. What in God’s name were they going to do now? She wished that this weekend had never happened, but it did happen, and now they had to deal with the aftermath. She sat up in bed, switched the lamp on, and fumbled through the drawer of her bedside table, searching for a pink pill. She found one and started to take it, but stopped herself. What if telling Ed really would make everything better? What if talking about Saturday night, getting everything out in the open, would actually put them back on the same side? Sally dropped the pill back into the drawer, got out of bed, and slipped on the satin peignoir that lay across the foot of the bed. She paused before the mirror and ran a brush through her hair before walking down the hall and stopping at the kitchen door. Ed sat at the table with his head resting in his hands. A steaming cup of coffee sat in front of him.

“
Pour me a cup.” She walked into the room, pulled out a chair and took a seat at the table, all the while looking into his eyes in a way she hadn’t in many years. This time she didn’t want to deceive or be deceived; this time she wanted the truth, no matter what. “I think we need to talk, Ed.”

***

Tony Dupree rolled back to his side of the bed, exhausted and a little bewildered. If what had just occurred were any indication, Cary had finally forgiven his recent transgressions. She had awakened him ten minutes earlier with the aggressive, almost hostile sort of advances that often initiated their most ardent lovemaking. Although caught slightly off-guard, Tony didn’t take long to respond accordingly and take control of the situation, just as she wanted him to do. He wasn’t sure what had happened to cause her change of heart, but he was bloody well thankful, whatever it was.

He was almost at the end of his rope. Yes, he enjoyed the lifestyle his marriage afforded him, and he even enjoyed his wife’s company, when she was in a good humor. But the way she’d been behaving this past week or so had forced him to reevaluate his priorities. Were all the benefits of being married to Cary really worth the absolute hell she could put him through? But now he put those thoughts aside and simply enjoyed the peace that had been reestablished. Maybe she had finally stopped being jealous of Roz? Hmmmm, he couldn’t quite imagine that being the case. Could it be that she really did love him, after all? In spite of himself, the thought made him smile.

“
Tony, darling?” Caroline asked, breaking into his reverie. “I’m sorry for the way I’ve been acting. It was foolish and more than a little cruel.”

Tony slipped his arm around his wife and pulled her close. “Never you mind, darling. All is forgotten.”

“
Tony?”

“
Yes, darling?
“You don’t think I killed Meg Pierce, do you?”

“
No, I don’t.”

She breathed an audible sigh of relief. “I’m so glad. I’ve a feeling that things could get a bit sticky for me with this investigation. I’m going to need you in my corner.”

Tony remained silent but his mind was anything but quiet, as the reason behind his wife’s change of heart became abundantly clear; she couldn’t afford to alienate him right now. Current circumstances had forced her to play nice.
Old boy
, he thought sadly,
you’re just a bloody fool
.

***

Vicki rested in the crook of her husband’s arm and counted her blessings. Ted had awakened her earlier by kissing the back of her neck and now, after an extremely pleasurable half hour, he had drifted back to sleep. Vicki smiled as the sound of his snoring gently echoed the more raucous exhalations that emanated from Clementine’s bed in the corner. Vicki thought, and not for the first time, that it was a good thing she was a sound sleeper.

As much as she had enjoyed Teddy’s reason for waking her up, she was a little frustrated at his timing. She had been in the middle of a dream in which she was walking through the woods at Lenore’s Folly, pursuing something or someone. Clementine stayed closely by her side, growling every time she caught a glimpse of the elusive thing or person they were chasing. Vicki would see a movement out of the corner of her eye and turn her head just in time to observe something shadowy dart behind a tree or a boulder. It seemed to go on that way for hours, until, at one point, Clementine took off into the woods, barking madly. Vicki ran after her and found her at the base of a tree, looking up and continuing to bark at whatever was sitting there on the limb. Vicki was just starting to look up when she felt something at the back of her neck. A fly? No, it was something moist. She reached behind her to flick it away and hit her affectionate husband squarely in the nose. However, he was not to be so easily dissuaded and for that, she was certainly grateful. Still, she would love to know what was sitting up in that tree.

***

Tears ran down Juliet’s face as she sat in the hallway outside Rosamund’s door and listened to the sobs that came from inside the bedroom. Juliet had heard the same sort of sobbing coming from Rosamund’s room at Lenore’s Folly last night. Rosamund grieved for Meg and blamed herself for her death. Later this morning, when she came out of her bedroom, Rosamund would, once again, be the strong, pulled-together mother she had always been to Juliet. But it would be a performance, and Juliet knew it.

***

Monday proved to be a busy day for those who had a vested interest in the death of Meg Pierce. Rosamund Whiting sat at the desk in her upper eastside apartment, spending hours on the phone finalizing the funeral plans for her oldest and dearest friend. Her business manager had offered to do it, but Roz was adamant about completing the arrangements herself. After all, Meg was family to Juliet and Roz, and her farewell should be perfect. Everyone would be watching, and Roz wanted the world to know how much she cared for Meg. Plus, it gave her something to do that took her mind away from her own situation.

The ashtray on the desk was overflowing, and the sight of it made her throat constrict. Meg would have emptied it three times already, if she were still here. It was the sort of thing she did that Roz had taken for granted. She blinked back tears and picked up the phone again. She still had calls to make to the florist and the caterer. Plus, she needed to call Bergdorf’s and see if her dress was ready; she wanted to look her best tomorrow and the sleeveless black Carolina Herrera dress that was being altered made the perfect statement. She smiled sadly. It was just the sort of dress that would have looked terrific on Meg, although Roz would have had to press her to borrow it, because Meg would never have wanted to be a bother. Rosamund wiped her eyes with a tissue from the box on the desk, picked up the phone and started dialing.
There are still things to do,
she chided herself
.
After the service was over, she would think about everything. But not now; she couldn’t bear to think about it now.

***

Across town, in a large and airy bedroom that overlooked Riverside Park and the Hudson River, Vicki stood at her closet and pulled dresses for her mother-in-law to approve or disapprove. Phoebe sat on the sofa in the sitting area and sipped the cup of coffee Vicki had provided her. Clementine lay on her tufted pillow and chewed contentedly on the rubber toy Phoebe had brought for her. According to the older woman, what good are grandchildren if you can’t spoil them?

“
I like the charcoal gray dress with the black grosgrain ribbon belt, dear. It’s youthful, yet appropriate.”

“
Better than the black suit?” Vicki asked, brow furrowed. “I’m not sure.” She held the dress up in front of her and looked in the mirror, catching a glimpse of Phoebe behind her. Vicki folded the dress over her arms and turned around slowly. “What in the hell is wrong with me, Phoebe? A woman died at our home and all I can do is obsess about my wardrobe?” She sat on the edge of the bed. “How absolutely selfish can I be?” She shook her head in disgust.

Phoebe set her cup and saucer down on the table beside her before getting up and crossing to sit on the bed by her daughter-in-law. “Victoria, dear, you listen to me.” She put her arm around Vicki’s shoulders. “You have had a terrible shock. It’s not every day that something this tragic and horrible touches us so closely. If you need to pull out every single item in your closet, or
mine,
for that matter, to help you through this time, then so be it.” She gave her a quick squeeze before getting up from the bed. “And I’ll not hear another word about your being selfish.” She grabbed her purse from the table by the sofa. “I’ll have you know that
my
daughter-in-law is not selfish.” She checked her watch. “I’m afraid I must run. Vincent is waiting downstairs in the car to take me to some silly benefit planning luncheon.” She gave Vicki a peck on the cheek and started out of the room.

“
Phoebe,” Vicki said, stopping the older woman at the bedroom door. “Is it really okay for me to go through your closet?” She smiled mischievously.

“
Of course, my dear. Just let me know when you’re coming so I can pull out what I’m wearing first.” She smiled serenely and left.

***

Dame Caroline Evans Dupree sat at a prominent table in a terribly expensive east side restaurant, where the food was only passable but the clientele, superb. A fact the patrons would be only too happy to make clear to you, should there be any question. It was just the sort of place that Caroline had expected Walter Boscobel to suggest when she called him this morning and inquired if he and Kirby were free to join her for lunch. She could swear she heard him whimper like an excited puppy at the mere mention of it. It was his idea to include Mim Van der Vorn. He was certain that she would love to join them. Should he confirm that with Mim and then call Henri’s and reserve her usual table? Caroline agreed enthusiastically, or at least that was Walter’s take on it. In truth, she was cringing at the thought of making nice with Walter and spending an entire meal with him and that milquetoast Kirby. But their last encounter had ended unpleasantly and she needed to mend fences. It was time for Caroline to rally her troops around her. She might need their support in the coming days.

Which also explains why she wasn’t too upset at the inclusion of Mim Van der Vorn into the mix. Caroline had known Mim for years and while she wouldn’t exactly call them friends, they were certainly well acquainted and had many things in common. In truth, Caroline found Mim an insufferable bore and quite difficult to understand since a small stroke, suffered on the operating table during one of her many cosmetic surgeries, had left her face partially paralyzed. Still, she was the most powerful woman in New York society, next to Phoebe Russell McDowell. Caroline could use someone like that on her side, if worse came to worst.

Walter, one of the few people who had no trouble understanding Mim’s low, rumbling utterances, acted as her translator throughout the meal, as he often did at other social gatherings. Once dessert had been served, the conversation took the turn Caroline had been dreading. The perennially Chanel-clad Mim said something totally unintelligible and widened her heavily lined eyes several times for emphasis. Walter Boscobel laughed and nodded enthusiastically before turning to Dame Caroline. “Cary, Mimsie wants to know all the dirt on Meg Pierce’s death.” His eyes were positively glowing as he leaned into the table. “We simply can’t
believe
that you were there.”

Caroline took a slow, deep breath and summoned all her inner strength.
Bloody vultures
, she thought as she transformed her face into a mask of sorrow, as only a great tragedienne could do. “It was absolutely horrible. Poor, dear Meg. Juliet is just crushed, you know. We were only there because of Tony’s new project.” She shook her head sadly. “It’s been cancelled, of course.”

“
Who do the police think did it?” Kirby asked, excitedly. He returned to his cowering position, once Walter flashed him a look. Clearly, Kirby was supposed to be seen and not heard.

“
I have no idea what
those
policemen are thinking.” She leaned in conspiratorially. “You know, it’s just the local constabulary that is looking into this matter. I’m not at all sure that they are equipped to deal with something like this.” She sat back and shook her head forlornly. “I hope they don’t accuse the wrong person.”

Mim uttered something that made Walter go into a nodding frenzy again. “Mimsie wants to know if there’s any chance that Phoebe Russell McDowell did it?”

Caroline had to stifle a laugh. “No, Phoebe is in the clear.” It was hard to tell, but she thought Mim looked crestfallen. Before the conversation veered away from this subject, it was time for her to make her strategic move. “However,” she said, drawing them all closer to her with a line delivery truly more appropriate for a Shakespearean aside, “I certainly can’t say the same for Connor Cortez.”

Walter gasped. “So you think Connor Cortez murdered Meg Pierce?”

Caroline shrugged her shoulders and raised her eyebrows, ever so slightly, before finishing off her glass of wine and calling for the check. Her work here was done.

***