Stillwatch (37 page)

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Authors: Mary Higgins Clark

Tags: #Fiction, #General, #Anthologies (Multiple Authors)

BOOK: Stillwatch
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There was a child sitting there. A child with longreddish-brown hair, her chin leaning on the palms of her hands; herexpression curious.
I wasn’t asleep, she thought. I heard the doorbell ring and I wantedto see who was coming.
Daddy opened the door and someone pushedpast him He was angry. I ran back to bed.
When I heard the first shot,I didn’t come right down. I stayed in bed and screamed for Daddy.But he didn’t come. And I heard another loud bang and ran downthe stairs to the living room. . . .And then . . .She realized she was trembling and light-headed. Going into thelibrary, she poured brandy into a tumbler and sipped it quickly. Whyhad Senator Jennings been so devastated by that letter? She’d beenpanicky, furious, frightened.Why?It didn’t make sense.

 

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And why did I get so upset reading it? Why has it upset me everytime I’ve read it?The way Toby looked at me as though he hated me. The way heshouted at the Senator. He wasn’t trying to calm her down. He wastrying to warn her about something. But what?She sat huddled in the corner of the sofa, her arms clasped aroundher knees. I used to sit in here like this when Daddy was working athis desk. “You can stay, Kerry, as long as you promise to be quiet.”Why was her memory of him so vivid now? She could see him, notas he’d looked in the film clips but as he’d been here in this room,leaning back in the chair, tapping his fingers on the desk when hewas concentrating.The newspaper article was still open on the desk. On a suddenimpulse she went over to it, reread it carefully. Her eyes kept comingback to the picture of her father and Abigail Jennings on the beach.There was an undeniably intimate quality there. A summer-afternoonflirtation or more? Suppose her mother had looked up and caughtthat glance between them?Why was she so afraid? She’d slept so badly last night. A hot bathand a brief rest would help calm her down. Slowly she went upstairsto her room. Again she had the eerie feeling she was being watched.She had had the same sensation the night before, before she fell asleep,but again she brushed it from her mind.The phone rang just as she reached her room. It was Lila.“Pat, are you all right? I’m worried about you. I don’t want toalarm you, but I must. I sense danger around you. Won’t you pleasecome over here now and stay with me?”“Lila, I think the impression you’re getting is that I’m really quiteclose to a breakthrough in remembering that night. Somethinghappened today, during the final taping, that seems to be triggeringit. But don’t worry—no matter what it is, I can handle it.”“Pat,
listen
to me. You shouldn’t be in that house now!”“It’s the only way I’ll be able to piece it together.”She’s nervous because of the break-ins, Pat told herself as she layin the tub. She’s afraid I can’t face the truth. She slipped on her terry-

 

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cloth robe. Sitting at the dressing table, she unpinned her hair andbegan to brush it. She’d been wearing it in a chignon most of theweek. She knew Sam liked it best when it was loose. Tonight she’dwear it that way.She got into bed and turned the radio on low. She hadn’t expectedto doze, but she soon drifted off. The sound of Eleanor ’s name startledher into consciousness.The bedside clock read six-fifteen. The program would be on infifteen minutes.“Giving as her motive that she could no longer endure the fear ofbeing recognized, Miss Brown has surrendered and was taken intocustody. She still steadfastly maintains her innocence of the theft forwhich she was convicted. A police spokesman said that in the nineyears since she violated parole, Miss Brown had been living with aparamedic Arthur Stevens. Stevens is a suspect in a series of nursing-home deaths and a warrant has been issued for his arrest. A religiousfanatic, he has been dubbed the ‘nursing home angel.’”“
The Nursing Home Angel!
” The first time he phoned, the callerhad referred to himself as an angel of mercy, of deliverance, ofvengeance. Pat bolted up and grabbed the phone. Frantically she dialedSam’s number, let the phone ring ten, twelve, fourteen times beforeshe finally replaced it. If only she had realized what Eleanor was sayingwhen she talked about Arthur Stevens!
He had begged Eleanor not togive herself up. To save Eleanor he might have tried to stop the program.
Could Eleanor have been aware of those threats? No, I’m sure shewasn’t, Pat decided. Her lawyer should know about this before wetell the police.It was twenty-five past six. She got out of bed, tightened the beltof her robe and put on her slippers. As she hurried down the stairs,she wondered where Arthur Stevens was now. Was he aware thatEleanor was under arrest? Would he see the program and blame herwhen Eleanor ’s picture was shown? Blame her because Eleanor hadnot kept her promise to wait before going to the police?In the living room she turned the chandelier to the brightest setting

 

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and took a moment to light the Christmas tree before switching onthe set. Even so, the room had an oddly cheerless quality. Settlingherself on the couch, she watched intently as the credits rolled afterthe six-o’clock news.She had wanted the chance to watch the program alone. In thestudio she’d been conscious of tuning into everyone else’s reactionsto it. Even so, she realized she was dreading seeing it again. It wasmuch more than the usual apprehension of launching a new series.The furnace rumbled and a hissing of air came from the heat risers.The sound made her jump. It’s crazy what this place is doing to me,she thought.The program was beginning. Critically Pat studied the three ofthem—the Senator, Luther and herself, sitting in the semicircle. Thebackground was good. Luther had been right about changing theflowers. Abigail showed none of the tension she’d exhibited off-camera. The footage on Apple Junction was well chosen. Abigail’sreminiscences about her early life had just the right touch of humaninterest. And it’s all such a lie, Pat thought.The films of Abigail and Willard Jennings at their weddingreception, at parties on the estate, during his campaigns. Abigail’stender memories of her husband as the clips were shown. “Willardand I . . . ,” “My husband and I . . .” Funny she never once referred tohim as Billy.With growing awareness, Pat realized that the films of Abigail asa young woman had an oddly familiar quality. They were evokingmemories that had nothing to do with her having viewed them somany times. Why was that happening now?There was a commercial break.The segment about Eleanor Brown and the embezzled funds wouldcome next.

 

Arthur heard Patricia Traymore go down the stairs. Cautiously hetiptoed until he was sure he was listening to the faint sounds of thetelevision broadcast coming from downstairs. He had been afraidthat friends might join her to view the program. But she was alone.

 

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For the first time in all these years he felt as though he were dressedin the garb God intended him to wear. With moist, open palms, hesmoothed the fine wool against his body. This woman even defiledsacred garments. What right had she to wear the raiment of the chosen?Returning to his secret place, he put on the earphones, turned on theset and adjusted the picture. He had tapped into the cable antenna, andthe screen was remarkably clear. Kneeling as before an altar, his handslocked in the posture of prayer, Arthur began to watch the program.

 

Lila sat watching the documentary, her dinner on a tray before her.It was hard to make even a pretense of eating. Her absolute certaintythat Pat was in serious danger only heightened as she saw Pat’s imageon the screen.Cassandra’s warnings, she thought bitterly. Pat won’t listen to me.She simply has to get out of that house
or she will suffer a deathmore violent than her parents endured. She is running out of time.
Lila had met Sam Kingsley just once and liked him very much.She sensed that he was important to Pat. Would it be of any use to tryto talk to Congressman Kingsley, share her apprehension with him?Could she possibly persuade him to insist that Pat leave her homeuntil this dark aura around it dissolved?She pushed the tray aside, got up and reached for the green book.She would call him immediately.

 

Sam went directly to his office from the restaurant.He had several meetings scheduled, but found it impossible to concentrateon any of them. His mind kept returning to the luncheon discussions.They had built a strong circumstantial case against Toby Gorgone,but Sam had been a prosecutor long enough to know that strongcircumstantial evidence can be upset like a house of cards. And theRaggedy Ann doll was upsetting the case against Toby. If Toby wasinnocent of involvement in the plane crash and the embezzled funds,if Catherine Graney had been the victim of a random mugging, then

 

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Abigail Jennings was what she seemed to be—above reproach and aworthy candidate for the job most people expected her to get. But themore Sam thought about Toby, the more uneasy he got.At twenty after six he was finally free and immediately dialed Pat.Her phone was busy. Quickly he locked his desk. He wanted to gethome in time to watch the documentary.The sound of the telephone stopped him as he was rushing out ofthe office. Some instinct warned him not to ignore it.It was Jack Carlson. “Sam, are you alone?”“Yes.”“We have some new developments in the Catherine Graney case.Her son found a draft of a letter she wrote to Senator Jennings. A letterthat probably arrived at the Senator’s house yesterday. It’s pretty strongstuff. Mrs. Graney intended to attack Senator Jennings’ version of herrelationship with her husband, and she was going to sue her for libel ifshe didn’t retract her statements about pilot error on the program.”Sam whistled. “Are you saying that Abigail may have receivedthat letter yesterday?”“Exactly. But that isn’t the half of it. Mrs. Graney’s neighbors hada party last night. We got a list of the guests and checked them all out.One young couple who came late, about eleven-fifteen or so, hadtrouble locating the exact street. They’d asked directions from a guywho was getting in his car two blocks away. He brushed them offfast. The car was a black Toyota, with Virginia plates. They describedsomeone who sounds like Gorgone. The girl even remembers he waswearing a heavy, dark ring. We’re picking Toby up for questioning.Do you think you ought to phone the White House?”
Toby might have been seen near the site of Catherine Graney’smurder. If he had killed Catherine Graney, everything else theysuspected of him was possible, even logical.
“Abigail has to knowabout this immediately,” Sam said. “I’ll go to her now. She shouldhave the chance to withdraw her name from consideration. If sherefuses, I’ll call the President myself. Even if she had no idea of whatToby was up to, she’s got to accept the moral responsibility.”

 

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“I don’t think that lady has ever worried about moral responsibility.If J. Edgar were alive, she wouldn’t have gotten this far toward theVice Presidency. You saw that article in the
Trib
the other day aboutwhat great pals she was with Congressman Adams and his wife.”“I saw it.”“Like the paper said, there was always a rumor that another womanwas the direct cause of the fatal quarrel. I was new in the Bureauwhen that case broke, but when I read that article, something startedbugging me. On a hunch I pulled the Adams file. We have a memo init about a freshman Congresswoman named Abigail Jennings. Allthe indications were that
she
was that other woman.”

 

Try as she would, Abigail couldn’t rest. The knowledge that in afew hours she would be nominated to be Vice President of the UnitedStates was too exhilarating to bear.Madam Vice President.
Air Force Two
and the mansion on thegrounds of the old Naval Observatory. Presiding over the Senate andrepresenting the President all over the world.In two years the Presidential nomination. I’ll win, she promised herself.Golda Meir. Indira Gandhi. Margaret Thatcher. Abigail Jennings.The Senate had been a mighty step up. The night she was electedLuther had said, “Well, Abigail, you’re a member of the world’s mostexclusive club.”Now another vast step was impending. No longer one of onehundred Senators, but the second-highest official in the land.She had decided to wear a three-piece outfit, a silk blouse andskirt with a knitted jacket, in tones of pink and gray. It would showup well on the television sets.Vice President Abigail Jennings . . .It was six-fifteen. She got up from the chaise, went over to herdressing table and brushed her hair. With deft strokes she applied atouch of eye shadow and mascara. Excitement had flushed her cheeks;she didn’t need blush. She might as well get dressed now, watch theprogram and practice her acceptance speech until it was time to leavefor the White House.

 

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She slipped into the suit and fastened a gold-and-diamond sunburstpin to her jacket. The library television set had the biggest screen.She’d watch her program in there.“Stay tuned for
Women in Government
.”She had already seen everything but the last few minutes of theprogram. Even so, it was reassuring to watch it again. Apple Junctionunder a fresh coating of snow had a down-home country look thatconcealed its shabby dreariness. Thoughtfully she studied the Saundershome. She remembered when Mrs. Saunders had ordered her to retraceher steps and take the path to the service entrance. She’d made thatmiserable witch pay for that mistake.If it weren’t for Toby’s figuring out how to get the money forRadcliffe, where would she be now?The Saunderses
owed
me that money, she told herself. Twelveyears of humiliations in that house!She watched the clips of the wedding reception, the earlycampaigns, Willard’s funeral. She remembered the exultation she hadfelt when in the funeral car Jack Kennedy had agreed to urge theGovernor to appoint her to complete Willard’s term.The insistent ring of the doorbell startled her. No one ever droppedin. Could someone from the press be brazen enough to ring like that?She tried to ignore it. But the peal became a steady, unbroken intrusion.She hurried to the door. “Who is it?”“Sam.”She pulled open the door. He stepped in, his face grim, but shebarely glanced at him. “Sam, why aren’t you watching

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