The Way You Look Tonight (29 page)

‘Thank you so much,' Deborah said and hung up, her mind whirling. Finally Deborah knew the truth. Emily's ‘husband' was Eddie King, and the provincial Robinsons had treated the whole episode like a shameful secret because he was black.

But she also knew something else. The man who'd rented the O'Donnell house had claimed to be Edward King, but Barbara's friend hadn't described him as black. It could be a common name, but what were the chances of an Edward King moving into a house right across from Steve? ‘Very slim,' she muttered, her heart racing. ‘Very slim indeed.'

Four

‘Alfred, Alfred…'

A nurse checking the IV needle looked sharply at Mrs Dillman. ‘My God, is she waking up?' she muttered.

‘Al
fred…
'

The nurse leaned over her. ‘Honey, can you hear me?' The woman's eyes remained closed but her face twitched. ‘Mrs Dillman,
can you hear me
?'

‘You be on time for dinner,' the woman mumbled. ‘Beef stew, your favorite.'

The nurse took Mrs Dillman's cold hand. ‘Honey, I'm here,' she said loudly. ‘Can you
hear
me?'

Mrs Dillman's eyes snapped open. ‘Of
course
I can hear you. There's no need to shout.'

The nurse drew back. ‘I didn't mean to shout. You just surprised me. I'm going for the doctor.'

Mrs Dillman's hand clamped on the nurse's. ‘Where am I?'

‘The hospital, honey. You got a nasty bump on the head.'

‘Stop calling me honey. I don't even know you.'

‘I'm sorry, hon – Mrs Dillman.'

‘My head…'

‘Yes, a nasty bump.'

‘I hurt my head?'

‘Yes, a—'

‘Nasty bump. I heard you the first time.'

‘I must get the doctor. If you'll just let go of my hand…'

Mrs Dillman suddenly glared. ‘
I
didn't hurt my head. Someone hit me!'

‘Oh, I don't think so, honey.'

‘Well,
I
think so. And if you don't stop calling me honey, I'm going to—' Mrs Dillman gasped, her eyes widening. ‘I remember! I remember who hit me.'

‘That's fine. I'll get the doctor and you can tell him all about it.'

‘Don't try to humor me!' Mrs Dillman clutched fiercely at the nurse's hand. ‘That young woman – Deborah! I must warn Deborah!'

‘We'll see what the doctor has to say,' the nurse soothed.

‘The doctor, hell!' Mrs Dillman exploded. ‘I'm telling you, I'm not rambling! This is important!'

‘Now, now, don't get yourself upset.'

‘Don't you “
now, now
” me! I want to talk to Deborah.' Frantic pleading showed in Mrs Dillman's faded eyes. ‘
Please
listen to me. I have to tell Deborah!'

The phone jangled. Deborah jerked. She wondered if she would ever react normally again to the ringing of a telephone. She picked it up, certain it was Joe wondering if she'd discovered anything important in her plunder from the Robinson house. ‘Deborah?'

‘Pete!' she said with a start. ‘What's wrong?'

‘Nothing with the children. They're fine. Are you alone?'

‘Alone? Of course. Joe's in his room.'

‘You must promise me you won't call him.'

‘Why?' Deborah sat up straighter. ‘Pete, you're scaring me.'

‘I don't mean to, but you must promise. And I want you to turn on the television for background noise.'

His voice was strained, even slightly quavery. He had bad news to impart, and Deborah wanted him to get it out. She clambered to the foot of the bed, turned on the television, then picked up the receiver again. ‘All right. The television is on and I promise I won't call Joe. Now what
is
it?'

‘It's Barbara. A couple of hours ago her body was found in the O'Donnell house. The police believe she was killed last night.'

Deborah stared straight ahead. A low roar started in her ears, gained volume, then diminished again. Her body seemed to have gone numb, and her breathing was slow and shallow. Finally Pete said, ‘Deborah? Are you there?'

‘Yes.' The word came out in a long sigh. ‘How was she killed?'

‘She was beaten and strangled.'

Deborah choked. ‘Oh, God, just like—'

‘The Dark Alley Strangler's victims. Deborah, I'm so sorry.'

‘She was so curious about that house. She must have sneaked in to investigate.' She drew in a sharp breath. ‘Where's Evan?'

‘I have no idea. Maybe he knows about her. I haven't seen him.'

‘She suspected him, Pete. She thought maybe he was the Strangler.'

‘I don't think he is.' She heard Pete breathing heavily in agitation. ‘Deborah, you must listen to me very carefully. I was worried about you last night. I had a bad feeling, don't ask me why. Anyway, I drove past your house around 2 a.m. and I saw Joe. He was outside, Deborah, going around the side of your house.'

‘The side of the house?'

‘He could have been coming back from the O'Donnell house.'

Deborah felt the blood draining from her face. ‘No, he couldn't have had anything to do with Barbara's death.'

‘We can't
know
that. Deborah, did Barbara express any suspicion of Joe?'

Deborah's mind whirled. She could see Barbara sitting stiffly on her couch. She'd said Evan thought maybe the Strangler was someone Steve worked with, someone who knew his patterns. ‘Of course Joe's acting odd…He's become your watchdog.' Barbara's words rang in her ears.

‘She
was
suspicious, wasn't she?' Pete asked. ‘And now you're in Wheeling alone with him. He's probably in the room next door, isn't he?'

‘Yes,' Deborah whispered. ‘We have adjoining rooms although the doors are locked.'

‘I want you to get out of there,' Pete said firmly. ‘Let the television run and leave quietly, avoiding his window. Get to a public phone. Call a taxi. Then rent a car, take a bus, anything. Just get back here.'

‘Pete, wouldn't it be better if I called the police?'

Joe tapped on the adjoining door and Deborah nearly dropped the phone. ‘Deborah? You asleep in there?'

‘Answer him!' Pete was hissing over the phone. ‘Act natural and answer him.'

‘No,' Deborah called thinly. ‘I was just going over the yearbooks.'

‘Find anything interesting?'

‘Not yet.'

‘I thought I heard the phone.'

‘Oh…uh…someone called the wrong room.'

‘Are you sure you're all right? You sound strange.'

‘I'm fine.'

‘You don't sound fine. I thought you might like something from the coffee shop next door.'

Deborah had been holding the receiver to her ear through the interchange with Joe. ‘Say yes,' Pete ordered. ‘Say you want something from the coffee shop and get him out of his room.'

‘I'll see you as soon as I can,' Deborah whispered into the phone. She hung up. Then she climbed off the bed, slipped on her coat, and opened the door leading into his room. He heard her and opened his own. ‘I'd just love some coffee.'

Joe smiled. ‘I didn't think you'd been in the mood for sleep.'

‘I'm also starving.' Joe looked at her quizzically. ‘I don't know what's wrong with me. I feel like I didn't eat any dinner. Could you also get me a doughnut or a Danish? Maybe a piece of pie.'

‘Well, sure. What kind of pie?'

‘Cherry. Or apple. Or whatever they have that looks good.'

Joe was frowning slightly. ‘Anything else?'

‘No. Coffee and something sweet would be wonderful.' Her voice was higher-pitched than normal. She couldn't make it sound natural. ‘Oh, by the way, Joe, I've lost an earring. It's probably in your car. Would you mind letting me have the keys? I'll look for it while you're gone.'

His forehead creased. ‘You have to get the earring tonight? It's really nasty outside.'

‘I'm sure to forget about it tomorrow.' She tried to look regretful. ‘You see, it's one of a pair Steve gave me, and I'm afraid if I don't get it now, it might fall out of the car or slip down into a seat and I'll never find it.'

‘I can look for you.'

‘No, you get the coffee,' she said quickly. Then she smiled. ‘I'm really dying for coffee and something to eat. I'll look for the earring.'

Joe shrugged and reached in his pocket for his keys. ‘Okay. Here you go.'

Puzzlement showed in his gray eyes and she tried a sheepish smile. ‘I know this anxiety over an earring seems silly, but at a time like this…'

‘If it'll make you feel better, look all night,' he said. ‘I'll walk next door and get the coffee.'

‘Thanks so much, Joe.' Deborah shut the adjoining door. She waited until she heard the front door of his room close and immediately took off the coat, slipped on her slacks, sweater, and shoes, redonned the coat, and stepped out of her room casually. Joe was rounding the side of the motel, his head bent against the snow, his hands buried in his pockets. She made a beeline for the car and slipped the key into the lock. Just as she turned it, a hand touched her shoulder.

She stifled a scream and whirled round to face a slender, brown-haired man she'd never seen in her life. He was nice-looking in a hard way, but a tic around his eye detracted from what could have been a handsome face. ‘What is it?'

‘Mrs Robinson, I've got to talk to you.'

‘How do you know my name?' Deborah asked, her heart pounding. ‘Who are you?'

‘My name's not important,' the man said. ‘But I know where your husband is.'

Her alarm growing, Deborah stared at him. ‘What are you talking about?'

‘I'm talkin' about your husband, Steve. I know where he is. You've gotta talk to me.'

Deborah didn't know
how
she knew, but she did and her skin turned icy. ‘You're Artie Lieber, aren't you?'

‘I've been trying to get to you for days, but someone's always around.' His hand closed more firmly on her shoulder. ‘I finally got you alone.'

‘Let me go!' Deborah cried.

‘You and me, we're gonna get in that Jeep and we're goin' someplace.'

‘No!'

She tried to twist out of his grasp. He looked at her coldly, then slapped her across the face. Her head snapped back and her eyes filled with tears, as much from shock as from pain. ‘Don't get hysterical on me,' Lieber said. ‘All I want is to talk. And you're
gonna
talk to me or—'

‘Hey!'

Deborah looked up to see Joe running toward them. Lieber's hand dropped away from her shoulder. Two men, one standing beside her, the other bearing down on her, and one of them was a killer. Without thought, she flung open the door of the Jeep, jumped in, and locked the door. Outside she saw Lieber running across the parking lot. Joe pursued him a few feet. Then he heard the Jeep starting, and turned just as Deborah threw it into reverse and shot out of the parking space. ‘Deborah, what are you
doing
?' he yelled as she shifted into drive and shot forward. He ran after her. ‘Deborah,' he shouted. ‘Deborah, for God's sake!' She shut her ears to his voice and drove as if her life depended on it. For all she knew, it did.

All the way home she thought about Barbara. What had possessed her to investigate the O'Donnell house? The irresistible urge to know for certain if Evan was the mysterious renter? If so, how had she gotten inside? Or had she been taken in before she was killed? Or afterward?

The possibilities were too awful to consider. And Joe. All the nights when she'd come downstairs to find him gone, once because he said
he
was investigating the house. And what about the night Mrs Dillman and Kim saw something? He'd been gone an hour and a half just getting Kim cough syrup. Then there was Kim's doll in the freezer. Kim had heard bells, and Joe claimed he hadn't been aware of her leaving the house because he was in such an uncharacteristically deep sleep. And the jewelry. Good heavens, Joe had lived in the house nearly a week. He could have hidden it in the basement at any time. He could also have put the doll in the freezer and rung bells in the back yard to lure Kimberly out. And Sally Yates. Jean said someone had tried to slit her throat. Joe's Lisa in Houston had died of a slashed throat.

Most frightening of all, what had he intended to do to her tonight? Kill her and drag her outside a bar? But why would he want to kill her? She'd never suspected him of anything. And what was Artie Lieber trying to do? Certainly not just tell her something, like he said. None of it made sense. And none of her speculating would bring back Barbara.

She reached Charleston at three in the morning, cold, frightened, and exhausted. A single light burned in the front window of Pete's house. Deborah almost cried when she saw it. Safety. The children were waiting inside.

Pete must have been watching for her. He opened the door as she came up the walk. ‘Deborah, thank God you're finally back safely.' He wrapped his arms around her and she noted absently that he was wearing a cashmere sweater that felt good against her cold face. ‘You're trembling.'

‘This hasn't been the best evening of my life.'

‘Did you call the police before you left?'

‘No. I just asked to borrow Joe's keys while he went to a coffee shop next door. But as I was getting in the car, Artie Lieber came up to me.'

‘Lieber!'

‘Yes. He kept saying he wanted me to go somewhere with him to talk. When I said no, he slapped me. Then Joe appeared. I jumped in the car and took off.'

‘Good lord! I never expected Lieber…' Pete trailed off, looking deeply troubled. ‘You had a very close call, Deborah. I didn't want you to go.'

‘I know. But I'm back now.'

‘Take off your coat and come into the living room. I've made tea.'

Deborah smiled. ‘Tea sounds good, but the first thing I want to do is see the children.'

Pete glanced at her in surprise. ‘But they're sleeping.'

‘I know. I won't wake them – I just want to see them. Which room are they in?'

‘Upstairs. The first room on the right. But please be very quiet. They were unhappy that you didn't come home and I had a devil of a time getting them to sleep.'

Deborah hurried up the stairs on light feet, Pete behind her, and opened the bedroom door. Dim light from a hall lamp revealed an empty double bed. She whirled to face Pete, who gaped at the tumbled covers. ‘Where are they?' she asked in alarm.

‘They were right here half an hour ago. I don't understand…My God, you don't suppose they tried to go back home, do you?'

‘Home!' Deborah exclaimed, appalled. ‘It's freezing outside. Oh my lord, Pete.'

‘Calm down,' he said firmly. ‘They must have gone out the back way. Let me see if Adam heard anything.' He walked down the hall toward the back of the house and opened another door. He glanced in and stared, his face expressionless. He quietly shut the door. ‘He's sound asleep,' he told Deborah. ‘I don't know what I was thinking. If he'd heard anything, he would have told me.'

‘What should we do?'

‘We'll cruise the streets in this area.'

‘Shouldn't we call the police first?'

‘By the time they get here and collect all the information they need, the children could have spent another half an hour out in the cold when they may be only a few blocks away. If we haven't found them in twenty minutes, we'll call the police.'

‘Maybe Scarlett can help us find them.'

‘She was sleeping in the room with them, Deborah. They must have taken her with them.'

Of course they wouldn't leave her behind, Deborah thought. ‘All right, let's go,' she said, her breath coming in short bursts. She felt as if she might hyperventilate.

They hurried downstairs and Pete pulled a down jacket from the closet. ‘I'll drive,' he said as they went outside and rushed back to Joe's Jeep Cherokee. ‘You're too nervous.'

‘All right.' Deborah handed him the keys. ‘I hope they stayed on the streets and didn't go through lawns,' she said, thinking of her own trip through back yards a few hours ago. Guilt stabbed her as they started out, going slowly through the heavy snow. She should have been home with her children. Instead she'd been raiding the Robinson house and dining at The Blue Note. And what had it all been for?

‘I think I've discovered who Emily's husband was,' she blurted out, following the train of her thoughts.

‘Oh?' Pete drove carefully down a slick residential street. ‘Who?'

‘A guy called Eddie K. He was a saxophone player at The Blue Note.'

They turned down another street. Deborah peered anxiously through the snow, desperately looking for two small children and a dog. Except for some cars parked along the curb, the street was empty.

‘I'm sure you're mistaken about Eddie King,' Pete said, craning his neck to look past her. ‘I thought I saw movement behind that tree, but it's nothing. Anyway, Eddie King was black.'

‘I think that's why the Robinsons were so adamant about keeping the whole thing quiet. From what I've heard about Steve's parents, they would have been horrified that Emily was involved with a black man.'

‘Well, that's certainly true.'

‘Pete, here's our street,' Deborah said. ‘Slow down.'

‘Sorry, I was just thinking about what you said.' He carefully turned into the cul-de-sac. Snow crunched under the tires. There were no tire tracks. No one had driven here for hours. ‘It's so dark on this street,' he complained.

‘Most of the houses are empty,' Deborah told him. Fred Dillman had left a porch light on. Every other house sat quietly in the night: the Vincent house, her house, the O'Donnell house. The O'Donnell house where Barbara's body had been found just a few hours ago. But there was no tape marking it as a crime scene, no sign of activity, no tracks in the snow. There it sat, lovely, serene, and untouched in the snow.

And it had been rented by a man no one had seen. A man who claimed to be named Edward King. Pete said he'd never been to The Blue Note and hated jazz. He couldn't have been a fan of Eddie K. She'd called Emily's love Eddie K. Yet Pete referred to him as Eddie King, as if he knew him. And Pete had plenty of money to rent a house in which he didn't plan to live.

Deborah's eyes fixed on the house and she stiffened. Pete glanced at her. She swallowed. ‘I still don't see the kids,' she said too sharply. ‘We'll have to call the police from my house.'

Pete ignored her, sailing around the cul-de-sac and back out on to the main road again. ‘Pete, we have to call—'

‘Shut up.'

She felt the blood draining from her face. ‘Pete, I don't understand.'

‘Like hell you don't.'

In the light coming from the instrument panel, Pete's kind, benign face had turned hard, sharp-angled. The day had been full of shocks. Lieber. The flight from Joe. Hearing about Barbara.

‘Barbara isn't dead, is she?' Deborah asked numbly.

Pete's tone was conversational. ‘Why, no, I don't suppose so.'

‘You told me she'd been murdered just to get me back here.'

‘To get you back here without Joe. I don't need him in my way.'

Deborah felt dizzy with shock. This was Pete, whom she'd known almost as long as she'd known Steve. Pete, who'd always been gentlemanly, considerate. Pete, who'd brought groceries and spent Christmas Eve with her and the kids.

‘Where are my children?'

Pete frowned. ‘I hid them somewhere. You'll have to come with me if you want to see them.'

Deborah stared at him. Her rapid heartbeat slowed. She suddenly felt calm, her mind working smoothly. She didn't know where this steadiness was coming from, but she was grateful for it. She couldn't give into nerves now. ‘You're lying,' she said coolly. ‘You were as shocked as I was to see that empty bed in your house. You don't
know
where they are.'

‘I'm as good at feigning surprise as I am at feigning friendship,' Pete returned equably.

‘Like your friendship with Steve?'

‘Exactly.'

They headed away from Charleston. The road was narrow and they were going too fast. Where in God's name was he taking her? She wondered. She reached for the door handle. Jumping from the Jeep would injure her, but injury was better than staying with Pete, because she knew he was going to kill her. Her hand closed around the cold metal.

‘Don't do that,' Pete said. The barrel of a gun touched her temple. She gasped and released the handle. ‘That's better,' he said in satisfaction. His driving had become more erratic with only one hand on the steering wheel, but he didn't pull the gun away from her head. ‘I
will
shoot you right here if I have to. After all, it's not my car.'

He sounded more concerned about the mess that would result from shooting her in the head than the fact that he was threatening murder. Aghast, Deborah folded her hands in her lap. His voice was so maddeningly gentle, but there was a sing-song quality about it. He didn't sound quite sane.

She took a deep breath. ‘Steve's dead, isn't he?'

‘Yes.'

Oh, Steve, she thought miserably. My poor Steve. ‘Why, Pete? Why did you kill him?'

He smiled eerily in the half-light. ‘You must know. I'm a brilliant man, Deborah, but I'm not insane. I'm not one of those egomaniacs who think they can't be caught. I knew eventually the police would get too close, so years ago I started setting up Steve to look guilty.'

‘Guilty of all those murders? You mean you're The Dark Alley Strangler?'

Pete grimaced. ‘I do so hate that absurd name the newspapers invented. It's tacky and doesn't befit someone who's killed so often and so brilliantly.' He sighed. ‘But that's the story of my life. No matter what I accomplish, it's minimized, tainted by the common man's very common touch.'

Headlights fell across the windshield. Another car came toward them, then was gone. What if the people inside knew what was happening? Deborah wondered. Would they try to help her? Or would they only think of escaping with their own lives?

‘Did you attack Emily?' she asked, trying to break the awful silence in the Jeep.

‘Oh, yes. She was my girlfriend. I wanted to marry her. Of course, the Robinsons didn't think I was good enough for her, including your arrogant Steve, Mr All-American,' he sneered. ‘But I wanted her. Then I realized there was someone else. And when I figured out who it was, when I discovered I was only being used as a decoy to hide her relationship with that black
trash—
'

He broke off and, alarmed, Deborah saw saliva collecting at the side of his mouth. Oh my God, she thought. He's a lunatic. She once again felt like reaching for the door handle, but then her eyes fell on the gun which was no longer at her temple, but still clutched firmly in Pete's right hand.

‘You must have been furious,' she managed shakily.

‘Yes. Furious. You see, I realized she was just like my mother. My mother bedded every man going. She thought when I was young I couldn't hear her in her bedroom when Dad was out on the road, but I did. Thrashing. Moaning. It was disgusting. And I watched my dad declining. He always looked worried, depressed. They fought when he was home, and he drank. He drank so much he didn't have time for me any more, and we'd been so
close
, Deborah. My mother didn't care about me, but he adored me. For a while he seemed to forget me, though, all because of
her
. But finally there was an awful fight when he actually caught her in bed with someone. He threw a whiskey bottle against the wall. He told her he was going to leave her and take me with him. I was
so
happy! I knew everything would be like it used to be, when I was small. Dad and me together. Best buddies.' His voice hardened. ‘Then he went out to the car, and that bitch followed him. He wrecked because of her. He'd had too much to drink and I'm sure she was hanging on to him, yelling at him.' His eyes filled with tears. ‘The filthy slut took my daddy.'

The filthy slut, Deborah repeated mentally. The woman whose picture Deborah had seen in Violet's living room, the beautiful woman with long dark hair. She was probably tall and slender, too. ‘I'm very sorry,' she murmured.

‘Oh, what would you know about it?' Pete snarled, the tears running down his face. ‘You can't be sorry when you don't know how the hell it feels to be left by the one person in the world you love.'

‘No, that's never happened to me,' Deborah said meekly.

‘You're damned right. Nobody can know how I felt.'

‘But you had your grandmother.'

‘That babbling idiot? And my lazy, ineffectual grandfather! He couldn't even earn a decent living. Our house was a disgrace. My clothes were the cheapest thing Grandma could find. I was what Adam would call a geek. I made good grades, though, and when I was in high school, I got on the basketball team. And I was
good
– damned good. But
she
ruined it all by insisting on coming to all the games. Even above all the noise I could hear her up in the stands, rattling on about
Petey
, for God's sake, jumping up and down and screeching whenever I scored, which I did frequently. Everyone was laughing at her, but she never caught on.' Deborah thought about the pride in Violet's voice when she'd talked about ‘Petey'. If she only knew how he really felt about her.