Read To Have and to Kill Online
Authors: Mary Jane Clark
To Have and to Kill (15 page)
D
uring a break in taping, Quent went to his office. As he walked into the reception area, his assistant was on the phone. She covered the mouthpiece with her hand.
“There’s a woman named Jessie Terhune from the Metropolitan School for Girls on the line for you,” she said softly.
“All right. I’ll take it.”
Quent went into his room and closed the door. Sitting at his cluttered desk, he took off his glasses before picking up the receiver.
“Hello, Miss Terhune. What can I do for you?”
“Actually, it’s Ms.”
“I stand corrected,” said Quent, making an obscene hand gesture that Jessie wasn’t able to see. “What can I help you with?”
“I’m trying to get our auction accounts settled,” said Jessie. “I’m calling to inquire about when we can expect your generous check.”
“When do you need it by?” asked Quent.
“The sooner the better.”
“You know, Martha Killeen hasn’t done the photo shoot for me yet.”
“Are you saying that you don’t want to make the payment until she does?” asked Jessie.
“Well, I think I’d feel better that way, yes,” said Quent.
“When will she be conducting the photography session?” asked Jessie.
“Friday.”
“All right,” agreed Jessie. “I could come over and pick the check up on Friday afternoon.”
“Oh no, Ms. Terhune. I couldn’t have you go to so much trouble. I’ll send it over to you by messenger.”
“It won’t be any trouble at all, Mr. Raynor,” said Jessie, wanting to make sure she had the check for $100,000 in her hands as soon as possible. “I’ll be there Friday afternoon.”
A
fter work, Piper went to the hospital. When she entered Peggy’s room, she thought her heart would break. Peggy’s elderly and frail parents sat beside their only child’s bed. Their faces were etched with pain and worry.
Piper introduced herself. Neither of them seemed to recognize her name.
“How’s she doing?” asked Piper as she walked closer to the hospital bed. Peggy looked like she was only resting, as if she could open her eyes at any minute. But her face was devoid of color.
“The doctor said to hope for the best, but that her condition is very, very serious,” Mr. Gould answered glumly. “She’s in God’s hands.”
“Did the doctor say how long they would keep her sedated?” asked Piper, deliberately avoiding the words “in a coma.”
“Not exactly, but he thinks it could be a week or longer. He said that we didn’t have to wait here, that we should go and they would call us if there was any change,” said Mr. Gould, reaching over to take his wife’s hand.
“I have a car,” said Piper. “I could give you a ride.”
“No, thank you, dear,” said Mrs. Gould. “We have a lovely neighbor who is coming in later from Queens to take us back.”
Piper nodded. “Well, can I bring you anything? I could go down to the cafeteria or run out to a deli and get you sandwiches or soup or something.”
“That’s very sweet of you,” said Mrs. Gould. “But I couldn’t eat a thing. What about you, Ralph?”
“Nothing for me, thanks.”
Piper noticed a vase full of long-stemmed yellow roses sitting on top of the windowsill.
“Who sent Peggy the flowers?” she asked.
“Her boss brought them over a little while ago,” said Mrs. Gould. “Wasn’t that nice of him?”
“Quent Raynor was here?” asked Piper with surprise.
“Is that what his name was? I forget. Ralph, what did he say his name was?”
Mr. Gould shrugged.
“Well, he must really value Peggy as an employee,” said Mrs. Gould with pride. “He seemed very concerned.”
“Peggy is very good at her job,” said Piper. “Everyone loves her.”
Mrs. Gould nodded. “I didn’t know that Peggy had so many friends. It was nice that two others came by to visit and see how she was.”
“Really? Who were they?” asked Piper. “Maybe I know them.”
“One was a man and one was a woman,” said Mrs. Gould, trying to recall. “What were their names again, Ralph?”
“I don’t remember.”
B
y the time Piper got home, her mother was already in bed. But her father pounced on her as soon as she came in the front door.
“I don’t like what’s going on, Piper,” Vin said sternly.
“Hold on, Dad. I just walked in. Give me a minute, will you?” Piper put down the shopping bag containing her bloodstained clothes. “I don’t understand why you seem so upset. I called you this morning and let you know what happened, why I didn’t come home last night. You have to stop treating me like a child.”
“It’s not that you didn’t come home, Piper, or that we called you a dozen times last night to check on you, and that that damned BlackBerry of yours was turned off. It’s that you’re in the middle of a very dangerous situation. What kind of place are you working at?” he demanded. “People are dropping like flies over there—first Travis York, and now that costume lady.”
“Those
people
are friends of mine,” said Piper. She felt tears coming. She couldn’t take her father yelling at her now, on top of everything else that had happened.
Vin read the expression on his daughter’s face and softened. “I’m sorry, lovey. It’s just that I know too well what goes on in the world and I want you to be safe.”
“I know you do,” said Piper. “I can take care of myself. You taught me how to change a tire and jump a dead car battery. And you forced me to learn self-defense and first aid. In fact, I remembered some of it yesterday. The paramedics said that elevating Peggy’s feet and keeping her warm helped save her life.”
Vin nodded with satisfaction. “I wish you had let me teach you how to shoot,” he said. “Any woman on her own should have a gun as long as she’s trained to use it.”
“No way,” Piper said vehemently. “I’m not going to start carrying a gun. You know how I feel about them.”
“That’s a lot of liberal baloney,” said Vin. “Guns, handled properly, can save your life.”
“While taking someone else’s,” Piper retorted.
Vin knew from experience that he wasn’t going to change his daughter’s mind. “Well, let me check your pepper spray. And you have to promise me that you’ll
always
carry it with you.”
A
fter taking a hot shower and eating two containers of blueberry yogurt, Piper took her laundry, along with the bag filled with her bloodstained clothing, down to the basement. Emmett followed along behind her and Piper was glad for the company.
“How’s my little TV star doing, huh, Em?” asked Piper, picking the dog up in her arms and feeling the reassuring warmth of his body.
As she sorted through her clothes, Piper saw that her coat had taken the worst hit, but dried blood was also on the cuffs of her sweater and the front of her wool skirt. She’d take those to the dry cleaner and see if they could be saved.
Piper leaned her elbows on the edge of the washing machine and stared into the basin, transfixed by the water pouring down the sides. She felt overwhelmed with sadness. First Travis, now Peggy. On top of that, she had suspected for two days now that her mother was losing her sight.
She had been tempted to bring the subject up with her father, but he was already wound up enough about her being tangled up in the tragedies that were happening to others connected to the soap opera. She didn’t want to risk upsetting him more.
She had to talk with her mother and ask her straight-out. It was not a conversation that should be had on the fly. When the time was right, Piper would ask, though she was hoping her mother would volunteer the information.
No.
Actually, Piper was hoping her suspicions were utterly wrong. That’s why she wasn’t broaching the subject. She didn’t want to face it.
The thought of her mother being diminished in any way shook Piper deeply. Her mother was a constant, always there when her children and husband needed her, though entirely taken for granted most of the time. Her mother had always been strong and healthy. Piper rejected the idea that her mother was vulnerable. That wasn’t the way it was supposed to be.
Why was it that it took something bad to happen before you realized how fortunate you were?
Piper lowered the lid of the washing machine, resolved that no matter what happened, she was going to be there for her mother, just as her mother had always been there for her.
Thursday, December 16 . . . Eight days until the wedding
S
o far, sleep hadn’t come at all. In only three hours, it would be time to get up. It was going to be torture to get through the day without rest.
It had been a night of tossing, turning, and thinking about the visit to the hospital. Peggy was in very bad shape. Her neck was bandaged, her face was ashen, her hands lay motionless at her sides. Her body remained perfectly still.
Peggy looked like death.
But she was alive. And the doctors and nurses at one of the best hospitals in America were using every measure at their disposal to make sure she stayed that way. If they succeeded and Peggy survived, she would be able to identify her attacker.
It was tempting to think of a way to finish the job.
Yet it wasn’t practical. There were too many people around, coming in and out of the room to check on the patient in an induced coma.
All one could do now was hope, pray, and just keep wishing that Peggy died.
Friday, December 17 . . . Seven days until the wedding
T
wo men in dark suits guarded the metal case containing the diamonds. Arthur Walden himself had accompanied them to the studio. He had the case carried directly to Glenna’s dressing room.
Glenna greeted her future brother-in-law warmly, embracing him in an awkward hug. She hated that there was ongoing friction between her Casey and Arthur. Money caused fissures in too many families. Glenna heard Casey’s side of the financial argument many times, and while she knew Casey had an entirely valid point, she also knew it must be difficult for Arthur to consider giving up total control of the business he had run unilaterally for so many years.
She wondered how two men from the same gene pool, raised in the same family, educated in the same schools, could seem so totally different. Casey was easygoing, generous, and, except for this conflict with his brother, not focused on money. His professional choices reflected that. No one got rich teaching at a private school.
Arthur, on the other hand, looked worried all the time. Admittedly, Glenna hadn’t known Arthur for very long. In fact, she’d had dinner with Arthur and his wife only once and then seen them again at the auction. But the impression she got was of a withdrawn man consumed by his business interests.
She wanted both men to work things out between them, hopefully before the wedding.
“Thank you for doing this,” said Glenna. “It’s so good of you.”
“My pleasure,” said Arthur. “Where can we put this?” He gestured to the case.
“Right here on my dressing table,” said Glenna, as she pushed some jars and a can of hair spray aside.
The guards set the case down.
“You can wait outside, guys,” said Arthur. When the guards were out of the room, Arthur opened the case and began to unwrap one brilliant piece of jewelry after another.
“The neckline of the dress already sparkles, so I think a necklace would be too much,” said Glenna, as she inspected the gems. “How about these?” She picked up a pair of drop earrings consisting of round, oval, and pear-shaped diamonds set in platinum.
“Wonderful choice,” said Arthur. “These are exquisite. In total, there are over eleven carats. The color and clarity are superb. Together with your engagement ring, Walden’s will be well represented and Quent should be satisfied that you glitter enough.”
Glenna held the earrings up, watching them dangle as she looked in the mirror. “What do these sell for?” she asked.
“Retail? About five hundred thousand.”
“I like them,” said Glenna. “Who wouldn’t?”
“You can wear them at the wedding, too, if you want,” said Arthur.
“Really?” asked Glenna.
“Of course. They can be your ‘something borrowed.’ ” Arthur smiled broadly.
“I really should put on the dress I’ll be wearing with them, so we can see how they look.”
“All right,” said Arthur. “We’ll wait outside in the hall.”
As the door closed behind him, Glenna wondered if she had misjudged Arthur Walden. Maybe Arthur was a good guy after all.
P
iper was stretched out on the chaise longue in her dressing room, going over her lines, when her BlackBerry vibrated. It was Jack.
“I can’t talk long,” he said, “but I have good news and bad news.”
“I’ll take the good news first,” said Piper as she put down the script, swung her legs to the floor, and sat up straight.
“They lifted a fingerprint from that second letter Glenna received—one that didn’t match any of the prints she volunteered when she turned over the letter.”
“Great!”
“But here’s the bad news,” said Jack. “The print wasn’t in the system.”
Piper’s shoulders sagged. They were no closer to discovering who had sent the letters to Glenna.
“That eliminates Phillip Brooks,” said Piper. “A convicted felon, served a prison sentence. His fingerprints would certainly be in the system.”
“True,” said Jack. “But just because he didn’t send the letters to Glenna doesn’t mean he didn’t kill Travis or try to kill Peggy.”
Piper considered Jack’s reasoning. It
was
possible that the threatening letters, Travis’s murder, and the attack on Peggy weren’t related at all. Maybe the letter writer and the murderer
were
two different people.
