Don`t Close Your Eyes

13

Natalie awakened with a sense of dread she couldn't place. She opened her eyes and stared at her bedside clock. 5:55. She slipped out of bed and went to the window to look at the sky. A pale blue wave lapped at the dark shore of night. Birds chirped and sang. It would be a beautiful day.

A beautiful day for a funeral.

Natalie closed her eyes. How could she get through this awful day? She took a deep breath. As bad as this day would be for her, it would be much worse for Lily. Oliver, too, but he had Viveca. In fact, he seemed to have shut out Lily and turned to Viveca for strength and consolation. Natalie thought he was being cruel to Lily, but perhaps she shouldn't judge at a time like this. Still, the situation seemed odd. Oliver had always been so close to Lily-closer than to Tamara, much closer than to his delicate, retiring wife Grace. Natalie clearly couldn't ask Lily what had happened between them. In this case she would keep her own council. Maybe after the funeral the situation would right itself.

A cold, damp nose touched her and she jumped. Blaine. Natalie smiled and rubbed the dog's head. "It's early but I can't go back to sleep. I think it's time for coffee and dog food," she said.

When she reached the kitchen, Andrew already sat at the table with a mug of coffee and a piece of toast in front of him. "What? Just toast? Not the usual breakfast of a prizefighter?" Natalie asked. "What's wrong?"

"What's wrong? We had a prowler last night and you didn't see fit to tell me," Andrew said coldly.

"How did you find out?"

"I couldn't sleep. When I saw a police cruiser creep by for the second time in an hour, my laser-sharp brain told me something was wrong. I flagged down the car and asked."

Natalie calmly poured coffee. "I didn't want to alarm you."

"Alarm me? Natalie, you seem to forget who is the parent here."

"And you seem to forget that I'm twenty-nine, not nine." She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. "Dad, I was going to tell you this morning. Last night you looked so tired I didn't see the point in disturbing your night's sleep, especially when the police were keeping an eye on the place. Was that so terrible?"

Andrew took a sip of coffee and gazed beyond her. "No, I suppose not. In theory."

"Okay. Let's drop it." Andrew still looked truculent, but she wasn't going to argue. "The funeral is at two."

"I know. I'm bringing Ruth. Will you be riding with us?"

"No. Lily might need me afterward so I want my own car."

"Suit yourself." Natalie could tell he was still seething. He rose, dumped his remaining coffee in the sink with a splash, and clumped out of the kitchen. Natalie sighed. An awful start to an awful day. What had she expected?

Her father left around seven-thirty to make rounds. Natalie called Lily to see if she needed anything. "Someone to lean on," Lily said plaintively. "My father acts like he's the only one suffering."

"Some people aren't capable of recognizing anyone's grief except their own," Natalie offered.

"Especially when they're encouraged to ignore everyone else by the likes of Viveca."

Lily's dislike of Viveca would be a real problem in the future if Oliver married Viveca. She felt she should say something placating, but nothing came to mind. Lily wouldn't listen anyway. "Don't think about Viveca today," she said. "Just concentrate on getting through the funeral."

"At least Warren won't be there. I guess I should be grateful for small favors." She paused. "I can hear your disapproval over the phone."

"I know you didn't like Warren, but he is dead."

"And even if he didn't kill my sister, he did have at least one affair. Do you know what finding out about that would have done to my sister? My pregnant sister? The bastard!"

The bastard who was killed hours after you found out your murdered sister was pregnant, Natalie thought. Nick's words came back to her: "Profound grief or shock can make you capable of things you never imagined."

"Natalie, are you there?"

The doorbell rang. Thank goodness, Natalie thought, overcome by guilt for even considering that Lily could be a murderer. "Lily, someone is here. I'll be at the church a little early, and I'll be at your house later."

"I appreciate it. And I'm sorry to be such a harridan today."

"Don't worry about it." The doorbell rang again. "I have to go. See you later."

She hoped Lily would turn down the virulence a notch before the funeral. Warren 's father would probably attend, and though he didn't seem too fond of his son, he didn't need Lily popping off at him every five minutes. Natalie also didn't want Nick hearing Lily's rancor. If he seriously suspected her of murdering Warren, her hot temper could only make her look worse.

Natalie's mind was completely taken up with the problem when she opened the door. She blinked twice in the light before she recognized his tall, slim form. "Nick," she said flatly.

"Her heart pounds with enthusiasm for his unannounced visit."

Natalie smiled. "I didn't mean to be rude. I'm distracted about Tamara's funeral."

"And you also didn't get much sleep because of a prowler."

"You've talked to Ted."

"Yes. I wish you'd called me last night."

"You weren't on duty, and it was just a Peeping Tom."

Nick tossed her a skeptical look. "You don't seem like the kind of woman who calls in the cavalry over a Peeping

Tom."

"You're right. After what you told me about a possible connection among the victims, I got spooked when I saw a guy watching the house."

"Did you get a good look at him?"

"No. I really only saw the cigarette burning."

"Then why are you sure it was a man?" Natalie stared at him a moment. "The height of the cigarette, although it could have been held by a tall woman."

"Ted said they found two cigarette butts. He'd been watching you for a while."

"I'd only been in the bedroom a few minutes."

"His bad luck was that Blaine sounded the alarm before he could watch for long." She looked at him closely. "Ted gave me the details."

"Dad also got the details later in the night when he spotted a patrol car. I was going to spare him until morning. He's furious with me, and that's without knowing I might be on the killer's list."

Nick's thick eyebrows drew together. "He has to be told,

Natalie."

"I will."

"If you don't, I will."

Irritation prickled through her. "This is my business."

"Not if you get killed. Then it's my business, and business has been too good lately."

Natalie felt slightly chastened. "I'll be careful."

"I have a feeling your idea of careful and my idea of careful aren't the same. I don't want anything to happen to you," he said fervently, then added as an afterthought, "or

Lily or Alison."

"Who do you think the prowler last night was?"

"Jeff Lindstrom. Trudy at the diner told me he was staying at the Lakeview Motel. I checked last night, but he wasn't in. I went by again early this morning. No Lindstrom, no car, but he didn't check out."

"Then where did he go after he left here?"

Nick shrugged. "Maybe he figured he'd be the first person we'd suspect after you saw him at Tamara's and decided to lie low."

"He can't lie low forever."

"No, but he can leave town."

"Oh, great. Can't you find out where he is?"

"I can run prints from his room, although at this point I have no evidence for a warrant."

"It's a motel room."

"Rented to him, so temporarily it's his property. Natalie, this isn't television. Things don't just fall into place."

For the first time she noticed he had smudges under his dark blue eyes and lines of strain around his mouth. She also realized that, tired as he was, he was good-looking in a strong-boned, square-jawed way. Definitely not the male model type but definitely handsome.

"Why does everyone in this town stare at me?" Nick asked in amused exasperation.

Color rushed to Natalie's cheeks. She felt like she did at fifteen when she'd had a crush on seventeen-year-old Hart Sullivan. A crush? More blood rushed to her cheeks.

"Natalie, are you all right? You're flushed."

She blinked. She swallowed. She stretched her mouth in a semblance of a smile. "I'm fine. I'm just dreading today."

"Sure you are." He was all solicitous concern. She felt ashamed. Tamara was being buried today and she was sizing up the new guy in town. Worse still, he'd caught her doing it. "I'll be at the funeral," he said.

"I thought you would be." Natalie fought to regain some of her poise. "Still looking for potential suspects?"

"Unfortunately, yes. I also need to talk with Viveca Cosgrove and Oliver Peyton."

"Do you think the funeral is an appropriate place to do it?"

"No, but they've both made themselves unavailable to me," he said.

"That must be annoying."

"Annoying? It's pissing me off. This isn't a game."

"Oliver and Viveca don't realize Lily and Alison might be in danger."

Nick sliced his hand impatiently through the air. "So what? I'm the sheriff, dammit. I'm trying to solve three murders, one of them Peyton's daughter's. The Cosgrove woman is supposed to be in love with him and to care about Tamara. I shouldn't have to chase them down. They should be eager to help me in any way they can instead of acting like I'm some nosy pest."

Natalie looked at him sympathetically. "They're both really highhanded."

"Well, they can get off their thrones voluntarily or I'll damn well drag them off. I'm getting sick of people like Oliver Peyton and Max Bishop."

"Max Bishop won't talk to you, either?"

"I stand corrected. He will. He called yesterday to yell that I'm not doing my job. His body may be debilitated, but his voice is in fine working order. He says Purdue would have had this whole thing solved in twenty-four hours."

"Purdue wouldn't have known what to do if the killer walked right up to him and confessed," Natalie said scornfully. "Real "police work scared him to death, sent him straight to his office for a shot of courage he thought no one knew he kept in his desk drawer. Nick, you have to realize that Oliver Peyton, Viveca Cosgrove, and Max Bishop are big fish in a very little pond called Port Ariel and Purdue was their flunky. Don't let any of them run over you because you're trying to fit in around here. You'll never fit in like Purdue did and most people in this town thank God that you don't."

Nick relaxed slightly and grinned. "Thanks, coach."

"I didn't mean to preach."

"I needed a sermon. You're right-I can't let these people get to me. If I do, I can't think clearly."

"Well, I for one want you thinking as clearly as possible, Nick, because without you, this killer will go free." Natalie shivered. "And I think he'll kill again. I can feel it."

Natalie could not remember enduring a longer funeral service. Lily looked as pale as death itself. Oliver sat frozen faced, his black-and-silver hair slicked into place, his dark gray suit exquisite, although he looked as if he'd lost ten pounds; the suit was too big in the shoulders. Beside him Viveca posed in equal sartorial splendor, diamond studs glistening on her earlobes. Alison slumped in her pew, her face vacant, her restless hands twisting strands of her flaxen hair. Several times Viveca reached up to gently stop the nervous movement.

Lily shot Viveca and Alison scalding glances, clearly resenting their places with the family while aunts, uncles, and cousins were relegated to more distant pews. Warren 's father had not come, although his young wife fidgeted in stylish boredom beside Warren 's hulking brother who seemed to be dozing.

Natalie sat with her father and Ruth. Every time Andrew kneeled, his knees popped and his face reddened. Ruth cast him a couple of encouraging smiles. Natalie wondered how serious they were. They hadn't been seeing each other long, and Andrew swore he "barely knew" Ruth, but they seemed close. Natalie wished he would find someone. He'd been alone too long.

Suddenly she realized she was thinking of everything except the service. Deliberately. If she didn't, she would cry and she didn't want to cause a scene. Long ago Natalie had learned to shed tears in private. She would do the same today.

At last the service ended. As they filed out of the church, Ruth let out a tiny gasp and dropped her purse. Startled, Natalie bent to retrieve the purse while Andrew firmly took Ruth's arm. "What's wrong?" he muttered.

"I… I don't know. Everything went black for a moment." Ruth managed a twitchy smile, although her face was dewy with perspiration. "I'm fine."

"You're not." By now they had reached the door of the church. "Natalie, I'm taking Ruth home."

"Oh, no," Ruth protested. "You'll want to go to the grave site…"

"I don't," Andrew said emphatically. "I want to take you home and have something to drink and a quiet talk."

"Andrew-"

"There's no point in arguing with him," Natalie said.

"It never stopped you," Andrew retorted without sarcasm. Ruth smiled. "Come on, Ruth. You're pale and your hands are trembling. It might be an attack of hypoglycemia, in which case you need nourishment." Or the service might have been a reminder of her husband's funeral, Natalie thought. Her father looked at her. "We'll see you later, dear."

With that they were heading for Andrew's car. Natalie watched them. A handsome couple. Andrew's concern for Ruth was obvious. He would take care of her, even though her attack was probably nothing serious.

As she walked toward her car she saw Nick Meredith almost running toward a light blue car. He wore a suit and had driven his own car to the funeral, but she knew he was on the job and something was wrong. She stood by her car, fingers touching the door handle, watching Nick tear out of the parking lot and make a fast right onto a busy street. Who was he chasing? It had to be someone he'd seen at the funeral.

If Nick had not turned at that exact moment, he would have missed Lindstrom, head bowed, creeping out the door of the church. He was trying to lose himself among the other mourners. He failed.

By the time Nick pushed his way through the sedate line of people in front of him, Lindstrom had made it to a white Cavalier. He cast cautious looks around him and met Nick's gaze. Their eyes locked for a significant instant before Lindstrom swung his long legs in the car and turned on the ignition. Nick ran. He was already firing up his car as Jeff Lindstrom spun away from the Sacred Heart parking lot.

Nick had left his car unlocked. As he climbed in, he saw Natalie St. John standing beside her car, looking at him. Her long black hair lifted gently in the breeze and her dark eyes filled with curiosity. He didn't know if she had seen Lindstrom-probably not-but she knew something was wrong. No time for explanations. Catching Lindstrom would be explanation enough. The creep may not have killed three people, Nick thought, but he'd terrified Natalie on Hyacinth Lane and spied at her through her bedroom window.

Spied on her. Lain in wait for her. Nick's foot pressed the accelerator. This bastard wasn't getting away from him.

He was one car away from Lindstrom. The elderly man ahead puttered along in an old, rusted Cadillac that put out a cloud of smoke. Every time Nick tried to pass, the car weaved toward the left. Nick honked the horn to indicate he needed to pass. The old man gave him the finger. Surprised and infuriated, Nick checked oncoming traffic, then roared by the ancient Cadillac. The guy gave him the finger again and laid on the horn. Nick quelled the impulse to return the obscene gesture, but he couldn't resist blasting his own horn. He wanted to pull the guy over, but he had to concentrate on Lindstrom, who was getting away.

The Cavalier shot around a pickup truck, nearly colliding with a car coming in the opposite lane. Nick nosed near the pickup, whose bed was loaded with a couch, a chair, a dresser, a stained mattress, and dozens of boxes. The guy deserved a ticket. Nothing in the bed of the truck was secured properly and looked like it could come flying off at any moment.

Which is exactly what happened. Nick had drawn close, watching for a break in traffic so he could pass, when a box took flight. He saw it coming and flinched even before it slammed against his windshield. Pillows, sheets, towels, and underwear engulfed his car. He swerved right, his front tire hitting dirt and sending gravel spitting through the air. He eased back onto the pavement, mentally taking down the license number of the pickup. The driver would be receiving a citation tomorrow.

Smaller debris shot from the truck as Nick pulled to the left and accelerated. When he passed the driver's window, he saw a moon-faced man with a vacant expression bobbing his head and singing. Nick blasted his horn and rolled down the opposite window. The sound of a Garth Brooks song blared from the pickup. The driver looked at him blankly.

"Stuff is falling off your truck!" Nick shouted. The guy nodded and smiled amiably. "Pull over!" This time another amiable smile accompanied by a thumbs-up signal. What the hell did that mean? Nick jerked his badge from beneath his suit jacket and held it up. "Listen, shithead, stuff is falling off your truck!" he yelled at the top of his voice. "Pull OVER!"

The guy's benign smile faltered. He looked in his rearview mirror. Then he slowed and began creeping off the road, leaving a trail of household items behind him. Nick didn't have time to fool with him, either. Dammit, where was the highway patrol when you needed them?

Lindstrom's Cavalier sped at least ten miles over the speed limit. He passed another car and gained even more speed. "Damn!" Nick muttered as traffic grew heavier. He'd probably never catch the jerk now. While cops on television never missed an opportunity to launch a high-speed chase, real-life cops were more careful in traffic. The danger of killing innocent people was too great.

Then the white Cavalier wavered and shot violently to the right, tilting slightly. "Blew a tire!" Nick shouted in glee. The car slowed and edged off the road. Two cars passed before Nick whipped up behind it. He leaped out of his car as Lindstrom slowly climbed from his. Lindstrom gave Nick an uncertain look, then threw him a guileless smile. "Thanks for stopping to help. I never was too good at changing tires."

"You know damned well I didn't stop to help with your tire."

Lindstrom's smile disappeared. He tried to look wary. "Hey, what's your problem?"

"My problem is that I'm the sheriff and I've been trying to get you to pull over since you left the church."

"I didn't know you were the sheriff!" He glanced at Nick's Intrepid. "That's not a police cruiser. I thought you were some nut trying to run me off the road."

He was lying. He'd seen Nick at Lily's store. Then at the church his gaze had directly met Nick's before he'd jumped in his car and taken off as fast as he could. But Nick had no proof, so he had to let the matter drop. "Why were you at Tamara Hunt's funeral?"

"I… well… curiosity." Nick stared at him hard. "Okay, I know how sick that sounds, but hear me out. I'm a reporter with the Cincinnati Star. I'm on vacation, and I came up here to see what I could find out about these murders. I've always wanted to write a true-crime book like Small Sacrifices. Ever hear of it?"

"Ann Rule."

"Hey, you read!" Jeff grinned.

"Learned in elementary school."

"I didn't mean it that way," Jeff said quickly. "I just meant that… well, maybe you didn't have time to read."

"I don't care what you meant. So you want to write a book. Is that why you've been asking so many questions about Tamara and Warren Hunt and Charlotte Bishop?"

"Yes."

"That's why you cornered Natalie St. John on a deserted road and gave her the third degree?"

"I didn't corner her," Jeff said hotly. "I just ran into her. It was daylight. Did she tell you I tried to hurt her or something?"

"No, but she said she had a hard time getting away from you."

"Maybe I talked too much. Hey, she's a good-looking woman, don't you think?" Nick stared at him expressionlessly. "Look, I didn't mean to scare her. I was just talking."

"You were asking a lot of questions." He paused. "And what were you doing with Tamara Hunt's earring?"

"Earring? I don't know what you're talking about."

"It fell out of your pocket while you were just talking to Natalie. Where did you get it?"

"Oh, the earring. I found it. Out on that road."

"And what are you-a bag lady in disguise? You squirrel away bits and pieces of things you find?"

Jeff glared at him. "No, Sheriff. Frankly, I did think it might be Tamara's. I was going to bring it to you."

"Oh, were you?"

"Yes."

"But when you discovered your pocket was empty, you didn't call me up and say, 'Sheriff, I found an earring on Hyacinth Lane that might have been Tamara Hunt's, but I lost it. It's probably still out there somewhere.' "

"What would have been the point of that?"

"If you're such a fan of true-crime novels, you'd know we might have learned something from that earring. I don't think you ever had any intention of turning it in to the police."

"Think what you want," Jeff snapped.

"Did you talk to Charlotte Bishop the night of her murder?"

"What?"

"You're not hard of hearing, Lindstrom."

"No, I didn't talk to her."

"Her mother says she saw Charlotte talking with someone fitting your description right before she left the house that night."

Jeff raised his arms helplessly. "I didn't know Charlotte Bishop."

"That isn't what I asked."

"Why would I be talking to her?"

"Your book."

"What would she have to do with my book? She hadn't been murdered when I was supposedly seen talking with her. I don't know what the hell this is all about, but-" Lindstrom seemed ready to burst into a tirade, then got control of himself. He flashed the grin that was beginning to grate on Nick's nerves. "Sheriff, doing this book means a lot to me. I'm sorry if you don't like me asking Natalie St. John questions. I'm sorry I didn't mention the earring. I'm new at this stuff." The grin. "But can't you cut me a little slack? How about letting me in on this investigation? When the book comes out, you'll be prominently featured in the acknowledgments. I promise."

"I don't care about your book," Nick said coldly. "Just stay out of my way."

Jeff's grin vanished. "I didn't have any intention of getting in your way, but you can't stop me from asking questions and doing a little digging of my own."

"I've given you a warning." Nick looked at him chillingly. "You ignore me, and I'll have you arrested for interfering with a police investigation."

"I've got rights," Jeff called as Nick walked back to his car.

"You just keep telling yourself that, Lindstrom, when you're sitting in a dark, little jail cell with one of our less civilized citizens staring at you like you're a prime piece of fresh meat."

Thankfully the graveside service was short. Lily and her father dropped flowers onto the coffin. Then Lily made a beeline for Natalie. "You're coming back to the house with me, aren't you?" she asked almost desperately.

"Of course. I told you I would."

"I know. I'm just so… Oh, I don't know. Sad. Confused. Bitter. I've lost my sister and my father."

"You haven't lost your father."

"Not physically. But that damned Viveca and her nutty daughter…"

"Speaking of your father, he's shooting meaningful looks in this direction."

"I suppose I'm not presenting a suitable picture of family solidarity."

"Lily, don't you think you're being a bit hard on him?"

Lily's hazel eyes flashed. "No, and please don't lecture. I need a friend, not a… a…"

"I get it." Natalie put on her sunglasses. "I'll meet you at your house, and no lectures, I promise."

Fifteen minutes later she pulled up to the Peyton home. Cars lined the elegant street for a block north and another south of the house. Natalie wondered how many of these people really knew Tamara and how many were here because their familiarity with Oliver allowed them in the door to slake their avid curiosity. Inside she recognized few people and decided that unfortunately many were here out of curiosity alone. Ghouls. But maybe she wasn't being fair. Perhaps some of these people were friends Tam made through War ren. Natalie doubted it, though. She'd never heard Tamara mention parties or conventions she'd attended with Warren. It seemed he'd usually left his pretty, shy wife at home. Natalie had no doubt he'd always been unfaithful. How many women like Charlotte had there been?

She was making herself angry, she thought as she approached the front door. There was no sense in going over how Warren might have wronged his wife. That was what Lily was tearing herself apart over and for what? It wouldn't bring back Tamara. And Warren had certainly paid a heavy price for his wrongs. Someone had evened the score.

Someone had evened the score. The sentence tolled in Natalie's head. Was someone trying to even the score for Eugene Farley by killing the children of people who'd been involved in his downfall? Or had Warren died because someone thought he had killed Tamara? Who would feel passionately enough to exact revenge for Tam's murder? Oliver or Lily?

"Natalie, thank God you're here!" Lily stood in the doorway, her blond hair escaping from the bow, her eyes anxious. "I cannot get through this without you."

Natalie swallowed. She couldn't manage a smile when ten seconds earlier she'd been wondering if her best friend murdered Warren. Slashed his throat. And Charlotte 's.

"Nat, what's wrong?" Lily reached out with her strong, long-fingered hand. "You look…frozen."

"It's just a weird day." What a creative answer, Natalie thought. "I need a drink."

"You've come to the right place. I feel like I'm at Truman Capote's famous Black-and-White Ball. Viveca has outdone herself."

When Natalie walked in the house, she had to agree with Lily. None of the somberness of other funeral receptions she'd attended prevailed here. Instead, waiters circled with trays of canapes. Vivid flower arrangements flourished. Candles burned and music played loudly in the background. An open bar operated in the dining room. Natalie felt almost dizzy.

"Lily, isn't that the waltz from Die Fledermaus!"

"Yes. Any minute I expect someone to start dancing. Either that or the next musical selection will be 'Bolero.' I don't know what Dad is thinking. Or even he's thinking. He has to know Tam would hate this. And my mother would be turning in her grave!"

Natalie shook her head. "You're right. I don't understand. Viveca usually has good taste."

Lily emitted a modified snort. "From what I've heard she threw a similar shebang for her husband. Former lover Eugene Farley didn't rate the same treatment."

Natalie stiffened at the mention of Farley. She didn't want to talk about him, but Lily had just given her a perfect opening. She girded herself emotionally. "Did you know Eugene?"

"Yes, a little."

"Tell me about him."

Lily gave her a bemused smile. "Are you trying to take my mind off all this?" Natalie smiled back enigmatically. "Well, whatever. Let's see. He was extremely good-looking. Pretty boy good-looking. He came into the store once right after he moved to town. He said he wanted something for his mother. He bought a cameo pendant. He was friendly and somehow seemed younger than his age. He also talked a lot about his mother. Anyway, the second time he came in he wanted more jewelry. I asked if it was for his mother and he said no, someone younger. He actually blushed when he said it. I'd heard he was seeing Dee Fisher. I couldn't imagine I'd have anything she'd want. He chose an antique garnet brooch set in eighteen-carat gold. It was pretty expensive. I remember he put it on a credit card. I know now it was for Viveca."

"Did you like him?"

"He was okay. Too shy and formal for my taste. Of course, you know me-I always go for the dangerous types that break your heart." She paused. "I hope Viveca didn't break your father's."

"I think she barely fazed him, which must have bruised her ego. Maybe she turned to Eugene because she wasn't having the desired effect on Dad. He's wary of women after Kira. I'm surprised he dated her at all."

Lily shrugged. "Maybe he was just amusing himself or trying to show the town he hadn't turned into some weird old misogynist. By the way, how are he and his new lady friend getting along?"

"I haven't quite gotten a bead on that relationship yet. Dad is being even more cagey than usual. Ruth certainly seems nice."

"You like her."

"Yes. And I don't want Dad to be alone, but he's spent so long dodging serious relationships I don't have a lot of hope."

Lily smiled mischievously. "Well, if things don't work out for them, I want Ruth for Dad."

Natalie glanced up. Viveca stood right behind Lily. She raised a carefully penciled eyebrow and swept away, her head high. Had she been hurt by what she'd overheard or merely insulted? "Lily, Viveca heard that," Natalie murmured.

"Who cares? She knows I don't like her."

The front door opened again. Nick Meredith stepped in. "What do you know?" Lily said. "The heat has arrived."

Natalie excused herself and walked toward Nick. His cheeks were flushed, his gaze restless. "Why did you leave the church so fast?" she asked bluntly.

"Nothing gets by you, does it?"

"I usually notice cars speeding away from funerals. What was it?"

Nick lowered his voice. "I saw Lindstrom."

"At the funeral?" she blurted.

"Don't announce it to the whole room," Nick said. "Yes, at the funeral. I saw him leaving."

"Killers come to funerals."

"Now don't get carried away with all those murder mystery cliches. Sometimes they come to the funeral."

"What other reason could he have?" Natalie asked. "He didn't know Tamara. What excuse did he give you?" She paused. "You did catch him, didn't you?"

"Yes. He said he wants to write a book about the killings. You know-true crime."

"And you believe him?"

"He claimed to be a reporter with the Cincinnati Star. I checked it out. He was a reporter for them until about three weeks ago. The editor said he'd left, but even though the guy wouldn't discuss details, I got the impression Lindstrom was fired."

"So he lied. What about the earring?"

"He says he found it on the road. Thought it might be Tamara's, was going to bring it to me, but when he got home he didn't have it. And he didn't mean to scare you out on that road. Says he was just curious. Also got a little carried away with himself because you're pretty and he didn't want to end the conversation."

"My looks had nothing to do with the way he was acting, Nick."

"Probably not. Not to underestimate your considerable looks."

"I wasn't fishing for a compliment."

"I know. If you had been, I wouldn't have given you one."

Natalie grinned. "Goodness, you're a hard case."

"Tough as nails, lady."

"What about Mrs. Bishop saying she saw him talking to Charlotte?"

"Mrs. Bishop didn't say she saw Lindstrom. She just gave a vague description of someone resembling him. Of course, he says he didn't know Charlotte and didn't have any interest in her at that time."

"Why no interest?"

"She wasn't a corpse, yet. Anyway, after all this bullshit he had the damned nerve to ask if he could be part of the investigation. Promised me an acknowledgment in his book."

"And your heart of steel melted."

"I was putty in his hands."

"The truth, please."

"I told him if he didn't butt out, I'd have him arrested."

"Do you think you scared him off?"

"Hell, no. He knows I can't stop him from asking people questions, and so far that's all he's done."

"So far?" ¦

"I've met a hundred guys like him, Natalie. He's a sleaze, but he's cool enough under pressure to tell lies without blinking an eye. I don't trust him."

"You don't trust who?"

Natalie and Nick looked up at Alison. They were both so startled by her smiling face they stared. "Cat got your tongues?" she asked archly. "Do you like cats? I do."

"I have a cat," Nick said, then looked surprised at the sound of his perky voice. He sounded as if he were speaking to a child. "His name is Ripley."

Alison frowned. "Why Ripley?"

"She wasn't supposed to, but my daughter saw the movie Aliens. It scared the daylights out of her, but she loved the main character Ripley."

Alison looked at him as if he'd lost his mind. "Sigourney Weaver played Ripley. Ripley is a woman. Wow, didn't you get that?" Nick colored as Alison's voice rose. "Your male cat is named after a woman!"

"My daughter liked the name," he muttered. "I don't believe she really thinks about sex."

Alison leaned toward him confidentially. "All girls think about sex."

"My daughter is eleven," Nick returned stiffly.

"Far beyond the age of innocence," Alison sneered. She winked at Natalie. "Am I right?"

Natalie was flummoxed. "I guess it depends on the girl."

"Well, with a mother like mine…" Alison rolled her eyes. "Hey, what's the difference between a whore and a courtesan?"

"A… what?" Nick blundered.

"C-O-U-R-T-E-S-A-N," Alison spelled loudly. "So? Anyone know?"

"I… well…" Natalie longed for another good, stiff drink. Nick looked like he was considering plunging out a window. Alison gazed at them with a twelve-year-old's innocent face and avid, ferreting eyes. "Let's talk about something else," Natalie managed finally. "You said you like cats. What about dogs? I have a dog."

"I love animals, but my mother never let me have one. I know about yours, though. You have the dog that stayed with Tamara when she died. I'm not supposed to know that." She gave each of them a canny look. "However, I know all kinds of things I'm not supposed to know."

"Alison, darling, I've been looking for you." Viveca appeared behind her daughter, placing her hands on each of Alison's thin shoulders. "Have you had anything to eat?"

AH the air seemed to flow out of Alison. "I'm not hungry-"

"Nonsense. There is some lovely foie gras-"

"I-am-not-hungry," Alison said through clenched teeth. "You only want me to eat so I'll be quiet."

"Darling, that's not true-"

Alison uttered a guttural sound and flung away. Viveca looked at Nick and Natalie, shrugged, and emitted a high pitched trill of laughter before darting after her daughter. "Good God," Nick muttered.

"Never a dull moment around here. My father dated Viveca. Alison could have been my stepsister."

"What saved you?"

"Viveca dumped Dad for Eugene Farley, then Eugene for Oliver. I think she might marry Oliver. Lily will be furious. She hates Viveca."

Nick frowned. "Tell me about her husband."

"Alison's father was Damon Cosgrove." Nick's eyebrows raised. "Yes, the writer. Two critically acclaimed best sellers. Then the poor sap came to his aunt's summer cottage in Port Ariel and met Viveca. They married, had Alison, and he never published another book. Not even a short story."

"Why not?"

"I don't know. Maybe he was just one of those writers who only has one or two books in them. Or maybe he felt overwhelmed by Viveca. I think she was about ten years younger than he but still quite the femme formidable, as my Grandmother St. John would say. Damon died when Alison was five or six. He was electrocuted to death in front of her."

Nick cringed, thinking of a five-year-old Paige seeing something so ghastly. "Viveca blames Alison's problems completely on the accident," Natalie continued, "but I've heard she wasn't exactly a well-adjusted child before it happened." She took a deep breath. "And now I'm guilty of pernicious gossip but I comfort myself with the thought that the more you know about us, the quicker you might find the killer."

"It's true that the more I know, the better, especially because Alison is directly involved as a potential victim and a suspect."

The music changed to "Try to Remember" from The Fantasticks. Nick looked around with a mixture of bewilderment and humor. "Viveca's idea," Natalie said. "She seems to think we're mounting a Broadway play."

"This whole thing is like a play," Nick grumbled. "And the more time I spend waiting for all this nonsense to end, the more I put Lily and Alison and you in danger. I want to talk to Viveca and Oliver now."

"Now? Can't you wait until all of this is over?"

"This could go on for hours. There's Viveca hovering over Alison. Find Peyton for me, Natalie. Tell him I want to see him and Viveca."

Natalie didn't know Nick well, but she could already tell when he was deadly serious. She also knew he was not someone to be argued with when he'd made up his mind.

"Mr. Peyton, the sheriff would like to speak to you," she said softly when she located Oliver speaking to the mayor.

Oliver made a swatting motion as if she were a gnat. "I'm busy. I'll speak with him later."

"He wants to talk to you now."

Oliver's lips pressed together. "Young lady, I don't mean to be rude, but I have said later and I mean later."

"Mr. Peyton, it's important."

Oliver Peyton gave her a coldly furious look. Then Lily said in a steely voice, "If Natalie says it's important for you to speak to the sheriff, then it's important." She gave the mayor a polite smile. "I'm sure you understand."

"Of course," he said. "Go right ahead, Oliver."

Oliver walked beside his daughter, frowning furiously. "I think you've lost your mind," he snapped at Lily. "I do not answer to Sheriff Meredith or Natalie St. John!"

"Please save the high-and-mighty act," Lily said tiredly. "You don't scare me like you did Tam, and you certainly don't scare Meredith. He and Viveca are waiting for you in your study."

"Viveca!" Oliver exploded. "What does Viveca have to do with this? Lily, I know you don't like her, but if you are talking your friends into bullying her-"

"No one bullies Viveca, Dad." Lily opened the door to the study. "Here's your shrinking violet now. I'll leave you alone."

"Lily, I'd like for you and Natalie to stay," Nick said. "Close the door, please."

"My daughter-" Viveca began.

"Your daughter will be fine for a few minutes, Mrs. Cosgrove," Nick said. "I don't want her to hear what I have to say."

"Hear what?" Viveca asked. "What can't she hear?"'She leaned toward Oliver and clung to his arm, frightened and helpless. Natalie exchanged looks with Lily. What an actress. Viveca Cosgrove could organize and lead an army into battle. "Oliver?" she implored tremulously.

"This is ridiculous," Oliver burst out. "You are alarming Mrs. Cosgrove. What is this all about?"

"if you'll all be quiet, you'll know what it's about," Nick said repressively. "I believe I see a possible connection among these murders." He then calmly, almost tonelessly, laid out the story of Eugene Farley and how Viveca and Oliver played into the drama of his death. "Therefore, you need to be especially careful about the welfare of Lily and Alison."

Viveca and Oliver stared at him for a moment. Then Natalie watched color slowly drain from Oliver Peyton's face. Even his lips paled. He looked ill and touched his left arm. For a moment she thought the man might be on the verge of a heart attack.

Viveca paid no attention to her supposed great love. She, too, had grown pale, but she came out fighting. "I think this theory of yours is absurd, Sheriff Meredith. I never did anything to Eugene." Nick stared her down. "Oh, we dated some and it didn't work out, but beyond that-"

"Beyond that he embezzled two hundred thousand dollars from Bishop Corporation to win you back," Lily lashed out.

"Well, that wasn't my fault!" Viveca returned hotly. "I didn't ask him to do it. And poor Oliver here defended him."

"And lost the case," Nick said.

"Once again, that was not his fault!" Viveca retorted. "It's ludicrous to hold us responsible for Eugene Farley's death!"

Nick looked at her coolly. "Mrs. Cosgrove, I'm not holding you responsible for Farley's death. I think someone else holds you responsible."

"I don't understand. Oliver, why don't you say something!"

"Maybe he's afraid to." The door had opened quietly and Alison stood there, glaring at Oliver Peyton. "Why don't you tell them what I know?"

"I… I don't know what you're talking about," Peyton stammered.

"Alison, go in the other room!" Viveca ordered.

"No." She looked at Nick. "People in this town were awful to Eugene. He was wonderful-handsome and sensitive and kind, and they caused his death." Tears streamed down her cheeks. "They all caused his death!"

"Alison, you don't know what you're talking about," Viveca said in the harshest voice Natalie had ever heard her direct toward her daughter. Her gaze flashed back to Nick. "If you're looking for someone who's bitter about Eugene 's death, look to Dee Fisher. She's that trampy nurse he dated when he first got to town. She stole drugs from the hospital. She even accused Andrew St. John of negligence and claimed he let Eugene die during the operation. She's crazy! She was also obsessed with Eugene. She threatened me when I was seeing him. She told me I'd pay for taking him away from her! She's crazy, I'm telling you!"

"Yes, you've told me twice," Nick said mildly. "And I'm aware of Dee Fisher's possible involvement in all this. But I'm not here to talk to you about my suspects. I'm only warning you and Mr. Peyton that Alison and Lily might be in danger."

"And what about Natalie?" Viveca demanded.

"Natalie, too. She knows that. So will her father. Right now I'm trying to talk to you about your daughter."

Viveca looked at Alison, who still hovered in the doorway, thrumming with tension. "Dear, go into the other room."

"I won't." Alison's eyes narrowed. "You're all covering up about Eugene!"

"What about Eugene?" Nick asked.

"Nothing!" Viveca nearly shouted. "She knows nothing! Leave her alone!"

"I know everything'." Alison shrilled. "You all killed him and you'll all pay!"

Her body tensed. Viveca jumped up and rushed to her as she began to shake and her accusations dissolved into babbling. Her arms flailed. Viveca tried unsuccessfully to control her daughter. She looked helplessly at Oliver, who sat like a rock. Nick flew into action, wrapping his strong arms around the girl. Even then she continued to writhe with amazing strength.

"I'm calling the emergency squad," Lily said.

"I don't want her to go to the hospital!" Viveca wailed. "Everyone in town will know. The talk-"

"Oh, for God's sake, Viveca!" Lily erupted and dashed to the phone.

"No!" Alison screamed. "Not the hospital! I'll kill myself!"

She picked up a glass vase, broke it, and tried to drag it across her wrist. Nick wrested the jagged glass from her hand while Alison continued to howl.

"She means it," Viveca cried. "She will do something to herself. I have to get her home."

"She needs a doctor," Nick insisted.

"Not the hospital-"

"Viveca, will you let my dad see her?" Natalie interrupted.

"Andrew?" Viveca frowned, then looked at Alison. "Darling, may Dr. St. John visit you? You like him."

Alison slowly stopped shrieking. "Johnny? He was nice to me."

"Yes, darling, Johnny was nice to you." Johnny? Natalie thought in amazement. "If we go home, will you let him give you something to make you feel better? Please?" Viveca begged.

Alison's breath labored in her narrow chest. "Yes. Okay. But only Johnny. Do you hear me? Only Dr. Johnny. And not here. I want away from here. I want to go home.'

Natalie took the phone from Lily. No one answered at her house and she panicked. Then she thought of Ruth. Directory assistance gave her the number, and Ruth put him on the line. With as little explanation as possible Natalie told him Alison needed him and would be at Viveca's. "I'll go there immediately," he said and hung up.

Alison looked venomously at Nick. "I can't bear for strange men to touch me. Let go!"

He released her and she sagged. Lily came forward to help. Remarkably, Alison draped an arm over her shoulder as her eyes began to glaze. Mentally, she was no longer with them.

Three minutes later Nick and Natalie stood alone in the room. Lily had helped Viveca get control of Alison, who had begun to scream methodically and tonelessly. They led her out to Viveca's car. Oliver had tottered out behind them looking like a man in shock. Natalie felt chilled to the bone by the awful scene. She stared at Nick. "What in the name of God was all that about?"

"I don't know," Nick said slowly, "but I'm afraid if Alison Cosgrove isn't our killer, she just signed her own death warrant."