I've Got You Under My Skin

21

Laurie had known that this breakfast would be charged with tension, but had underestimated how electric the atmosphere in the room would become.

It hadn’t taken a minute to know that Muriel Craig was a perpetual liar when she rattled on about how dear a friend Betsy Powell had been to her.

Everyone knew that at one time Muriel had been linked to Robert Powell, and that she had issued a statement after his sudden marriage to Betsy claiming that he was only one of three men she was dating.

What is she thinking when she looks around this house and knows it might have been hers? Laurie wondered. The dining room had a portrait of an aristocratic man with a disdainful expression, whom Jane had explained was Mr. Powell’s ancestor, a signer of the Declaration of Independence, of course.

I’ll check that one out, Laurie thought. She’d always heard Powell was self-made. That said, the dining room was beautiful, with its red walls and Persian carpet and splendid view of the back gardens. She watched as the film equipment was unloaded for the outdoor scene that would be one of the first shots of the program. They had already filmed the mansion from the front. Now Alex Buckley would begin his narrative as those clips were unrolling.

Jane had laid the juice, coffee, rolls, sweet buns, and fruit on the top of the antique sideboard.

The handsome table had been set for ten. The sterling flatware had the mellow glow of antique pieces, as did all the serving platters.

Powell is certainly making sure that this little breakfast get-together is a not-too-subtle reminder of who and what he is, Laurie thought as in quick succession George Curtis, Alison Schaefer and her husband, Rod, and Alex Buckley arrived. They were followed soon after by Regina Callari.

She watched with keen interest as the three friends, who had not seen one another in twenty years, clasped hands and then exchanged spontaneous hugs.

“My God, it’s been so long… You haven’t changed a bit… I’ve missed you guys…” were the seemingly genuine expressions from the three graduates, while Muriel Craig, George Curtis, Rod Kimball, and Alex Buckley held themselves back from the reunion.

Promptly at nine o’clock Robert Powell entered the dining room. “Jane has told me that Claire is not here yet,” he said. “In that way she is exactly like my dear Betsy.”

Watching him closely, Laurie was sure that beneath the façade of being amused by Claire’s absence, he was furious. He must have wanted to make an entrance with all four of the graduates here, she thought.

She watched as, one by one, Powell embraced each guest with an effusive welcome. He greeted George Curtis with a “Thanks so much for coming, George. We’d both be happier on the golf course.” He turned to Rod with a warm “We never did meet, did we?” Finally he approached Muriel Craig.

“I saved you for last,” he said tenderly as he put his arms around her and kissed her. “You’re as gorgeous as ever. Have you been in a time capsule these twenty years?”

A radiant Muriel returned his embrace, then, as Laurie watched closely, shot a look at her daughter, who shook her head and turned away.

“I see you all have coffee,” Rob said. “But you’ve got to at least sample the muffins Jane has baked for you. I can promise they’re delicious. Then please sit down wherever you want, except that Muriel will sit next to me.”

My God, he’s laying it on, Laurie thought. The next thing, he’ll be proposing to her on bended knee. She was surprised he was being so obvious. But of course, she was his old flame.

They all sat at the table, Alex Buckley choosing a seat between Nina Craig and Alison. Rod Kimball hobbled over to the chair on Laurie’s left. “We’re very grateful to you, Ms. Moran, for creating this opportunity for the girls-I guess I should say women-to try to clear themselves from the lingering suspicion that one of them was a murderer,” Powell said.

Laurie did not say that there were two other people in the house that night: Robert Powell, Betsy’s husband, who had been rushed to the hospital in a total collapse with third degree burns on his hands; and Jane Novak, Betsy’s longtime friend and housekeeper.

Jane had arrived in the room seconds after Powell had become hysterical.

It would have seemed to me that he wouldn’t want to keep her, but he did, Laurie thought. Since we’ve been around, it’s obvious that her main purpose in life is to anticipate his every wish.

“I can only imagine what it would be like to never know when some journalist will rehash the story,” Laurie said now.

“You don’t need a journalist,” Rod said grimly. “Everyone has a theory. There are wild rumors all over the Internet.”

Laurie realized she had liked Alison’s husband the minute she met him. His handsome face bore lines of the suffering he had endured after the terrible accident that had left him disabled and ruined his career, but she saw no trace of self-pity in his demeanor. It was obvious he was devoted to his wife. He had stood protectively at her side with his arm around her when she was greeted by Robert Powell. But why was that necessary? Laurie wondered.

“Well, let’s hope that the program will give people an understanding that these young women were incidental to the tragedy. I know my two assistants have read everything there is to read about the circumstances, and both are convinced that an intruder, who may have crashed the Gala in evening clothes, slipped in through the unlocked door and was after Betsy’s emeralds.”

The sound of the doorbell hushed all conversation. Everyone turned to look at the entrance to the dining room.

Robert Powell pushed back his chair and stood up. They heard the sound of footsteps coming down the hall, and then she was there, Claire Bonner, stunning with her blond hair touching her shoulders, her blue eyes accentuated by carefully applied makeup, her slender figure elegant in a couture suit, a warm smile on her face as she looked from one face to the next at the table.

My God, she’s the image of her mother, Laurie thought, then heard a strangled moan and the heavy thud of something falling on the floor.

Nina Craig had fainted.