Nighttime Is My Time

27

Jean was disappointed that Laura had not bothered to attend the memorial service for Alison, but she also realized that she was not surprised. Laura had never put herself out for anyone, and it was silly to think that she might begin at this stage of her life. Knowing Laura, she wasn't going to stand out in the cold and rain-she'd go directly to the brunch.

But by the time the brunch was half over and Laura had not appeared, Jean felt the beginning of deep unease. She confided that feeling to Gordon Amory. "Gordon, I know you were talking to Laura a lot yesterday. Did she say anything to you about not showing up today?"

"We talked at lunch yesterday and at the game," he corrected. "She was campaigning to get me to make her the lead in our new sitcom. I told her that I never interfere with the people I hire to cast my programs. When she continued to persist, I rather unkindly emphasized that I never made exceptions, particularly for minimally talented school chums. At that point she used a rather unladylike expression and turned her charms on our insufferable chairman, Jack Emerson. As you may know, he has been bragging about his considerable financial assets. Also, last night he gleefully announced that his wife had just left him, so he was fair game for Laura, I guess."

Laura seemed to be in wonderful spirits at dinner, Jean thought. And she was fine when I tried to talk to her in her room before dinner. Did anything go wrong later last night? Or did she just decide to sleep in this morning?

I can at least check on that, she thought. She was sitting next to Gordon and Carter Stewart at the luncheon table. With a murmured "Back in a minute," she walked between the rows of tables, taking care not to make eye contact with anyone. The brunch was being held in the auditorium. She slipped into the corridor that led to the homeroom of the freshman class and dialed the hotel.

Laura did not answer the phone in her room. Jean hesitated and then asked to be switched to the front desk. She identified herself and asked if by any chance Laura Wilcox had checked out. "I'm a little concerned," she explained. "Ms. Wilcox was supposed to meet a group of us and hasn't shown up."

"Well, she hasn't checked out," the clerk said genially. "Why don't I send someone up to see if she's overslept, Dr. Sheridan. But you take the blame if she gets mad."

He's the guy whose hair matches the top of the desk, Jean thought, recognizing both the voice and the tone. "I'll take responsibility," she assured him.

As she waited, Jean glanced around the corridor. God, I feel as though I never left this place, she thought. Ms. Clemens was the homeroom teacher when we were freshman, and my desk was the second seat in the fourth row. She heard the door from the auditorium open and turned to see Jake Perkins, the reporter from the school newspaper.

"Dr. Sheridan." The clerk's voice had lost its jocular tone.

"Yes." Jean realized she was gripping the phone. Something's wrong, she thought. Something's wrong.

"The maid went into Ms. Wilcox's room. The bed hasn't been slept in. Her clothes are still in the closet, but the maid did notice that some of her toiletries that were on the vanity are gone. Do you think there's a problem?"

"Oh, if she took some things with her, I would say not. Thank you."

That's all Laura would need, Jean thought, for me to be asking questions about her if she went off with somebody. She pushed the button on the cell phone to end the call and snapped the cover closed. But who would she have been with? she wondered. If Gordon was to be believed, he had brushed her off. He said that she'd been flirting with Jack Emerson, but she certainly hadn't neglected Mark or Robby or Carter, either. Yesterday at lunch she was joking with Mark about how successful his show was and saying that maybe she should go into therapy with him. I heard her telling Carter she'd love to do a Broadway show, and later she was in the bar with Robby for a nightcap.

"Dr. Sheridan, may I have a word with you?"

Startled, Jean spun around. She'd forgotten about Jake Perkins. "I'm sorry to bother you," he said unapologetically, "but I wonder if you can tell me if Ms. Wilcox is planning to show up here today."

"I don't know her plans," Jean said, smiling dismissively. "Now I really must get back to the table."

Laura probably got friendly with one of the guys at the dinner last night and went to his place with him, she thought. If she hasn't checked out, she's bound to show up at the hotel later.

Jake Perkins studied Jean's expression as she passed him. She's worried, he thought. Could it be because Laura Wilcox didn't show up? My God, is it possible that she's missing? He pulled out his own cell phone, dialed the Glen-Ridge House, and asked for the front desk. "I have a flower delivery for Ms. Laura Wilcox," he said, "but I was asked to make sure that she hadn't checked out."

"No, she hasn't checked out," the clerk told him, "but she didn't stay here last night, so I'm not sure when she'll be back to pick up her bags."

"Was she planning to stay through the weekend?" Jake asked, trying to sound indifferent.

"She was supposed to check out by two. She ordered a car to take her to the airport at two-fifteen, so I don't know what to tell you about your flowers, sonny."

"I guess I'll check with my customer. Thanks."

Jake turned off his cell phone and slipped it back into his pocket. I know exactly where I'm going to be at two o'clock, he thought-I'll be in the lobby of the Glen-Ridge, waiting to see if Laura Wilcox is there to check out.

He started to walk back down the corridor to the auditorium. Suppose she never does show up, he thought. Suppose she just disappears. If she does… He felt a thrill of nervous anticipation shoot through him. He understood what it was-a newsman's nose for a hot story. It's too big for the Stonecroft Academy Gazette, Jake thought. But the New York Post would love it. I'll get the lunch table picture enlarged and have it ready to run with the story. He could see the headline: "Hard Luck Class Claims Another Victim." Pretty good.

Or maybe even, "And Then There Was One." Even better!

I took a couple of really good pictures of Dr. Sheridan, he thought. I'll have them ready to show the Post as well.

As he opened the door of the auditorium, the first lines of the school song were being sung by the assembled guests. "We hail thee, dear Stonecroft; the place of our dreams…"

The reunion of the twentieth-anniversary graduates was over at last.