Classic Revenge (6 page)

"What are we looking for, anyway?"

"To be quite honest, I'm not sure, Millie. I think, going by Claire's explanation of what happened to Susan
that morning, we should try to recreate what happened.
Maybe we'll get some sort of idea about what the police are thinking."

"Fine. Which one of us is going to play Susan?" Millie asked in a saucy tone.

Now, there was a dare if Trish had ever heard one.
Squaring her shoulders, she said with false bravado, "I
will. I'm more her size, anyway."

"Susan wasn't chubby."

"Ha ha, that's very funny. Come on, let's go upstairs."
With Trish in front, they walked single file past the dining room with the elegant cherrywood furniture and
into the front foyer where the stairs began. There were
no windows in this area to let in even a sliver of light.
Trish stopped, took a deep, calming breath, and said over
her shoulder, "Edna, Millie, be very careful. It's impossible to see a thing. Let's hold hands and walk up very,
very slowly, one step at a time."

"Trish," Edna said in a small voice, "why don't we
come back tomorrow and bring a flashlight?"

Uh-uh, there was no way that Trish was coming back into this house without Sam or Claire. But, her common
sense nudged at her: what if Millie or Edna got hurt during this little investigative venture? She'd never forgive
herself. Running a hand through her hair, she sighed,
ready to call it quits for the day when Millie spoke up.
"Girls, we can do this. We've come this far, and all we
have to do is look around the bathroom. Let's just get it
over with" Her voice was tinged with excitement. Trish
couldn't help but admire her spunk, but she still wondered
if it was the right decision. Just because she personally
wanted this over with didn't mean it was a smart idea.

"Edna, what do you think?" Trish asked, giving her
the opportunity to voice her opinion. Whatever Edna
said, they would do.

Edna gave a very deep, audible sigh. "Okay, okay,
okay-let's go. But, please go slow. I don't want to
spend the rest of my day at the hospital because one of
you broke your leg, or even worse, your neck"

"That's the spirit!" Millie exclaimed. "Trish, you go
up first. Edna, grab her hand with one of yours and then
hold mine with your other. That way, if one of us trips,
we'll have help."

"No, wait a minute," Trish said, moving behind Millie. "Better yet, I'll bring up the rear. I'm younger and
stronger. If one of you stumbles, I'll be able to break
the fall"

"Well, that's a good point," Millie said.

"I'm not going up first!" Edna exclaimed.

"I will, then," Millie said, pushing Edna out of the
way. "Get behind me and hold on tight."

Trish closed her eyes and prayed for patience. By the
time they decided how they were going to navigate the
stairs, Sam could be convicted.

"Okay, gals, are you ready?" Millie asked.

"I'm ready," Edna replied, almost breaking the bones
in Trish's hand.

"Ditto," Trish groaned.

Slowly, leaning back against the stairwell wall, they
walked sideways up the stairs, one step at a time. Edna
started counting in time with their steps: one, two, stop;
one, two, stop. While part of Trish's brain tuned in with
the rhythmic chant, another part tried to deal with the
ongoing feeling that something wasn't quite right. Faced
with a clear problem, Trish was usually excellent at solving it, tackling it head-on, but this feeling wasn't something she could neatly classify. It was an aura, a sense
of ... what? That was the question. If only she could
pinpoint the what.

Finally, after what seemed like hours, Millie announced that she had reached the landing. With a collective sigh of relief, they stood still for a moment, shaking
out their numb fingers. It was brighter up here, sunlight
slightly filtering in through the bedroom windows and
faintly spilling out into the hallway.

Suddenly, Trish started to giggle. "What's so funny?"
Millie asked, a little worried that the stress had gotten
to her friend.

"As much fun as it was holding Edna's trembling hand
and learning to count again, it would have been much
simpler to have just held on to the banister."

"Oh, Lord," Edna chuckled, covering her face with
her hands. "Thank goodness there aren't any witnesses
to what we just did."

Millie was laughing so hard her side hurt. "If either
of you ever tells anybody about this," she gasped, wip ing a tear from her eye, "I'll deny it until the day I
die!"

Their laughter finally subsided, the welcome relief
from tension and fear spurring them down the hall. But
then Millie stopped and held up a hand. "Why is this
door open?"

Trish looked into the room and shrugged. "It's just a
spare bedroom. All of the other bedroom doors are open,
so why wouldn't this one be?"

"I thought you knew," Edna said nervously. "This bedroom door is always kept closed and locked. There's
a ... um, well, I hate to reveal secrets, but I'm sure Sam
thinks you already know .. "

"What does Sam think I already know?" Trish wished
Edna would spit it out. What was the big secret?

"For goodness' sake, Edna, I'll tell her," Millie said
impatiently. "There's a hidden safe in here. I've got the
combination written down in my address book. Sam always said if there was an emergency we should open up
the safe and give the contents to his sister."

"Well, then, Sam probably left the door open," Trish
said. "He either emptied the safe, or he just checked it
recently. Maybe Susan's will was in there. Who knows?
But who else could have opened the door if it was
locked? Let's don't invent problems, okay?"

"You're right, of course," Edna said. "Let's get on
with this. Joe went to the hardware store this morning,
but he should be home soon"

"So you didn't have to lie to him, did you?" Millie
chuckled.

"No, thank God, but I want to be home when he gets
there"

The elegant features of the master bathroom were
shrouded in gloom. Trish wasn't prepared for the rush
of emotion that ran through her as she surveyed the
room. Her friend had died here, a horrible, tragic death.

The room was big enough for all three of them to
move around. Trish wondered again if this was a terrible
mistake, their coming into the house to try and understand the exact circumstances so that they could help
Sam. Seeing the scene where the accident had happened
felt like an intrusion into personal heartache, an unforgivable invasion of the most intimate moment in a person's life, the unwilling surrender of a heart and soul.

In the back of her mind, Trish heard Millie and Edna
chatting about the gorgeous room, but their comments
were choppy, agitated. They felt it too.

Trish took a deep breath. Think about Sam. Remember that you're doing this for him. Do what you have to
do, and then get out!

66Okay, let's walk this through," Trish said. "Susan
would have walked in and probably started the bath water first" Millie and Edna moved closer and watched as
Trish bent over the tub, pretending to turn on the faucet.
She then acted out the steps she assumed Susan had
taken next, placing a towel over the towel rack, pouring
in bath oil, and, since there was no radio in sight-the
police probably had it she pretended to pull one from
the cabinet. It was while she was trying to place it on
the tub edge that her gut clenched.

Millie noticed the same thing. "There's no way a
radio could have perched on the edge of the tub"
"What are you talking about?" Edna asked, coming
to stand beside Millie.

"This tub doesn't have a normal ledge. Its edges are
small and rounded. You couldn't even place a bottle of
bath oil there," Millie said.

"Then, where was the radio before it fell in?"

Trish straightened and looked around. Where could
Susan have placed a radio? The nearest electrical plug
was above the medicine cabinet. The window sill was
too high up, and both the commode and the wicker
stand were too far away. If she had placed it on the vanity, it couldn't have accidentally fallen in. Suddenly she
shuddered, that strange feeling of unease returning, but
this time she felt as if they were being watched, that
they were not alone. "There's an explanation, I'm sure.
We'll just talk it through. But I think we can go now."

Millie and Edna didn't argue. They followed Trish
out of the room and into the hallway, where once again
they faced the dark stairs. "This time we'll use the banister. Edna needs to get home"

"That's right. I do," Edna said quickly, gripping the
banister with both hands.

Millie and Trish were close behind.

Outside, on the sidewalk in front of Sam's house, the
bright sunlight successfully chased away the lingering
traces of fear. It was easy for them to relax now, even to
giggle at their mad dash down the stairs.

"I don't ever want to do anything like that again,"
Edna said. "I don't think my heart can take it."

"Oh, pooh," Millie scoffed, "it wasn't that bad. Besides," she said conspiratorially, "we did discover
something interesting. How did that radio end up in the
bathtub?"

Trish crossed her arms over her chest. "I don't
know," she admitted ruefully, "but I don't see how it
could have accidentally fallen in." She looked back up at
the house-and then did a double take. Had the curtains
in the upstairs bedroom window just moved? Of course not! Still, she stared, praying that she could blame her
imagination for the tingling along her spine.

"What's wrong?" Edna asked, noticing Trish's startled expression. The concern was evident in her voice
as she placed a comforting hand on Trish's arm.

Trish shook her head and pulled her gaze from the
window. "Nothing," she croaked, cleared her throat, and
said again, "nothing-I was just trying to figure out
what could have happened" There was no need to elaborate that she was talking about the curtains moving.
That would really send Edna over the edge. Anyway, it
had to have been her imagination. Trish definitely, one
hundred percent, categorically, did not believe in ghosts.

"Well, it's a cinch to see what the police believe,"
Millie said with a grimace as she started to walk away
from Sam's house. "How do we tactfully tell them that
they're idiots?"

"Millie!" Edna exclaimed as she and Trish fell in beside her.

"I know, I know," Millie said too sweetly, "I usually
don't care about being tactful, but Sam's life is at stake
here"

"Millie Morrow, you know that is not what I was
talking about," Edna said impatiently.

Millie's lips twitched as she peered up at Trish and
winked.

"You're a pig-headed old lady," Trish whispered to
her. Aloud, she said, "Let's calm down. We have to admit
it does look bad, but that doesn't mean Sam is guilty. If
this was, indeed, a murder"-a shudder ran through her
as she forced herself not to look back at the house-"then
who could have done it, and why?" Nobody had the answer to that question. "What's even more curious is
why they're charging someone with the crime now. This
happened almost two weeks ago, and there hasn't been
any hint at all that they've been investigating anything."

They had reached Edna's house, where Joe's car was
parked in the driveway. "Since Joe is home now, I'll
find out if he's heard anything from Sam or the attorney. I'll call you if there's any news."

Millie nodded. "Please do that"

"We'll see you later, Edna," Trish said. "Tell Joe
`hello' for us"

"I need to do some house cleaning," Millie said as
she and Trish continued walking. "Michelle is coming
by today for lunch"

"Is she bringing those two adorable grandkids of
yours?"

"Of course-my daughter knows better than to come
over without them. I have to get my fair time to spoil
them, you know."

"You enjoy your visit, then. I think I'll try and get
some work done, myself." Trish operated an accounting
service from her home office. The work was fulfilling,
the hours were great, and the pay was quite good, but
it was entirely too easy to let outside influences keep
her from putting in the necessary time to complete a
project-like now. If Trish wasn't careful, she'd get so
wrapped up in Sam's tragedy that she'd be pulling an
all-nighter just to get caught upon her work-and the
older she got, the harder it was to work all night.

Millie took a deep breath. "Now that the of scaredycat isn't around, what do you think really happened to
Susan?"

They were in front of Trish's house now, and she stopped, shaking her head. Leave it to Millie to center
all the blame on Edna when she knew good and well that
they had all been scared silly. "First of all, Edna isn't a
scaredy-cat. She's just cautious"-Trish ignored Millie's
inelegant snort "and there's nothing wrong with that.
But, to answer your question, I can see how murder could
be a possibility. If it wasn't Sam we're talking about
here, I'd even say it was likely." Trish's voice had lowered to barely above a whisper.