File M for Murder (35 page)

“That’s television.” Sean snorted. “We all know it doesn’t have a lot to do with real life.”

“I’ve had enough of
real life
to do me for a while,” Laura said. “It’s so nice just to settle into a routine with my classes.”

“What about the play your students were going to be
doing?” Justin asked. “With all that’s happened, are you just going to forget about it?”

“No, we’re going on with the project, just a different play. I suggested several, but”—Laura rolled her eyes—“Montana Johnston insisted we do his new play. Of course I can’t say no.”

Frank snickered. “Maybe another rousing failure will finally convince him to stop writing plays. He obviously has no talent whatsoever for it.”

“Without Connor here to insult him, he can pretty much ignore anyone else.” Laura frowned, and I knew she still grieved over the death of her friend, though she seemed to be the only person who did.

Frank clasped her hand in his, and she smiled. The adoring glance he bestowed upon Laura surprised no one. The two were now practically inseparable, and I kept expecting to find that he’d moved into my house.

They hadn’t gone that far, however, for which I was thankful. I’m rather old fashioned about some things, and that was one of them. If their relationship continued and they wanted to move in together, I’d have to live with that. But as long as Laura was here, under my roof, well, there were limits.

The conversation drifted onto other topics, and I sat and observed the interactions among my family and friends. Helen Louise chatted easily with Sean and Justin, while Frank, Laura, and Stewart discussed plays they’d seen in New York.

The four-legged members of the family were sound asleep under the table, their tummies full, worn out by more attention than they knew what to do with. Dante snored lightly, while Diesel occasionally woke to stretch and yawn. He then went right back to sleep. I smiled at the sight and enjoyed the general air of contentment and relaxation.
This was how it should be, family and friends happy and enjoying one another.

I thought briefly of Sarabeth Conley and Levi Norris and their sad story. Sarabeth apparently continued to insist that her father’s death was an accident, but she had admitted her guilt in Connor’s murder. She simply refused to say why she’d done it.

I believed I knew why. When Sarabeth saw Lawton’s play being workshopped, she realized the scenes were too close to reality. I was sure Lawton was present, hiding in the kitchen cabinet, and overheard Sarabeth planning her father’s death. He was too young to understand the implications at the time, but the repressed memories were there, waiting for some stimulus to revive them. The memories of the people and their actions seeped into his writing, and Sarabeth must have feared that the playwright would eventually realize that his work wasn’t simply fiction. She stole the laptop and killed Lawton to keep the truth behind her father’s death from ever being revealed.

That solution seemed reasonable to me. Perhaps the full details would come out during the trial.

Yesterday I had received a letter from her, and the moment I realized the source I was tempted to throw it away unread. But curiosity got the better of me, and I read it.

The letter contained an apology, of sorts. Sarabeth talked about family and how important it was, particularly the relationship between parents and children. “Sometimes,” she wrote, “parents will do anything—even kill—for the sake of their children. Surely you can understand that, Charlie?”

I did, but I had to deplore what she had done on her brother’s behalf.

But there was more to the letter, and my eyes widened with shock when I realized what Sarabeth was telling me.

“Having a child is a terrible responsibility, and we don’t always raise them very well. My parents didn’t do too well by me, but that’s life. Mistakes happen and can’t be fixed, but he’s my son, though he doesn’t know that, and I had to protect him. I hope you can understand that.”

She signed it with only her name, Sarabeth.

Levi was her son. The revelation stunned me.

I hadn’t shared that with anyone yet. I wasn’t sure if I would. Sarabeth had entrusted me with a secret, and I thought I should respect her confidence, despite all that had happened.

I focused gratefully once more on my family and friends and let the warmth and joy of their presence envelop me, thinking all the time how lucky I was.