Killing Monica (20 page)

Pandy hurried down the staircase, and reaching the second floor, peeked out the front window. A cameraman and a woman with a device in her hand were standing in the middle of the rose garden. Now, this was just too much. Henry would be furious. Incensed, Pandy went through the French doors that opened onto a deck shaped like the prow of a ship. She walked to the edge and shouted down angrily. “Excuse me!”

“Yes?” The woman looked up.

“You’re standing in my rose garden.”

“So?” the cameraman asked, resting his camera on his shoulder.

“So you’re standing on at least two hundred years of history. Now will you please
move
.”

The woman gave Pandy a dismissive look and rolled her eyes.

“Hello?” Pandy repeated sharply. “I asked you to get out of my rose garden.”

The cameraman swung around, and out of habit or aggressiveness, took several shots of her in rapid succession, as if Pandy were the target in a video game.

“We’re trying to get a photograph of Monica,” he said pointedly, lowering his camera.

The woman looked up at Pandy curiously. “Are you PJ Wallis’s sister? Hellenor Wallis?”

Hellenor? For a second, Pandy could only gape at the woman. Then she felt the breeze on the back of her neck. She’d forgotten she was bald. No wonder they hadn’t recognized her. “No,” she snapped. “I most certainly am
not
Hellenor—”

She broke off and frowned past the intruders to the hill beyond. A squad of cameramen and reporters were now pounding up the rise like soldiers about to plant a flag on enemy territory.

And then the Porsche swung back into view. The mob suddenly organized, pointing their lenses at SondraBeth’s car and snapping away until the car disappeared around another hillock. Then they lowered their cameras and relaxed.

Pandy, on the other hand, didn’t.

She was going to have to greet the world looking like this?

She ran into the bathroom and peered again in the mirror. Was this fate’s ultimate insult?

And suddenly, she was furious. She pulled the fedora over her ears and strode out into the corridor. Now, thanks to SondraBeth S
chno
wzer and Monica, the whole world, including Jonny, was going to see her looking like this. The photos would be everywhere—and Jonny would laugh his head off.

And then, word would get out about the truth regarding their marriage, and the whole world would jeer about that as well…

Christ. Where was Henry when she needed him?

“Hellenor Wallis?” she heard a voice call out.

Pandy jumped. She hurried to the window at the end of the hall and yanked it open. Leaning out, she spotted S
ond
raBeth’s navy-blue Porsche parked in the kitchen lot reserved for family and deliveries.

Unlike the press, SondraBeth knew where to park. Back when they were friends, Pandy and SondraBeth used to come up to Wallis and have a ball.

Pandy banged down the back stairs, went through the den, and flung open the door to the mudroom.

Sure enough, SondraBeth was already in the mudroom, on the phone. She was wearing a tight-fitting black T-shirt and skinny black jeans. Slung over her shoulder was some kind of loose, baggy, unconstructed garment that swirled behind her like a shadow. Wrapped around her face like insect eyes were multifaceted iridescent sunglasses.

“I wish I could fire someone for this. I really do,” she was saying.

Pandy cleared her throat. SondraBeth turned her head and raised her dark glasses. She looked briefly at Pandy and quickly held up one finger. She went back to her call. “Can you hold on for a second? Pandy’s sister, Hellenor, just walked in. Thanks.” She turned back to Pandy and put her palm over the receiver. “I’m so sorry, Hellenor. I probably should have called to let you know I was coming, but I wasn’t expecting to be followed by all this press. Apparently my phone has a tracking device. I’m just trying to clear a couple of things up. I won’t be more than five seconds.” She nodded at her assistant, who was standing respectfully at the other end of the room.

She went back to her call. “I need to speak to PP, okay?” she said sharply, and hung up.

SondraBeth looked Pandy up and down and smiled. Stepping forward, she took Pandy by the shoulders. Bending her knees slightly to stare into her face, she said, “Hellenor. I’m so honored to meet you, and so sorry about your sister.”

Pandy’s jaw dropped. Was she joking? SondraBeth didn’t recognize her?

Pandy moved her face closer. She squinted at SondraBeth. “Squeege?” she asked cautiously.

“Squeege!” SondraBeth exclaimed. “That’s what Pandy used to call me. And I used to call her Peege. But of course you would know that. I’m sure she’s told you
everything
.”

SondraBeth looked straight at Pandy as her eyes narrowed knowingly. Pandy wondered if SondraBeth was trying to give her a message. Trying to somehow hint to Pandy that she recognized her but couldn’t acknowledge it.

SondraBeth smiled grimly. “In that case, I suppose you know all about Jonny.”

“Jonny!” Pandy said, emitting a harsh laugh. Her lips drew back into a tight line, and in a voice that insinuated that she understood, she said, “You could say I do.”

SondraBeth paused, again peering at Pandy closely. Seeming satisfied by what she saw, she nodded briskly. “Then you know what a bad guy Jonny is.”

“You could say that.” Pandy followed SondraBeth out of the mudroom and into the kitchen.

“I tried to warn Pandy before she married him that he was a bad seed.” SondraBeth swung open the refrigerator door, took out a bottle of water, and unscrewed the cap. “But you know how stubborn she could be when it came to men. And now she’s gone, and it’s too late. I’m never going to forgive myself for letting a stupid fight over a guy get in the way of our friendship.”

“SondraBeth?” the assistant was now cautiously standing in the doorway.

“Yes, Judy?” SondraBeth asked.

“PP in three.”

“Thanks.” SondraBeth began walking back to the mudroom. “The upshot is that all kinds of awful shit is going to come out about Jonny. I know you can handle it, but I just want you to be prepared. Pandy always said you were the kind of woman who would never get taken in by a man. And you’re exactly as Pandy described you.” SondraBeth gave Pandy another quick up-and-down look, reminding Pandy that she was dressed in Hellenor’s clothes. “A true individual.” SondraBeth picked up the phone. “PP?” she barked.

Did SondraBeth really think she was Hellenor? Pandy frowned and went past SondraBeth to the fuzzy orange armchairs. She sat down with a plop and stared through the back window at the makeshift camp that had been set up outside. She glanced back at SondraBeth, who was still on the phone with PP. PP, she remembered, probably knew a ton of stuff about Jonny. And recalling what SondraBeth had just said about her ex-husband…She looked up to find SondraBeth’s assistant leaning toward her with an outstretched hand.

“Hi, I’m Judy.” Judy was pretty, with round cheeks, brown eyes, and long hair that appeared to be natural. “I’m so sorry about your sister.”

Bemused, Pandy shook the young woman’s hand.

“If you need anything—” The young woman broke off to tap the piece in her ear as she turned away.

Pandy leaned back in her chair and shook her head. For a moment, she felt like she’d been thrust into some kind of alternate universe. Where she actually
wasn’t
Pandy. She closed her eyes briefly and laughed at the idea.

Then she sat up straight.

Because the thought was sickeningly scary. Flashing back to the explosion, she could taste the metallic grit of dirt in her mouth, smell the scent of scorched earth and scorched hair. She took a deep breath. The fact was, she very well might have died. But somehow, she had not. And now it was like the universe was playing a joke on her:
What would happen if you tried to tell everyone that you were you, and no one recognized you? Who would you be then?

She reminded herself that she must still be shaky from the explosion. There was SondraBeth talking on the phone. And at the other end of the room, two men in dark suits and earbuds had come in, asking Judy for the bathroom.

Everything was fine. This was simply a case of mistaken identity. One that Pandy was going to clear up right now. She pushed up from the armchair and went over to Judy.

“Actually, I’m Pandy,” she said. Judy smiled at her indulgently. Pandy turned to the two bodyguards, who were also looking at her, amused.

“I’m PJ Wallis.”

The bodyguards shrugged and looked at Judy, who also shrugged. Pandy rolled her eyes and went outside.

This was interesting. No one cared if she was Pandy, because all they cared about was Monica.

Pandy frowned as she took in the scene in the parking lot. Two SUVs were parked next to SondraBeth’s car; black-clad assistants were bustling in and out of them, and a couple of people were on walkie-talkies. If it weren’t for the fact that PJ Wallis had supposedly just died, the scene would be exactly like another boring day on the set of
Monica
.

In which case, she might as well have a cigarette. Or two. She inhaled the fresh morning air and detected the harsh scent of tobacco smoke.

One of the chauffeurs was smoking next to an SUV. Pandy went up to him, giving him her very best smile, and said, “Excuse me. I am PJ Wallis. And I would like a cigarette.”

The man smiled at her like she was a dotty old thing, which reminded Pandy again that she was bald. Apparently, no one was going to believe that she was Pandy until Henry arrived. The man handed her his pack. He cupped his hands for her to catch the flame from his lighter. “You the sister?” he asked.

Pandy took a step back, inhaled, exhaled, and smiled.

“The sister’s lover, then?” the man said.

Pandy shrugged. It didn’t matter. Henry would come, and everyone would know the truth.

She took another drag on the cigarette and began wandering down the drive. Perhaps she could meet up with Henry before he arrived, unprepared, at this mess. She strolled past some photographers who were milling about on the lawn. She supposed she and Henry could gather them together and announce that she was indeed Pandy, but this particular breed of press were like herd animals. You had to know how to control them.

She took another pull on the cigarette, continuing down the drive. The lady reporter and the cameraman were now standing off to the side.

The woman turned and saw her. “Oh, hi there, Hellenor,” she drawled, as if they were now best friends. “So I hear you’re a big Monica fan?” she asked in a friendly manner.

Was she kidding? “The biggest,” Pandy said, annoyed. “You could say that I know every sentence and each line by heart.”

“Is that so?” the woman asked.

“Actually, yes,” Pandy said. She dropped her cigarette, grinding out the butt beneath her construction boot. “Because the fact of the matter is that I
am
PJ Wallis—”

“Hellenor?”

Pandy turned to find Judy coming down the drive.

Judy touched her arm. “Listen. Would you mind doing one thing? Can you walk to the place where PJ Wallis blew up?”

Pandy squinted down the drive. The whole squad of paparazzi had moved down to where the boathouse had been. This really was too much. It was one thing for her publisher to think she was dead for a couple of hours, but quite a different matter to announce it to the world.

“Now, listen, Judy,” Pandy said firmly.

“I know, I know,” Judy said quickly. “You’re not happy about all this press. But neither is SondraBeth. She wanted this to be private. She was hoping you and she could have a long visit. Reminisce about Pandy. Talk about the old days and the future of Monica. Maybe even plan a special memorial. But then the studio got word, and the press, and now PJ’s death is out of control—”

Pandy cleared her throat. “Judy,” she tried again. “PJ Wallis isn’t dead. There’s been a huge mistake and
I’m
PJ Wallis.”

“Oh,
I
get it,” Judy said with a knowing laugh. In the husky tones of a former college party girl, she added, “Like what you did back there with the reporters? That was hilarious, fucking with their heads like that.” Judy raised her palm to give Pandy a high five. “You, Hellenor, are fucking crazy. I’m so glad you’re cool. It makes everyone’s job so much easier.”

She tapped her earpiece and nodded once, then took Pandy’s arm and began leading her firmly down the hill.

Where the hell is Henry?
Pandy thought angrily as Judy pushed through the paparazzi that were circled around SondraBeth like pagan priests around a sacrificial lamb.

She was standing on a patch of grass near what was left of the structure: a few charred pieces of wood scattered around a large rectangular patch of mud. The piece of fabric Pandy had seen SondraBeth holding earlier was now covering her body like a shroud. She jerked her arm back to take Pandy’s hand.

Pandy looked around at the camera lenses aimed in her direction like faceless black eyes and decided she’d better go along with the charade. She tore her eyes away from the cameras and looked at SondraBeth instead.

SondraBeth was staring at her with those shining green-gold eyes. And suddenly, Pandy realized this was going to be just like that time on the island when Pandy had caught SondraBeth in the marsh with the herons. She was going to do what she needed to do, and she was going to act like nobody else was there.

SondraBeth dipped her head. She pulled Pandy forward a step or two into the mud. Hissing under her breath, she said, “Your sister meant everything to me, Hellenor. The two of us used to be best friends. The best friends two girls could ever be.” She paused and looked Pandy straight in the eye. “And now I’m hoping we can be friends, too.”

Pandy stared back. Was it possible SondraBeth honestly didn’t know she was Pandy? Pandy decided to try to give SondraBeth a message back:

“I think that can be arranged,” she said, with a meaningful nod.

SondraBeth gave Pandy’s hand a quick squeeze before she dropped it and strode, silent and alone, through the mud to the center of the rectangle where the boathouse had been. She raised her arms, and suddenly, the flashes stopped. The crowd held their collective breath, as if wondering what she might do next.