Misfortune (33 page)

“I don’t know how much you know about membership, but Louise and I have every possible credential, including that her parents and grandparents have been influential members. The only thing that separates us is race, mine and our children’s,” Henry added, glancing at Madeleine and Eliza. The two girls were absorbed in their dolls and seemed oblivious of the conversation.

“Did you know Clio well?”

“I met her a couple of times at most. She’s been to our house. She and your father were at our wedding, but so were five hundred or more Southamptonites.”

“It was a rather large wedding,” Louise said as if to explain her husband’s sarcasm. “My parents are quite close to your father, and to Clio, too. Dad thinks the world of your father.”

“Even after what happened with you?” Frances asked.

“I haven’t had the heart to tell Dad that Clio was responsible for our not getting in. I think he assumes that she was a supporter, and that someone else caused the holdup. In any event, it doesn’t matter now.” Frances wondered about Louise’s reference. As if reading her mind, she continued, “That is, since we have no interest in joining Fair Lawn after all. In all honesty, I’m not sure what got into us. It’s not the life we want our girls to grow up in.”

“It was a mistake,” Henry agreed. “We assumed we lived in a different world.”

“Were you at Fair Lawn last Saturday?” Frances asked.

“Yes. Actually, I played tennis with your mother,” Louise offered.

Frances feigned surprise.

“I’ve known Aurelia for a long time,” Henry explained. “Louise played tennis earlier in the summer with her. Then, when we saw her several days ago at a Guild Hall opening, she suggested a re-match.”

“I’ve had a very hard time returning to the club given the circumstances. My only two visits have been to play with your mother,” Louise said somewhat apologetically. “I agreed to play the second time because, well…” She paused. “My parents had been asking me why I never came to the club. They know how much I love tennis. I didn’t want them to think there was anything wrong. It’s hard enough for us. They didn’t need to suffer, too.”

So she had compromised her principles to keep up appearances, Frances thought. “After your tennis game, did you stay to watch the tournament?”

“Yes. Although it hadn’t been my plan. You see, Henry had the girls with him, but then he got paged by his office. There was some problem with a patient.”

“That’s right,” Henry agreed. “I thought I had to get back to New York right away. I had no choice but to bring the girls to the club to try to find Louise. When I got there, I saw Beth, Louise’s mother, up on the porch. She offered to watch the girls until Louise was finished.”

“My game ended at ten, maybe a little after. As I was leaving, I saw Mum, Madeleine, and Eliza. Mum explained Henry’s change of plans.”

“So how long were you there?” Frances asked, turning to Henry.

“Believe me, if I could have avoided the place, I would have. I stayed only long enough to drop the girls off and tell Beth what I was doing so Louise would know. That was it.”

A clatter distracted Frances. Louise had dropped her glass. Ice cubes flew across the deck. “How stupid,” Louise mumbled as she knelt and blotted the liquid with a handful of paper napkins. She got up, wiped off her skirt, and took her seat. Frances noticed that her hand was trembling.

“Did you see Clio?” Frances asked.

Neither Henry nor Louise responded. Frances repeated the question. “Yes,” Louise replied.

“I saw her briefly as well,” Henry added.

“How was that?”

“As unpleasant as you might expect,” Louise said. “I tried to be civil, but quite frankly, it was difficult.”

“Do you remember any of the conversation with Clio that morning?”

“She and I didn’t have a conversation,” Louise corrected. “She and my mother were talking about some fund-raising event, an auction, I think it was, to benefit YOUTHCORE. They’re both involved with that organization. I wasn’t paying too much attention.”

“And you?” Frances directed her question to Henry.

“As I’ve already told you, I just dropped my kids off. I didn’t even see right away that Clio was at the table with Beth. I didn’t speak to her. I had no interest in pretending we were friendly. I left.”

“Where did you go?”

“I went home briefly to collect a few things I needed. Then I called the hospital to see how my patient was doing, and to tell them I was on my way. The cardiac resident told me he’d gotten everything stabilized. He didn’t think I needed to come. That’s the life of a doctor, I guess. One moment, it’s an emergency. The next, everything’s fine.”

“So what did you do?”

“Well, I certainly wasn’t going back to Fair Lawn. I went into town. I tried to go to Silver’s to get a paper and a couple of cigars, but it was closed for the holiday. I went home.”

“Did you see anyone you knew?”

“What are you getting at?” Henry asked loudly.

“You didn’t run into anyone in town?”

“No. And there was nobody here, either, because my family was at Fair Lawn.”

So Henry had been near Clio shortly before her death. Frances shook her head slightly, wanting to dislodge Meaty’s theory from her mind. “And Clio was already at the table when you arrived?” She turned to Louise.

“Yes.” Louise glanced at her husband, then continued. “Aurelia and I came up on the porch after our match. I don’t know how much detail you care to hear, but what I remember is that my parents were there with Madeleine, Eliza, and Clio. I never saw my husband. When Aurelia saw Clio, she excused herself. My mother explained why Henry had brought the girls. After I had been at the table briefly, my family wanted drinks. I offered to go to the bar. It was packed. I didn’t feel like waiting, so I left the order with the bartender and asked him to send a waitress out to the porch to deliver them. Aurelia found me in the bar to tell me she was leaving. I returned to my daughters. A short while later, Clio got up from the table, and that’s the last I saw of her. The rest you know.”

“When did you know Clio died?”

“Oh. We heard a scream. It was really loud, chilling. I grabbed the girls. My father, and several other people, hurried inside the clubhouse. It was chaotic.”

“Did you see anyone coming out of the clubhouse?”

“I can’t tell you. The club was packed with people anyway, and after the scream, people were moving in all directions. I do remember seeing your sister, Blair. She was yelling that Clio was dead. I felt so sorry for her. She was trembling and shaking. Then she just collapsed in a heap on the floor.”

“What did you do?”

“To be perfectly honest, I didn’t do anything. I couldn’t figure out what was happening for several minutes. I just stayed with the girls. They were scared by all the commotion. The police arrived pretty fast. I left as soon as I could and haven’t been back since.”

“Did you talk to the police?”

“An officer was taking names and telephone numbers from everyone. I gave ours. But that was all. I wanted to get out of there.”

“Has anyone spoken to you about all of this since then?”

“Yes. A Detective, Detective Kelly, called. He said he was following up with everyone who was there that day. I told him what I knew, what I’ve told you. That’s all.”

“Thank you. Thank you both.” Frances nodded to Henry. “I appreciate your time. Please don’t get up. I can let myself out.”

Back in the enclosed cabin of her pickup, Frances sat for a moment, rolling her head in circles to loosen the muscles in her neck. She rubbed her eyes. She wanted Dr. Lewis to have an ironclad alibi to instantly dismiss Meaty’s suspicions. Instead he was at the exact location where Clio had been killed less than an hour before she died. Worse still, he was a cardiologist. He more than anyone would understand how lethal a combination of phenelzine and Dexedrine would be.

Frances couldn’t bear to return to her father’s house despite her promise to do so. There didn’t seem to be any point with Blair there trying to rearrange everyone’s lives. Nothing she said or did would take away the horrible emptiness her father had to be experiencing. She was too poor an actress to pretend she understood his grief.

As she drove toward Halsey Neck Lane, the image of Blair at the door of her father’s house with Penny Adler filled her mind. Petite and well groomed, Blair looked as though she had stepped from the pages of
Vogue
in a slate blue cropped jacket and short pencil-pleated skirt. Was her sister as self-assured as she appeared? Underneath her confident air, what was really going on? What had Jake been doing over the Fourth of July?
Let’s just say we haven’t seen eye to eye on how to deal with our solvency problems.
She remembered Blair’s words. How frantic had they been about their gallery’s expansion?

No.
Frances shrugged. The very thought was absurd.

As she pulled into her mother’s driveway, she could see her mother in paint-splattered overalls and a large straw hat, standing at an easel on the grass. Frances honked.

“I thought I’d impose on you for some dinner,” she said.

“Isn’t it your bingo night?”

“I’m not up for the drive home just yet.”

Aurelia put down her brush and came over to her daughter. She gave her a hug, squeezing her tightly. Then she kissed Frances’s forehead. “Come on in. I’ll see what I can concoct.”

Frances sat at her mother’s kitchen table while Aurelia scrubbed her fingernails with a stiff brush. “This paint never comes off. I’ve almost given up being clean,” she said with a smile.

“You looked good at Clio’s memorial service,” Frances remarked. “I was surprised to see you there.”

“I didn’t go to honor Clio, don’t misunderstand the gesture, but Richard was my husband, and he’s your father. I went because of that. As for my outfit, well, if you’re going to the funeral of your ex-husband’s wife, you sure as hell better look good.” Aurelia threw her a smile, wiped her hands, then opened the refrigerator to look inside. “Ah, we’re in luck. There’s actually something to eat.” She pulled out lettuce, tomatoes, beets, and a wedge of parmesan cheese wrapped in a damp towel. “I want you to just sit and relax. It’s been quite a day.”

Frances sipped a glass of Chianti as she watched Aurelia prepare dinner.

“How do you know Henry and Louise Lewis?” Frances asked.

Aurelia paused in midpeel of a beet. “Let’s see. I met Henry years ago. He purchased several of my paintings from the Durham Gallery, one of my first shows. The place doesn’t exist anymore, but it used to be downtown, just off Greene Street in the Village. He said my landscapes were so inspirational that he was buying them for the cardiac ward at his hospital, as a donation. I was surprised he had the money, but I wasn’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth. Anyway, since then he’s followed my work. We speak from time to time. I was thrilled when he met Louise. Of course, we’ve all known her and her parents for years. A small world. They seem very happy together. Last summer, they invited me to their housewarming party when they bought the place on Gin Lane. Clio was there, too, I remember. It was only a few months after your father’s stroke. I’ve been there several times since.”

“How come you never mentioned him?”

“Henry?” she asked as if uncertain of the reference. “Well, it’s not like we’re close friends. Colleagues is a better word. He admires my work. We share an appreciation of art. He’s wonderful company.”

“You played tennis with Louise last weekend, the day Clio died.”

“Oh yes. Louise is such a graceful player, and a patient one, too.”

“I didn’t know you were playing tennis again.”

Aurelia laughed. “I need some sort of exercise. This body of mine is fading fast.”

“Did you see Clio?”

“For a fleeting moment. I couldn’t believe the gall of that woman to sit with Marshall and Beth Bancroft after what she did to their daughter. But what do I know? This country club crowd has the most hypocritical set of values. I can’t begin to figure it out. Anyway, I left almost immediately after our game. All that socializing wasn’t for me, especially with her.”

“So you knew about what happened with their application?”

“Everyone in town did.” Aurelia wiped a wisp of hair off her brow. “Who was it who said ‘Malicious gossip runs faster than a triple crown winner’?”

“Is there any other kind of gossip?” Frances asked rhetorically.

Aurelia smiled. “I see I raised quite a cynic.” She placed the plates, salad bowl, and cheese on the table and sat down. “I thought you weren’t supposed to be a part of this investigation,” she said, unfolding a napkin and placing it in her lap.

“How did you know that?” Frances asked.

Her mother cut hard into the wedge of parmesan. A chunk of cheese separated, and the knife clattered against the plate’s surface.

“There was something in the paper. Right after the initial news that Clio’s death was a murder. I can’t tell you exactly where I saw it. Here, have some salad.” She handed Frances the bowl.

“Well, you’re right, anyway.” Frances helped herself. “Perry “Cogswell is the ADA assigned. I probably agree with Malcolm’s decision from an investigative standpoint, but it’s hard to stay out.”

“Are there any suspects?”

“Plenty of people had reasons to dislike Clio. But that doesn’t make them murderers. The forensic evidence may help, but so far it doesn’t pinpoint anyone.”

“What kind of evidence?” Aurelia asked.

“Just some hairs collected at the scene. It’s too early to determine whether they’re significant.”

“When will you know?”

“I’m not sure.”

“I see. How frustrating.”

They ate in silence for several moments.

“What happens if the murderer isn’t caught?” Aurelia asked.

“After some period of time, the file will be closed, at least for internal purposes, meaning that the office won’t expend any resources pursuing it. Then, our only hope is that sometime down the road, someone comes forward with information, or something, that leads us to the killer.”

“Does that happen?”

“Occasionally. It’s been known to, anyway. Years later, someone with knowledge of a crime gets arrested, a drug bust, something serious, and sings for his supper. It’s unlikely here. The odds of someone from the Southampton crowd ending up in a situation where they could trade information about Clio’s murder for a free ride in the criminal justice system seems small.” Frances took a bite of her food. “No, this one’s got to be solved now, or it won’t be solved at all.”