Once Bitten (A Melanie Travis Mystery) (16 page)

T
hursday I actually managed to make it through an entire school day without any unexpected interruptions. Apparently, this fact was not lost on our esteemed headmaster, Russell Hanover II. We passed in the hallway as Faith and I were leaving that afternoon.

Mr. Hanover characterizes himself as a hands-on administrator, and there isn’t much that goes on at Howard Academy that he isn’t privy to. Our meeting might have happened by chance, but I suspected it hadn’t. The man has a gift for micromanagement.

“Everything going well, Ms. Travis?” he asked, pausing to pat the top of Faith’s head. Russell calls all his associates by their last names, even teachers who have been at the school for years.

“Very well, Mr. Hanover,” I replied demurely.

“You’ve been busy this week.”

“No more than usual.” The lie slipped out with shocking ease. This was what getting involved in murders had done to me: corrupted my need for scrupulous honesty.

“I hear you’ve had several visitors.”

“Only two.”

If you didn’t count Debra, whom I’d slipped out to meet, I added silently.

Russell nodded somberly. He was probably adding Debra to his list as well.

“As I’m sure you know, we prefer that our teachers handle personal matters on their own time. When you’re here, we feel that all your energies should be devoted to your students.”

“Of course,” I agreed. “It won’t happen again.”

“On the other hand,” Russell continued, “we also expect our teachers to be an integral part of the community at large. Considering the importance of some outside projects, we are prepared to offer a degree of latitude when circumstances warrant. I believe your own activities, such as I’ve been aware of them in the past, might fall under this umbrella.”

“Really?” Even though I’d solved a murder on the school grounds the year before, I was still surprised. “Thank you.”

“Don’t abuse the privilege, Ms. Travis.”

“I won’t.”

“I suppose it’s too much to hope that you haven’t become involved in another investigation?”

“Worse,” I told him. “A wedding.”

Russell’s brow arched upward. “Are congratulations in order?”

“No, I’m afraid it’s my brother’s wedding, not mine.”

“I hope you’ll pass along my best wishes.”

“I’d be happy to.”

I started to move on, but Russell had one last comment to make. “I’m so looking forward to a peaceful holiday season this year. You will try to stay out of trouble, won’t you?”

“Yes, sir.”

Too bad we both knew things didn’t always work out that way.

“How fast can you come up with a baby-sitter?” Bertie asked.

Davey and I had just finished eating dinner when the phone rang. As soon as I heard the question, I knew I could forget about my plans for a quiet evening at home.

“Ten minutes if Joanie, the girl down the block, is free. Why?”

“I’m at Frank’s,” said Bertie. “Find out and call me right back.”

She hadn’t, I noticed, answered my question.

Nevertheless, I did as she’d requested. Joanie was a teenager with many virtues, not the least of which was her love of children in general, and my son in particular. I’d been using her services since Davey was two, and the fact that she’d be leaving for college in less than a year was going to leave a hole in both our lives.

“Sure, I can come,” Joanie said cheerfully. “As long as you’re not going to be too late. Is it okay if I bring some homework with me for after Davey goes to bed?”

“Fine,” I assured her. The teenager knew my son’s routine as well as I did. I quickly called Bertie back.

“Great. I’m leaving Frank’s now. I’ll be by to pick you up in twenty minutes.”

“Where are we going?” I asked.

“Oh, that’s right. I forgot to mention that part, didn’t I?”

Forgot, my foot.

“We’re going to New Canaan,” Bertie announced. “Sara’s back home. She’s expecting us.”

My mouth opened and shut.

“Speechless, eh?” Bertie was grinning. I could hear it in her voice. “See you soon.”

She hung up and I went to break the news to Davey that he’d be spending the evening with his baby-sitter instead of his mother. He was thrilled.

Sometimes being a parent is a real kick in the pants, you know?

I was waiting by the front door when Bertie drove up.

“Have fun!” Joanie said as I slipped on my coat. Faith was lying next to her on the couch. My son, plotting his next move on the Monopoly board between them, barely looked up. I let myself out, ran down the steps, and got into the passenger seat of Bertie’s van. She threw the Chevy into reverse and was already backing out as I fastened my seat belt.

“What do you mean, Sara’s back?” I asked, picking up our conversation where we’d left off. “When did that happen? Back from where?”

“I don’t know. You can ask.” Bertie peered into the rearview mirror as she switched lanes. “That’s why we’re going, isn’t it? To ask Sara a million questions?”

“I wonder if she’ll have a million answers.”

“Let’s hope.”

Blinker on, Bertie ran a yellow light and dove onto the parkway on-ramp. I braced myself against door and dashboard as the van swung around the turn.

“I found out something interesting yesterday,” I said. “Sara’s pregnant.”

“Pregnant?” Bertie glanced in my direction. At the speed we were traveling, I’d have felt better with her eyes on the road. “Who told you that?”

“Maris Kincaid. She thought it might have had something to do with Sara’s disappearance.”

“Pregnant?” Bertie repeated. She didn’t sound as though she liked that idea at all. “Who’s the father?”

“I haven’t a clue. Add it to the list of things we want to know. Should I start writing these down?”

“Pregnant?” Bertie snorted.

“Yes, pregnant,” I said for what I hoped was the last time. “With child, knocked up, in the family way.”

“I hope it isn’t Josh’s,” Bertie said fervently.

So that was what had her so unnerved.

“I don’t think so. Maris said Sara’s less than two months along. She and Josh stopped seeing each other last summer, right?”

“I guess so.”

I shot her a look. Josh had told me Sara dumped him in August for someone new. Bertie didn’t sound convinced.

“Is there something going on I should know about?”

“Damned if I know,” Bertie muttered.

All this conjecture wasn’t helping matters any.

“Shut up and drive,” I said.

Though it wasn’t late, the back roads of New Canaan were dark and nearly deserted. No street lamps lit our way through the posh residential area. Luckily, Bertie knew where she was going. All the stone walls and split rail fences looked alike to me; I’d have been lost in a minute.

This time when we swept up the long driveway, Bertie took the right fork, which led around the front of the house. Floodlights, situated strategically among the trees, lit our approach and bathed the mansion in a soft glow. I was entranced by the sight.

Bertie took a more pragmatic approach. “What are you staring at?” she asked as she parked the van in front of a wide set of flagstone steps.

“This place is gorgeous.”

“Try telling that to the Shelties in the kennel. I’m sure they’ll be really impressed.”

“What do you mean?”

“Just that.” She got out and slammed her door. “Considering Delilah’s reputation as a dog lover, you’d think we should see at least a couple of them running around, but we won’t.”

“Now that you mention it, I noticed that the last time I was here.”

Bertie started up the steps. “No dogs in the house. That’s the rule. Not that the kennel isn’t a dream facility, but still. When Sara was living here, she and her mother used to fight about that all the time.”

I pushed the doorbell and listened as chimes sounded within. “Sara knows we’re coming, right?”

“Actually,” Bertie admitted, “she knows
I’m
coming. You’ll be something in the nature of a pleasant surprise.”

Wonderful.

Grant Waring opened the door. A pair of reading glasses was perched low on his nose, and his feet were encased in a pair of scuffed leather slippers. Sara might have been expecting visitors, but clearly her stepfather wasn’t. He recovered quickly, though.

“Good evening,” he said, peering out onto the porch. “Bertie and . . . Melanie, right? Won’t you come in?”

The floor in the front hall was made of marble. A curved stairway, highlighted by a Palladian window, led to the second floor.

“It’s okay, Grant,” Sara called out. Her voice, sounding exasperated, floated down to us from the top of the steps. “They’re here for me.”

Hand flying on the polished mahogany railing, she raced down the wide staircase, each foot placed just so as she bent with the curve for maximum speed. It looked like a move she’d perfected in childhood, and I couldn’t help thinking that for someone who’d led us on an exasperating chase, Sara was looking remarkably carefree.

“Can I fix you something to drink?” asked Grant.

“No,” Sara snapped, answering for all of us. She clasped my hand and slipped an arm around Bertie’s shoulders. “We’re going upstairs.”

Directed by our hostess, we turned our backs on Grant and walked away. The steps took us up to a circular landing, which led in turn to a long hallway. A door at one end was open and a pool of light spilled out. Sara headed that way.

“What was that about?” Bertie asked.

“What?”

“Grant was only trying to be friendly. You didn’t have to bite his head off.”

“Yes, I did.”

So much for that line of questioning. I hoped the rest of the evening would prove more productive.

Following along behind, I found myself entering a bedroom that looked like a little girl’s fantasy run amok. Flower sprigged wallpaper in pink and cream matched a ruffled canopy over the double bed. The wall-to-wall carpeting was a sea of fluffy pink shag. Lace curtains framed two pairs of wide windows and formed the skirt for a vanity table. Even the lampshades were trimmed with it. A floor-to-ceiling bookcase held a collection of ornately dressed and intricately made-up dolls. There wasn’t a Raggedy Ann among them.

My eyes widened at the sight.

Sara noted my reaction and grimaced. “It hits most people like that. Delilah did it when I was little. The only time those dolls were ever touched was when the maid came in and dusted them. Is it any wonder I moved out as soon as I could?”

Sara didn’t seem to expect an answer. Anyway, before I could decide how to respond, we were interrupted by the sound of nails scratching on wood. Quickly Sara closed and locked the bedroom door. Then she crossed the room and opened another door. Titus burst out of the bathroom, whining softly and bouncing on his hind legs.

“Shh,” Sara warned, though the dog had barely made a sound. Taking him with her, she walked into the bathroom. “Come on. There’s a sitting room on the other side. We’ll be more comfortable there.”

Indeed. The other half of Sara’s suite was a big improvement over the bedroom. At least everything wasn’t pink or made of lace. A love seat and two matching armchairs were grouped around a coffee table piled high with magazines. A television and VCR sat against one wall, and a closet held a small refrigerator and a microwave.

Sara got out three sodas and put a bag of popcorn in the microwave. While she waited for it to heat, she sat down in a chair and drew her legs up beneath her. Apparently sure of his welcome, Titus jumped up into her lap.

Sara lowered her face to his ruff, inhaling the dog’s scent and caressing his soft hair with her cheek. It looked as though she’d missed the Sheltie as much as he’d missed her. She glanced up, saw me watching, and smiled.

“I wasn’t expecting to see you tonight, Melanie.”

“I guess that makes us even. I wasn’t expecting to see you either. Where have you been?”

“It’s kind of complicated.”

“My whole last week has been complicated,” I said evenly. Imagine that. Sara thought she was the only one with problems. “Bertie’s been really worried about you.”

“I know. I’m sorry. I just had to get away.”

The microwave pinged. Sara started to get up. Bertie waved her back into her seat.

“You’ve got Titus. I’ll get it.”

There was an empty bowl on a shelf above the refrigerator. Bertie opened the steaming bag and poured the popcorn out. She set the snack on the table between us.

“Why did you have to get away?” I asked. Sara might have been able to evade Bertie’s questions, but I had no intention of letting her sidestep mine.

“I was afraid,” Sara said softly. She clutched the Sheltie to her as if she were holding onto a lifeline. “I had to go. I was afraid of what might happen if I stayed.”

T
he words hung in the silence of the cozy room. It was like telling ghost stories at a pajama party. The air around us seemed suddenly charged with menace.

Then Bertie snorted loudly and the spell was broken. “Afraid?” she said, scooping out a handful of popcorn. “Of whom?”

“Like I said, it’s complicated.”

“That’s okay,” I told her. “We’ve got plenty of time.”

“And besides, it’s none of your business.”

“Is that so?” Bertie demanded. “Then why did you leave me that note?”

“What note?”

“The one Terry delivered to me last week at the Hartford show. ‘I know I can count on you, blah, blah, blah.’ That note.”

“Oh, that.”

Bertie and I exchanged a glance.

“I didn’t want to just go away without leaving word with someone. And you were the first person I thought of, because of the wedding. Believe me, I know how jumpy brides can get about things. I’ve almost been one myself once or twice.”

Sara’s light, self-deprecating laugh invited us to join in. Neither Bertie nor I did.

“I thought you wanted me to figure out why you’d disappeared,” Bertie persisted. “I thought that’s what you were counting on me to do. That’s why I got Melanie involved. She and I have been looking for you.”

“So Delilah informed me.” Sara didn’t sound pleased.

As if I cared. I wasn’t particularly pleased with the way things had turned out myself.

“Where did you go?” I asked.

“What does it matter?”

“Humor me.”

“I was staying with a friend.”

“In Westchester?”

A fleeting look of surprise crossed Sara’s face. “Yes.”

“Why didn’t you take Titus with you?” asked Bertie. “Your mother found him wandering around outside. That was one of the reasons we assumed something terrible had happened to you.”

“I . . . he . . .” Sara hesitated. Her fingers rubbed along the soft, pink skin of the Sheltie’s stomach. Turning in her arms, Titus wiggled in delight. Dogs are such suckers. They’ll forgive anything. “The person I was staying with doesn’t like dogs. In fact, she’s allergic. I left plenty of food and water, and he knows how to use the dog door. I thought he’d be fine.”

Sara sounded sincere, but I wasn’t buying it. Would I have gone off and left Faith behind, alone and unattended? Not a chance.

“Why were you looking for a lawyer?” I asked.

“A lawyer?” Sara was startled. “How did you know about that?”

“I told you,” said Bertie, “I asked Melanie to look for you. She’s good.”

“I guess,” Sara muttered. “You must have spoken with Debra Silver.”

“I did.”

“I’ll bet she had plenty to say about me.”

“Actually, she was very circumspect.”

“Did she drag you off to some god-awful nouveau chic restaurant and stick you with the bill?”

In spite of myself, I had to smile. “You’re half right.”

“Don’t tell me you managed to get her to pay?”

“No, we split it. But you were right about the restaurant. It was very chic.”

“The only kind of place Debra will be seen in,” Sara said. Obviously she was hoping I’d continue to let her change the subject.

No dice, I thought.

“Did the fact that you were looking for a lawyer have anything to do with your pregnancy?”

Sara paled slightly. My questions were beginning to hit home. She reached for her soda and took a long drink. When she set the can back down, her features were composed once more.

“My, you have been busy. I guess I should be flattered.”

“Or frightened.” I was sure I’d hit a sore spot there. I wondered what a little probing might turn up.

“What makes you say that?”

“Your reaction, for one thing. You
are
pregnant, aren’t you?”

Sara’s hand went reflexively to her stomach. “Yes.”

“Is that good news?” asked Bertie.

“In the beginning I thought so. Lately I’m not so sure.”

“How come?”

“Among other things, I’ve been having some problems with the baby’s father. He thinks I should get an abortion. That’s one of the reasons I dropped out of sight for a few days. I needed some time to think.”

“Who is the father?” I asked.

Even to my own ears, the question sounded blunt and nosy. I didn’t care. I still wanted to know.

I wasn’t entirely surprised, however, when Sara frowned at me and said firmly, “That’s private.”

“Someone we know?” Bertie prompted.

Sara wasn’t playing. “Someone
I
know,” she snapped.

As if that wasn’t obvious.

“What about Grant and Delilah?” Bertie asked. “Do they know about the baby?”

Sara didn’t answer right away. “Grant does,” she said finally. “I told him because I thought he might take the news better than Delilah. I was hoping he would help me break it to her, but when it comes to my mother, he turned out to be a bigger chicken than I am.”

“Let’s see if I have this straight,” I said, trying to line up what she’d told us so far. “You found out you were pregnant. You decided to go away for a few days to think things over. You left your dog behind in your house and sent a note to Bertie so she wouldn’t worry.”

A trace of sarcasm overlaid that last sentence, but Sara, who was nodding in agreement as I spoke, didn’t seem to notice.

“And then while you were gone,” Bertie contributed, “all hell broke loose.”

Sara’s lower lip began to tremble. Her head dipped into the Sheltie’s luxurious ruff. Once again, she was using Titus as a shield.

“Do you have any idea who might have set the fire that burned down your cottage?” I asked.

“None,” Sara whispered. Tears welled in her eyes. Her voice was unsteady. “Who could have hated me that much?”

“You said you were having problems with the baby’s father—”

She didn’t even let me finish the thought. “Not problems like that!”

“I’m sure the police will want to know—”

Sara shook her head and interrupted again. “I’ve already spoken to the police. Delilah had them here this afternoon. I answered all their questions.”

The police had no way of knowing about Sara’s pregnancy, I thought. Maybe they hadn’t known the right questions to ask. She was walking a slender tightrope if she thought she could hide information like that during a murder investigation.

“Did they ask where you were on Saturday night?”

“You mean, did they check my alibi? Yeah, they did. And I had one, too. I was at a club in Manhattan with a couple of people I know.”

“All night?”

“Late enough.”

Bertie stepped in and turned the conversation in a new direction. “Carole Eikenberry was a friend of yours, wasn’t she?” she asked.

Sara sniffled loudly. Tears spilled over and ran down her cheeks. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Bertie frown. There was a box of tissues on a table near the door. She got up and brought it over.

“Carole was a good friend,” Sara said softly. “Someone who was always there for me.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever heard you mention her before.”

“So?” Sara pulled out a tissue and blew her nose. “I don’t tell everybody everything. I probably never talked about you to her either.”

Bertie didn’t look appeased. I wondered what she was thinking. When she didn’t press the issue, however, I asked a question of my own. “Sara, do you know what Carole was doing at your cottage on Saturday night?”

“I have no idea.” Sara’s nose was turning red. Mascara smeared beneath her eyes.

“You weren’t expecting her?”

“How could I have been expecting her when I wasn’t even there?”

“Had you spoken with her recently?”

“Look,” Sara said, drawing a ragged breath. “I’ve already been all through this with the police. I don’t
know
what happened.”

Blinking back fresh tears, she gazed at us mournfully. “I’m really sorry about all the trouble I caused both of you. If I’d had any idea how things would turn out, I would never have left in the first place. I was only trying to do what I thought was best for me and my baby.”

Sara reached up and wiped her face with the back of her sleeve. The childlike gesture made her look unexpectedly vulnerable. She set Titus aside and stood. “I hope you guys don’t mind, but I’m really worn out.”

Taking our cue, Bertie and I got up, too.

“Are you going to be staying here?” I asked Sara.

“For the time being, until everything gets sorted out, yes.”

“So if someone needed to get in touch with you, this is where you’d be.”

Sara looked annoyed. “I’m not going to disappear again, if that’s what you’re asking.”

It had been, but I didn’t see the need to belabor the point. Sara walked us down to the front door. We didn’t see any sign of her parents on the way out. I guessed that was the beauty of living in a mansion the size of a small hotel.

After the warmth of the house, the November air felt shockingly cold. I gathered my coat around me, shivering as I opened the van door, and slid onto a chilly leather seat. Bertie glanced at me as she fastened her seat belt and put the key in the ignition.

“It’ll only take a minute to warm up. Then you’ll think you’re in a sauna. Best thing about this truck is the heater.”

Neither of us spoke until we reached the end of the long driveway. It had only taken a minute, but the interior of the van was already toasty. I stretched out my legs and settled back in my seat.

“So what did you make of all that?” Bertie asked as she pulled out onto West Road.

“I’m not sure,” I replied honestly. “I think Sara knows more about what’s going on than she’s willing to admit.”

“Tell me about it,” Bertie agreed. “For the most part, all she did was confirm what we already knew. And there’s no way I bought that act of hers.”

“What act?”

“Puleez.” Bertie pursed her lips. “That whole crying jag. One minute we’re both pushing her pretty hard for information and the next, she bursts into tears. Give me a break. I’ve never even seen Sara cry before. I doubt if she’d know an honest emotion if it came up and bit her on the butt.”

“I don’t know,” I said slowly. “I thought Sara seemed genuinely upset about what happened to Carole.”

“That’s what she wanted us to think, anyway. Sara’s not the type of person who really gets involved in her friends’ lives. And how close could she and Carole have been? She didn’t even know the woman was planning to show up.”

“You’re looking at it backwards. I think they must have been very close. Close enough that Carole didn’t feel the need to call ahead before coming over.”

“There is another possibility,” said Bertie. “Maybe Sara’s good buddy, Carole, is the one who set the fire. That would explain what she was doing there Saturday night
and
how she managed to get caught in the blaze.”

“A scenario like that pretty much assumes that Sara was lying to us,” I pointed out.

“It wouldn’t be the first time.” Bertie sounded disgusted. “Like when she said she left that note to make
me
feel better. I don’t believe that for a minute. Sara had to know she’d stir things up. That’s probably what she had in mind all along.”

“Here’s something else,” I said. “When you spoke with Sara on Tuesday, didn’t she tell you that she’d been away for the weekend and just gotten back and heard the news?”

Bertie thought for a moment. “That’s right.”

“Then tonight, when I asked her where she was on Saturday night, she said she’d been in Manhattan with friends. I imagine she was telling the truth about that because she’s probably expecting the police to check on it.”

“Which means she was lying to me earlier,” Bertie said grimly.

“It looks that way.”

I sat in silence for a while, pondering the evening’s events. “I think Sara’s still afraid of something,” I said after a few minutes had passed. “Or someone.”

Bertie didn’t look particularly sympathetic. “Maybe she ought to be. The way things are shaping up, the next person likely to do her harm is going to be me.”

“Hey,” I said, spreading my hands innocently. “You were the one who wanted her back.”

“Just shoot me now,” Bertie muttered, “and put me out of my misery.”

“It’s going to be a beautiful wedding.”

“If nobody else dies in the meantime.”

Good thought.