The Look of Love (20 page)
Authors: Mary Jane Clark
P
ulling off the blanket, Piper looked at the large chest. The moth-repellent cedar sides were covered with painted angels, wedding bells, and stars. The chest was long and rectangular, reminding her of a casket. She sure wouldn’t want something like this sitting in
her
marital bedroom.
Piper bent down to open the chest, fully expecting to be hit with the smell of cedar. Instead, as she raised the top, she inhaled the pungent aroma of turpentine.
I
have something I want to show you, Jillian.” Sister Mary Noelle reached into the pocket of her habit and pulled out an envelope. “I’ve been holding on to this since Mom died.”
Jillian took the envelope from her sister, opened it, and began to read.
Dear Nina,
Tomorrow morning I go in to have my face lift. As I write this, I think about my life and what has brought me to this point. Your father and I have had a very happy marriage, a fulfilling and loving life together. Our greatest joys have been you and Jillian. I couldn’t have asked for more.
I write this to you, Nina, because you’ve pleaded with me not to have this surgery. Jillian seems to understand, but you don’t see why I am determined to take the risk. Shouldn’t I be satisfied with the good fortune I’ve already enjoyed? Why does my physical appearance have to be so important? Why can’t I come to terms with the aging process and accept it with grace?
I’ve tried, Nina, I truly have. In my heart I know you’re right, but in my mind I know I will feel better if I look fresher and prettier. Sometimes I think when you’ve been physically blessed, it’s harder to watch as your face deteriorates. It stings to hear people say, “She
was
so beautiful.”
Jillian’s eyes filled with tears. “This is breaking my heart,” she whispered.
Sister Mary Noelle reached over and wrapped her arm around her sister’s shoulder. Jillian sniffled and wiped at the corners of her eyes before she continued reading.
I know your father loves me, I do. But I want him to look at me the way he used to. I want him to be proud of his wife. I don’t want to feel threatened by younger women.
If anything happens to me, I know your father will remarry. He should. He is an attractive, successful man. There is no shortage of women who would love it if I just disappeared.
Jillian paused. “Mom sure got
that
right,” she said. “Irene wasn’t the only Elysium employee who had her sights on Dad.”
There was just one more paragraph left.
Please, Nina, if the day comes when your father needs to find another mate, be supportive. Having your approval will mean so much to him. Welcome her into the family, knowing that I’ve always wanted your father to be happy.
Love,
Mom
Jillian put the letter down and looked at Sister Mary Noelle. “Why didn’t you ever show me this?” she asked.
“Because it was painful for me. I wanted peace. Now I only feel guilty.”
“About what?”
“That I could never find it in my heart to do as Mom asked. Even at the funeral, Irene was all over Daddy. God forgive me, I’ve never liked or trusted her.”
“And why are you showing it to me now?” asked Jillian.
“Because I’ve prayed and prayed about this,” answered Sister Mary Noelle. “I’ve prayed, ever since Mom died, that my negative feelings about Irene would prove to be unfounded. But with everything that’s been happening at Elysium, I thought it was time.”
A
partially open plastic cooler was in the hope chest. It was lying on top of a pile of fluffy white taffeta. Piper reached into the mound of material. She gasped as a pin pricked her finger.
A drop of blood appeared as she struggled to get her mind around what she was seeing. Was this Jillian’s wedding dress? Why was it lying unaltered in the hope chest when, up until a couple of hours ago, the wedding was only a few days away?
T
o avoid the media gathered at the front gate, Irene drove through the rear entrance. It was a crazy time for Elysium, but it would pass. Soon things would get back to normal and she would be the mistress of paradise again. She and Vernon would go on with their lives, and everything would be perfect.
The situation with Kyle Quigley had played right into her hands. The police assumed
he
had set the fire and murdered the actress. Tonight, when it was dark, she could take the flashlight from the hope chest and plant it someplace where it would incriminate Kyle. With the murder weapon, the police would have a virtually airtight case.
When enough time went by, she could take another stab at eliminating Jillian, just as she’d gotten rid of Jillian’s mother. There was always that same method: pumping air into a vein and causing a fatal heart attack. A heart attack with no discernible cause.
As Irene pulled into the driveway and took from the car the additional birthday gift she’d bought for her husband, she still believed that ultimately
she
would be number one in Vernon’s life.
S
omething glistened from inside the cooler. Piper pulled the handle open, peered in, and saw a heavy industrial flashlight. It was spattered with dark red spots. As she looked closer, Piper saw strands of long blond hair sticking to it. Her heart pounded as she realized that she was looking at the weapon used to beat in Lillie Ulster’s head.
The pieces came rushing together in Piper’s mind. Irene hadn’t taken the dress to the bridal shop to be tailored because she didn’t think there was
going
to be a wedding. Irene could have set the fire to make sure that Jillian would never be a bride.
But what about Lillie? Why would she be murdered? Had she witnessed Irene setting the fire? Did she have to be killed so she wouldn’t be able to identify Irene as the arsonist?
I
rene entered through the front door. She set the brightly wrapped package on the coffee table in the living room and kicked off her shoes. Then she went to the kitchen.
Immediately she saw the cake and decorating supplies arrayed on the kitchen counter. Next her eyes turned to the door to the garage. It was slightly ajar.
She quietly slid open the kitchen drawer and selected the biggest knife there was before tiptoeing to the door and peeking. Her eyes swept over Vernon’s Mercedes and came to rest on someone hunched over the hope chest.
W
hat do you think you’re doing?”
Piper froze as she heard the voice.
“Get away from there!” Irene commanded. “Get away from there right now!”
Piper turned to face Irene as she tried to think what to do. Her means of escape were limited. The garage door was shut, and the button to open it was at the kitchen door. The only way out was past the woman standing in the doorway with a carving knife in her hand.
Irene stepped closer.
Then Piper had an idea. She inched toward the Mercedes that stood between her and Irene. In an instant she had opened the door, hopped inside, and quickly hit the button to lock the car.
She watched in terror as Irene ran toward the car and started pulling on the door handle. Her red face was twisted with rage. “Get out of that car!” Irene commanded. “Get out now.” She was tugging at the door with such strength that the antitheft alarm was triggered.
The earsplitting sound of its angry blaring reverberated throughout the closed garage.
T
he alarm system sensed that the car was being tampered with and automatically sent a signal to the Mercedes-Benz response center. An automatically generated text message was immediately sent to Vernon Abernathy’s cell phone, notifying him that his car was threatened.
I
rene’s eyes widened at the sound of the insistent, blasting alarm. Why hadn’t she demanded to have her own set of keys to Vernon’s car? Then she’d simply be able to unlock the door and get to Piper.
She cast about wildly, looking around the garage for something—anything—that she could use to get inside the car.
There it was! Leaning against the wall.
She ran over to Vernon’s golf bag and pulled out a driver.
V
ernon read the text message. He wasn’t really worried about theft. He knew that his car was safe. It was at home in the garage.
Maybe he should call home anyway, though, just to be sure everything was all right. He picked up the phone and punched in the numbers. As he listened to the continuing rings, he felt increasing frustration.
Why wasn’t anyone picking up? He didn’t need this at all. Didn’t they know he already had enough to worry about?
T
hwack!
Irene used all her strength, smashing the head of the golf club against the driver’s-side window.
Terrified, Piper held her hands and forearms in front of her face and eyes, crouching low on the seat to shield herself from the glass she was sure was going to fly down on her. She listened to the pounding again as Irene slammed the metal driver against the glass. Eventually she heard a cracking sound.
God, help me!
Piper ventured a look. The glass had fractured, but the golf club hadn’t broken through. That couldn’t last much longer.
V
ernon pulled his house keys from his pocket and handed them to the security guard.
“The alarm in my car has activated. Can you please go over to the house and turn it off?”
A
s Piper looked up, she saw that the garage door’s remote control was clipped to the visor over the steering wheel.
Thwack!
She then noticed a bulbous black key head protruding from the visor’s edge. She reached out to pull down the visor, and the car key fell to the floor.
J
ack claimed his bag at the carousel. The mild California air welcomed him as he walked outside the terminal to hail a cab. He was tempted to call Piper and tell her that he was there, but he decided he wanted to see her face when he surprised her.
“The Elysium Spa, please,” he instructed the driver as he got into the taxi.
He had waited this long to see Piper. He could wait a little longer.
P
iper pushed the remote button, and the garage door began to open. But what good was it unless she had the wherewithal to turn the car on and back out?
The key had fallen to the floor, but Piper couldn’t see it from the crouched position she was in. She reached down and groped blindly, trying to find it. Finally the tips of her fingers touched it.
Focus. Focus. Don’t look out at Irene. Focus.
She wrapped her fingers around the key, but as she lifted it, it hit the steering wheel and slipped out of her grasp.
Thwack! Thwack!
Piper was frantic.
Where is it? Where is it?
She desperately felt along the car floor until she found the key again. The golf club came down hard against the glass as she started the ignition, shifted the car into reverse, and slammed her foot on the gas, tearing out of the garage.
FRIDAY, JANUARY 14
P
iper held the cell phone to her ear with one hand while she threw clothes into her duffel bag with the other. She could hear Emmett barking in the background as she talked to her father.
“The director was a little psycho, but the shoot went really well today, Dad,” said Piper. “The commercial will start airing in the spring and let’s hope it gets lots of prime-time play so I make some money. And who knows? Somebody could see me in it and think of me for something else.”
She looked over at Jack. He was lounging on the bed, watching her. She winked at him as she continued her phone conversation.
“Yes, I’m totally fine, Dad. I’m about to check out. Jack and I are going to take a ride up the coast to San Luis Obispo for the weekend. We have reservations to take the red-eye back home on Sunday night.”
Though Piper was a bit apprehensive, she was excited about the trip. Being away from Jack and not talking to him had made her realize how much she missed him, how much he meant to her. When he showed up at Elysium, within an hour of her confrontation in the garage with Irene, Piper threw herself into his arms. He held her as she cried and comforted her while she poured out her story. Jack had guided and accompanied her through all the police questioning. Piper didn’t know what she would have done without him.
“Please, Dad. You and Mom need to stop worrying,” she said as she zipped the top of her bag. “It’s all good. But I gotta go, Dad. I have one more thing to do for Jillian Abernathy.”
S
ister Mary Noelle set out dozens of extra candles around the chapel. As she held a flame to each wick, she offered another prayer. She prayed for the souls of Esperanza Flores and Lillie Ulster, and she prayed for the living victims of Kyle Quigley.
Then Sister Mary Noelle said prayers of thanks. Jillian was safe and unharmed. So was their father. Irene was in police custody and would not be able to hurt anyone else. In addition to the incriminating evidence in the hope chest, the skin embedded beneath Esperanza’s fingernails was being tested to see if it belonged to Irene.
The police had also taken Irene’s computer and had discovered the Web sites she’d visited three years earlier with all the articles she’d accessed describing air embolisms as a cause of death and how to administer them without being detected. Sister Mary Noelle hoped that finally her father would stop blaming himself. He had nothing to do with her mother’s death.
Irene would face legal justice. More important, God would judge her and hold her accountable for her sins.
The nun smiled as she walked to the back of the chapel to get an overview of how the place would look to Jillian when she walked down the candlelit aisle. On very short notice, the chancery office had granted permission for the wedding to take place here at the monastery. In front of God, family, and just a few close friends, Jillian and Ben were going to be married in this consecrated chapel by a priest, rather than in a gazebo with a justice of the peace.
God had answered Sister Mary Noelle’s prayer.
T
he two round pumpkin layers were baked, cooled, and waiting for Piper when she arrived at the Monastery of the Angels kitchen. She got to work immediately, spreading the cream-cheese icing before stacking them. When the entire cake was covered, white and smooth, Piper got out her piping tips and the containers of fondant and gum paste.
First she worked on making the wings, rolling out thin circles of gum paste, tracing her handmade pattern, and carefully cutting them out. Then she brushed the wings with silver luster dust and set them aside to dry.
The heads and bodies both were made with fondant. Piper rolled out small round balls and larger-size cones, fashioning the bottoms of the cones into the folds of flowing gowns. After making tiny indentations for eyes and mouths, she gently connected heads to bodies with toothpicks. She used edible glue to attach gum-paste arms to the sides of the angels’ gowns, and then she attached the silvery wings to the angels’ backs.
Taking an icing-filled decorating bag, she squeezed a zigzag edging around the base and another one on the top edge. Changing to tip #10, she placed hearts at precise intervals on the sides of the cake and the perimeter of the top layer, leaving a space in the middle. She gingerly set her angels in the center.
Standing back, Piper admired her work. She snapped a picture and posted it on Facebook along with her comment:
NOT TO PAT MYSELF ON THE BACK, BUT . . . LOOK AT THIS!
P
iper walked out of the convent and into the garden, where Jack was sitting on a concrete bench waiting for her.
“Okay, let’s go,” she said.
He nodded toward the chapel. “You’re
sure
you don’t want to go to the wedding?” he asked.
“No,” Piper answered. “I’m ready to leave the City of Angels.”
“You’ll probably have to come back, you know,” said Jack, “to testify in the trials.”
She shrugged as she looked up at the Hollywood sign perched high up in the hills above the convent. “I hope I have lots of reasons to come back here,” she said.
Hand in hand, they strolled to the parking lot.
Piper looked up into Jack’s dark brown eyes. “Are you always going to play my knight in shining armor and come sweeping in to rescue me?” she asked.
“Only if you’ll let me,” he answered.