VEILED MIRROR (5 page)

A fierce light came into Ell’s eyes. “What do you need to know?”

Beth awoke as Maria
brought a large mug of warm milk into Ell’s bedroom. Ollie sat down next to the bed. Beth blinked, confused. She’d talked to Ell for what seemed like hours, but the light streaming in the windows was still bright, as if she’d hardly slept any time at all. She glanced at the spot where Ell had sat on the bed. The dream had been so vivid she expected to see an indentation, as if her twin had actually been there. Of course there wasn’t.

Beth shook her head. She had to face the truth. Ell was dead. But even if the dream was just her mind playing tricks on her, she didn’t feel so alone. Even if this feeling of still being connected was just a delusion, she’d take it.

She sat up, groaning as her body protested. She was probably going to be in real pain tomorrow. Maria would insist on her seeing the doctor then. Somehow she’d have to put her off without raising suspicion.

“Here you are,
mí’ja
. Just as you like it.” Maria handed Beth the mug.

Beth forced herself to take a sip. “Thanks, Maria.”

The older woman nodded. “Now I will draw a bath for you. You must clean those scrapes.”

Beth looked at her arms and legs. She hadn’t even noticed before, but they were covered with smeared blood and shallow cuts. She followed Maria into the bathroom. “You don’t have to do that.”

“But I want to,” she said, testing the water that flowed into an oversized white marble tub. “Now, let’s get those nasty clothes off you.” And she began unbuckling Beth’s belt as if she were a child.

Beth stood still, unresisting, feeling steam-rolled.
Ellie wouldn’t let herself be pushed around like this. Or did Ell enjoy the extra attention? Or maybe Maria is only doing all this because of Chris and the accident.
She hoped that if she wasn’t acting like Ellie, Maria would attribute her mistakes to shock and grief.

Maria took the mug out of her hand and set it on the counter so she could peel Beth’s blood spattered shirt over her head. “Oh no!” She exclaimed and made distressed tsking noises.

Beth looked in the mirror and saw that a stripe angling across her chest and waist was already purpling. Toby was right, she
was
going to have one hell of a bruise from the seat belt. “It looks worse than it is.” But when she reached back to unfasten her bra, her chest hurt so bad she wasn’t sure that was true.

Maria helped her remove the rest of her clothing, tested the water again, then turned off the flow. “Into the bath with you. Your muscles will thank you for it.”

Maria steadied her as Beth stepped into the tub and sank up to her neck into water that was the perfect temperature. A moan escaped her lips. She hadn’t realized how much she needed this.

“I will get you fresh towels,” Maria said as she left the room.

The tension in Beth’s shoulders slowly released and the knot in her stomach started to unravel. She sighed. She might never move again.

Then her eye fell on the mug of warm milk, waiting for her beside the sink and her lips curled in disgust.
How can Ell drink that stuff?
And Maria would foist it on her again when she came back—unless Beth got rid of it now.

Carefully she pulled herself up and out of the wonderful warmth, trying not to drip too much on the floor, and flushed the milk down the toilet.

Then she looked up. Maria stood in the doorway. Her arms were full of apricot colored towels and her face was stiff with anger.

Oops.

“Uh, it must be the baby, Maria. My tastes must be changing—”

“Do you think you can steal the Pontifore money so easily? You are not the
Señora!
What do you mean to do? Pass off some
bastardo
as
Señor
Chris’s blood? I have worked for this family for over twenty years. I will not allow it!”

B
eth froze, dripping on the bathroom rug. Ell hadn’t confided anything that would help her talk her way out of this.

Maria looked her up and down. “Your breasts are not swollen. You are not pregnant. You have not the legs of a horse-woman. You are not
Señora
Ellie.” Her tone was firm. She seemed to harbor no doubt on the subject.

“No, I’m not.”

Maria’s eyes widened, apparently surprised at the quick admission.

Beth couldn’t see trying to change the older woman’s mind, not when she was so fiercely loyal, not when she was right. “I don’t care about the money, Maria. I don’t want it. Ell believed, no, she
knew
that Chris was murdered. And before she died, she told me she thought the crash wasn’t an accident either.” Beth felt her throat tightening but she pushed on, forcing the words out. “Someone killed them, Maria. Chris and Ell and their baby. I promised her I’d find out who.”

Maria huffed in disbelief. “But why this charade if you do not want the money?”

Beth’s heart beat faster with panic and frustration. “Because no one but Ellie believes Chris was murdered! The sheriff thinks these were accidents. He isn’t looking for a killer. I’ll need every bit of help I can get, and no one will listen to me if I’m just Beth Hart. Some information is only open to immediate family. I have a better chance of finding out what happened if my name is Pontifore.” Beth suddenly felt cold. She shivered, and Maria held out a towel to her.

Maria remained silent while Beth wrapped the fluffy terry cloth around her. Then she asked, “Do
you
believe
Señor
Chris was murdered?”

“I don’t know.” She felt as if she was somehow betraying her twin by admitting she wasn’t as sure as Ell, but it was the truth. “But it doesn’t matter what I believe. I promised Ellie.” Beth paused, trying to read Maria’s face. “Will you help me?”

“What if you do not find this killer? What if he does not exist? You cannot pretend to be the
Señora
forever. She is pregnant.” Tears welled in Maria’s eyes.

Beth nodded, tears filling her own eyes. She would have no niece or nephew to spoil now. Would the medical examiner check dental records? She didn’t know. And if he did, how long would it take to get them? Because when he did, he’d know that it wasn’t Beth Hart’s body he was looking at.

“I don’t know. Two weeks? A month?” She hoped it wouldn’t take that long. She had a job she had to get back to, but if she hadn’t found the killer by then, could she give up and go back to her old life?

The phone rang and Beth jumped. Maria hesitated for a moment then turned and went into the bedroom to take the call.

“
Bueno …
”

Beth bit her lip.

“
Sí Señor, lo siento
. It is a terrible thing.”

Another condolence call.

“She is …” Maria was silent for a moment and glanced at Beth.

Beth held her breath. Would Maria out her, or keep her secret?

“She is not well,
Señor
. There has been an accident.
Señorita
Beth was killed.”

Beth let out her breath and sagged against the doorframe. Relief made her light-headed. Maria would help her.

“I do not know … Only a few hours ago … No, she is home, but it is good that you come.”

Come? Who’s coming? Palmer? He’d said he was busy with his missionary work.
Beth gestured at Maria, shaking her head urgently. The fewer people she had to convince she was Ellie, the better.

Maria ignored her. “No, no! You must stay here.
Señor
Chris would want it. The
Señora
will insist.”

Jason ended the call
and put his hand over his eyes.
Dead.
Beth was dead too.

A horn honked. The light had changed. Jason accelerated the rented Ford Taurus with a jerk and turned onto the access ramp for I-10 East. In less than two hours he’d be at Ellie’s door, trying to offer sympathy for her double loss. What could he possibly say that would help? Especially when his own heart felt like it had been flattened by a semi. Again.

He hadn’t talked to Beth for months. Her death shouldn’t hit him this hard, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that he’d missed out on something important.

They’d connected instantly seven months ago at the rehearsal dinner, but it was at the reception that they’d begun to really talk. After the toasts and the cake, Chris and Ellie’s party had really started to rock. He and Beth had danced, but when they stopped to catch their breath, they both realized that the music was too loud for real conversation.

“Come on,” Beth said, and Jason grabbed a couple beers from a passing waiter before following her. The music faded as she led him into the house and down a tiled hallway.

She pushed the door to the library open and looked inside. “Good. No one’s here,” she said, pulling him inside and pushing the door closed behind him. The desk lamp was on, casting a soft glow over the room. “This is my favorite room in the house.”

He was glad she made no move to turn on the brighter overhead lights. Jason looked around at the floor-to-ceiling bookcases, the overstuffed sofa and chairs, the inlaid chess table where Chris had frequently trounced him, the stone fireplace, the heavy wood desk with Chris’s laptop. It was everything a married man’s home should be: solid, stable, permanent. And a perfect place for snuggling in front of the fire. This room had potential. “Mine too.”

“I love having all this potential around me.”

Jason blinked. Had she been reading his mind? “Potential?”

“The books. Who knows where they could take you if you only had the time to read them all.”

Jason hid his disappointment. She wasn’t thinking about getting physical. She shivered and rubbed her hands over her bare upper arms.

“Are you cold? Would you like me to start a fire?” Maybe they would be doing some snuggling after all.

“That would be great.” Beth kicked off her shoes and curled up in one of the chairs rather than on the sofa, tucking her feet underneath her.
Damn.

“I never thought of books like that before,” Jason said as he knelt to light the kindling that was already laid. “I was a pretty good student, but I guess I just see books as a means to an end, tools for learning what I need to know.”

Beth snorted delicately. “I’d say you were more than just a ‘pretty good student’ if you got a full academic scholarship to USC.”

He shrugged. “Yeah, well.” But he was pleased that she was impressed. “I just did what I had to do.”

“What you
had
to do?”

“My mom raised me on her own. We didn’t have much money. If I was going to get into college I had to do it by myself. And she made it clear that I
was
going to go.”
Oh man, that sounded pathetic
. “I didn’t mean that the way it sounded. My mom is great and I liked school.”

Beth smiled. “I understood what you meant. She sounds like a strong woman.”

“She sure kept me in line.” Jason spared a glance at Beth’s bare shoulders, and appreciated how the growing firelight caressed the skin revealed by the dipping neckline of her burgundy dress before he settled into the couch. “I remember one time I came home with ‘C’s in English and Social Studies. I think it was my freshman year in high school. I was feeling pretty full of myself and didn’t even flinch when she came home from her second job and picked up my report card. Then she sat down at the kitchen table and studied it. When she finished she set it down carefully and started massaging her feet. She worked as a receptionist during the day, and waited tables at night. She knew I could do better, but she didn’t lecture me. She just looked at me while she rubbed her toes. Man, I felt about that tall.” He held his thumb and finger about an inch apart. “Finally she said, ‘Are
you
happy with this?’”

“Ouch.”

“Yeah. I never brought home less than an ‘A’ after that.”

The fire popped. Beth held out her hands to the heat. “Oh, that feels good.”

There was a noise behind them and they both looked around. Ollie, Chris’s dog, pushed the door open and padded into the room. “When did you learn to open doors, boy?” Beth ruffled his black and white ears, then gave him a hand signal. He lay down on the rug in front of her chair with a contented sigh.

“That never did latch right.” Jason looked at the door that was now ajar and thought about closing it again for privacy, but what good would that do with Beth curled up in the chair? A blare of music changed his mind and he got up to shut the door. “What about you?” He asked as he sat back down. “I’ll bet you loved school.”

“Not really. We moved too much. We went to twelve different schools in six years.”

“After your mom died.”

Beth cast him a surprised glance.

“Chris told me a little. He said your dad never got over it.”

“That’s one way of putting it.” Then her expression softened. “Dad did the best he could, but he pretty much left me and Ell to ourselves. You probably know all about that.”

“No. Chris didn’t go into detail.”

Beth hesitated, clearly deciding how much to tell him. He held his breath. It came to him suddenly that he really wanted her to trust him with her story. He wanted to know who she was, and why.

“Mom died in a car wreck when we were eleven. Ell and I were at school. When they called me to the principal’s office and I saw Dad standing there with his face all stiff, I knew something horrible had happened. All the clichés are true. The bottom dropped out, the world stopped turning, I knew my life was never going to be the same.”

“I’m sorry.” It was fifteen years too late, but it was all he could of think to say.

“It was so sudden.” She grimaced and glanced at him. “As car accidents usually are.” Her gaze slid back to the fire. “None of us knew what hit us. I couldn’t remember if I’d kissed her goodbye that morning. Ell was upset because she’d been complaining that Mom hadn’t washed her lucky shirt, and Dad …” She paused as if she didn’t often talk about this, took a swallow of beer, then went on. “Dad didn’t handle it well. He refused to have a service for her. Two weeks after she died, he went to a psychic. He wanted to say goodbye. As you might suspect, he was disappointed.”

Jason nodded but didn’t say anything. He didn’t want to stop the flow of words.

“He kept finding mediums that promised him what he wanted. At first we went with him, but after a while Ell and I couldn’t take it anymore. Sometimes they’d say something that sounded like it could have come from Mom, and for a moment we’d feel a little like we had her back with us, but then they’d always screw it up, and we’d feel the loss all over again: Mom was gone. It was like ripping a scab off over and over again. But Dad kept on hoping. He must have gone to every psychic in Colorado, Nevada, and California. We lived like gypsies and every spare dime went to pay those people. Some of them were better than others, but they were all fakes.”

A long buried anger flared and Jason gripped his bottle so tight his knuckles turned white. “There’s no shortage of those bastards, is there?”

Beth looked at him, startled.

“My mom got taken too. Not by psychics, but they were the same kind of scumbags. They played on her dreams too.”

“What happened?”

He hadn’t meant to reveal so much. It wasn’t something he usually discussed. He didn’t like to think too much about the mistake his mom had made, but what had happened to his mother had happened to him as well. And Beth’s story had rekindled that old impotent fury. He had a feeling Beth would understand.

“She wanted us to have a place of our own. It wasn’t enough for us to live in an apartment. ‘We’ll never get ahead paying rent,’ she’d say. She worked her ass off, saving a down payment. Then one day she saw an ad for a new condo that was going to be built in a great part of town. The people who qualified and put down a deposit before they broke ground would get a special low price,
and
they’d be eligible for a prorated portion of the income from the units put aside for rent.

“It was perfect. A place of our own at a low price and a source of income. She wouldn’t have to work two jobs anymore. And even though my mom didn’t have the full down payment, the salesman liked her, he said, and made a special arrangement for her to make up the difference over the next six months. We ate beans five nights a week so she could get in on the ground floor of this
unbelievable
opportunity. We picked out a floor plan and Mom talked for hours about how we’d decorate our new home.” He stared at the bottle, turning it around and around on the arm of the sofa.

“Five months later the state attorney general called and asked if my mom would like to testify against the developer at a grand jury. That slimeball had stolen nearly a million dollars from over a hundred people like us. There was no condo, no money for restitution, no assets to be sold, nothing. The entire set-up was a scam and that bastard had spent every cent.”

“Oh no!”

“Oh yes.”

“Did your mom ever get her own place?”

Jason nodded. “It took her five more years to save up another down payment, and then all we could afford was an old fixer-upper. That’s how I learned to use a hammer and a saw, and to measure twice and cut once. It was a dump, but it was ours.”

“Oh good.” She leaned back in the chair. “Roots are important.”

Jason nodded again, understanding what Beth had left unsaid. She and Ell had been rootless during their teen years.

“And you had each other.” Beth added.

Jason smiled. His story did have a happy ending. “Yeah. We did.”

“Like me and Ell. We pretty much finished raising each other.”

Jason hid the anger he felt for a father that had left his young daughters to cope with their grief alone. “You did a pretty good job. You both turned out all right.”

Beth smiled but rolled her eyes before sipping her beer.

“Hey, you’re not dead or in jail. That qualifies as some kind of success.”

Beth laughed, and he grinned back at her.

“And you put yourself through college,” he added.

“Yes, I did.” For the first time, Beth sounded proud. “Mom wanted that for us. She made me want it for myself.”