“And he might want Collis dead because he was about to lose him. Even if Livingston held him to his contract, there’d be a debilitating legal battle, expensive and embarrassing.”
Both Alanna Brooks and Lloyd Clancy had been guests at a function honoring an ancient but still prolific artist at the Museum of Modern Art at the Rocks, which was very close to Raeburn’s hotel. “Pat was there, too,” said Bourke, “and she remembers speaking to both of them at different times, but she’s vague about when. People came and went from seven-thirty on, and it was very crowded. Didn’t end until well after eleven, and I’m still chasing up a guest list to see if I can get anything more concrete.”
“All right, Mark-Alanna Brooks kills him because she’s about to be supplanted as prima donna… and maybe there’s a love triangle there too, with either Corinne Jawalski or Graeme Welton at the other point.”
Bourke yawned. “Sorry Carol, had a late night-we went through the wedding rehearsal a hundred times, it seems. Now, who’s left? Lloyd Clancy and Mr. X.” He yawned again. “Clancy has a motive because Raeburn’s career was eclipsing his. Something like that wouldn’t worry me, but then, I’m not an opera singer.”
“A mercy,” said Carol.
“Cheer up,” said Bourke, “if none of these motives attract you, there’s always Mr. X-the guy Raeburn told his singing teacher he’d get even with. Maybe Mr. X got in first.”
Carol frowned. “Doesn’t have to be a Mr. X who infected him,” she said. “Could be a woman.”
Madeline, wearing a russet shirt, tight white jeans and an incandescent smile, opened the door. Carol said, “I’ve got to pick up David and my Aunt Sarah from Sybil’s house, so I can only stay a few moments.”
She had deliberately dropped the clue, and Madeline immediately picked it up. “At Sybil’s house? Has she left you, Carol? Or did you throw her out?” Then, immediately contrite, “I shouldn’t have said that.”
“Why did you want to see me?”
Madeline seemed chilled by Carol’s tone. “Are you coming inside? Please…”
Carol followed her down the short hall to a charmingly furnished sitting room with plate glass windows opening onto a landscaped garden. Stingingly conscious of Madeline’s physical presence and of her heavy musk perfume, torn by fresh anguish over Sybil, Carol gazed resolutely at the greenery tossed by the wind.
“Amos Derringer’s disappeared.”
Carol looked at her. “Something’s happened to him?”
“No. He’s gone to ground. I think he’s been paid off to keep him quiet.”
“Any ideas?”
Madeline’s heavy copper hair shone as she shook her head. “Thought your people’d be able to turn up something. I suspect it might be the father trying to hush things up, but then again, Collis could have been moving with some pretty heavy characters we know nothing about.” She took a leather folder from a side table. “These are statements, notes, the report from a private detective we had check Berringer out-everything we collected.” She gave a small smile. “I’m cooperating with the police, Carol. Won’t you cooperate with me?”
“In what way?”
“Have you and Sybil separated?”
Carol stood. “This isn’t a topic for discussion.”
“It’s important to me.”
“Why?”
“You know why, Carol.”
Checking her watch, Carol said, “I have to go.” Madeline laughed as though she’d won a victory. “Go,” she said.
When Carol, David and Aunt Sarah came back from Sybil’s, darkness was falling. While Aunt Sarah organized David into a bath before dinner, Carol listened to the one message on the answering machine.
The same whispered voice as before admonished her: You haven’t been paying attention, Carol Ashton. It was an accidental overdose. Why not just say that or do you want everyone to know what you and Sybil Quade do in bed? Collis Raeburn’s death was an accident. Make sure your report says that.
Sounds of enthusiastic splashing from the bathroom preceded Aunt Sarah, who came hurrying back into the kitchen area. “Who was that?”
Her aunt always moved with unsettling energy, towing less enthusiastic people along in her wake. She also had a tenacity that made prevarication pointless. Carol was horrified to hear a shake in her voice as she said, “It’s just a rather well-mannered anonymous call trying to persuade me that Collis Raeburn accidentally killed himself.”
Aunt Sarah squeezed her hand in unspoken comfort, obviously realizing that Carol was struggling for control. She said prosaically, “Why well-mannered?”
It helped to be objective. “Anonymity often encourages people to swear, describe in graphic detail violence or sex… this one’s polite to an extraordinary extent, considering that he, or she, is threatening me.”
Aunt Sarah looked alarmed. “Threatening you with what? Physical harm?”
It was hard to say the words. “Just exposure as a lesbian, Aunt. Just that.”
“What are you going to do?”
“Wait,” said Carol with bitter resignation. “There isn’t anything else I can do. It may come to nothing. If not… I’ll worry about that if it happens.”
If it happens? What about my career? And Sybil-have I sacrificed our relationship for an illusion of safety?
Aunt Sarah swooped on the electric kettle. “Tea, Carol. You’ve got to stop drinking coffee-I’ve told you what it does to you, so why do you persist?”
“I’m incorrigible?”
Abruptly serious, Aunt Sarah put her hand on Carol’s arm. “Carol, I love you. I want you to remember you can talk to me about anything. You know that, don’t you?”
Resigned, Carol said, “Has being with Sybil brought this on?”
“No, although she did talk to me about you.”
“Oh, great!”
Aunt Sarah pursed her lips. “You don’t really communicate, Carol, that’s the problem. How does anyone know what you’re thinking and feeling behind that cool exterior of yours?”
“You don’t seem to have any trouble.”
Aunt Sarah grinned at the resentment in Carol’s voice. “I’ve known you since you were a baby, that’s why,” she said with a hint of complacency. “You’ve always been as transparent as glass to me.”
She handed Carol a mug of tea. “And don’t ask for sugar. It isn’t good for you.”
“I don’t take sugar.”
“Good thing, too.”
Carol ran her finger around the rim of the mug. “Aunt Sarah, what do I tell David?”
Her aunt didn’t dissemble. “Tell him the truth.”
Carol sighed. “Justin’s pressuring me. Says David has to know about me and Sybil, about what I am.”
Showing both impatience and concern, Aunt Sarah said, “What you are, my dear, is very important to him. You’re his mother and his friend and he trusts and loves you. Tell him what he needs to know-no more and no less.”
“How much is that?”
Aunt Sarah threw up her hands. “I don’t know. How can there be a hard and fast rule? You’ll have to play it by ear, Carol. There isn’t any other way.”
Sipping her tea, Carol thought, Do I really need to say anything, now that Sybil’s gone? She was immediately ashamed. Coward, she accused.
CHAPTER NINE
Corinne Jawalski was not impressed by an early Sunday morning visit from Carol. She yawned as she pushed the heavy brown hair back from her face. “I was hoping to sleep in. I’ve had a very heavy week.”
“There’s one little matter I’d like to clear up.”