“Trunk sale,” Beth answered without looking up from her computer screen. But then she got scared. Police showed up at Morris, Kent, and Fleischer around noon and Beth had no idea what they were investigating. Valerie’s card? Gerald Mitchell’s? Someone else’s? At one point the cops questioned Beth and Valerie together. A young blue-eyed officer with a mustache leaned toward them with an air of confidentiality.
“Notice anyone around the office who’s been acting different lately? Dressing different?”
Beth’s chest tightened.
“Nothing out of the ordinary,” Valerie said, then looked intently at Beth.
The officer looked at Beth too, waiting for her to speak.
“Nothing unusual,” she confirmed, adding, “I’m famished. Could I go to lunch now?”
The cops left, but the bad news didn’t stop.
“I’m stuck in New York another day,” Alex said when he called. “Possibly two.”
“But we leave in two days!”
“There’s nothing I can do. Family stuff. I’ll explain later. In Paris, mon amour.”
That night Beth stole the show with her performance as Princess Kosmonopolis, in a state of nervous collapse when Chance threatened to leave her for his true love, the younger Heavenly. The acting teacher loved it. Everyone had drinks at Good Dog after and talked about local auditions Beth might consider come spring.
She couldn’t wait to tell Alex, but he wasn’t answering his phone then or the next day. It was December 23 and she walked around the neighborhood aimlessly, past the beautiful red doors of St. Mark’s Church on Locust Street, then up 17th Street past Little Pete’s, the Plaza-Warwick, and Sofitel. She strolled along Chestnut Street and looked at the windows of discount shoe and clothing stores, glad she never went there anymore.
That night she managed just a few hours of sleep, and the next morning saw she’d missed a text from Alex. He was still in New York but had both their tickets. He’d go directly to the Philadelphia International Airport from there and meet her by the counter at six-fifteen for the eight o’clock flight. Thrilled, Beth sprang into action. She started packing but her suitcases looked shabby, so she headed to Robinson Luggage on Broad. It was a cold day under a bright sun, and the streets were crowded with last-minute shoppers. When she finally arrived at the store, she heard a familiar voice and spotted a woman with blond hair.
“I’ll call as soon as I land,” the woman said into her cell phone. “Nothing more depressing than an airport Christmas morning.”
It was Chloe. Beth hadn’t seen her since their first meeting in August because Chloe was always out of town or wanted the apartment to herself. But Chloe was practically her sister-in-law. Shouldn’t they get to know each other?
Beth approached her. “Hi. It’s Beth. Remember, from the night with the sprinklers?”
“Of course,” she smiled warmly. “How are you?”
“Great. I’m going to Paris so I can’t complain, right?”
“Paris? I’m traveling there myself.”
“Really?”
They stood there a moment before Chloe continued: “My flight’s tonight and I have so much to do, I should be on my way.”
“I guess Alex and I might be on your flight.”
Chloe sucked in her breath. She looked at the ceiling, then seemed to cave in to the inevitability of doing something she didn’t want to do.
“That’s unlikely. Alex is already in Paris.”
Beth leaned for support on a glass case filled with wallets and passport holders. “But he’s got my ticket. He texted me to meet him at six-fifteen.”
“Let’s talk,” Chloe said.
They crossed the street and sat in the lobby of the Ritz-Carlton Hotel near a fragrant gingerbread house display. Children ran around while weary grown-ups sat surrounded by shopping bags. Beth’s head was spinning.
“Alex is a sweetheart,” Chloe explained. “So sweet he has trouble saying no. He’s charming too, so he’s always got admirers. I’m used to it. It’s been this way ever since we declared our feelings for each other-”
Beth flinched. “How can you contemplate such a thing?”
“How do you mean?” Chloe asked, surprised.
“With your brother?”
“Stepbrother,” Chloe corrected. Now Beth was surprised. “You have to understand,” Chloe said. “Alex gets involved easily with people, but he always comes back to me. Always.”
Beth heard the blood whoosh through her veins, melding with the general din as Chloe kept talking.
“My uncle-our uncle-would like nothing more than to see us marry. It’s odd, but he’s very protective of me since my father died, and he knows I love Alex. This would be good for Alex, of course. He didn’t make it into our parents’ will, and his mother had so little…”
Chloe, her eyes downcast and her hair falling in perfect waves just below her shoulders, looked like an angel delivering the truth. Nausea washed over Beth.
“Thank you,” Beth whispered. “I should have known. It seemed complicated. Even getting the tickets-”
“The money,” Chloe interrupted. “I know how he is, how unfair he is. How much did you give him for tickets?”
Beth tried to recall what each one cost. Eight hundred dollars? Nine hundred? It was Leah’s money, but Chloe clearly pegged Beth as someone Alex had duped. Perhaps he had.
“Let me write you a check,” Chloe said. “My uncle’s generous with me, as is Alex, though I worry about things he does. Whatever the case, it’s terrible for you to be out any money. Do you have five minutes? We’ll run back to the apartment now. No worries.”
Nothing had changed about the Belgravia except the bright wreaths now festooning the front doors.
“Chloe,” the doorman said, then nodded at Beth.
Passing through the marble lobby and under the chandeliers, Beth tried to imagine herself back into the first time she came here, but couldn’t.
They entered the apartment and Chloe began looking for her checks.
“They must be in the bedroom.”
Beth felt pressure build behind her eyes. She imagined telling everyone the trip to Paris had been canceled. She imagined Leah and her mother looking at her, thinking she’d screwed things up or gotten too emotional. Again. She imagined her grandmother telling her she shouldn’t waste time feeling sorry for herself if she wanted to meet another nice young man.
Her head throbbed and her mouth was dry. She noticed an Air France ticket on the coffee table for the flight she was supposed to have taken. The ticket had Chloe’s name on it and a receipt confirmed its purchase by Alex two days prior. How could he? But Beth had trouble blaming Alex. Perhaps he was trapped-all the “family stuff” he mentioned. And here she was, sitting in his apartment, allowing his stepsister to send her away with a check. What would Alex think when he found out she’d accepted a paltry sum-nothing compared with the fortune the two of them could make-instead of opting for a life of love and adventure with him? Her mind reeled. It made no sense to let Alex down. She loved him too much. He loved her.
There, on the table, a silver letter opener with a filigreed handle caught her eye. It wasn’t sharp, but it might do. She stepped on the Oriental runner in the hallway to avoid making noise as she came up behind Chloe, who was searching a drawer beneath the bed. Before Chloe could turn around, Beth plunged the letter opener into her neck. Chloe gasped and collapsed over the drawer.
But something was wrong. The weapon wouldn’t go deeper and Chloe was still alive, trying to move. Beth withdrew the makeshift knife, causing Chloe to scream and blood to gush out of the wound onto her white cashmere sweater. Beth forced the weapon into a new spot in Chloe’s neck. More blood, more gasping, but Chloe still breathed. Her eyes were open and her mouth twisted with pain. Focus, Beth told herself when she started to tremble. Find an actable objective: to kill Chloe in order to live a life of happiness with Alex. She scrambled to the closet and found a plastic bag, then lifted up Chloe’s head by the hair and fastened the bag tightly around her neck, squeezing with her hands to speed things up. Tremors wracked Chloe’s body, her arms and then legs. Then nothing.