"He doesn't bite people out of meanness," Cheryl assured her. "It's just a habit. He sure is devoted to you, he wouldn't leave your room last night."
"That's a new twist. He's been barely civil."
Alexander put his front paws on Cheryl's knee and barked. Cheryl meekly handed over the strip of bacon she had been about to eat, and Alexander retreated under a chair, growling over his prize.
"He does look more cheerful today," Karen said. "I guess he needed an interest in life. There's nothing like a burglar to perk a dog up. But I can't give him any prizes as a watchdog."
"It wasn't his fault. He was shut up in the dining room. You look pretty cheerful yourself for someone who was half strangled last night. How do you feel?"
"My throat is a little sore, but otherwise I feel fine." Karen forced down a mouthful of scrambled eggs. Her stomach was still queasy, but she was grateful for Cheryl's efforts, and even more for Cheryl's willingness to pretend that nothing more distressing than an attempted burglary had occurred the previous night.
"I might be in much worse shape if you hadn't rushed to the rescue," she said. "It was very brave of you, Cheryl, but it was also very foolhardy. How did you get in? I seem to remember hearing the door slam…"
"Well, that was how I knew something was wrong. I figured you wouldn't slam the door in my face and leave me out there in the dark! Luckily you had left your keys in the lock. All I saw when I opened the door was something dark and shapeless, fading away into the shadows. By the time I turned on the light and made sure you weren't badly hurt and let Alexander out of the dining room, he'd gone out the back door. I should have chased him right away."
"Good Lord, no, you shouldn't have," Karen said sharply. "You did exactly right."
"You aren't mad because I called Mark?"
"No, I'm not mad at you." Karen took a deep breath and plunged into the subject she had avoided. It felt like jumping into a pool, not of water, but of some viscous slimy liquid. "I'm only sorry you had to overhear that telephone conversation."
"I didn't really hear anything."
"You heard enough to realize what was going on. You know Mark as well as… you know him better than I do; you've seen him look like that, you can imagine what was being said. Jack has a tongue like an adder; it leaves welts that sting for days. At least," Karen said, with a dreary little laugh, "Mark can derive some satisfaction from having his accusations confirmed. I called him paranoid and egotistical when he told me Jack's principal reason for marrying me was to get back at him. Now I know he was right. I ought to tell him so. It's the least I can do after subjecting him to that-that garbage."
"Stop it," Cheryl said sharply.
"Stop what?" Karen had expected sympathy; she had not expected to see a scowl darken Cheryl's face and hear the anger in her voice.
"Stop blaming yourself for everything. So you made a mistake. Everybody makes them. It's not your fault that your husband is a mean bastard. And Mark is a big boy. He's heard a helluva lot worse than your husband can dish out. He hears worse every day." Then she clasped her hand over her mouth. "I shouldn't have said that," she mumbled, behind it. "I'm so tactless…"
"You are tactful to a fault," Karen said, recovering from her surprise. "You've known about Jack and his- his little foibles all along, haven't you? And Mr. Cardoza- Tony-too. He wouldn't have been so quick to react if he hadn't heard plenty. I guess I can hardly blame Mark for sounding off to his best friends. He has good reason to detest me."
"There you go again. Have you always been little Mrs. Martyr? What did that man do to you?"
"It wasn't all Jack's fault," Karen said slowly. "I let him do it. I never was a very aggressive person. My sister was the tough one; she was smarter, prettier, older, taller… Cheryl, don't you dare laugh."
"I'm not laughing."
"Well, maybe you should. It sounds pretty silly, doesn't it? Sara was-is-just great. She couldn't help being taller, older… What was she supposed to do, cut her feet off at the ankles and fail exams to make me feel more secure? Funny; I couldn't see that at the time-that it was my problem, not hers. Then she married Bruce, and they were so happy…Jack sure as hell didn't help. Not that he ever laid a hand on me. He just… cut me to ribbons inside, where it didn't show. Like that old jacket. Shattered silk… Slow corrosion, attacking the fabric at its weakest points."
"Oh, come on, don't be so dramatic." Cheryl's smile took the sting out of the words. "There's no remedy for shattered silk-right? You're cured-"
"Not yet. But I think I'm on the road to recovery. It may take a while."
"I'm glad you told me," Cheryl said.
"So am I. Now we can forget about it. But I wish," Karen said wistfully, "that I could have seen Jack's face when Tony practically accused him of attacking me."
Cheryl giggled. "I guess Tony probably shouldn't have done that. It was like intimidation or exceeding his authority or something. But he got a kick out of it, I could tell. He likes you. Oh, he said to tell you he'd let you know if they got any leads, but don't count on it."
"He still thinks it was an amateur-someone looking for money to buy drugs?"
"Well, he claims a professional thief would have gone for the antiques and the silver. I guess your aunt's things are pretty valuable?" Karen nodded, and Cheryl went on, "He says the man must have been high on something or he wouldn't have behaved so inconsistently- throwing everything around but not damaging or taking anything, trying to choke you and then running like a scared rabbit when I came in."
"But you don't agree?"
Cheryl looked doubtful. "It sounds too convenient. You know what I mean? Like saying, I don't know why he acted that way, so I guess he was out of his mind. Seems to me Mark has a point-"
"If Mark thinks there's a maniac out there with my name at the top of his list, I don't want to hear about it."
"Oh, no, it's just the opposite. He doesn't think the man intended to hurt you; he just panicked when you walked in on him unexpectedly. Karen, are you sure you heard him say, 'Where is it?'"
"I'm sure."
"He was looking for something, then," Cheryl said.
"He might have meant money. He sounded…" Karen searched for a word. Even the memory of the hoarse whisper made her shiver. "… not normal," she finished weakly. "That fits Tony's theory of someone on drugs."
"I guess so. But Mark says it's too much of a coincidence that this should happen so soon after Mrs. Mac's car was stolen. He wondered if the guy was after something of hers."
Karen jumped up. "Good heavens. I completely forgot…" She ran into the master bedroom.
The burglar had turned that room into a shambles too. The furniture was heaped high with the crumpled clothing Cheryl had picked up from the floor. But he had not found the secret drawer. The panel slid aside under Karen's pressure and there was the shabby red morocco case, just as she had left it. She opened it, to make certain the contents had not been disturbed, and carried it in to show it to Cheryl.
"It's pretty," Cheryl said politely. "But it doesn't look like the kind of jewelry a burglar would care about."
"It's the only thing of real value I've acquired lately, though. Anyhow, if that's what he was looking for, he didn't find it. Cheryl, you have a very peculiar look on your face. What are you thinking?"
"I was remembering that weird old lady."
"Mrs. Grossmuller?" Karen's voice rose incredulously.
"I guess you think I'm silly."
"Why, no. I just-"
"He did." Cheryl's cheeks flamed. "He practically laughed in my face."
It wasn't difficult for Karen to deduce the identity of the person referred to. "You told Tony about Mrs. Grossmuller?"
"Yes, I did. I'm sorry if you didn't want me to."
"I don't mind. But it is pretty far out, Cheryl. Even admitting she's that disturbed, which I doubt, how could she track me down so quickly?"