Rosemary had first met this woman sixteen months ago and yet it wasn’t till this moment that she finally saw herself through Lydia Levitt’s eyes. At seventy-five years old, Rosemary had already been a widow for three years and had buried her only daughter two entire decades earlier. Lydia saw her as an old woman to be pitied.
Rosemary wanted to explain to Lydia that she had made a life filled with activities and friends, but she knew the woman had a point. Her activities and friends were the same as when she had been a San Mateo wife and mother. She had been slow to allow new people into her world. It was as if she didn’t want to know anyone who didn’t also know and love Jack and Susan. She didn’t want to meet anyone who might see her, as Lydia apparently did, as a widow marked by tragedy.
“Thank you, Lydia. I really appreciate it.” This time, her gratitude was sincere. Her neighbor might not have been tactful, but she was caring and kind. Rosemary made a mental promise to reach out again to Lydia once she was less preoccupied.
Once Rosemary was alone, she eagerly retrieved her voice mail. She heard a beep, followed by a clear voice that hinted at a tone of excitement.
“Hi, Rosemary. This is Laurie Moran from Fisher Blake Studios. Thank you so much for sending back the release. As I explained, putting the show together depends also on how many of the people involved in the case we can sign up. Your daughter’s agent, unfortunately, has passed away, but we have letters out to all the names you gave us: Frank Parker, the director; her boyfriend, Keith Ratner; and Susan’s roommates, Madison and Nicole. The final call gets made by my boss. But your willingness to participate makes an enormous difference. I truly hope this happens and will get back to you as soon as I have a final answer. In the meantime, if you need me-”
Once Laurie began reciting her contact information, Rosemary saved the message. She then dialed another number from memory as she began unloading groceries. It was the number of Susan’s college roommate Nicole.
Rosemary had told Nicole that she had decided to go ahead with the program.
“Nicole, have you made a decision about the television show?”
“Not quite. Not yet.”
Rosemary rolled her eyes but kept her voice even. “The first time they made that kind of special, they ended up solving the case.”
“I’m not sure I want the attention.”
“It’s not attention about you.” Rosemary wondered if she sounded as shrill as she felt. “The focus of the show would be on Susan. On trying to solve her case. And you were close to Susan. You’ve seen how when someone brings it up on Facebook or Twitter, there are dozens of opinions, not least of which among them is that Susan was some kind of slut involved with half the men on campus. You could help to erase that image.”
“How about the others? Did you speak to them?”
“I haven’t yet,” Rosemary said honestly, “but the producers will make their choice based on the level of cooperation they get from the people involved in the case. You were Susan’s roommate for nearly two years. You know that other people won’t want to cooperate.”
She didn’t even bother speaking their names. First up was Keith Ratner, whose wandering eye Susan had forgiven so many times. Despite his own transgressions, his possessiveness of Susan and unjustified jealousy had always made him Rosemary’s top suspect. Next was Frank Parker, who had marched on with his fancy career, never giving Rosemary and Jack the common courtesy of a phone call or sympathy card for the loss of their daughter, whose only purpose in going to the Hollywood Hills was to see him. And Rosemary had never trusted Madison Meyer, Susan’s other roommate, who had been only too happy to step into the role that Susan was supposed to audition for that night.
“Knowing Madison,” Nicole was saying, “she’ll show up with hair and makeup done.”
Nicole was trying to defuse the tension with humor, but Rosemary was determined to stay on message. “You’ll be important to the producers’ decision.”
The silence on the other end of the line was heavy.
“They’ll be deciding soon,” Rosemary nudged.
“Okay. I just need to check on a couple of things.”
“Please hurry. The timing is important. You’re important.”
As Rosemary clicked off the phone, she prayed that Nicole would come through. The more people Laurie Moran could enlist, the greater the hope that one of them would inadvertently give himself or herself away. The thought of reliving the terrible circumstances of Susan’s death was daunting, but she felt as though she were hearing lovable, wonderful Jack’s voice saying, Go for it, Rosie.
Lovable, wonderful Jack.
7
Twenty-eight miles north, on the other side of the Golden Gate Bridge, Nicole Melling heard the click on the other end of the telephone line but couldn’t bring herself to hit the disconnect button on the handset. She was staring at the phone in her hand when it started to make a loud beeping sound.
Her husband, Gavin, appeared in the kitchen. He must have heard the sound all the way from his home office upstairs.
He came to a halt when he spotted the phone, which she finally returned to its base. “I thought it was the smoke alarm.”
“Is that a critique of my cooking?” she asked.
“Please, I know better.” He gave her a kiss on the cheek. “You are absolutely the best cook-make that chef-I have ever known. I’d rather eat three meals a day here than go out to the finest gourmet restaurant in the world. And besides that, you’re beautiful and have the disposition of an angel.” He paused. “Is there anything I forgot?”
Nicole laughed. “That will do.” Nicole knew that she was no beauty. She wasn’t unattractive, either. She was just ordinary, her features unremarkable. But Gavin always made her feel like, in his eyes, she was gorgeous. And he was gorgeous in her eyes. Forty-eight years old, always trying to lose a few pounds, average height, starting to bald. He was a dynamo of brains and energy whose stock picks for his hedge fund made him a formidable figure on Wall Street.
“Seriously, is everything okay? It’s a bit troubling to find my wife standing in the kitchen staring at a phone off the hook. Honest to God, you look as though you just received a threat.”
Nicole shook her head and laughed. Her husband had no idea how close this joke came to the truth in her case.
“Everything’s fine. That was Rosemary Dempsey.”
“She’s doing okay? I know you were disappointed when she didn’t accept your invitation to join us for Thanksgiving.”
She had told him about the possibility of this program. But she certainly hadn’t told him the full story about where she was in her life when she had shared a dorm room with Susan.
She hadn’t meant to conceal anything from him. She really had managed to convince herself that she was a different person now than she was before she met him.
If this program happened and someone dug deeply enough, would it be better to have told him the truth now?
“Do you know that show called Under Suspicion?” she began.
His expression was blank, then changed. “Oh sure, we saw it together. Sort of a true-crime reality show; the Graduation Gala Murder. Got lots of attention. It even ended up solving the crime.”
She nodded. “They’re thinking of featuring Susan’s case for the next one. Rosemary really wants me to be a part of it.”
He plucked a few grapes from the crystal bowl on the kitchen island. “You should do it,” he said emphatically. “A show like that could break the entire case open.” He paused, then added, “I can only imagine what it’s like for Rosemary-not knowing. Look, honey, I know you don’t like the limelight, but if it could bring some kind of closure for Rosemary, I’d say you owe it to her. You always tell me that Susan was your best friend.” He grabbed several more grapes. “Do me a favor, hang up the phone at the end of the next call, okay? I was afraid you’d fainted.”