I've Got You Under My Skin (26 page)

78

O
ne more night in the house she hated! Why did I do this to myself?

It was a question Claire had been asking herself since the plane landed. Had it been stupid to make herself up to resemble her mother that first morning? Had she done it to stick it to “Daddy Rob”? Maybe. He’d had the nerve to open the door of her bedroom right after her interview this morning to ask her that very question. Why didn’t I ever press charges against him in all these years? she asked herself. Why don’t I do it now?

She knew the answer. Because it gave me a perfect reason to kill my mother, and because, with his battery of lawyers, Daddy Rob would have held me up as a demented liar, and my mother would have loved backing him up. That’s why I became a counselor, she thought. I wanted to help other girls in my situation. But not many of them told me that
their
mothers accepted the fact that their stepfather came sneaking into their room at night. I know that until I go into therapy myself, I’ll never move forward with my life, Claire conceded. He’s held me hostage all these years.

There was one way she could get to him. Tonight and tomorrow morning she would again wear makeup and style her hair to accen
tuate her remarkable resemblance to his dear Betsy. As if that makes a bit of difference in the grand scheme of things, Claire thought bitterly as she picked up the phone to order room service. I wonder if Nina will faint again when she sees me.

And why was she, of all people, the one to faint in the first place?

79

N
ina packed, then had room service send up dinner. As she listlessly took a bite of cordon bleu, her phone rang. To her astonishment, it was Grant.

“Couldn’t help wondering how the interview went,” he said. “Alex Buckley is notorious for shaking up witnesses.”

“Well, he did an Oscar-worthy performance on me,” Nina said. “Wait until you see it.”

“Hey, you sound pretty down.”

“I guess I am,” Nina admitted.

“Try not to be, but I understand. I was a witness in a fraud case twenty years ago. It wasn’t pleasant.”

Pleasant! That’s a good word, Nina thought as she listened to Grant tell her he was looking forward to seeing her and wished her a good flight.

Nina took a large swallow of vodka from the tumbler beside her dinner plate. Maybe if I promise my mother to give her all the money left after paying Josh, she’ll be satisfied, she thought. Especially if she knows that an A-list producer like Grant is dating me!

80

I
n Mount Sinai Hospital, Leo was looking at his watch with growing impatience. It was twenty to eight, and Laurie still wasn’t there. But just as he was sure she would have to take Timmy’s call in the car, Laurie appeared in the doorway. The tall, impressive-looking guy behind her was instantly recognizable as the famous Alex Buckley.

Laurie rushed to hug him. “Dad, I’m so sorry. They should take the East River Drive and bury it at sea. There was a fender bender at 125th Street. You would have thought it was a terror attack for the traffic jam it caused.”

“At ease,” Leo said, “or you’ll be the next one in here with heart fibrillations.” He looked up at Alex. “Wouldn’t you agree with that, counselor?”

“I certainly agree that your daughter is under a lot of stress,” Alex said carefully as he pulled up a chair at Leo Farley’s bedside. “But she’s doing a great job with this program, I can promise you that.”

“Now, before you ask me again, Laurie, yes, I feel fine, and yes, I get out tomorrow morning,” Leo Farley declared. “What time do you wrap up this witch hunt you’re on?”

“Hey, Dad, that’s not exactly what I would call having respect for my work,” Laurie protested.

“I have every respect for your work,” Leo said. “But if I had got
ten away with murder for twenty years and now I was under a spotlight where every word I said in front of a national viewing audience could be picked over by all the amateur sleuths in the country, I might be driven to do whatever it took to cover my tracks.”

Alex saw that both Leo and Laurie kept glancing at their watches. It was five to eight.

“Timmy’s late calling. I’d better call the office at the camp again and check to see if anything is wrong,” Leo said.

“Dad, you’ve been calling the office at the camp?” Laurie asked.

“You bet I have. That way I can keep them on their toes and make sure that there’s no lapse in security there. What do you think, Alex?”

“In your situation, if I were the parent or grandparent, I would do exactly the same thing,” Alex agreed.

The ringing of Laurie’s phone brought a collective sigh of relief. Before it rang again, she and Leo were saying, “Hi, Timmy.”

“Hi, Mom,” a happy young voice answered. “I was worried that you wouldn’t get home in time to have Grandpa with you when I called.”

“Well, we’re both here,” Laurie said.

Alex listened as Timmy described his activities of the day. He was on the “A” swim team. He liked the three other guys in his tent. Camp was fun. It was only at the end of the conversation that his tone became wistful. “I miss you guys. Are you really, really coming up on visiting day?”

“We are really,
really
coming up on visiting day,” Laurie promised.

“You bet we are,” Leo said emphatically. “Have I ever broken a promise to you, big guy?”

“No, Grandpa.”

“Do you think I’m going to start now?” Leo demanded with mock severity in his voice.

The wistful note was gone.

“No, Grandpa,” Timmy said happily.

When they said their final good-bye, Laurie looked at Alex. “That’s my little guy,” she said proudly.

“He sounds like a great kid,” Alex said honestly.

“And now I want you two to go get something to eat and start back to Robert Powell’s place,” Leo said firmly. “You’ll be late enough as it is. Laurie, I hope you’re going to take a couple of days off after you wrap up this program.”

“That’s the last thing I’ll be doing, Dad. In fact, that’s almost funny. Postproduction can be the toughest part of it. But I agree with you—emotionally, this one has been tough. I have to tell you, I hope I’m never under suspicion of having committed a murder.”

Alex knew which way Laurie and her father’s thoughts were turning. “I’ll defend you, ten percent discount,” he promised. They both laughed, and when Alex said good-bye to Leo he heard himself saying, “I defended some people in cases about which I’d love to have your opinion. Would you want to have dinner sometime?”

“Sure I would,” Leo agreed.

“Can I come?” Laurie laughed.

“There’s no question about that,” Alex said, his tone now serious.

With a final good-bye to Leo, they went downstairs and left the hospital.

“I love Manhattan,” Laurie sighed. “It’s home sweet home.”

“So do I,” Alex agreed. “Look, we don’t have to be back to that mausoleum until eleven, and it’s only eight thirty now. Why don’t we have a relaxed dinner?”

“We were talking about grabbing a hamburger.”

“Forget it. Marea on Central Park South is one of the best restaurants in New York. It’s always full, but by this time the theatre crowd has gone. Okay with you?”

“Perfect,” Laurie said. Relaxed now that Leo looked good and Timmy sounded happy, she knew she would enjoy the evening dining with Alex.

•   •   •

At that very moment, Bruno was crossing the Tappan Zee Bridge on the way to Timmy’s camp.

81

T
wenty-four miles away in an equally expensive restaurant in Westchester County, Robert Powell and Muriel Craig were sipping champagne. “To our reunion,” he whispered.

“Rob, dear, I’ve missed you. Oh, how I’ve missed you.” Muriel reached across the table for his hand. “Why didn’t you ever call me in all these years?”

“I was afraid to call you. When we broke up I was very unfair to you. I know you had given up the chance to be in that series, and it became so successful. I owed you so much, I didn’t know where to begin.”

“I called and wrote to you,” Muriel reminded him.

“That only made me feel more guilty,” Robert Powell confessed. “And I haven’t told you yet how absolutely lovely you look tonight.”

Muriel knew that was not flattery. She had prevailed on Meg and Courtney to do her makeup and style her hair. She had found a beautiful dinner suit in an exclusive boutique in Bedford. The fact that she had already bought a beautiful dinner suit with matching accessories on Rodeo Drive in Hollywood did not trouble her. She was carrying Nina’s credit card.

Robert was saying, “I think we’d better order.”

Throughout the dinner, he skillfully intermingled compliments
with subtle questions. “I was so flattered to hear that you blamed Nina for calling Claire and Betsy to the table that day, Muriel.”

“I could have killed her,” Muriel admitted, her voice thick and a little loud. “I was so in love with you.”

“And I often thought of you over the years and wondered how stupidly carried away I was, and how much I came to regret it.” He paused. “And then, when Betsy was mercifully off my hands, I wish I could have known who to thank.”

Muriel looked hesitant, then glanced around the dining room to be sure that the occupants at the surrounding tables were absorbed in their own conversations. Satisfied, she bent forward and leaned across the table as far as she could, getting a smear of butter on the lapel of her new suit.

“Robbie, do you mean you were
glad
when Betsy was smothered?”

“Promise not to tell anyone that,” he whispered.

“Of course not. It’s our secret. But you know how close my daughter, Nina, and I have always been?”

“Of course I do.”

“Well, she was so upset with what Betsy wrote on my invitation, you know, how she wanted me to see how happy you two were and how glad she was that Nina had introduced you . . .”

“I learned about it later, and I was shocked.”

“I was hurt, but Nina was furious at her. She knew how much I loved you. Rob, I think Nina was the one who killed Betsy. She did it for me so that I would have another chance with you.”

“Are you sure, or are you guessing, Muriel?” Robert Powell’s eyes were suddenly alert, his tone of voice sharp.

Muriel Craig looked at him, vaguely aware of the change in his manner. “Of course I’m sure, Robbie. She called me. You remember, I was in Hollywood and she was crying over the phone. She said, ‘Mommy, I’m scared. They’re asking so many questions.

“ ‘Mommy, I did it for you.’ ”