Camilla T. Crespi - The Breakfast Club Murder (7 page)

Lori tightened her hug. “I’m so sorry.”

Beth sniffed, wiped her nose with the back of her hands. “It’s envy, that’s all. I’d like to have a man send me flowers without having to put out first.”

“You wouldn’t like what he did to my dress.”

Beth wiped her tears and laughed. “Next year Tommy and Mike are off to boarding school. They wanted to go so badly, I couldn’t say no.”

“We’ll keep each other company.” The phone rang. Lori was tempted to let it ring, but Jessica could be calling. “I better get this.”

Beth pushed her toward the phone. “Yes, of course.” She waved an arm just as Lori got to the wall phone. “Please don’t tell Margot or Janet. I’m doing great, really. It’s just the flowers—”

“I won’t say a word.” Lori picked up the cordless receiver, hoping it was Jessica telling her, “You’re my mom. I don’t even like Valerie. I love
you.
”

It was raspy-voiced Margot. “I want to take you out to dinner with Janet and me. I know you’re jet-lagged, but it will be fabulous, I promise. Janet’s just dropped the kids with Seth’s mother for the night. Seth has a meeting in the city for a possible job and yours truly managed to snatch a last-minute reservation for four at
Jeffrey’s,
which you know is impossible to get into even on a Monday night. I’m trying to find Beth to get her to join us. Do you know where she is?”

Lori took advantage of the short pause in Margot’s waterfall of words to ask, “What are Jessica and Angie doing?”

Silence. Then a quiet “You don’t know?”

“I don’t know,” Lori repeated as her stomach got ready to do its hundredth flip of the day. She really needed to get a grip. “Did they go to the movies?” Pizza afterward, probably.

“He lied,” Margot said.

“Who lied?” She knew the answer right away. That’s what she got for slapping the new wife. Now Rob was going to kidnap Jessica, take her to Paris and Provence. Lori dragged herself over to the kitchen table, dropped down heavily on one of the chairs. She’d turned into a sack of potatoes. Rotting ones. Beth, watching her, stopped swirling the mouse button.

“Darling, please, don’t be mad at me,” Margot pleaded. Her voice was loud enough for Beth to hear. “Rob took the girls to Manhattan. He said he had reservations at Pastis in the Meat-packing District and he thought they’d get a kick out of it. Angie and Jessica started screaming with excitement. I said I’d have to check with you first, but he said he’d called you already and you were fine with it.”

“And you believed him?”

“Why wouldn’t I? There’s no harm in it, is there? God, I’m awfully sorry, but they’ll have so much fun and he promised to bring them back no later than ten thirty. Now forgive me and come to dinner.”

It was turning out to be a big night for regrets. Lori sighed. “It’s okay, Margot, but I don’t feel like dinner. Call me when Jess is back.” Beth tapped Lori on her shoulder and mouthed, “I’m not here.”

“I don’t know where Beth is,” Lori added.

Margot went on urging her to come to dinner at Jeffrey’s, the most expensive restaurant in Hawthorne Park. “I want to welcome you back.”

“Thank you, but I’m very tired,” Lori said. “But I’ll take a rain check. Don’t forget to call when Jess is back, no matter what the time.”

“I won’t forget,” Margot promised. “I’ll get you another night. Love you and do forgive me for believing that handsome rotter you married.”

“Divorced.” Lori hung up. Handsome and rotter was right on. She was furious at Margot for letting Jessica go, for not checking with her first. Her heart was fluttering and her mouth was dry. She was having a panic attack. Nothing was in her control anymore.

After one look at Lori, Beth went to the refrigerator, jerked open the door, and rummaged inside until she found a plastic container. Inside was the leftover butter and Parmesan spaghetti Lori had cooked for Jessica early that morning. Beth popped the container in the microwave. “Rob won’t let any harm come to his daughter, you know that, right?”

Lori nodded and looked at the flowers in the hall. “Look at something pretty,” her father used to tell her whenever she was about to cry. “It lifts the soul. That’s why I look at you all the time.” The memory helped. Maybe even the sight of the flowers.

She was going to call Rob on his cell, tell him what she thought of his lie right in the middle of his dinner. Jessica would never forgive her. God, what if he told her Lori’d slapped Valerie. She could just hear Jessica wailing, “Mom, that’s just so embarrassing!” Or Jessica might give her the cold shoulder for a week.
Please, Rob, don’t tell her.

Beth brought over the reheated pasta and a fork. “You need to eat.”

“You sound like my mother.”

“Your food’s edible.” Beth had suffered through several Ellie meals in the name of friendship.

Lori slipped the fork into the spaghetti and twirled the strands into a neat roll, one of the first tricks Papa had taught her. She’d wait until tomorrow to have it out with Rob.

Beth was back sitting on the stool, fiddling with the laptop. “Alec Winters restores houses,” she announced. “He lives in Pleasant Gap, Pennsylvania, which is a little far, but long-distance relationships can be more exciting. And
House and Garden
did an article on him. That means he’s successful. Too bad there’s no photo.” She scrolled down. “Ooh, this is getting better and better. Listen, he’s involved with not-for-profit and volunteer organizations in New York City. Let’s see, he’s with the Children’s Help Line, DonorsChoose, and, oh—”

“What?” Lori slipped the rolled spaghetti into her mouth.

“He’s chairman of the board of Ban-AIDS and a big donor to Broadway Cares.”

Lori looked up with a smile. “That explains the gorgeous extravagant flowers. The sweet note.”

“You’re male bashing.” Beth tried to wipe away the frown that had formed on her forehead with a sweep of her hand. “And let’s not jump to conclusions. Maybe he’s just compassionate.”

Lori shook her head. “A gay man is just what a gal needs in bad times. Support, compassion, no sex. We’ll share him. Tomorrow I’ll call information and get his number. How’s that for passive?”

Beth closed the laptop lid. “Come to think of it, Jonathan Ashe would make a great date for you. Cute. Never married. He is a couple of years younger, maybe as much as five, but, hey, younger is the latest trend.”

Lori wasn’t listening. She took two more bites, then pushed the plate away. “God, why did he have to take Jessica?”

Beth slipped down from the stool. “Why are you so worried? Okay, Rob lied and you’ll have to work that out with him, but Pastis is a hot restaurant for young people. Tommy and Mike raved about it. Jessica will have a ball.”

“What if someone
is
trying to kill Rob? What if that person tries tonight while he’s with Jessica and Angie? I don’t know, a bomb in the trunk, driving him off the road, shooting at the car.”

Beth walked over, leaned over Lori, and rubbed her back. “Honey, I think you need to take an Ambien and go to sleep.”

Lori’s eyes filled with tears. “Oh, Beth.”

Beth lifted Lori out of her chair, turned her toward the hallway. “You’re jet-lagged and we’ve both had a lot of wine on empty stomachs.”

Lori pushed herself away from Beth. “Why did he leave Jess and show her that love can break her heart. Why didn’t he love me enough to give Valerie up? I’m not drunk. Just slowly falling to pieces. I’ll go to bed now, but no sleeping pill. I want to hear the phone when Margot calls.” Lori headed to the hallway table, lifted the large bouquet of lilies, roses, and peonies out of its blue ceramic pot, separated it into more or less equal parts, and held out a dripping part to Beth. “Friends share the good and the bad.”

Beth started to protest, but Lori pushed the dripping flowers against her best friend’s chest. There was no saying no, not with Lori as vulnerable as she was. “Thank you. You’re the best,” Beth said and kissed her friend on both cheeks. Then she whispered, “Rob’s not worth killing.”

Margot’s luxurious home, paid for by her dead father’s Wall Street fortune, sat at the end of Tree Haven, a cul-de-sac facing the Long Island Sound. It was a sprawling modern house designed by a Danish architect who, much to Margot’s disappointment, had died before becoming world-famous. A nest of smooth granite boxes spread across an emerald green lawn. On the Sound side, the granite was replaced by enormous plate glass windows open to the sky and the vast lawn that dipped down to the water. From the street, all an onlooker could see, between the four copper beeches, were small square windows that echoed the shape of the boxes. The other homes in the cul-de-sac were traditional five-to seven-bedroom colonials and Tudors. Each was meticulously landscaped and enhanced by the century-old maples, oaks, and beeches that had given this exclusive section of Hawthorne Park its name.

The cul-de-sac was in deep shadow thanks to the many tree branches that extended into the street and covered the street lamps. At eleven fifteen at night, the late June sky was finally dark, the moon hidden behind dense, rain-filled clouds. In the red den, Margot, in a purple silk pant outfit, sprawled on the leopard-skin patterned sofa and made a phone call. “Angie and Jess are going to be late. They had to wait a long time for their table. Valerie’s bringing them home. Yes, Valerie. Rob is sick or something.” After she hung up, she settled back to watch
Charlie Rose.
She’d already told Lori, waking her up.

At eleven thirty, Margot switched off the television and went to her bedroom at the back of the house. At eleven-forty, Rob’s new BMW slid smoothly into the circular driveway. Angie got out first from the back. “Thanks a bunch,” she said, bending down as the passenger side door opened and Jessica got out.

“Bye,” Jessica said, with a quick wave. The two girls headed for the front door. Once they were safely inside, the BMW slipped quietly down the dark street. Just as it was leaving the cul-de-sac to turn into winding, unlit Caldwell Street, a car came up from behind and swiftly passed the BMW. The drivers did not glance at each other.

At eleven forty-seven, Lori’s cell phone rang.

“I had the best time, Mom. I ate mussels and the best French fries I’ve ever tasted and you won’t believe who I saw!”

A wave of relief engulfed Lori. Jessica was safe, happy, bursting with excitement, and Rob had kept his mouth shut about slapping Valerie. “Who did you see?”

“Sarah Jessica Parker! She’s so gorgeous and she gave me her autograph on a Pastis matchbook. Angie too. She’s really tiny.” Jessica went on about all the cool downtown people she had eaten with. She now felt part of the Manhattan “in” crowd. The mysterious man who had sent the flowers and her mother’s bad memory seemed forgotten. Lori simply listened. Finally Jessica said, “Bye now. I’ll be home around ten tomorrow morning. Margot’s giving me a ride.”

“Thank her. I’ll be with Mrs. Ashe catering her birthday.”

“Cool. Love you, Mom.”

“Love you back.” Jessica hung up. Lori listened to the steady dial tone as her head sank back into the pillow. She closed her eyes. Life was going okay after all.

It had started to rain. The BMW turned into the first leg of a sharp S-curve at the end of Caldwell Street. Valerie slammed on the brakes, the rear of the car fishtailing. Thank God the road was barely wet or she would have ended up like the car that was now blocking the lane, its trunk hanging over the dividing line, the front fender against a tree. What to do? Her headlights, aimed at the driver’s side of the car, shone through the open window onto the driver, who was hunched over the steering wheel, face out of sight. Valerie reached for her cell phone, punched 911. Nothing happened. She tried again. Again nothing. She turned on the overhead light and checked her phone. “Shit!” She lowered her window and called out, “I’ll have to drive to get the paramedics. We’re in a no-service zone here.”

In her bedroom, Angie, dressed for the night in a torn soccer shirt, slipped the DVD of an old episode of
Grey’s Anatomy
into the player. Jessica was brushing her teeth in the bathroom. “I just can’t get enough of Patrick Dempsey. He sends shivers up my spine.”

Jessica rinsed out her mouth and walked back into the bedroom to get undressed. “He’s too old.”

“That’s what Margot said.” Angie sat crossed-legged on the bed, waiting for Jessica to join her. “But that’s just because she goes for him, too.”

“Where is she? Did you tell her we’re home?”

“Her bedroom door is closed. She’s probably fast asleep.”

“Maybe she’s watching TV and didn’t hear us. I think you should tell her.”

“Okay, I’ll go tell her.” Angie scrambled off the bed. “You want a Coke, or chocolate, or whatever?”

“No, thanks.” Jessica put on a short cotton nightgown and climbed into bed.

“I’ll be right back,” Angie said. “Mom is just at the end of the corridor.”

Angie’s house was huge. The end of the corridor could be a mile away. Jessica lay back on a stack of embroidered pillows. Angie might take forever getting back. Jessica closed her eyes. She was tired from the excitement of the dinner, the amount of food she’d eaten.