Double Booked for Death (24 page)
Read Double Booked for Death Online
Authors: Ali Brandon
All this meant that the mourners had to hike the distance from curb to church.
Shiny new Jaguars, Bentleys, Porsches, and BMWs made up most of the vehicles discharging passengers there at the gated front walk, though Darla also noticed a couple of Rolls-Royces purring past.
She saw, as well, that a large wooden podium manned by half a dozen crisply uniformed young men had been set up along the curb.
As each new group of mourners piled out, their respective drivers were pointed toward a nearby lot where they could await their employers’ return.
For those mourners slightly lower down the food chain—meaning they had driven themselves—one of those youths promptly leaped behind the wheel of the empty car and drove it off to a second location.
Shiny new Jaguars, Bentleys, Porsches, and BMWs made up most of the vehicles discharging passengers there at the gated front walk, though Darla also noticed a couple of Rolls-Royces purring past.
She saw, as well, that a large wooden podium manned by half a dozen crisply uniformed young men had been set up along the curb.
As each new group of mourners piled out, their respective drivers were pointed toward a nearby lot where they could await their employers’ return.
For those mourners slightly lower down the food chain—meaning they had driven themselves—one of those youths promptly leaped behind the wheel of the empty car and drove it off to a second location.
“Valet parking at a funeral,” Darla murmured in amazement, wondering if one was supposed to tip in such circumstances and feeling slightly smug that she had a driver of her own.
Jake grinned.
“That’s the Hamptons for you.”
“That’s the Hamptons for you.”
Darla pinned on her oversized hat again as Jake pulled into line with the rest and waited their turn.
She noticed a couple of local police cars prowling the winding road, no doubt dispatched to hustle away any paparazzi, fans, or Lord’s Blessing Church protesters who might have learned the location of the service.
For the moment, however, it appeared that the destination remained a secret.
The only black garb she spied was the fashionable funeral attire worn by the parade of wealthy guests.
She noticed a couple of local police cars prowling the winding road, no doubt dispatched to hustle away any paparazzi, fans, or Lord’s Blessing Church protesters who might have learned the location of the service.
For the moment, however, it appeared that the destination remained a secret.
The only black garb she spied was the fashionable funeral attire worn by the parade of wealthy guests.
As they reached the valet stand, a young man rushed to Darla’s side to open her door.
“Enjoy hobbing with the nobs, kid,” Jake told her as she climbed out.
“And if you see anyone there you think I should meet”—she pulled her glasses down to her nose and waggled her brows meaningfully—“send me a text.”
“And if you see anyone there you think I should meet”—she pulled her glasses down to her nose and waggled her brows meaningfully—“send me a text.”
Darla adjusted her veil so that it caught on her chin and draped the shawl over her shoulders before starting down the walk toward the church.
Ahead of her, a sixtyish man in a black suit was escorting a paper-thin blonde less than half his age who could have been a model.
Darla was pleased to see that the young woman wore a black wrap dress similar to Darla’s own, though hers had a stand-up white collar and was hemmed a good foot shorter than Darla’s knee-length outfit.
She suspected, however, that the model’s dress was also worth twenty times the cost of Darla’s sensible knit, which she had found on sale for less than a hundred dollars.
Ahead of her, a sixtyish man in a black suit was escorting a paper-thin blonde less than half his age who could have been a model.
Darla was pleased to see that the young woman wore a black wrap dress similar to Darla’s own, though hers had a stand-up white collar and was hemmed a good foot shorter than Darla’s knee-length outfit.
She suspected, however, that the model’s dress was also worth twenty times the cost of Darla’s sensible knit, which she had found on sale for less than a hundred dollars.
Her feet in the unaccustomed heels had already begun to ache by the time she reached the broad marble staircase leading up to the church’s pair of arched wooden doors.
She thought longingly of the running shoes she’d left behind in the car, but she knew too well that the fashion of pairing that footwear with formal wear had gone out with the eighties.
She thought longingly of the running shoes she’d left behind in the car, but she knew too well that the fashion of pairing that footwear with formal wear had gone out with the eighties.
Several other guests already were gathered, waiting to enter.
The promised security was there, too: two beefy, black-suited men situated on either side of the massive entry.
Darla didn’t need a second look to recognize one of them.
Everest stood with a clipboard in hand as he marked off the names of each arrival.
The promised security was there, too: two beefy, black-suited men situated on either side of the massive entry.
Darla didn’t need a second look to recognize one of them.
Everest stood with a clipboard in hand as he marked off the names of each arrival.
“Ms.
Pettistone,” Everest greeted her with professional pleasure when it was her turn to give her name.
“It’s good to see you again, ma’am, despite the circumstances.
Let me see if you’re on the list.”
Pettistone,” Everest greeted her with professional pleasure when it was her turn to give her name.
“It’s good to see you again, ma’am, despite the circumstances.
Let me see if you’re on the list.”
Frowning, he scanned his clipboard and then shook his head.
“John,” he called to his cohort, “check to see if Ms.
Pettistone is on your list.”
“John,” he called to his cohort, “check to see if Ms.
Pettistone is on your list.”
The other man obediently scrutinized his paper before shaking his head as well.
“She’s not on it.”
“She’s not on it.”
“I’m not?”
Darla stared at Everest in consternation, feeling herself blush behind her veil.
She’d never in her life gatecrashed an event, but now it appeared she was on the verge of doing just that.
“I don’t understand.
Hillary Gables promised that she would add my name.”
Darla stared at Everest in consternation, feeling herself blush behind her veil.
She’d never in her life gatecrashed an event, but now it appeared she was on the verge of doing just that.
“I don’t understand.
Hillary Gables promised that she would add my name.”
“I’m sure she did, Ms.
Pettistone,” came Everest’s diplomatic reply.
Pettistone,” came Everest’s diplomatic reply.
Unspoken were the words,
Yeah, that’s what they all say, lady.
Yeah, that’s what they all say, lady.
Her blush deepening, she went on, “Seriously, Everest, I talked to Hillary not two days ago.
She’s the one who gave me directions.
She even said she’d look out for me just in case there was a problem.
Maybe I can pop into the church and find her so she can come back out and vouch for me?”
She’s the one who gave me directions.
She even said she’d look out for me just in case there was a problem.
Maybe I can pop into the church and find her so she can come back out and vouch for me?”
Everest shook his head, his diamond earring sparkling in the afternoon sun.
“I’m afraid I can’t do that, ma’am.
If it was just me, I’d let you right in, but I have orders from the family to stick to the list.
I hope you understand.”
If it was just me, I’d let you right in, but I have orders from the family to stick to the list.
I hope you understand.”
“How about if I wait here in case Hillary notices I’m not inside and comes looking for me?”
Darla persisted, biting back the few choice words for the agent that threatened.
How could Hillary let her come all the way out here from Brooklyn, only to forget to put her on the list?
And how was she supposed to do the look-and-listen routine that Jake had assigned her if she couldn’t even get past the door?
Darla persisted, biting back the few choice words for the agent that threatened.
How could Hillary let her come all the way out here from Brooklyn, only to forget to put her on the list?
And how was she supposed to do the look-and-listen routine that Jake had assigned her if she couldn’t even get past the door?
The bodyguard glanced at the Rolex on one beefy wrist and then nodded.
“I suppose it wouldn’t hurt if you stood here for a few minutes, at least until the service starts.
But I do ask that you step aside so that the other guests can pass by.”
“I suppose it wouldn’t hurt if you stood here for a few minutes, at least until the service starts.
But I do ask that you step aside so that the other guests can pass by.”
“Sure.”
Darla stepped aside and pretended she had come out of the church for a breath of fresh air.
If not for the circumstances, she might have enjoyed the wait.
The afternoon breeze coming off the Atlantic Ocean was just cool enough to offset the sun, and she was in the center of more greenery than she’d seen since she moved to Brooklyn.
A veritable meadow stretched before her, the meticulously manicured lawn as carefully maintained as any golf course.
Across the distant street, she could see where all the valet cars were parked.
They appeared arranged in order of retail value, with the Rollses up front, and the other cars behind.
If not for the circumstances, she might have enjoyed the wait.
The afternoon breeze coming off the Atlantic Ocean was just cool enough to offset the sun, and she was in the center of more greenery than she’d seen since she moved to Brooklyn.
A veritable meadow stretched before her, the meticulously manicured lawn as carefully maintained as any golf course.
Across the distant street, she could see where all the valet cars were parked.
They appeared arranged in order of retail value, with the Rollses up front, and the other cars behind.
As for the guests, their numbers at the door had increased dramatically.
Darla recognized a couple of B-list film stars and even one controversial radio personality among them, as well as several faces from the publishing industry that she had seen in various trade magazines.
She glanced at her non-Rolex and saw it was but a couple of minutes to two.
Was one always fashionably late, even to a funeral, in the world of the rich?
Darla recognized a couple of B-list film stars and even one controversial radio personality among them, as well as several faces from the publishing industry that she had seen in various trade magazines.
She glanced at her non-Rolex and saw it was but a couple of minutes to two.
Was one always fashionably late, even to a funeral, in the world of the rich?
As unobtrusively as she could, she pulled out her phone and texted Jake.
Not on list, Security won’t let me in.
What 2 do?
Not on list, Security won’t let me in.
What 2 do?
A reply popped up almost immediately:
Sneak in with someone else?
Sneak in with someone else?
Can’t,
she typed back.
Hat’s 2 big.
she typed back.
Hat’s 2 big.
Lose it!!!!!
Darla glanced around.
The crowd at the door was growing, so that it looked more like the line outside a popular club than a gathering of mourners.
John and Everest were busy going over their lists, and someone had finally propped open the immense arched doors to better accommodate the flow.
She looked around one last time for Hillary but didn’t see her.
It’s now or never
, she told herself.
The crowd at the door was growing, so that it looked more like the line outside a popular club than a gathering of mourners.
John and Everest were busy going over their lists, and someone had finally propped open the immense arched doors to better accommodate the flow.
She looked around one last time for Hillary but didn’t see her.
It’s now or never
, she told herself.
As casually as she could, she reached up hands that suddenly were trembling and unpinned her hat.
Tucking the lavish headwear beneath her arm, she pulled up her shawl like a mantilla.
Now, it covered her red hair and draped over her shoulders, concealing the hat as well.
The result harkened back to the old-school Catholic-lady look she remembered from her childhood, but it would serve to disguise her, at least until she got inside the church.
What she needed to do was find someone—preferably male, older, and very nearsighted—who’d already been checked off the list.
Then she could latch onto him and slip past the door right under Everest’s nose.
Tucking the lavish headwear beneath her arm, she pulled up her shawl like a mantilla.
Now, it covered her red hair and draped over her shoulders, concealing the hat as well.
The result harkened back to the old-school Catholic-lady look she remembered from her childhood, but it would serve to disguise her, at least until she got inside the church.
What she needed to do was find someone—preferably male, older, and very nearsighted—who’d already been checked off the list.
Then she could latch onto him and slip past the door right under Everest’s nose.
With a bit of genteel shoving, she made her way into the center of the crowd.
Directly ahead of her was a man who, at least from the back, looked like a perfect candidate to serve as her shield.
He was tall and thin and dressed in the requisite black, so that his shock of white hair appeared even whiter.
Best of all, he appeared to be alone.
Directly ahead of her was a man who, at least from the back, looked like a perfect candidate to serve as her shield.
He was tall and thin and dressed in the requisite black, so that his shock of white hair appeared even whiter.
Best of all, he appeared to be alone.
She pressed in closer behind him, keeping her head tilted downward so that the shawl concealed her face from either side.
Not satisfied with that, she hunched her shoulders and sank into herself a little, hoping to present a more convincing silhouette that might pass for the old fellow’s wife.
He had reached the front of the line now, and she could feel her heart pounding with nervous anticipation as she crowded closer still to him.
Not satisfied with that, she hunched her shoulders and sank into herself a little, hoping to present a more convincing silhouette that might pass for the old fellow’s wife.
He had reached the front of the line now, and she could feel her heart pounding with nervous anticipation as she crowded closer still to him.
Despite herself, she jumped as she heard Everest’s familiar rumble.
“My apologies, sir, you shouldn’t have stood in line out here.
Please, step right in.”
“My apologies, sir, you shouldn’t have stood in line out here.
Please, step right in.”
She took this as her cue and reached forward to grasp the man by one thin but surprisingly sinewy arm.
“Let’s go inside, dear,” she said before he could protest.
Using him as a veritable human screen in front of her, she hustled the unresisting man past the bodyguard and into the church’s dim foyer.
“Let’s go inside, dear,” she said before he could protest.
Using him as a veritable human screen in front of her, she hustled the unresisting man past the bodyguard and into the church’s dim foyer.
She expected to feel Everest’s beefy hand closing over her shoulder at any instant, but a glance back showed that he was already distracted by the next person in line.
Her subterfuge had worked!
Now, all that was left to do was unload the old geezer and find a seat for herself in the main sanctuary.
Her subterfuge had worked!
Now, all that was left to do was unload the old geezer and find a seat for herself in the main sanctuary.
“I hope you’ll forgive me,” she began, letting go of his sleeve so she could put her hat back on and resettle her shawl back on her shoulders where it belonged.
“I’ve been waiting for Hillary Gables and she seems to have been delayed, so I’m afraid I took advantage and slipped past security with you.”
“I’ve been waiting for Hillary Gables and she seems to have been delayed, so I’m afraid I took advantage and slipped past security with you.”
“I quite understand.
Ms.
Gables is not the most .
.
.
dependable of people.”
Ms.
Gables is not the most .
.
.
dependable of people.”
The voice was far younger than she’d expected, and she glanced up in surprise.
He had turned now to look at her, and she saw that he was not an old man after all.
He was gauntly handsome and likely no older than she.
It was the hair that had fooled her, hair that was preternaturally white-blond.
But more odd was the fact that something about him—perhaps it was his pale blue eyes—seemed vaguely familiar.
He had turned now to look at her, and she saw that he was not an old man after all.
He was gauntly handsome and likely no older than she.
It was the hair that had fooled her, hair that was preternaturally white-blond.
But more odd was the fact that something about him—perhaps it was his pale blue eyes—seemed vaguely familiar.
“I’m sorry, have we met?”
she asked, putting out her hand.
“I’m Darla Pettistone.
I knew Valerie, uh, professionally.
Were you a friend of hers?”
she asked, putting out her hand.
“I’m Darla Pettistone.
I knew Valerie, uh, professionally.
Were you a friend of hers?”
He gave her a faint smile, and the first thing that struck her was that his smooth forehead did not reflect that change in expression.
The second thing she noticed as he lightly clasped her hand was that he wore a heavy gold puzzle ring on one long finger.
The second thing she noticed as he lightly clasped her hand was that he wore a heavy gold puzzle ring on one long finger.
“I’m Morris Vickson,” she heard him say.
“Valerie’s brother.
Her twin brother.”
“Valerie’s brother.
Her twin brother.”
Darla stared at him for a long moment through her veil, even as she murmured the appropriate words of sympathy.
All the while, however, one thought was swirling through her mind, a realization at once unbelievable and patently obvious.
There was no question about it—Valerie’s brother Morris was, in reality .
.
.
Mavis!
All the while, however, one thought was swirling through her mind, a realization at once unbelievable and patently obvious.
There was no question about it—Valerie’s brother Morris was, in reality .
.
.
Mavis!
NINETEEN
IF THIS PARTICULAR MEMORIAL SERVICE HAD BEEN A scene in one of Valerie Baylor’s books, the woman in the coffin would have suddenly opened her dead blue eyes wide as Darla stared down at her.
No one else in the church would have noticed, of course, nor would they have seen the woman grasp her wrist in unrelenting cold fingers or heard the words meant only for Darla’s ears.
No one else in the church would have noticed, of course, nor would they have seen the woman grasp her wrist in unrelenting cold fingers or heard the words meant only for Darla’s ears.
We fooled you all, Mavis and I, didn’t we?
Darla abruptly drew back from the casket, that fleeting lapse into imagination a bit too real for comfort.
But Valerie’s eyes with their dusting of taupe shadow remained closed, and her slim hands remained demurely crossed just above her waist.
What appeared to be the same red fountain pen as in her poster was tucked between her fingers, as if she’d drifted to sleep while dashing off a page of her latest manuscript.
Minus the scorn, and with coral lipstick rather than the typical slash of red, she looked softer and far more pensive in death than Darla remembered her.
But Valerie’s eyes with their dusting of taupe shadow remained closed, and her slim hands remained demurely crossed just above her waist.
What appeared to be the same red fountain pen as in her poster was tucked between her fingers, as if she’d drifted to sleep while dashing off a page of her latest manuscript.
Minus the scorn, and with coral lipstick rather than the typical slash of red, she looked softer and far more pensive in death than Darla remembered her.
Indeed, for the first time, she actually felt more than the obligatory polite regret for the woman’s passing.
She hadn’t intended to go up to the front for the ritual up-close-and-personal look.
In fact, she was surprised to even see the open casket in church, since James had told her that it wasn’t a typical practice for this denomination.
Besides, she’d already seen Valerie lying dead in the street, and that image would be with her for some time.
But Morris had politely insisted on walking her up to the line of mourners who were paying their respects at the open casket, so she’d not had a choice in the matter.
In fact, she was surprised to even see the open casket in church, since James had told her that it wasn’t a typical practice for this denomination.
Besides, she’d already seen Valerie lying dead in the street, and that image would be with her for some time.
But Morris had politely insisted on walking her up to the line of mourners who were paying their respects at the open casket, so she’d not had a choice in the matter.
Now, feeling self-conscious, she turned to make a quick retreat.
Valerie had rated a full house, and with all the black in evidence Darla was reminded of the ill-fated book signing.
She spied an open seat near the back of the church and headed toward it, grateful for the small concealment provided by her hat and veil.
Not that she’d technically done anything wrong, she assured herself.
Hillary had said she was invited, and it was hardly her fault that the woman had not bothered to update the list.
Valerie had rated a full house, and with all the black in evidence Darla was reminded of the ill-fated book signing.
She spied an open seat near the back of the church and headed toward it, grateful for the small concealment provided by her hat and veil.
Not that she’d technically done anything wrong, she assured herself.
Hillary had said she was invited, and it was hardly her fault that the woman had not bothered to update the list.
She passed by the front row, where Valerie’s family were sitting.
A tiny woman in her sixties with dyed black hair and sharp features sat between Morris and a nattily dressed gentleman about her same age.
Darla swiftly identified the older couple as Valerie and Morris’s parents.
The man had that same Thin White Duke look going on as his son, while the woman bore a striking resemblance to the dead author.
The rest of the pew and the one behind it held what were presumably various aunts, uncles, and cousins, each face reflecting genteel sorrow.
A tiny woman in her sixties with dyed black hair and sharp features sat between Morris and a nattily dressed gentleman about her same age.
Darla swiftly identified the older couple as Valerie and Morris’s parents.
The man had that same Thin White Duke look going on as his son, while the woman bore a striking resemblance to the dead author.
The rest of the pew and the one behind it held what were presumably various aunts, uncles, and cousins, each face reflecting genteel sorrow.
A few rows back, she finally spied the agent.
Hillary Gables had pinned back her hair into one of those eyebrow-lifting buns on top of her head and wore a black skirted suit with a white blouse.
As Darla watched, Hillary dabbed at her eyes and nose with a tissue, the gesture of courteous grief.
She didn’t notice Darla, perhaps because she had leaned in the opposite direction to whisper into the ear of a man old enough to have been her grandfather.
Hillary Gables had pinned back her hair into one of those eyebrow-lifting buns on top of her head and wore a black skirted suit with a white blouse.
As Darla watched, Hillary dabbed at her eyes and nose with a tissue, the gesture of courteous grief.
She didn’t notice Darla, perhaps because she had leaned in the opposite direction to whisper into the ear of a man old enough to have been her grandfather.
Except Darla was pretty certain that no decent grandfather allowed his granddaughter’s hands to linger where Hillary was letting them wander.
Darla didn’t see Koji anywhere.
Apparently, the publicist hadn’t made the cut, either.
Or maybe he had, Darla wryly thought, and right now he was pounding the pavement looking for a new job instead of—as Jake had put it—hobbing with the nobs.
Apparently, the publicist hadn’t made the cut, either.
Or maybe he had, Darla wryly thought, and right now he was pounding the pavement looking for a new job instead of—as Jake had put it—hobbing with the nobs.
It was with relief that she finally slipped into a seat.
On her right was a thirty-something man large enough to be a linebacker for a major league team, and judging by the abundance of diamond jewelry on his hands and earlobes, likely was.
On her other side was a woman in her eighties who had bucked the black trend by wearing what appeared to be a vintage Chanel suit in deep forest green.
Balanced on her spindly knees was a purse that Darla recognized from a recent newspaper article on fashion as retailing for four figures.
Both pew-mates gave her polite nods as she settled in, but Darla could feel their mutual if unspoken question:
How did
she
get in here?
On her right was a thirty-something man large enough to be a linebacker for a major league team, and judging by the abundance of diamond jewelry on his hands and earlobes, likely was.
On her other side was a woman in her eighties who had bucked the black trend by wearing what appeared to be a vintage Chanel suit in deep forest green.
Balanced on her spindly knees was a purse that Darla recognized from a recent newspaper article on fashion as retailing for four figures.
Both pew-mates gave her polite nods as she settled in, but Darla could feel their mutual if unspoken question:
How did
she
get in here?
As unobtrusively as she could, Darla pulled her cell phone out of her bag and typed out a quick text to Jake.
Snuck in with VB’s bro.
Ur not going 2 believe who he is!
Ur not going 2 believe who he is!
Darla hit send; then, as she tried to think the best way to explain the situation in text speak—
Mavis = Morris = Val’s bro
?—a sharp poke in her side made her gasp.
The poker was the elderly woman beside her, who’d apparently noticed her etiquette transgression of texting in church and did not approve.
As Darla rubbed her bruised ribs and contemplated battery charges, the woman pierced her with a condemning look and gave an audible
tsk
.
Mavis = Morris = Val’s bro
?—a sharp poke in her side made her gasp.
The poker was the elderly woman beside her, who’d apparently noticed her etiquette transgression of texting in church and did not approve.
As Darla rubbed her bruised ribs and contemplated battery charges, the woman pierced her with a condemning look and gave an audible
tsk
.
Darla gave her an equally condemning look in return.
“I beg your pardon, I’m a surgeon,” she lied in a stern stage whisper.
“I have to check in with the hospital.
I’ve got a transplant patient waiting on me.”
“I beg your pardon, I’m a surgeon,” she lied in a stern stage whisper.
“I have to check in with the hospital.
I’ve got a transplant patient waiting on me.”
The old woman appeared mollified by this explanation, for her sour expression thawed slightly.
Satisfied she had gained herself a bit of credibility, Darla settled back in the hard wooden pew and put her phone away without sending another message.
She still needed time, herself, to wrap her brain around the apparent fact that Mavis the makeup artist and Morris the grieving brother were one and the same person.
Satisfied she had gained herself a bit of credibility, Darla settled back in the hard wooden pew and put her phone away without sending another message.
She still needed time, herself, to wrap her brain around the apparent fact that Mavis the makeup artist and Morris the grieving brother were one and the same person.
What took her aback more than anything else was the fact that his introduction of himself had been straightforward, with no indication that they’d met before.
Thus good manners, if nothing else, kept her from blurting out that she definitely recalled him—or, at least, Mavis—from that unfortunate event.
But surely he remembered her from the bookstore, especially since she had given him her name.
She’d expected a wink or a knowing smile.
Instead, he’d acted as if they were strangers meeting for the first time.
Thus good manners, if nothing else, kept her from blurting out that she definitely recalled him—or, at least, Mavis—from that unfortunate event.
But surely he remembered her from the bookstore, especially since she had given him her name.
She’d expected a wink or a knowing smile.
Instead, he’d acted as if they were strangers meeting for the first time.
Or were they?
Now that a few minutes had passed, doubts began to assail her.
She was certain she hadn’t been mistaken the night of the signing when she realized that Mavis—for all her flawless makeup and fashionable dress—was actually a male in women’s clothing.
Of course, no one else had made mention of their suspicions that Mavis was something other than what she appeared to be, though that might simply have been good manners on their part.
But to tell the truth, so artful had his Mavis persona been, she might never have made the connection had she not recognized his ring.
She was certain she hadn’t been mistaken the night of the signing when she realized that Mavis—for all her flawless makeup and fashionable dress—was actually a male in women’s clothing.
Of course, no one else had made mention of their suspicions that Mavis was something other than what she appeared to be, though that might simply have been good manners on their part.
But to tell the truth, so artful had his Mavis persona been, she might never have made the connection had she not recognized his ring.
But she had to be right.
The baritone voice she remembered from that night, so similar to Morris’s, was proof enough, while the large hands were another giveaway.
And surely she wasn’t imagining now the striking resemblance between the Botoxed-looking Mavis and the equally smooth-faced Morris.
The baritone voice she remembered from that night, so similar to Morris’s, was proof enough, while the large hands were another giveaway.
And surely she wasn’t imagining now the striking resemblance between the Botoxed-looking Mavis and the equally smooth-faced Morris.
While she struggled with those questions, the last of the mourners passed the casket.
Now, two of the funeral-home staff closed the lid and draped a white cloth over it.
Darla felt relieved that Valerie was safely tucked away and not likely to rise from the dead anytime soon.
Now, two of the funeral-home staff closed the lid and draped a white cloth over it.
Darla felt relieved that Valerie was safely tucked away and not likely to rise from the dead anytime soon.
A young, movie-handsome clergyman in full vestments took the lectern.
The reverend was a trained orator, and the sprightly organist who played between the formal prayers could have sold out a concert hall.
Even churchgoing was an event in the Hamptons, Darla decided as she joined the rest of the mourners in gustily singing along with those hymns she knew.
The reverend was a trained orator, and the sprightly organist who played between the formal prayers could have sold out a concert hall.
Even churchgoing was an event in the Hamptons, Darla decided as she joined the rest of the mourners in gustily singing along with those hymns she knew.
At the conclusion of the formal service, the reverend spoke for a few solemn moments on the brief life of Valerie Vickson Baylor.
Then he relinquished the lectern to the same older man whom Darla had noticed heading into the church with his impossibly thin consort.
She was surprised when he introduced himself as Howard T.
Pinter, owner and publisher-in-chief of Ibizan Books.
Then he relinquished the lectern to the same older man whom Darla had noticed heading into the church with his impossibly thin consort.
She was surprised when he introduced himself as Howard T.
Pinter, owner and publisher-in-chief of Ibizan Books.
“We discovered Valerie Baylor,” he proclaimed in suitably doleful tones as he took a pair of reading glasses from his breast pocket, “and she, in turn, brought glory to Ibizan Books.”
Unfolding a paper he pulled from a second pocket, he went on in this vein for some moments.
Then Pinter beckoned forward from the pews a small parade of men and women who expounded for exactly three minutes each—Darla began timing them after the first two—on Valerie’s life.
She listened intently at first, hoping to hear something that Jake or Reese might deem important.
By the fourth fulsome speaker, however, she knew that no scandals would erupt from this admiring crowd.
And so she let her thoughts drift back to Valerie’s brother, and the other unexpected revelation that had come of their momentary encounter.
Then Pinter beckoned forward from the pews a small parade of men and women who expounded for exactly three minutes each—Darla began timing them after the first two—on Valerie’s life.
She listened intently at first, hoping to hear something that Jake or Reese might deem important.
By the fourth fulsome speaker, however, she knew that no scandals would erupt from this admiring crowd.
And so she let her thoughts drift back to Valerie’s brother, and the other unexpected revelation that had come of their momentary encounter.
Twins
, Morris had said.
, Morris had said.
After the first shock, she could easily see the familial resemblance between him and the dead author.
And knowing what she did about Morris’s alter ego, she found herself wondering just what had been the relationship between Morris-as-Mavis and his/her sister.
Valerie obviously knew of her twin’s proclivity for dressing as a woman.
The fact she kept Mavis as part of her entourage could mean that Valerie accepted, perhaps even approved, of Morris’s other life.
On the other hand, she had seemed to treat Mavis with barely concealed contempt, while Mavis hadn’t seemed to harbor much affection for her in return.
But Darla could not forget the obvious shock and grief that Mavis had displayed when learning of Valerie’s death.
And knowing what she did about Morris’s alter ego, she found herself wondering just what had been the relationship between Morris-as-Mavis and his/her sister.
Valerie obviously knew of her twin’s proclivity for dressing as a woman.
The fact she kept Mavis as part of her entourage could mean that Valerie accepted, perhaps even approved, of Morris’s other life.
On the other hand, she had seemed to treat Mavis with barely concealed contempt, while Mavis hadn’t seemed to harbor much affection for her in return.
But Darla could not forget the obvious shock and grief that Mavis had displayed when learning of Valerie’s death.
Perhaps there had been genuine love after all.
Or maybe Morris’s acting abilities went beyond a talent for female impersonation.
Or maybe Morris’s acting abilities went beyond a talent for female impersonation.
Abruptly, Darla’s thoughts began to take a darker turn.
When it came down to it, no one had been fully accounted for during the thirty or so critical minutes before Valerie’s death.
Was it possible that Morris might have been the same hooded figure who had struggled with Valerie outside that final time?
Could he have been the one present when she’d taken her tumble into traffic .
.
.
perhaps had even pushed her himself?
When it came down to it, no one had been fully accounted for during the thirty or so critical minutes before Valerie’s death.
Was it possible that Morris might have been the same hooded figure who had struggled with Valerie outside that final time?
Could he have been the one present when she’d taken her tumble into traffic .
.
.
perhaps had even pushed her himself?
The notion grabbed hold of her and wouldn’t let go, even as she reminded herself that the incident had not been ruled anything other than an accident.
But why would Jake have told her to keep her eyes open, she wondered, if she and Reese didn’t think something was suspicious about the situation?
But why would Jake have told her to keep her eyes open, she wondered, if she and Reese didn’t think something was suspicious about the situation?
For it all makes terrible sense
, she realized.
Hadn’t she read somewhere that when a person was murdered, it was most likely that his killer had been a close acquaintance rather than a stranger?
But what would have been Morris’s motive to murder his sister?
, she realized.
Hadn’t she read somewhere that when a person was murdered, it was most likely that his killer had been a close acquaintance rather than a stranger?
But what would have been Morris’s motive to murder his sister?
Money?
But the family was already well-off.
Jealousy over her fame?
Given his double life, surely fame was the last thing that Morris would want.
Or maybe it was something more basic?
Had Valerie threatened to expose Mavis as Morris’s alter ego, and he had taken desperate measures to keep his secret safe?
But the family was already well-off.
Jealousy over her fame?
Given his double life, surely fame was the last thing that Morris would want.
Or maybe it was something more basic?
Had Valerie threatened to expose Mavis as Morris’s alter ego, and he had taken desperate measures to keep his secret safe?
And yet, except for the one lapse during the signing where Mavis had let loose with a rude descriptive, Valerie’s twin had appeared a mild and polite person, even reserved.
Somehow, she didn’t see in him the strong emotion it would take to commit such an act.
Somehow, she didn’t see in him the strong emotion it would take to commit such an act.
So caught up was she in her speculations that she almost missed it when Morris himself abruptly rose from his pew.
Looking elegant in his well-tailored black suit, he moved with languid grace as he made his way to the lectern.
Looking elegant in his well-tailored black suit, he moved with languid grace as he made his way to the lectern.
“He’s such a handsome gentleman,” the old woman next to Darla muttered, apparently forgetting her earlier disapproval with this opportunity for gossip.
She leaned close enough that Darla got a whiff of rose-scented cologne tinged with body odor.
“It’s a shame he hasn’t married yet, but then he’s always been so shy, and always so devoted to his sister.
Why, he never even moved out of his parents’ home, not even after poor Valerie ran off to a state university, of all things.
And she then married that upstart from California.
New money, you know,” she added in a stage-whispered aside.
“But with his sister gone, maybe now .
.
.”
“It’s a shame he hasn’t married yet, but then he’s always been so shy, and always so devoted to his sister.
Why, he never even moved out of his parents’ home, not even after poor Valerie ran off to a state university, of all things.
And she then married that upstart from California.
New money, you know,” she added in a stage-whispered aside.
“But with his sister gone, maybe now .
.
.”
She trailed off meaningfully.
Realizing some response was expected of her, Darla managed a noncommittal smile and a little shrug, even as she tried to puzzle out said meaning.
Was the woman implying that Morris had had an unhealthy attachment to Valerie, or was she trying to say that Valerie had somehow held her brother back?
Was the woman implying that Morris had had an unhealthy attachment to Valerie, or was she trying to say that Valerie had somehow held her brother back?
Morris’s eulogy turned out to be almost startlingly brief.
He bowed his head and stood in silence behind the lectern for several moments, long enough that people began to shift uncomfortably in their seats and glance at one another.
Watching him, Darla found herself playing psychiatrist, wondering if he suffered from some sort of social anxiety or phobia.
Maybe that was the reason for his Mavis persona, a way that he could hide in plain sight, so to speak.
Finally, he lifted his head and spoke.
He bowed his head and stood in silence behind the lectern for several moments, long enough that people began to shift uncomfortably in their seats and glance at one another.
Watching him, Darla found herself playing psychiatrist, wondering if he suffered from some sort of social anxiety or phobia.
Maybe that was the reason for his Mavis persona, a way that he could hide in plain sight, so to speak.
Finally, he lifted his head and spoke.
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