Nighttime Is My Time: A Novel (12 page)

She looked directly at Sam. "I'll bet that thought occurred to you."

"When Alice told me about it, it did occur to me," Sam said frankly. "Having met you, though, I absolutely believe that the situation is exactly as you describe it. But you're right—the priest would have to be very careful, which is why I think it should be me going
to
him instead of you. He'd probably be a lot more willing to talk to me if he knows of an adopted baby who was baptized at that time."

"I've thought of that, too," Jean said quietly. "You know, for these twenty years I've wondered if I shouldn't have kept Lily. It wasn't all that many generations ago that an eighteen-year-old with a baby was the norm. Now that I have to find her, I realize that if I could see her even from a distance, I'd be satisfied." She bit her lip. "Or at least I think I'd be satisfied," she said softly.

Sam looked from Jean to Alice. Two women who, each in a different way, had lost a child. The cadet was about to graduate and be commissioned. If he had not been killed in that accident, Jean would have married him and kept her baby. If Karen had not happened to come home for an overnight visit twenty years ago, Alice would still have her, and probably have grandchildren as well.

Life never has been fair, Sam thought, but some things we can try to make better. He hadn't been able to solve Karen's murder, but at least maybe he could help Jean now.

"Dr. Connors had to have worked with a lawyer to handle the adoption papers," he said. "Somebody is sure to know who that lawyer was. Does his wife or family still live around here?"

"I don't know," Jean said.

"Well, we'll start with that. Did you bring the hairbrush and faxes with you?"

"No, I didn't."

"I'd like to get them from you."

"The brush is one of those small ones that you carry in a purse," Jean said. "It's the kind you can get in a drugstore. The faxes don't have anything to identify the source, but of course you can have them both."

"When I speak to the pastor, it will help if I have them."

Jean and Sam left a few minutes later. They arranged that he would follow her in his car to the hotel. From the window, Alice watched them go, then reached in the pocket of her sweater. This morning she had found a trinket on Karen's grave that had undoubtedly been dropped by a child. When she was little, Karen had loved stuffed animals and had a variety of them. Alice thought of the owl that had been one of her favorites, as with a wistful smile she looked down at the inch-long pewter owl she was holding in the palm of her hand.

32

Jake Perkins sat in the lobby of the Glen-Ridge House, watching as the last of the reunion celebrants checked out and headed back to their private lives. The welcoming banner was gone, and he could see that the bar was empty. No last good-byes, he thought. By now they're probably all sick of one another.

The first thing he had done when he arrived was stop at the front desk and verify that Ms. Wilcox had not yet returned to check out, and that she had not cancelled the car that was to take her to the airport at two-fifteen.

At two-fifteen he watched as a uniformed driver came into the lobby and went to the desk. Jake rushed to stand next to him and hear for himself that the man expected to pick up Laura Wilcox.

At two-thirty the driver left, obviously disgruntled. Jake overheard his comment that it was too damn bad he hadn't been told that she wasn't going, because he could have had another job, and not to bother to call him the next time she needs a ride.

At four o'clock, Jake was still in the lobby. That was when Dr. Sheridan returned with the older man she'd been talking to after the dinner. They went directly to the front desk. She's asking about Laura Wilcox, Jake thought. His hunch was right—Laura Wilcox was missing.

He decided it wouldn't hurt to try to get a statement from Dr. Sheridan. He reached her side in time to hear the man she was with say, "Jean, I agree. I don't like the look of it, but Laura is an adult and has the right to change her mind about checking out of the hotel or catching a plane."

"Excuse me, sir. I'm Jake Perkins, a reporter for the Stonecroft paper," Jake broke in.

"Sam Deegan."

It was clear to Jake that his presence was not welcomed by either Dr. Sheridan or Sam Deegan. Get right to it, he thought. "Dr. Sheridan, I know you were concerned that Ms. Wilcox didn't show up for the brunch, and now she has missed her car to the airport. Do you think that anything may have happened to her—I mean, given the history of the women at your old lunch table at Stonecroft?"

He saw the startled glance Jean Sheridan gave to Sam Deegan. She hasn't told him about the lunch table group, Jake thought. He didn't know who this guy was, but it would be interesting to test his reaction to what Jake was now sure was a breaking story. He pulled out the picture of the girls at the lunch table from his pocket. "You see, sir, this was the group at Dr. Sheridan's lunch table in their senior year at Stonecroft. Over these twenty years since they graduated, five had died as of last month. Two of them were killed in accidents, one was a suicide, and one disappeared, supposedly caught in an avalanche in Snowbird. Last month, the fifth one, Alison Kendall, died in her swimming pool. From what I read, it seems to be a possibility that it was not an accidental death. Now Laura Wilcox seems to be missing. Don't you think that this is a pretty bizarre coincidence?"

Sam took the picture, and as he studied it, the expression on his face became grim. "I don't believe in coincidence of this magnitude," he said brusquely. "Now if you'll excuse us, Mr. Perkins."

"Oh, don't worry about me. I'm going to wait around to see if Ms. Wilcox shows up. I'd like to have a final interview with her."

Ignoring him, Sam took out his card and handed it to the desk clerk. "
I
want a list of the employees who were on duty last night," he said, his voice commanding and forceful.

33

"I thought I'd be gone by now, but I had a whole bunch of messages waiting for me when I got back from the brunch," Gordon Amory explained to Jean. "We're shooting one episode of our new series in Canada, and some major problems have developed. I've been on the phone the last two hours."

His bags at his side, he had come up to the front desk as the clerk was showing Sam the worksheets of the hotel employees. Then he studied Jean's face. "Jean, is something wrong?"

"Laura is missing," Jean said, hearing the tremor in her own voice. "She was supposed to have been picked up at two-fifteen to go to the airport. The bed in her room wasn't slept in, and the maid said that some of her toiletries seem to be gone. Maybe she just decided to stay with someone and is perfectly all right, but she was so definite about being with us this morning that I'm terribly worried now."

"She was certainly definite about being at the brunch when she was talking
to
Jack Emerson last night," Gordon said. "As I told you, she was pretty cool to me after I told her she didn't have the faintest chance of being cast in the upcoming series, but in the bar after dinner I overheard what she said to Jack."

Sam had been listening to their conversation. He turned to Gordon and introduced himself. "We have to realize that Laura Wilcox is an adult. She has every right in the world to go off by herself or with a friend, and to change her mind about checking out. Nevertheless, I think it would be wise to follow up and see if anyone, either a hotel employee or a friend, knew her plans."

"I'm sorry to have kept you waiting, Mr. Amory," the clerk said. "I have your bill ready."

Gordon Amory hesitated, then looked at Jean. "You think something may have happened to Laura, don't you?"

"Yes, I do. Laura was very close to Alison. She simply wouldn't deliberately skip the memorial, no matter what plans she had for last night."

"Is my room still free?" Amory asked the clerk.

"Yes, of course, sir."

"Then I'm going to stay at least until we know more about Ms. Wilcox." He turned to Jean, and for an instant, even in the midst of her concern about Laura, she was struck by the realization of what a handsome man Gordon Amory had become. I used to feel so sorry for him, she thought. He was a pathetic loser back then, and look what he's made of himself.

"Jean, I know I hurt Laura last night, and it was lousy of me—kind of a payback, I guess, for the way she used to brush me off when we were kids. I could have promised her a part even if it wasn't the lead in that series. I have a feeling she may be desperate. That could explain why she didn't show up this morning. I bet she'll be back with or without an explanation for where she's been, and when she is, I'm going to offer her a job. And I'm going to hang around to do it personally."

34

J
ake Perkins stayed in the lobby of the Glen-Ridge, watching as, one after another, the employees who had been on duty Saturday night went into the small office behind the desk and talked to Sam Deegan. When they came out, he managed to buttonhole enough of them to learn that they got the impression that Deegan was also going down the list and phoning anyone who was off today but had been around last night.

The upshot from what he heard was that no one had seen Laura Wilcox leave the hotel. The doorman and the valet parkers were absolutely certain that she had not left by the front door.

He correctly guessed that the young woman in a maid's uniform might be the one who cleaned Laura's room. When she emerged from talking to Deegan, Jake followed her across the lobby, jumped in the elevator behind her, and got off at the fourth floor with her. "I'm a reporter for the Stonecroft newspaper," he explained as he handed her his card, "and I'm also a stringer for the
New York Post
." Close to the truth, he thought. Before much longer, I will be.

It wasn't hard to get her talking. Her name was Myrna Robinson. She was a student at the community college and worked part-time at the hotel. She's kind of naive, Jake thought smugly as he observed her absolutely thrilled expression at the excitement of having been questioned by a detective.

He opened his notebook. "What exactly did Detective Deegan ask you, Myrna?"

"He wanted to know if I was sure that some of Laura Wilcox's cosmetics were missing and I told him I was absolutely positive," she confided breathlessly. "I said, 'Mr. Deegan, you have no idea how much stuff she managed to get on top of that skinny vanity in the bathroom, and half of it's gone. I mean, things like cleanser and moisturizer and a toothbrush and her cosmetic bag.'"

"The kind of stuff any woman carries when she goes away overnight," Jake said helpfully. "What about clothes?"

"I didn't talk about clothes to Mr. Deegan," Myrna said hesitantly. Nervously she twisted the top button on her black uniform dress. "I mean, I told him I was sure one of her suitcases was missing, but I didn't want him to think I was nosey or anything, so I didn't mention that her blue cashmere jacket and slacks and ankle-top boots weren't in the closet."

Myrna was about Laura's size. Dollars to doughnuts she had been trying on the clothes, Jake thought. A suit and slacks were missing— probably what Laura planned to wear to the memorial service and brunch. "You told Mr. Deegan about a suitcase that isn't in her room?"

"Uh-huh. She brought a lot of luggage with her. Honest, you'd think she was on a round-the-world trip. Anyway, the smaller suitcase wasn't there this morning. It
was
different from the others. It's a Louis Vuitton—that's how I noticed it wasn't there. I love that pattern, don't you? So distinctive. The two big ones she had are creamy-colored leather."

Jake prided himself on his ear for French, so he winced inwardly at Myrna's pronunciation of "Vuitton."

"Myrna, is there any chance I could get a look at Laura's room?" he asked. "I swear I won't touch a thing."

He had gone too far. He could see an alarmed expression replace the excitement on her face. She looked past him down the corridor, and he could read her thoughts. If the housekeeper ever caught her bringing someone into a guest's room, she'd be fired. Quickly he backtracked. "Myrna, I shouldn't have asked you that. Forget it. Listen, you have my card. It would be worth twenty bucks to me if you take my number and give me a call if you hear anything about Laura. How about it? Want
to
be a girl reporter?"

Myrna bit her lip as she considered the offer. "It's not the money," she began.

"Of course not," Jake agreed.

"If you put the story in the Post, I'd have to be an unnamed source."

She's smarter than she looks, Jake thought, as he nodded eagerly. They shook hands on the deal.

It was nearly six o'clock. When he went back to the lobby, it was almost deserted. Jake went up to the desk clerk and inquired if Mr. Deegan had left the hotel.

The clerk looked tired and distressed. "Look, sonny, he's gone, and unless you want to rent a room, I'd suggest you go home, too."

"I'm sure he asked you to let him know if Ms. Wilcox returns or if you hear from her," Jake suggested. "May I give you my card? I became friendly with Ms. Wilcox during the course of the weekend, and I'm concerned about her, too."

The clerk took the card and studied it. "Reporter for the
Stonecroft Academy Gazette
and writer-joumalist-at-large, huh?" He tore the card in half. "You're too big for your breeches, sonny. Do me a favor and get lost."