“She lives in Paris. Plays in Monte Carlo. Who knows? The new secretary didn’t have her telephone number, or she had orders not to give it to me. She said my father wanted to invite me to the wedding, but didn’t know how to reach me.” She gave a harsh laugh. “All he had to do was follow the money. He just didn’t care enough.”
“Maybe he figured you wouldn’t want to come.”
“Maybe. But it would’ve been nice to have the opportunity to tell him off one last time.” She looked at Carolyn, eyes dark with pain. “Get this. I told that secretary I needed to talk to my father. She asked me if it was an emergency. I told her it was. She said, ‘Give me your number, and I’ll let Mr. Altman know you called.’ I haven’t heard from him yet.”
“Maybe she forgot.”
“She remembered. She called back. She asked me how much money I needed.” She called her father a string of foul names. “He’s too busy with his new trophy wife.” Tears spilled down her cheeks. “If I was lying in a hospital bed, dying from an overdose, he’d tell his secretary to make sure I had a private room, private nurse, and send some flowers.” She dug in her jean pocket and pulled out a worn business card. “I want you to keep this.”
“Why?”
“If anything happens to me, you call my father.”
Scared, Carolyn shook her head. “Nothing is going to happen to you, Chel.”
“I’m not planning anything. You just never know when your time will come. I could decide to go swimming in that lake and drown. Or go down to the ocean and walk in with lead weights around my ankles.”
“I don’t like it when you talk so crazy.”
“Don’t I always?” Chel laughed again, sounding more like herself this time. “You really are something, you know that?” She cupped Carolyn’s face. “I love you. You’ve been better to me than any sister I could’ve had.” She dropped her hand. “Whatever happens, it’s not going to be your fault.” She gripped Carolyn’s wrist tightly. “Remember that. It’s
Worried, Carolyn kept an eye on Chel over the next few days. Chel smoked pot and drank, but not to excess. She still danced to the music, tossing her head and turning the way she had when they first came to Haight- Ashbury. Ash, the self-appointed leader of their little commune, watched Chel, too, especially when she turned up the music while he spoke his poetry. When he asked her to turn it down, she turned it up and danced right in front of him.
Carolyn thought everything would be fine then. Chel’s depression had lifted. She was back to the same smirking, defiant girl she’d been in Berkeley. Carolyn went to the park for some air, spending two hours in the sunshine. She sat on a bench and watched children play, thinking of Oma and Mom and Dad. Loneliness gripped her. Pressing the heels of her hands against her eyes, she tried not to think about Charlie.
When she got back, Carolyn went upstairs and found Chel’s door closed. Carolyn put her head against the door, but didn’t hear voices. She tapped softly. “Chel?” She opened the door. “I’ve been thinking-”
Chel lay sprawled across her mattress. Her face looked so serene, Carolyn thought she was asleep. Then she noticed the rubber tubing coiled like a snake on the floor and a discarded syringe next to it. “Chel!” She knelt on the bed and lifted her.
Voices. Footsteps running in the hall. “Everyone out!” Ash ordered. The door closed firmly. Carolyn heard the lock set. Sobbing, hysterical, she tried to speak. He clamped a hand over her mouth. When she tried to bite down, he slapped her, grabbed her by the hair, and shoved her face into the mattress. “Are you going to be quiet?” He pushed harder and only let her go when she started to pass out. Gasping for air, she scrambled away from him.
He put his hand on Chel’s neck, checking for a pulse. Taking his hand away, he looked furious, not aggrieved. He swore under his breath. “Stupid witch.”
“You don’t even care that she’s-”
“You were supposed to watch out for her.” He hit her. She tasted blood in her mouth. He shoved her from him and turned toward the window.
She made it to the door, but Stoner stood right outside, blocking her escape. “What’s the matter, babe?”
“Chel’s dead.”
“Bummer. Who’s gonna pay the rent?”
She stared at him.
Ash came up behind her, his hands firm. With a tone full of compassion, he reassured Stoner. “Everything will be fine.” When she tried to move away, his grip tightened. “We’ll call an ambulance. Someone will come and take her to the hospital. What was her name, Stoner?”
“Chel.”
When Carolyn opened her mouth, Ash’s fingers bit into her flesh. “Chel.” Ash spoke low. “That’s all we know. Her name was Chel.”
Stoner shrugged. “Yeah, man. That’s all I ever knew.”
Ash slipped his arm around Carolyn, pulled her back into the room, and closed Stoner out. He shoved her toward the bed where Chel lay dead. “You’ll do what I tell you, Caro. Got that? It’s your fault she overdosed. You said she was your friend. Where were you? You should’ve been right here with her every minute. I told you to keep watch.” He gripped her face in viselike fingers. “But you didn’t, did you? You did your own thing and had your little walk in the park. You put flowers in your hair.” He crumpled them and threw them on the floor. “And now
She’d once thought herself in love with this man. But he’d tossed her aside and moved on to another girl.
Suddenly solicitous, Ash drew Carolyn to her feet. He stroked her cheek. “It’ll be the way it was.” He whispered words of comfort now, words of endearment. “You don’t have to worry about anything. I’ll take care of you.” When he kissed her, she felt nothing but revulsion. He drew back, his dark eyes searching hers. “I’ll call for an ambulance. Sit with me downstairs. Be at my side.” He opened the door. Stoner and several others stood waiting. “We’ll light candles for our sister. We will say prayers.” He stroked Carolyn’s arms as though trying to smooth away the bruises.
The ambulance came within minutes. Two men got out. They unloaded a gurney and locked the vehicle doors before heading up the steps. One looked at her. When they came out with Chel’s body zipped in a black bag, she heard them talking. “Chel. Not much to go by.”
One unlocked and opened the back door of the ambulance. “She’ll be another Jane Doe.”
“Too bad. Pretty girl.”
Carolyn came down the steps.
“You need to move aside, Miss.”
“Her name is Rachel Altman. She came from New York City. She was an A student at UC Berkeley. They’ll have her records.”
His face filled with pity. “A friend of yours?”
“My best friend.”
“We’ll take good care of her.”
“You’ll be the first.”
Frowning, he searched her face. “Are you going to be all right?”
Carolyn walked away without looking back. He had a job to do. So did she.
It didn’t take long to beg enough money for a long-distance telephone call. Carolyn stepped into a phone booth and dialed the number on the card Chel had given her. She asked for Mr. Altman.
“Who may I say is calling?”
“My name is Carolyn Arundel. His daughter, Rachel, was my best friend. She died today. You can tell him that, or let me talk to him.”
“One moment, please.”
Less than a minute passed and a man’s voice came on the telephone. “My secretary says you have news about my daughter.” He sounded annoyed. Maybe she’d interrupted a business meeting. “Make it quick. What is it this
