thought to himself.
Setting the address book to one side, he opened the Day-Timer and began going though its pages, starting from today and working backward. It didn’t take long before a picture of Andrea Costanza’s life began to emerge.
Days spent working, with a lot of appointments outside the office, the last of which was with a doctor named Humphries.
Evenings and weekends mostly blank.
In short, a woman who worked hard, and didn’t have much of a social life.
Another argument against a boyfriend, either former or current. In fact, about the only things he found that looked like they might have been social engagements were an entry for
He shifted his attention over to the address book, which was filled with entries executed in a variety of colors of ink and pencil. Though it was obvious that at some point many years ago the book had been laid out with care, over the years numbers had changed, some names had been scratched out entirely, while others went through various permutations of marriage and divorce. After thumbing through it quickly, Frank Oberholzer went back to the beginning and began again, this time page by page, not sure what he was looking for, but hoping that something would jump out at him.
Nothing did, at least not strongly enough to make him start dialing numbers.
He opened the briefcase he’d brought with him and put the Day-Timer and address book inside. Then he slowly went through the apartment, opening every closet and cupboard, searching every drawer, looking for something — anything — that might have a bearing on what had happened to Andrea Costanza.
Nothing.
Shutting down the notebook computer and adding it to the briefcase, he left the rest of the apartment for the evidence squad to go through, packing anything that might be relevant. He himself would go through the calendar and address book, calling everyone Andrea had known, seeing everyone she’d seen.
Somewhere, he hoped, there would be a clue as to why Andrea Costanza had been killed.
Assuming, of course, that there had been a reason, and it was Frank Oberholzer’s experience that in New York City, too many murders happened with no real motivation at all.
Just a case of someone being at the wrong place at the wrong time, like that poor bastard who’d been killed in Central Park last year. What was his name?
Evans. That was it. Brad Evans. Left a nice young wife and two kids, and there’d never been a hint of a reason as to why he’d died.
Oberholzer could only hope it wouldn’t turn out the same way with Andrea Costanza.
Caroline wasn’t quite asleep when the phone rang, but she wasn’t quite awake, either, and as she groped for the receiver she suddenly felt disoriented. Then, as her hand closed on the hard plastic of the phone, she remembered: she’d gone back to bed after calling in sick at the shop. “Hello?”
“Mrs. Fleming?” a female voice asked.
“Yes.”
“Please hold for the headmaster.”
The headmaster? What was going on? Sitting up, Caroline glanced at the clock: not quite three. Had she really slept all day? She’d only intended to sleep another half hour — an hour at the most. Then the voice of Ralph Winthrop came over the line. “I’m sorry to have—” he began, but Caroline cut him off, her heart suddenly pounding.
“What is it?” she demanded. “Has something happened to Ryan?”
There was just a moment of hesitation before Winthrop spoke again, and in that split second Caroline felt a cold sweat of terror turn her skin clammy. “No, he’s all right, but I’m afraid — well, I’m afraid he’s been in a fight.”
“A fight,” Caroline heard herself repeat as if the word had no meaning. “I–I’m afraid I don’t understand. You’re sure he’s all right?”
Again there was a hesitation. “He’s not injured, no. But as to his being all right—” He hesitated again, as if searching for the right words, then went on. “I wonder if you could come over to the school.”
Caroline was sitting up now, her feet planted on the floor, but somehow she couldn’t quite get her bearings. “I’m sorry,” she began. “My daughter has some kind of a bug, and I didn’t go to work and—”
Suddenly Tony’s voice came on the line. “Stay in bed, darling,” he said. “Whatever’s going on, I can take care of it.” The timber of his voice shifted slightly as he directed his next words to the headmaster. “This is Ryan’s stepfather. I…”
But Caroline wasn’t listening any longer. What was she doing, still lying in bed at three in the afternoon? It wasn’t as if she was sick — she’d just felt tired that morning. “It’s all right, Tony,” she broke in. I’ll take care of it.” Now it was her voice that changed. “I’ll be there in half an hour.” Hanging up the phone, she went into the bathroom, stripped off her nightgown, and took a shower, finishing with a blast of ice-cold water that made her skin tingle and knocked the last vestiges of sleep out of her brain. Ten minutes later she emerged from her room and started for the stairs, then remembered Laurie. She opened her daughter’s door a crack, peeked in, then opened it wider when she didn’t see Laurie in the bed.
Though the bed was unmade, the room was empty.
“Laurie?” she called out. When there was no answer, she felt another sudden surge of fear, even worse than the one she’d felt when she’d heard the headmaster’s worried voice on the phone. But it was ridiculous — it wasn’t as if anything could have happened to Laurie. Still, she found herself hurrying down the stairs and calling her daughter’s name even before her foot hit the last step.
“Back here,” Tony called. “We’re in the kitchen.”
And sure enough, there was Laurie, wearing her bathrobe and sitting at the kitchen table eating an open- faced grilled cheese sandwich. “May I assume you’re feeling better?” Caroline asked.
Her daughter’s head bobbed. “I bet I can go back to school tomorrow.” She held out the half-eaten sandwich. “Want a bite? Tony makes the best ones I’ve ever tasted. The cheese goes all the way out to the edge so there’s no yucky hard crust, and he knows how to cook it so it gets all brown but not burnt.”
Caroline shook her head. “I have to get over to the Academy.”
“You’re sure you don’t want me to go?” Tony asked. “If you’re not feeling up to it—”
“I’m feeling fine. Or at least I will be until I see what’s going on with Ryan. Be back as soon as I can.”
Kissing her daughter and her husband, Caroline hurried out of the apartment, and it wasn’t until she was already on the street that she suddenly remembered the worry she’d had the night Laurie’s first period had begun, when Laurie had dreamed there were people in her room.
When Tony hadn’t been in bed.
When Laurie had dreamed someone had been touching her.
When she had thought—
But no — she’d been wrong — nothing had happened! Laurie wasn’t the least bit afraid of Tony.
No, it wasn’t Tony she had to worry about — it was Ryan.
“Can I go up and see Rebecca?” Laurie asked as she put the dishes from the snack her stepfather had made for her into the dishwasher. Tony looked down at her uncertainly.
“I’m not sure that’s a good idea. If you’re sick—”
“But I’m not sick,” Laurie protested. “I just felt tired this morning. But I’m fine now.” She gazed up at him, her eyes wide. “Please?”
“If your mother finds out I let you start running around—”
“But I won’t run around. I’m just going upstairs.” She could see him wavering. “And I won’t be gone more than half an hour. I’ll be back before Mom even gets home.”
Still he hesitated, but finally he nodded. “Half an hour, and no longer. Deal?”
