Moonlight Becomes You

Neil and Robert Stephens drove directly to Newport police headquarters. “Damn good thing you got that restraining order in yesterday,” Robert said to his son. “That guy was ready to skip. At least this way with his bank account tied up, we stand a chance at getting Cora’s money back, or some of it, anyhow.”

“But he doesn’t know what happened to Maggie,” Neil said bitterly.

“No, I guess he doesn’t. You can’t be an usher at a five o’clock wedding in New York, offer dozens of names of people who will state that you stayed for the entire reception, and be up here at the same time.”

“He had a lot more to say about his alibi than he did about his stock dealings,” Neil said. “Dad, that guy has nothing in that office to indicate that he’s dealing in securities. Did you see one financial statement, one prospectus, or anything like what you see in my office?”

“No, I did not.”

“Trust me, he’s not really working out of that dump. Those transactions are coming out of another place. And one that’s probably pulling this same sort of swindle.” Neil paused, looking grimly out the car window. “God, this weather is lousy.”

It’s getting cold and it’s pouring. Where is Maggie? he thought. Is she out in this somewhere? Is she scared?

Is she dead?

Once again, Neil rejected the thought. She couldn’t be dead. It was as if he could hear her calling to him to help her.

They arrived at the police station to find that Chief Brower was out, but Detective Haggerty saw them. “There’s nothing helpful to report,” he said candidly to their urgent queries about Maggie. “No one remembers seeing that Volvo station wagon in town last night. We’ve gotten in touch with Ms. Holloway’s neighbors here. When they passed her house on the way to dinner at seven o’clock, her car was in her driveway. It was gone when they returned at nine-thirty, so we have to assume that she left somewhere in that two-and-a-half-hour time frame.”

“That’s all you can tell us?” Neil asked, his tone incredulous. “My God, there’s got to be something more than that.”

“I wish there were. We know that she went over to that funeral museum Monday afternoon. We spoke to her before she left and after she returned.”

“Funeral museum?” Neil said. “That doesn’t sound like Maggie. What was she doing there?”

“According to Professor Bateman, she was helping him select visuals for some television series he’ll be doing,” Haggerty responded.

“You said ‘According to Professor Bateman,’” Robert Stephens said sharply.

“Did I? Well, I mean, we have no reason to doubt the professor. He may be a bit eccentric, but he grew up here, people know him, and he’s got no record of any trouble.” He hesitated. “I’ll be totally honest with you. Ms. Holloway seemed to indicate that there was something about him that bothered her. And when we checked, we did learn that, while nothing involving the police was in his history, he was responsible for a stir one afternoon among a number of the residents at the Latham Manor retirement home. Seems like they ended up throwing him out of the place.”

Latham Manor again! Neil thought.

“Bateman also volunteered that Maggie knew where the key to the museum was hidden, and that he had invited her to come back with her camera at any time.”

“Do you think she actually went there last night? Alone?” Neil asked incredulously.

“I wouldn’t think so. No, the fact is, there seems to have been a robbery at the museum last night-if you can believe it, a coffin is missing. What we are doing is interrogating some teenage kids from the general neighborhood who have given us trouble before. We think they’re probably responsible. We think they may also be able to give us some information about Ms. Holloway. If she had gone into the museum, and they saw her car parked there, I’ve gotta believe they would have made sure she was gone before they went in themselves.”

Neil stood to leave. He had to get out of there; he had to be doing something. Besides, he knew that there was nothing more he could learn here. But he could go back to Latham Manor and maybe find out something. His excuse would be that he wanted to talk to the director about the Van Hillearys’ possible application.

“I’ll check in with you later,” he told Haggerty. “I’m going over to Latham Manor and try to talk to some of the people there. You never know who might have some bit of information that could be of help. And I have a good excuse for visiting. I was by there on Friday to inquire about the facilities on behalf of a couple who are my investment clients, and I’ve just come up with a few more questions.”

Haggerty raised his eyebrows. “You’ll probably find out that we were there a little while ago.”

“Why?” Robert Stephens asked quickly.

“We spoke to the director and to one of the nurses there, a Zelda Markey, who it seems is a close friend of Professor Bateman’s. I can’t say more than that.”

“Dad, what’s your car-phone number?” Neil asked.

Robert Stephens took out a business card and scribbled the number on the back. “Here.”

Neil handed the card to Haggerty. “If there are any developments, try us at this number. And we’ll be calling in to you every hour or so.”

“That’s fine. Ms. Holloway’s a close friend, isn’t she?”

“She’s more than that,” Robert Stephens said brusquely. “Consider us her family.”

“As you wish,” Haggerty said simply. “I do understand.” He looked at Neil. “If my wife were missing, I’d be going through the same kind of hell. I’ve met Ms. Holloway. She’s real smart and, I believe, very resourceful. If there’s any way she can help herself, trust her to do it.”

The look of genuine sympathy on Haggerty’s face brought Neil to an acute awareness of just how close he might be to losing someone who, surprisingly, he now couldn’t imagine living without. He swallowed over the sudden lump in his throat. Not trusting himself to speak, he nodded, and left.

In the car, he said, “Dad, why do I feel that Latham Manor is at the center of all this?”

83

“Maggie, you’re not calling for help, are you? That isn’t wise.”

Oh God, no! He was back! His voice, hollow and echoing, was barely discernible through the rain beating on the earth above her.

“You must be getting wet down there,” he called. “I’m glad. I want you to be cold and wet and scared. I’ll bet you’re hungry, too. Or maybe just thirsty?”

Don’t answer, she told herself. Don’t plead with him. It’s what he wants.

“You ruined everything for me, Maggie, you and Nuala. She had begun to suspect something, so she had to die. And it was all going so well, too. Latham Manor-I own it, you know. Only the outfit that manages it doesn’t know who I am. I have a holding company. And you were right about the bells. Those women weren’t buried alive, maybe just a little bit sooner than God intended. They should have had more time. That’s why I put the bells on the graves. It’s my little joke. You’re the only one who really is buried alive.

“When they exhume those women, they’ll blame Dr. Lane for their deaths. They’ll think it was his fault that the medicines got mixed. He’s a lousy doctor anyway, with a terrible record. And a drinking problem. That’s why I had them hire him. But your stupid interference does mean I won’t be able to call on my little angel of death to help the little ladies along to an early grave. And that’s too bad; I want the money. Do you know how much profit there is in turning over those rooms? Lots. Lots.”

Maggie shut her eyes, struggling to blot out his face from her mind. It was almost as though she could see him. He was crazy.

“I guess you figured out that the bell on your grave has no clapper, haven’t you? Now figure this out: How long will you last when the air vent is clogged?”