Nighttime Is My Time

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.'

35

The body of Helen Whelan was discovered at 5:30 p.m. on Sunday afternoon in a wooded area in Washingtonville, a town about fifteen miles from Surrey Meadows. The discovery was made by a twelve-year-old boy who was cutting through the woods, taking a shortcut to his friend's home.

Sam got the message as he was finishing his interviews of the employees at the Glen-Ridge House. He called Jean in her room. She had gone upstairs to phone Mark Fleischman, Carter Stewart, and Jack Emerson, in the hope that one of them might have known Laura's plans. She had already seen Robby Brent in the lobby, and he had disclaimed any knowledge of where Laura might be.

'Jean, I have to go,' Sam explained. 'Have you reached anyone yet?'

'I talked to Carter. He's very concerned but has no idea where Laura might be. I told him that Gordon and I are having dinner, and he's going to join us. Maybe if we can make a list between us of the people Laura seemed to be spending time with, we might come up with something. Jack Emerson isn't home. I left word on his answering machine. Same with Mark Fleischman.'

'That's about the best you can do for the moment,' Sam said. 'Our hands are legally tied. If no one has heard from her by tomorrow, I'll try to get a search warrant to go through her room and see if she left any indication of where she might have gone. Otherwise, sit tight.'

'You will go over to the rectory in the morning?'

'Absolutely,' Sam promised. He snapped closed his phone and hurried out to his car. There was no point in telling Jean that he was on his way to the crime scene where another woman who had disappeared had been found.

***

Helen Whelan had been struck with a blow on the back of her head and then had been stabbed repeatedly. 'He probably hit her from behind with the same blunt weapon that he used on the dog,' Cal Grey, the medical examiner, told Sam when he arrived at the crime scene. The body was in the process of being removed, and under floodlights investigators were combing the roped-off area for possible clues to the killer. 'I can't be sure until I do the autopsy, but it looks to me as if the injury to her head might have knocked her out. The stab wounds happened after he got her here. One can only hope that she didn't know what was happening to her.'

Sam watched as the slender body was lifted into a body bag. 'Her clothes don't look disturbed.'

'They're not. My guess is that whoever grabbed her brought her directly here and killed her. She still has the dog's leash around her wrist.'

'Hold it a minute,' Sam snapped to the attendant who was opening the stretcher. He squatted down and felt his feet sink into the muddy ground. 'Let me have your flashlight, Cal.'

'What do you see?'

'There's a smear of blood on the side of her slacks. I doubt she got it from the wounds in her chest and neck. My guess is that the killer was bleeding pretty heavily, probably from a dog bite.' He straightened up. 'Which means he may have needed to go to an emergency room. I'll get an alert out to all the hospitals in the area to report any dog bites they may have treated over the weekend or that may come up in the next few days. And make sure the lab runs tests on the blood. I'll meet you back at your place, Cal.'

On the drive to the medical examiner's office, the waste of the life of Helen Whelan hit Sam with intensity, catching him in the pit of his stomach. It happened whenever he encountered this kind of violence. I want that guy, he thought, and I want to be the one who cuffs him. I hope to God that wherever that dog bit him, he's in misery right now.

That train of thought gave him another idea. Maybe he's too smart to go to an emergency room, but he'll still have to take care of that bite. It's like looking for a needle in a haystack, but it might be worth notifying all the pharmacies in the area to watch out for someone buying items such as peroxide and bandages and antibacterial ointments.

But if he's smart enough to avoid a hospital, he's probably smart enough to shop for stuff like that in one of the big drugstores where there's a long line at the cash register and no one is paying attention to what's in the basket except to scan it.

Still, it's worth a try, Sam decided grimly, remembering the smiling picture of Helen Whelan he had seen in her apartment. She was twenty years older than Karen Sommers had been, he thought, but she died the same way- savagely stabbed to death.

The mist that had come and gone all day had turned into a driving rain. Sam frowned as he switched on the windshield wipers. There couldn't be any connection between those cases, though, he thought. There hadn't been a similar stabbing in this area in twenty years. Karen had been in her home. Helen Whelan had been outside walking her dog. But, then again, was it possible that some maniac had been lying low all these years?