Nighttime Is My Time

Carter was just as rude. He said that since he never made donations to anything, he didn't have that problem. Then Jack Emerson followed those two by bragging that he was donating half a million dollars to Stonecroft for the new communications center.

Only Mark and I said nothing, Jean thought. I will make a donation, but it's going to be for scholarships, not buildings.

She didn't want to think anymore about Mark.

She looked at the clock. It was a quarter of five. What should I wear tonight? I didn't bring all that many changes. I don't know what kind of people Lily's adoptive parents are. Do they dress casually, or do they tend to be more formal? The brown tweed jacket and slacks I wore on the drive might be the best choice. It's a sort of in- between outfit.

I know those pictures the photographer took at President Downes' house are going to be awful. I don't think one of the men even attempted a smile, and I felt as if I were grinning like the Cheshire cat. Then, when that nervy kid Jake Perkins showed up and asked to take a picture of all of us for the Gazette, I thought President Downes would have a heart attack. But I felt sorry for the poor kid because of the way Downes practically threw him out.

I hope Jake doesn't have Georgetown on his list of colleges he wants to attend, although he certainly does make life interesting.

Thinking about Jake brought a smile to Jean's lips, relieving for the moment the tension that had been building up since she had heard she was going to meet Lily's adoptive parents.

The smile disappeared as quickly as it came. Where was Laura? she thought. This is the beginning of the fifth day since she disappeared. I can't stay here indefinitely. I have classes next week. Why do I persist in believing that I'll hear from her?

I am not going to be able to go back to sleep, she finally decided. It's much too early to get up, but at least I can read. I hardly opened yesterday's newspaper and don't know what's going on in the world.

She went back across the room to the desk, picked up the newspaper, and brought it back to the bed. She propped up the pillow and began to read, but then her eyes started to close. She did not feel the newspaper slip from her grasp, as she finally fell into a heavy sleep.

At a quarter of seven her phone rang. When Jean saw the time on the clock next to the phone, her throat closed. It has to be bad news, she thought. Something has happened to Laura-or to Lily! She grabbed the receiver. 'Hello,' she said anxiously.

'Jeannie… it's me.'

'Laura!' Jean cried. 'Where are you? How are you?'

Laura was sobbing so violently that it was hard to understand what she was saying. 'Jean… help me. I'm so scared. I've done such a… crazy… thing… Sorry… Faxes… about… about Lily.'

Jean stiffened. 'You never met Lily. I know that.'

'Robby… he… he… took… her… brush. It… was… his… idea.'

'Where is Robby?'

'On… way… California. He's… blam-blaming… me. Jeannie, meet me… please. By yourself, just by yourself.'

'Laura, where are you?'

'In… motel… Someone… recognized me. I have to… go.'

'Laura, where can I meet you?'

'Jeannie… the Lookout.'

'You mean Storm King Lookout?'

'Yes… yes.'

Laura's sobs became louder. 'Kill… myself…'

'Laura, listen to me,' Jean said frantically. 'I'll be there in twenty minutes. It's going to be all right. I promise you, it's going to be all right.'

***

At the other end of the line, The Owl swiftly disconnected the phone. 'My, my, Laura,' he said approvingly. 'You are a good actress after all. That was an Academy Award-winning performance.'

Laura had slumped back against the pillow, her head turned from him, her sobs subsiding into quivering sighs. 'I only did it because you promised that now you wouldn't hurt Jean's daughter.'

'So I did,' The Owl said. 'Laura, you must be hungry. You haven't had a thing since yesterday morning. I can't guarantee the coffee. The counterman in the delicatessen down the hill was getting too inquisitive about me, so I went to another place. But see what else I brought.'

She did not respond.

'Turn your head, Laura! Look at me!'

Wearily she obeyed. Through swollen eyes she could see that he was holding up three plastic bags.

The Owl began to laugh. 'They're presents,' he explained. 'One is for you, one is for Jean, and one is for Meredith. Laura, can you guess what I'm going to do with them? Answer me, Laura! Can you guess what I'm going to do with them?'

78

'Sorry, Rich. No one will ever tell me that it's only a bizarre coincidence that Gloria Martin, one of the Stonecroft lunch table girls, had a pewter owl in her hand when she died,' Sam said flatly.

It had been another sleepless night. After the call from Joy Lacko, he had gone straight back to the office. The file on Gloria Martin's suicide had come in from the Bethlehem police department, and together they had analyzed every word of it, as well as the newspaper accounts of her death.

When Rich Stevens got to the office at 8:00 a.m., he called them in for a conference. After listening to Sam, he turned to Joy. 'What do you think?'

'At first I thought it was a slam dunk, that The Owl nut case had been killing girls from Stonecroft for the past twenty years and is back in this area,' Joy said. 'Now I'm not so sure. I talked to Rudy Haverman, the cop who handled Gloria Martin's suicide eight years ago. He did a very credible investigation. He told me that Martin was into that kind of junk. She apparently was big for picking up cheap tchotchkes of animals and birds and such. The one she was holding when she died was still in its plastic wrap. Haverman found the vendor who sold it to her in the local mall; she distinctly remembered Martin telling her that she was buying it as a joke.'

'You say the blood-alcohol level shows that she was smashed when she died?' Stevens asked.

'She was. It registered at.20. According to Haverman, she started drinking after she was divorced, and she went so far as to tell her friends that she didn't have anything to live for.'

'Joy, have you found anything in the files of the other women from the lunch table indicating that one of those pewter owls was found in their hands or in their clothing when their bodies were examined?'

'Not so far, sir,' Joy admitted.

'I don't care whether or not Gloria Martin bought that owl herself,' Sam said stubbornly. 'The fact she had it in her hand says to me that she was murdered. So what if she told her friends she was depressed? Most people feel depressed after a divorce even if they're the ones who wanted it. But Martin was very close to her family and knew how devastated they'd be if she killed herself. She didn't leave a suicide note, and from the amount of alcohol she'd imbibed, it's a miracle to me that she managed to get the bag over her head and still hang on to the owl.'.

'Do you agree with that assessment, Joy?' Rich Stevens snapped.

'I do, sir. Rudy Haverman is convinced it's a suicide, but he hasn't dealt with two other bodies with pewter owls in their pockets.'

Rich Stevens leaned back and folded his hands. 'For the sake of argument, let's say that whoever killed Helen Whelan and Yvonne Tepper may-and I repeat may-be involved in the death of at least one of the deceased Stonecroft lunch table girls.'