made it eminently clear that their reunion was based solely on Lou’s potential value to him as a kind of all-purpose handyman.
Lou moved to Greenwich that day, into a spare bedroom in the house Cal had bought. The house was far smaller than the one he lived in now, but it was definitely in the right location.
Cal ’s courtship of Jenna Graham was an eye-opener for Lou. Here was a classy, drop-dead beauty being pursued by a guy who looked like an ex-prizefighter. What on earth could she be expected to see in him?
Even as he asked the question, Lou figured out the answer. Power. Raw, naked power. Jenna loved the fact that Cal had it, and she was fascinated by the way he used it. He might not have had her pedigree, and he might not have come from her kind of world, but the guy could handle himself in any situation; her world was soon his home. And no matter what some of the old guard might think of Cal Whitehall, they knew better than to cross him.
Cal ’s parents were never invited to visit their son. When they died within a short time of each other, Lou was the one sent to make arrangements and to rush their bodies to the crematorium as fast as possible. Cal was no sentimentalist.
Over the years, Lou’s value to Cal had increased significantly-he knew that. Even so, he had no doubt that if at any point it suited Calvin Whitehall to dispose of him, he, Lou Knox, would be thrown to the wolves. So it was with a certain degree of grim amusement that he remembered how jobs he had carried out for Cal were planned in such a way that Cal could wash his hands of any involvement. So if anyone was left holding the bag, guess who that would be?
Well, two could play that game, he thought with a sly smile.
Now it was up to him to see if Fran Simmons was going to be merely a nuisance, or if she was becoming dangerous. It should be interesting, he decided. Like father, like daughter?
Lou smiled as he remembered Fran’s father, that eager-to-please jerk whose mother never taught him not to trust the Calvin Whitehalls of this world. So when he finally learned his lesson, it was a little too late.
53
Dr. Peter Black seldom made the trip to West Redding during the day. It was about a forty-minute drive from Greenwich, even when traffic was light, but more important, he made the trip frequently enough that he worried about becoming too familiar a face in the area. His destination was a remote farmhouse equipped with a state-of- the-art laboratory on its second floor.
On the tax rolls of the county, the structure was listed as a private home owned and occupied by Dr. Adrian Logue, a retired ophthalmologist. In fact, the property and the laboratory belonged to Remington Health Management, and when supplies were needed there, they traveled from the main lab in the trunk of Peter Black’s car.
By the time he had pulled up in front of the farmhouse, Black’s palms were sweating. He was dreading the inevitable argument ahead of him; moreover he knew it was one he would not win.
When he left less than half an hour later, he was carrying a package, the weight of which did not justify the strain he felt as he put it in the trunk of his car and started home.
54
Edna Barry could tell immediately that Molly had had company the night before. Even though the kitchen was tidy and the CLEAN signal was lit on the dishwasher, the subtle differences were there. Salt and pepper shakers were on the sideboard rather than on the counter, the fruit bowl was on the cutting board instead of the table, the coffeemaker was still out, uncovered, on the counter next to the stove.
The prospect of restoring the customary orderliness of the kitchen was a soothing prospect to Edna. I like my job, she thought as she hung her coat in the closet near the door. I’m going to hate having to give it up again.
It was inevitable, however. When Molly knew she was about to be released from prison, she had had her parents hire Edna to come in and spruce up the house and stock the kitchen. Now that she had been coming to Molly’s house regularly again, Wally had started being a problem. He’d hardly mentioned Molly while she was in prison, but her return had done something to him, had set him off. He kept talking about her and Dr. Lasch. And each time he talked about them, he became angry.
If I’m not in and out of here three times a week, it won’t be on his mind so much, Edna reasoned as she tied an apron over her matching polyester shirt and slacks. The apron was her own choice. Molly’s mother had always furnished a uniform, but Molly had said, “Oh, Edna, that isn’t necessary.”
Again this morning there was no sign that Molly had made coffee for herself, no sign, for that matter, that she was even awake yet. I’ll go upstairs and check on her, Edna decided. Maybe after all she’s gone through, she’s sleeping in. And she has gone through a lot. Why, since I was here Monday, Molly has been arrested again for murder and then released on bail. It’s just like six years ago. As much as I hate to even think this, maybe she’d be better off if she were put away.
Marta thinks I should stop working here because Molly is dangerous, Edna thought as she climbed the stairs, once again reminded of the arthritis in her knees.
You’re glad she thinks that, a voice whispered inside her head. Let the police focus on Molly and not think about Wally.
But Molly’s always been so kind to you, another voice suggested. You
Edna arrived upstairs just as Molly was getting out of the shower, and when she came into the bedroom in her thick terry bathrobe, her hair wrapped in a towel, she reminded Edna of the little girl Molly once had been, always so polite, who would say, “Good morning, Mrs. Barry,” in her soft, low voice.
“Good morning, Mrs. Barry.”
With a start, Edna realized that it was not an echo of memory; it was Molly, a grown woman, talking to her now.
“Oh, Molly, for just a moment there, I swear I was seeing you as a ten-year-old! Sounds like I’m losing it, doesn’t it?”
“Not you,” Molly said. “Me maybe, but surely not you. I’m sorry you had to come looking for me. I’m not as lazy as I look, though. I went to bed early enough, but then I didn’t fall asleep until almost dawn.”
“That’s not good, Molly. Can’t you get the doctor to give you something to help you sleep?”
“I did the other night, and it was a big help. I’ll see if I can’t get some more of the same. The trouble is that Dr. Daniels doesn’t really believe in pills.”
“I have some sleeping pills the doctor gave me to give to Wally in case he gets restless. They’re not too strong. Would you want some to keep on hand?”
Molly sat at her dressing table and reached for the hair dryer. Then she turned and looked directly at Edna Barry. “I really would like that, Mrs. Barry,” she said slowly. “Have you an extra bottle that I can replace?”
“Oh, you don’t want a full bottle. There’re about forty in the one I have in the medicine cabinet.”
“Then split them with me, okay? The way things are going, I may need one a night for the next several weeks.”
Edna had not known whether or not to let on that she knew Molly had been arrested again.
“Molly, I’m so sorry for everything that’s happened. You know.”
“Yes, I do. Thank you, Mrs. Barry. And now would you please bring me a cup of coffee?” She picked up the hair dryer and turned it on.
When she was sure Edna Barry was on her way downstairs, Molly turned off the dryer and let her damp hair fall on her neck. The warmth of the shower was gone, and the strands of hair felt cold and wet against her skin.
