and cried until I couldn’t cry any more.”
“Did you lose family members or friends?” Helen said.
“Worse. It was personal,” Tara said. “Paulie and I were supposed to stay with this movie producer in LA. He was giving a big party with movie stars and everything. Then the attacks happened, and we couldn’t go. All the flights to LA were canceled for days. The producer was supposed to give me an audition. Paulie was going to put up some money for his movie.”
Helen thought she was missing some connection here. Why didn’t Tara fly out later for the audition? “Was the producer on one of the hijacked planes? Or was he killed some other way?” she said.
“At the box office,” Tara said. “His film had just been released. It was about these terrorists who attack New York, but they used old-fashioned bombs and stuff, and nobody wanted to watch it. He lost all his money. Nobody wanted to see that movie, even on cable. My one big chance, ruined by a bunch of Arabs. I don’t think I’ll ever get over it.”
“You must be scarred for life,” Helen said.
Tara missed the sarcasm. She was back in front of the triple mirror.
“Maybe it’s this top,” she said. “It’s heinous. It makes me look fat. Do you think it makes me look fat? Paulie bought it for my birthday. The pants fit like a dream, but the minute I put on the top, I thought, ‘This makes me look fat.’ ”
“You don’t look fat,” Helen said. “What do you weigh? Ninety-eight pounds?”
“Ninety-six,” Tara said. “See? I am fat. I’ve gained two pounds. You can see it, too.”
“Tara, I never said that.”
But Tara would not be consoled. She was getting on Helen’s nerves. Helen wished there were customers to distract them. It was five-forty-five, and a last-minute rush was unlikely.
Even Tara could see that Helen was eager to leave Juliana’s. “You go ahead,” Tara said. “I’ll lock up.” Helen left gratefully, never dreaming what would happen next.
Chapter 14
“This wine is not bad,” Peggy the parrot lady said. “What month is it?”
Peggy and Helen were out by the pool after work, sipping wine and slapping mosquitoes. The sort of wine they could afford did not have a vintage year.
“Not sure,” said Helen. “I got it in a box at the drug store. I think it has an expiration date, though.”
Pete the parrot had his usual perch on Peggy’s shoulder. Helen reached out to pet Pete’s soft feathers with one finger, and he nuzzled her.
“He’s a love bird,” Helen said.
“Speaking of love, there he is,” Peggy said. “Wouldn’t you love to go out with the divine Daniel?”
Daniel Dayson looked even better the second time around. He seemed built on a different scale from ordinary men. His legs were strong as cypress trees. His arms were ropes of muscle. His long black hair rippled past his broad shoulders. Helen did not want to run her fingers through his hair. She wanted to grab it and hold on tight while he . . .
“Hello, Helen,” Daniel said. His dark blue eyes seemed to bore holes into her. She could feel her will power slowly leaking away.
“Hi,” Helen said. It was the most coherent thing she’d managed to say to Daniel since he’d moved in. What was the matter with her? She was too old to be acting this way.
“Would you like a glass of wine, Daniel?” Peggy said. “It’s a fresh box.”
“No, thanks, Peggy. Some other time I’d love to, but I have a date.” Daniel waved good-bye and walked back to his room. Helen watched his massive glutes move under the thin red fabric of his tiny gym shorts.
“He has a date every night,” Peggy said. “Same lucky girl. They usually wind up in his room. I should know. I live right next to him. I never hear a sound except his bedsprings—and the moans. My lord, the way that woman carries on. He leaves a satisfied customer.”
“Is that why you offered him a fresh box?” Helen said.
“Helen!” Peggy said.
Peggy and Helen started giggling and couldn’t stop. They were laughing so hard, they didn’t hear Cal come up behind them. It was the first time Helen had seen him since the disastrous Catfish Dewey’s date. Now Helen wondered what she could have seen in Cal. He seemed old and wizened, compared to the magnificent Daniel. She’d never noticed before that Cal’s chest was narrow. His legs, which she’d once admired, now seemed too skinny. And was he getting a bit of a dowager’s hump at his neck—or a permanent slouch?
“I was in the laundry room. Your boyfriend’s laundry is done, girls,” Cal said, nastily. “Who wants to fold his underwear?”
Peggy winked at Helen and said, “Oh, me, me, it’s my turn.” She moaned dramatically and fell backward into the chaise.
Pete let out a startled “Awwwk!” Cal stomped off without a word.
“Men!” Peggy said. “They’re all jealous.” That caused another fit of giggles. It was broken by Margery, who blew in like a purple tornado.
“Helen, you got an emergency call from the store on my phone,” she said. “I think it’s serious. First one of those you’ve ever had.”
“Is it Christina?” Helen asked, running for Margery’s apartment.
“No, some guy,” her landlady said.
Margery’s phone was on the TV tray next to her purple recliner. The caller was Paulie, Tara’s boyfriend. He sounded panicked.
“Helen? Is that you? Is it OK to call this number? Tara said you gave it to her for emergencies.”
“I did, Paulie. What’s wrong?”
“Tara hasn’t come home yet. It’s nine-thirty. Juliana’s closes at six. She called me and said she was going to lock up, then stop off at the supermarket. She should have been home by now. If she was going anywhere else, she would have told me. She’s very good about that. No one is answering the phone at the store, and her cell phone isn’t on. I’ve already called the hospitals and checked with the police, and she’s not been in a car accident. I’ll stay here in case she gets home. Could you go over to Juliana’s and see if everything is OK?”
“Of course, Paulie,” she said. “I’ll leave right now.”
She hung up the phone. “I’ll go with you,” Margery said.
“No, stay here in case Paulie calls again. He’s a real worrywart. Tara probably went shopping and lost track of the time.”
But Helen still ran to the store. She didn’t like what she saw when she got there. The lights were on. The alarm system was not. She did not see the “armed” light. She tried Juliana’s green door. The buzzer lock was on. She peeked in the window and saw clothes lying on the floor, a chair upended, a box of hangers overturned. She did not see any sign of Tara.
Helen’s heart was beating fast. She felt time slow down. Tara! Oh, my God. Where was she? Had she been kidnapped? Killed? Helen unlocked the green door and ran inside calling, “Tara! Tara! Where are you?” She heard a moan coming from a dressing room.
Helen threw open the dressing room door. Tara was lying on the floor. Her top was ripped down the front. A nasty bump on her forehead was rapidly turning purple. There was a small red smear of blood on her forehead. Tara groaned and tried to sit up, then fell back on the carpet as a single drop of blood slid down her face. Her long black hair fanned around her.
“Tara!” Helen knelt down beside her. “Tara! What happened? Who did this to you?”
“Two men,” she said, her voice barely a whisper. “They forced their way in. They hurt me.”
