Free The Melody Lingers On by Mary Higgins Clark Page A

hairdresser come to the house in
Connecticut.
    Maybe she had counted on making a fresh start here in New Jersey? He even hoped that this was true, but only if she was not involved in the disappearance of all that money.
    Surreptitiously Jon glanced to his left. He was sitting at the breakfast room table, which he had turned into his desk. Anne Bennett left her shade up during the day. He knew that most of the
time she sat in a chair that did not place her facing him. But sometimes she either forgot or didn’t care.
    Her son never arrived before six P.M. The only other person who had been there twice that week was the interior decorator, Lane Harmon.
    Jon had checked her out too. Lane was the daughter of the late congressman and her stepfather was a very powerful columnist. It would be very foolish of her to get involved with the Bennett
family. Maybe even dangerous. It wouldn’t do her any good if Anne Bennett unintentionally let anything slip to her about where her husband was hiding.
    His phone rang. It was Rudy Schell. “Anything up, Jon?”
    “I just saw a guy pretending to be from an alarm service going into the Bennett town house. I’m sure he was there to sweep for bugs. I’ll get into the town house Sunday morning
when Anne Bennett goes to church again.”
    “How often is the son there?”
    “Every other night for dinner, as far as I can see.”
    “Who cooks?” was the next question.
    “There’s an upscale restaurant that delivers whenever Eric comes to New Jersey. “The other nights she seems to make do with leftovers.”
    “How about a housekeeper?”
    “Nothing so far. But there’s a cleaning service that works in a lot of the places here. They rang her doorbell the other day. I wouldn’t be surprised if she hires them. My
guess is that she might not want a daily housekeeper.”
    “That’s too bad. It might be interesting to hear what she might let slip to a daily housekeeper.” Rudy Schell ended the conversation in his usual brisk way. “Keep me
posted.”

19

    I t was with dismay that Sean Cunningham learned from the TV morning news that Eleanor Becker had been indicted as a co-conspirator of Parker
Bennett. In the past two years he had made it his business to visit Eleanor a number of times. Knowing her, he absolutely believed that the only crime she had committed was to trust Parker Bennett
so blindly. The indictment meant that she would be arraigned before a judge, have to post bail, and then have the continuing expense of a defense lawyer. Her trial might be as long as two years
away. In that time the worry and the expense could break her down, physically and psychologically.
    In the course of his career Sean had dealt with patients with that kind of problem. If by some miracle Eleanor was acquitted, it would be too late to undo the damage that had been done. She
would be emotionally exhausted and financially strapped.
    He decided to call her and ask if he could pay her a visit tomorrow afternoon.
    Today he already had an appointment with Ranger Cole. He had been calling Ranger every day since the funeral service. Ranger had neither answered the calls nor responded to the messages he left.
Then Ranger had finally called him back yesterday afternoon. He said, “I’m sorry, doctor, it’s real nice of you to worry about me. I should’ve called you sooner.” His
voice had been monotone and lifeless.
    “I’m concerned about you, Ranger,” Sean told him frankly. “I know what it’s like to lose your wife. Mine died five years ago. The first year is the worst. But trust
me, it does get better. How about I stop by your place tomorrow? Maybe around three o’clock.”
    “Yeah, sure, if you want.”
    Now Sean looked at his watch. It was nine thirty. That meant he had five hours to work on the book he was writing. The title was
Responding to Stress
.
    Without using anyone’s real name, he had just started on the book when the Parker Bennett Investment Fund was revealed to be