Free No Place Like Home by Mary Higgins Clark Page B

show him the crumpled newspaper picture that was in my pocket. I simply didn’t know what to do.

12

    T he morning after her new neighbors moved in, Marcella Williams was enjoying a second cup of coffee and devouring the newspapers when her phone rang. She picked it up and murmured, “Hello.”
    â€œBy any chance, would a beautiful lady be free for lunch today?”
    Ted Cartwright! Marcella felt her pulse begin to race.
    â€œNo beautiful ladies around here,” she said coyly, “but I do know someone who would very much enjoy lunching with the distinguished Mr. Cartwright.”
    Three hours later, having carefully dressed for the date in tan slacks and a vivid, printed silk shirt, Marcella was sitting opposite Ted Cartwright in the pub of the Black Horse Tavern on West Main Street. In breathless detail she told him all about her new neighbors. “When they saw the vandalism, Alex Nolan was furious, and his wife, Celia, was really upset. I mean it’s obvious isn’t it? She fainted, for heaven’s sake. I can understand that she probably was worn out from getting ready for the move. No matter how much help you have, there’s always so much you have to do yourself.”
    â€œIt still seems to be a pretty strong reaction,” Cartwright observed skeptically.
    â€œI agree, but on the other hand, it was a shocking sight. Ted, I tell you, that skull and crossbones on the door with Liza’s initials in the eye sockets was just plain chilling, and you’d swear that red paint on the lawn and on the house was real blood. And that doll on the porch with the gun in its hand was scary, too.”
    Marcella bit her lip when she saw the expression on Cartwright’s face. For God’s sake, she told herself, it was his blood all over the place, as well as Audrey’s, the night Liza shot them. “I’m sorry,” she said, “I mean how stupid can anyone be?” Impulsively she reached across the table and squeezed his hand.
    Smiling wryly, Cartwright reached for his glass and took a long sip of pinot noir. “I can skip hearing those details, Marcella,” he said. “I saw the pictures in the newspapers and that was enough for me. Tell me more about your new neighbors.”
    â€œVery attractive,” Marcella said emphatically. “She could be anywhere from twenty-eight to early thirties. I’d guess he’s in his late thirties. The little boy, Jack, is really cute. Very concerned about his mother. He kept hanging on to her when she was lying on the couch. The poor kid was scared that she was dead.”
    Again Marcella had the feeling of stepping into dangerous territory. Twenty-four years ago, the cops had had to pry Liza away from her mother’s body, while Ted was lying on the floor a few feet away. “I dropped over to Georgette Grove’s office yesterday afternoon to see how she was feeling,” Marcella said hastily. “I mean she was so upset about the vandalism, and I was a little concerned about her.”
    Marcella took the last bite of her Cobb salad and the final sip of her Chardonnay.
    Seeing Ted’s raised eyebrows and the amused smile on his face, she decided to acknowledge that she knew what he was thinking. “You know me too well,” she laughed. “I wanted to see what was going on. I figured the cops would let Georgette know if they’d talked to any of the kids who might have pulled that stunt. Georgette wasn’t there so I chatted with Robin, her secretary or receptionist or whatever she is.”
    â€œWhat did you find out?”
    â€œRobin told me that the Nolans have only been married six months and that Alex bought the house as a surprise for Celia’s birthday.”
    Cartwright again raised his eyebrows. “The only surprise a man gives a woman should be measured in carats,” he said. “And I don’t mean the kind that you find in the vegetable bin.”
    Marcella