Silent Masquerade Read online

  He reached over and took Cara’s hand, holding it securely in both of his. “Let’s change the subject for now, okay?”

  Cara looked surprised. “Why?”

  Bill cleared his throat and rubbed the back of her hand with his thumb. “It’s just that you’re about to be reunited with your mother, and we’re in a totally different situation now. We can’t change what happened back in Santa Cruz, so let’s just enjoy the present and pretend there is no past or future.”

  Cara laughed and nuzzled Bill’s neck. “No future? No way. I’ve already picked out names for our first four babies.”

  Bill felt alarm shoot through him like a bolt of lightning. Hadn’t he gotten through to her, made her understand that if Alvaretti’s people found him they were both in grave danger? There weren’t going to be any babies, or anything else that required permanence, roots.

  He was going to be on the run for the rest of his life.

  It had been weeks since he’d faced that fact head-on. He’d let his relationship with Cara, their love for each other, delude him into pretending they could somehow make it together. But that was a false hope; once he got Cara settled here and helped get rid of Harvard, he was going to have to think about moving on.

  He and Lefebre had discussed that over beers one evening in one of the motel bars where they’d stopped for the night. Cara had turned in early, fatigued from the long day’s drive.

  “Do you see yourself settling down in Greensville?” had been Lefebre’s opening gambit.

  “I don’t see that happening,” Bill had admitted. “At least not in the way you mean. I figure if they could catch up with me in Utah, after the pains I went through to cover my tracks, it’s only a matter of time before they trace me to Massachusetts. How much time is the only thing in question.”

  Lefebre had nodded his understanding and then said, “I’m going to miss the two of you. I don’t suppose you’d consider joining forces with me in my little agency? I get some jobs that call for more than one guy.”

  Bill had shaken his head. “Have you thought about the fact that if Alvaretti finds out we’ve teamed up, he’s going to think of you as having betrayed him?”

  “Hell, I gave him what he bought and paid for. Why should I owe him loyalty, as well?”

  “Because that’s how warped his thinking is. I figure, after Cara and her mother come to an understanding, and you and I make sure Harvard hits the road when Mrs. Dunlap gives him the boot, you should go back to your own life—while you still have one.”

  Now that he looked back on it, it seemed that Lefebre had agreed only rather reluctantly.

  He lifted his arm from around Cara and nodded toward the windshield. “It’s getting dark, Cara. Do you think you can make it to the side gate now without being seen?”

  Cara felt nervousness pervading her being, but she braced herself, careful not to let Bill sense her uneasiness. “Okay, hon, I’m gone.” She put her hand on the door handle.

  “Let’s have a kiss for luck, love,” Bill said, and Cara willingly turned to him again. The embrace was tender, though brief.

  Within seconds of that kiss, Cara found herself on the sidewalk about to cross in front of the car. In the near dark, she could just make out the glowing ember of Gordon’s cigarette, up the street. He was walking toward her, passing in front of the Marquette house.

  If the Marquettes still live there. Now where had that thought come from? After all, she’d only been gone from home about two months. Yet it felt as if everything in the neighborhood could have changed in her absence.

  Maybe because only her weeks with Bill held any reality for her now. Bill was her home now; not Greensville, and not Dunlap House.

  Still, before she cut her ties with Greensville once and for all, she had to free her mother. And the truth shall set you free, she thought.

  The side gate was unlocked, as she had anticipated. It creaked slightly, and she waited, holding her breath, to see if anyone inside the house would hear it and come to a window.

  After a few minutes, she determined that it was safe and slipped into the side garden, keeping to the stone path, which was bordered by rosebushes.

  There were two sets of French doors, the first opening out of the library. Her destination was the next set.

  She didn’t realize she’d been holding her breath until she came abreast of the library and, peering in, saw Doug Harvard in a wing chair across the room, apparently dozing, with a newspaper open across his lap.

  She pulled back against the wall of the house, her heart pounding, her limbs shaking.

  Several minutes went by before she was calm enough to risk another peek into the room to satisfy herself that Doug was indeed asleep.

  He appeared not to have moved an iota. She took another breath and crept past the glass doors, walking on tiptoe through the grass.

  Her heart sank when she saw that the breakfast room was empty. But a brass table lamp was lit and, knowing her mother’s frugal tendency to save pennies wherever she could, Cara suspected her mother had been there not long ago and had every intention of returning—hopefully momentarily.

  Now she faced a new dilemma. Should she enter the room and wait for her mother, taking a chance that her mother would cry out in surprise, alerting the servants and Doug Harvard? Or should she stay out here and tap gently on the window to get her mother’s attention?

  The sight of her mother entering the room cast out her indecision. With a smile on her face, her mother’s name on her lips, Cara reached for the handle of the door.

  Her hand had only just touched metal when she felt the gun in her back and heard Doug Harvard’s dreaded voice in her ear.

  * * *

  BILL’S FINGERS tapped on the edge of the wheel, and he whistled tunelessly under his breath. Beside him, Lefebre’s foot jiggled nervously, and every few minutes he exhaled a heavy sigh.

  “Long time,” Lefebre said finally.

  They both looked over toward the house.

  “They had a lot to talk about,” Bill said.

  Another silence, punctuated by Bill’s fingers drumming and Lefebre’s sighs.

  “You suppose she’s inside?”

  Bill hadn’t thought about that. He’d been busy trying to guess Mrs. Dunlap’s response to Cara’s accusations against Harvard.

  “I don’t know.”

  Lefebre cleared his throat. “How much do you know about this Harvard?”

  Bill’s fingers closed around the wheel. “Other than the fact that he hit on Cara and made her life hell?”

  “Yeah. I mean, what did she tell you about who he is, his background and so forth.”

  “Nada.” Bill shook his head. “You think there’s some sort of history?”

  Lefebre shrugged. “Could be.”

  Bill looked over at the house again. He pushed the button that lowered his window and listened. No sound to alarm him. From up the street he could hear a dog barking, but apart from that, the street was quiet.

  The look he slanted at the other man was both thoughtful and ominous. “We’ll give her ten more minutes and then we go in.”

  * * *

  “MOVE BACK QUIETLY and don’t make a sound,” Harvard warned, jabbing the gun into her side for emphasis.

  Cara obeyed and felt herself being pushed back along the side of the house.

  When they came to the library doors, Harvard pushed her inside, and she heard the key turning in the lock behind her. “Get over there,” Harvard ordered, shoving her toward the desk.

  “What are you doing?” Cara demanded. “You aren’t going to get away with this.” Should she tell him about Bill and Lefebre, that she hadn’t come alone? No. Why warn him? They were her ace in the hole.

  “I don’t think you’re in any position to challenge me, dear Cara,” Harvard said. He kept the gun on her and looked around for something with which to tie her up. His glance fell on the ties that held back the heavy linen drapes. He snatched a pair off the nearest window and
ordered Cara to put her hands behind her.

  “Why are you doing this, Doug? I only came back to see my mother. I didn’t plan to stay.”

  “Right. And that’s why you were sneaking in the back way instead of coming to the front door.”

  She had no answer to that. She tried appealing to his sense of self-preservation. “I don’t know what you’re thinking, Doug, but how do you suppose the law is going to view your waving a gun at me and tying me up?”

  Harvard laughed and bent to tie her ankles. He hesitated only a moment, his hand hovering over her calf. He shook his head and applied himself to the business of fastening her legs with the drapery tie.

  “You don’t seem to get the picture, Cara. The law isn’t going to be involved until long after the fact. By that time, there won’t be any evidence to connect me to you.”

  “What about Mom?” Cara heard the quiver in her voice and hoped Harvard wouldn’t interpret it as fear. The last thing she wanted was for him to know exactly how scared she was. Pretty silly thinking, Cara, she told herself, when you’re being tied up at gunpoint.

  “Exactly,” Harvard said. “What about Mom?” He tested the knot and nodded with satisfaction before getting to his feet. “Well, it’s like this, my beauty—since you’ve been away, Mom has been a naughty girl, drinking too much and even taking up smoking.”

  His grin was a wolf’s leer. “Mom is going to learn that those vices can be hazardous to one’s health.” He laughed again, and Cara realized he was actually enjoying this.

  “Unfortunately, your mother’s bad habits are going to affect everyone else in the house, as well. Now isn’t that a shame?”

  He started toward the door, waving the gun. “Don’t go away, Cara,” he called out in a singsong voice. “I’ll be back for you as soon as I finish with your mother.”

  Cara wondered where Mrs. Malcom, the housekeeper, was. And what about Joe, the gardener? The maid didn’t live in, so she’d be gone for the day, but surely the other two would hear her if she screamed.

  She opened her mouth to do just that and realized she’d only incur Harvard’s wrath. He’d gag her, and then she wouldn’t be able to let Bill and Gordon know where she was when they came looking for her.

  And they would. When she didn’t come back out to the car to get them after a reasonable amount of time, they’d know something was wrong and they’d storm the castle, as it were.

  And then Doug would shoot them.

  Her heart sank. They were in just as much danger as she and her mother. They would come to the door and ring the bell politely, not knowing Doug had a gun. When they asked for her, he’d know they were her backup, and he’d kill them, too.

  Kill. It hit her then. He meant to kill her and her mother and anyone else who got in his way. But why?

  For her mother’s money.

  She realized then that that had been his plan all along.

  Desperation stirred her to action. She began to twist and turn, attempting to free her hands from their bonds.

  * * *

  IN THE NEXT ROOM, Beth Dunlap Harvard was drinking the martini her husband had so kindly prepared for her. She couldn’t hurt his feelings by telling him she didn’t care for a drink just now. He’d been so attentive lately, bringing her drinks, lighting her cigarettes.

  He held one out to her now. She took it, smiling into his eyes, afraid to say she didn’t know why she’d taken up smoking again after so long. Her memory was so hazy lately. She could have sworn that Doug had urged her to take up cigarettes again, but surely that couldn’t be true. Doug didn’t even smoke himself.

  “Thank you, darling,” she said. She flinched when she heard the slight slur in her voice. “I’m afraid I’m the tiniest bit tipsy, darling,” she told her husband.

  Doug laughed and tipped his own glass back. “So what, darling? We’re in the privacy of our own home. Why shouldn’t we have a little fun?”

  Because she wasn’t sure this was fun. She’d been waking up with terrible hangovers lately, and her mouth tasted like a dirty ashtray after she’d smoked cigarettes all evening. The servants and their friends at the country club, and even some of her neighbors, had begun to look at her strangely.

  Her hand shook as she emptied her glass. Doug immediately jumped forward to refill it from the pitcher he’d brought with him into the room. “Attagirl, Bethie, one more drink and we’ll tippytoe upstairs and have ourselves one of our little parties.”

  She knew what that meant. Her reward. Physical favors in exchange for being the obedient, docile wife.

  She wondered what Doug would think if she told him that she no longer enjoyed his sexual advances, that the constant drinking had dulled her senses so that she just wanted to curl up and sleep when they got into bed.

  Maybe she wasn’t drinking enough. Maybe if she drank a little more, she’d actually pass out when he led her to their bed. She accepted the glass he held out to her and tossed back the contents in two swallows.

  * * *

  THEY WERE just about to leave the car, to go over to the house to look for Cara, when a car turned the corner onto the street. It was a cab, its roof light a yellow beacon. It slowed and stopped directly alongside the Olds. Automatically Bill and Lefebre slouched down in their seats.

  They heard the cab’s door slam, and the sound of it pulling away.

  They sat up slowly, in unison.

  A man was moving quickly toward the Dunlap house.

  Lefebre gasped and grabbed Bill’s arm.

  “That’s him!”

  “Who? Harvard?”

  “No. That’s the punk who tried to kill Cara at the boardwalk.”

  “Let’s go!”

  Bill had his hand on the door handle when Lefebre pulled him back.

  “Wait!”

  “For what? For him to kill Cara?”

  “Don’t you see what this means?”

  “Yeah, the sleaze who tried to kill Cara is in there with the sleaze who drove her out of her own home in the first pla— Jee-zus!”

  Lefebre nodded. “Exactly! We’ve been barking up the wrong tree.”

  “But you said you were hired by Alvaretti.”

  “No, I didn’t. You did. I just told you I was hired by someone I’d never seen before.”

  “What?”

  “Damn, that’s the missing piece. Let’s go!”

  Now it was Bill’s turn to hold Lefebre back. “What’s going on? What just happened?”

  “Don’t you get it? Harvard is the guy who hired me. I’d been following you as a couple from the time I caught up with you, so I forgot my original assignment.”

  “Which was?”

  “To follow Cara!”

  By the time they got out of their respective doors, the little man from the boardwalk had already disappeared inside the Dunlap mansion.

  “Have you got a gun?” Bill asked Lefebre. His friend shook his head. “I’m not licensed for weapons.”

  “Well, I have, and license or no, I think we’re going to need it.” He went to the trunk and reached for his briefcase.

  “Are we going to ring the doorbell?” Lefebre asked in a whisper.

  Bill closed the trunk as quietly as he could. “Uh-uh,” he whispered back. “We’re going to follow Cara’s plan and go through that side gate.”

  * * *

  DOUG HEARD THE DOORBELL and spun around, panic causing him to drop the martini pitcher to the carpet.

  “Ooh, naughty boy,” his wife said teasingly. “Malc’m’s gonna scooold you.”

  “Stay here!”

  He rushed from the room, confident that Beth was too sloshed to move on her own.

  The man he spied through the curtain at the front door was Harry Wilder. Doug stuck the gun inside his shirt and opened the door.

  “Harry—what the hell are you doing here?”

  “Hi, Doug. We need to talk.”

  “Yeah? Sure, come on in.” He led the way into the living room, across from the library, sparing
only a quick glance at the closed door behind which Cara was incarcerated.

  He was sweating, he realized, trying to juggle too much at once. But he had to get rid of Wilder.

  “So, Harry, what brings you back here? I expected you to finish the job on the Coast.” He gestured for Wilder to take a seat on the couch and he sat down in a club chair across from him.

  “She disappeared, Doug. Like off the face of the earth. I figured she might be on her way back here, and you’d want me to finish the job.”

  “Hmm... I see what you mean. Too bad you couldn’t do it right the first time, Harry,” Doug said, getting a grip on his nerves.

  “Hey, you didn’t warn me she wasn’t no little wuss. She was one tough bird, let me tell you, and she had help besides.”

  “Help? Oh, you mean the guy she was living with? You mean you couldn’t take him, too?”

  “You wasn’t up-front with me, Doug. If you wanted ‘em both rubbed, you shoulda paid me more.” Wilder was whining now.

  Doug stood abruptly, pulling the throw pillow from behind his back and drawing the gun with his other hand.

  The pillow made a perfect silencer, reducing the sound of the shot to a loud pop. Wilder looked surprised and then panicked as he fell forward, slumping to the floor.

  Harvard shoved the gun in his shirt and bent to pick up the body, tossing it over his shoulder like a sack of flour. He went out to the large front hall and looked around. He carried the body to the closet under the stairs and unceremoniously shoved it inside.

  He was sweating profusely now. He wiped his face with his shirtsleeve. Beth. Step one. He had to get her upstairs and in bed.

  Step two was to deal with Cara.

  * * *

  THE TIE was starting to give, Cara was sure of it. She’d tried to flex her wrists when Doug was tying them, but he’d worked too fast. Still, it felt as if they were loosening. She prayed that wasn’t just wishful thinking and that she’d get free in time to help her mother. Her other prayer was that Bill and Gordon wouldn’t come to the house at all, that something would delay them so that Doug wouldn’t kill them, as well.