The Guest List (22 page)

“That’s the one!”

There was such outrage in Carol’s voice. Donovan winced when she said, “All that work for an eighty-two-year-old lady who probably wears Depends.”

“For crying out loud, Mom,” Donovan heard Bobby say. “Don’t you two ever stop? Go on, Mom. Go back to the hotel. My coach and a couple of the guys are coming by in a little while. Dad?”

This time it was Bobby who had the phone. “I heard you, son. I’ll be at the Hyatt in New Brunswick if you need me. Do you want me to get you anything?”

“I’m good. Jell-O, cookies, Mars bars, and a banana. What more could I want? The guys will probably bring some pizza.”

“I’ll see you in the morning before I leave, Bobby,” Donovan said.

“I’ll be staying,” Carol said in the background.

Carol arrived at the hotel just as Donovan was checking in. As soon as they were in their room, she tossed her coat and purse onto the king-size bed with its muted orange bedspread. After the way he’d talked back to her on the phone, he’d expected his wife to be in a red-hot rage. Instead, she was acting like Miss Congeniality.

“Let’s do room service for dinner, okay?”

“Fine with me,” he said, tossing his jacket over the closest chair. It was going to be a long night. He could tell. She was waiting for him to get settled in before hauling out the big guns. But this time he was prepared.
This
time he was going to stand up to her, regardless of the outcome

Donovan gathered his things from his overnight bag, waiting for what he thought was the inevitable: a rip-roaring tirade. He watched as Carol sat down on the edge of the bed and kicked off her shoes.

“I want to apologize to you, Donovan, for … everything,” she said.

It was the ring of truth in her voice that stopped him on his way to the bathroom. Eyes narrowing, he turned around and stared at her, waiting for the proverbial other shoe to drop.

“I know now that I have been out of line. I’ve been trying to ride this midlife thing out on my own, but it isn’t working. When we go home, I’m going to get a GYN checkup and get some hormones. Everything you said on the ride here is true. It’s me, not you. The business with Abby just rocked my world out from under me. I loved that girl. I still love her just the way I love Bobby. I consider both of them mine even though I didn’t give birth to them. I can’t tell you how many times I picked up the phone to call Abby, but then I’d either set it down or dial the number and break the connection before the machine picked up. I don’t know why it’s so hard for me to admit I was wrong. And you were right about me trying to control Bobby the way I did Abby. I hate myself for it, Donovan. I really do. And I hate it that we say ugly, hurtful things to each other. I love you. I always will. I think part of my problem is that I’ve never been one hundred percent sure in my own mind that you loved me as much as I loved you. Sometimes I think you just married me to be a mother to Abby and Mallory,” Carol said tearfully.

He didn’t know what to say, what to do. She acted sincere, but she’d acted sincere before when she wasn’t. Could it be that her behavior really was due to menopause? He’d heard enough TV and radio doctors talk about it to know that some women went through sheer hell. But was Carol one of them, or was this just an excuse for being a full-time bitch? He felt a twinge of something as he did his best to swallow his anger.
Everybody deserved a second chance, and who was he to deny Carol hers?

“C’mere,” he said, holding out his arms to her.

Carol snuggled into her husband’s arms. “I’m going to the hospital tomorrow and apologize to Bobby, then I’m going to call Abby and apologize. If she doesn’t answer the phone, I’ll write her a letter.”

“And as soon as we get home, you’ll make that doctor’s appointment, right?”

“I promise. Pretty soon everything will be just the way it used to be.”

“Good. Now what should we order for dinner. I’m starving.”

They’d made good time. They left Charleston around ten in the morning, stopped for lunch and a couple of bathroom breaks, and were on the outskirts of Atlanta. Mallory had called Dr. Oldmeyer only to find out that she wouldn’t be able to see her until the following morning.

“There’s a Holiday Inn,” Abby said, pointing off to the left. “Let’s stop there, relax, and have a nice dinner. What time is our appointment?”

“Ten.” Mallory started to hum a tune, then stopped suddenly. “Do you know any lullabies, Abby?”

Abby looked askance at her sister. “I know that hush little baby one. Why?”

“Will you sing it to me when we go to sleep?”

The fine hairs on the back of Abby’s neck stood at attention. “Ah … sure,” she said hesitantly. She started to shake. “You aren’t going to take … Mama to bed with you, are you?”

“I was just thinking about that. Maybe just this one night unless you think it will spook you?”

“It will spook me. Please don’t. Leave the urn in the car.”

“Okay but … It doesn’t seem right somehow,” Mallory said, her voice sounding childlike.

A scream started to build in Abby’s throat. “Why the hell not? God only knows how long she was wedged between that papier-mâché castle and that can of Pick-up Sticks. Closet, car, what difference does it make?”

Mallory sat up straight. “Hey, hey, easy does it here. Okay. I’m not arguing with you. She … I mean, the urn stays in the car. No problem.”

“Thank you very much, Mallory.”

They checked in, inspected the room before they carried their bags in from the car. Mallory unpacked her cosmetic bag and blow-dryer and announced that she was going to take a long, hot shower.

Abby reached for her cell phone and dialed Steve’s office number. The second he picked up she could hear dogs barking in the background. “Hi, it’s me,” she said in a tired voice. “Everything okay?”

“Everything is fine here. How about you? I was beginning to worry when I didn’t hear from you.”

Abby smiled into the receiver. It was comforting to know he worried about her. “We found Mama’s urn,” she said. “But we couldn’t find anything else. We’ve decided to ask Donovan if he saved anything.”

“Hang on a minute, Abby, I have to write out a prescription and give it to my assistant.” He was back a moment later. “So what’s next on the agenda?” he asked.

“We have a ten o’clock appointment to see Constance Oldmeyer, Mallory’s doctor. After I hang up from you, I’m going to call the airlines and schedule an afternoon flight into New Jersey to see Bobby. I guess we might be home late tomorrow night or early the next morning. Do the dogs miss me?”

When he didn’t immediately answer, Abby got nervous. “Steve …”

“I don’t think they miss you as much as you’d like them to,” he said.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Again, he delayed answering
her. She pressed her ear to the phone and heard sounds … whimpers and whines.

“They’re all here on the visiting couch with me,” he admitted with a reluctance that came through loud and clear.

Abby started to laugh. The visiting couch was a battered old sofa he kept in the back for customers to sit on while they visited their ailing pets. She could just see him sitting there with all seven dogs trying to cuddle up next to him.

“Thanks for taking care of them,” she said. “I love you.”

It was nine o’clock in the morning when Mallory pulled alongside the Argone security guard for the second time in three days and offered up her alias. “They have to call Dr. Oldmeyer to clear us through,” she explained when the guard turned away.

“You can drive up to the building, miss, but Dr. Oldmeyer wanted me to tell you she’s been delayed and can’t see you till eleven o’clock. She suggested a stroll around the grounds. She’ll meet you on the bench under the magnolia tree.”

“This is beautiful,” Abby said stretching her neck to view the rolling emerald lawns.

“Yes it is. All the rooms have a great view of the lawns and gardens. When I first got here, I used to cry because I wanted to run barefoot through the grass. You had to be really, really special to be able to do that.” Mallory steered into the parking lot and cut the engine. For long minutes, she sat staring at the building.

“Mallory, are you all right?” Abby asked with concern. She wasn’t sure how to interpret the peculiar expression on her sister’s face.

Mallory climbed out and stood by the car door. “Yeah, I’m fine. You know, if it wasn’t for Constance, I’d still be in there.” She gestured toward the pink-brick building. “The other doctors gave up on me. That’s the part that really hurts.
Not Constance, though. The day she told me I could call her by her first name was the day I knew it was all going to work out. Isn’t that strange? Just a little thing like that. She let me go outside and run barefoot through the grass as much as I wanted. Sometimes we’d both take off our shoes and play tag. We did a lot of kid stuff that I had missed. Don’t say anything, Abby. I’m okay with it now. I guess I’m just trying to make conversation. I saw where you lived all those years. I want you to see where I lived.”

“Mallory, I know I’ve said this before, but I do so wish things had been different.”

“So do I, Abby. We grow and we learn. It’s called life. Neither one of us can unring the bell.”

Side by side they strolled through the gardens. “That’s a beautiful pool and tennis court. Are you a good tennis player?”

“I have no idea. I never played. In all the years I was here, I never saw anyone on the court. Actually, I never saw anyone in the pool either. Yet, both are maintained. There’s a heated pool indoors, too. I never saw anyone in it either.”

“Maybe that was because you were locked up all the time.”

“That’s true, but I talked to some of the other kids and they’d never seen them being used either. Schools like this … they’re big-money operations. I think the pools and the tennis court are just for show. The clients … the parents … are led to believe their kid is going to have access to
all
the amenities. It’s soothing to their consciences to think their juvenile delinquent won’t be totally deprived. They have no idea what the truth is. No idea at all. Get it through your head, Abby, every single one of us here was a throwaway.”

“Why didn’t you tell Donovan? You could have called or written.”

Mallory waved her hand in front of Abby’s face. “Earth to Abby. Phones? Surely you jest! Now, letters … Letters were okay. Of course, they went through a thorough examination first to make sure they didn’t contain anything they shouldn’t.
You know, like complaints? By the time the letter was acceptable, it was pretty generic. You could have almost written a form letter and just filled in the blanks every time you sent it out.”

“So why didn’t you tell him when he came to visit?”

“Our visits … how many were there? Three? Four? I don’t recall. Anyway, our visits were supervised. I couldn’t say anything. But even if I could have told him, I don’t know if he would have cared or that he would have believed me. Why did he adopt us anyway?”

Abby shrugged. “Because our father was Donovan’s best friend, and he felt responsible.”

“Look!” Mallory pointed to the caretaker’s cottage. “Doesn’t it remind you of our old house in New Jersey, the way the roof slants over the front door? I remember everything about that house, even what the wallpaper in my bedroom looked like, all those little roses on that blue background. How about you? Do you remember it?”

“Not the house so much, but I remember running across the yard to Donovan’s. I think I remember his house better than ours. Ours was brown and his was a kind of earthy green.” Abby checked her watch. “It’s almost time to meet Constance. We should be heading back.”

“There she is,” Mallory said, pointing toward Argone’s front steps. “Uh-oh, something’s wrong. I can tell by the look on her face.”

Abby felt a bolt of fear run up her spine.

“Dr. Oldmeyer, this is my sister Abby. Abby, my dear friend, Dr. Constance Oldmeyer.”

The psychiatrist held out her hand. “Mallory has told me so much about you. I feel I already know you,” the psychiatrist said looking Abby squarely in the eye. The sincerity and concern in the woman’s eyes eased the tension between Abby’s shoulders.

Dr. Oldmeyer didn’t look anything like Abby had expected, which was a tall, stylish, coiffed, and manicured professional. Instead, she looked like a gentle, elderly woman. The motherly type. Not a psychiatrist. “She’s told me a great deal about you, too,” Abby replied.

“Let’s sit down,” Constance suggested. She glanced down at her watch. “I’ve so looked forward to seeing you two together and spending time with you, but it doesn’t look like today is the day. There’s a very important meeting I must attend in fifteen minutes. It has something to do with one of the school’s
major contributors canceling a sizable contribution the board was counting on.”

Abby glanced at Mallory and knew by her sister’s expression that they were both wondering the same thing. But it was Mallory who asked the question.

“Is it Donovan?”

Constance reached for Mallory’s hand and covered it with her own. “I won’t know until I go to the meeting. But all things considered, I think it’s entirely possible.”

Abby paled as she remembered the after-TV-interview conversation with Donovan. Had he been trying to tell her something when he’d asked her if she’d considered the possible ramifications of writing
Proof Positive?
Was he withdrawing his financial support from Argone to get even with Mallory for appearing on national TV? But how could taking away his contribution affect Mallory, now that she no longer needed the school’s services? Like everything else in the ongoing puzzle, it didn’t make sense.

A pulse started to throb behind Abby’s right eye. She didn’t know if she should share her thoughts with Mallory and Constance or not. What purpose would it serve? None she could think of, though she was certain it would arouse even more suspicion against Donovan. And it seemed to her there was already enough suspicion without her adding to it.

“It
is
Donovan,” Mallory stated unequivocally. “I know it as sure as I’m sitting here. The timing is too coincidental for it not to be him.”

Dr. Oldmeyer’s gaze turned speculative. “I wonder—” She tilted her head and looked at Mallory. “No,” she said, evidently dismissing the idea, whatever it was.

“What?” Mallory persisted.

“Well …” she said. “Something else very strange has happened, and I was wondering if there was a connection. But I’m sure it’s nothing.”

Mallory looked at Abby, who was sitting on the opposite bench. “Tell us anyway.”

“It’s just that when I went into my office to get the things you asked me for, I learned that the file boxes containing all our ‘case closed’ files had been removed and put in a more secure location in the school. I’m sure I’ll get them back, but at the moment I don’t know where they are so I don’t have anything to show your sister.”

“Didn’t you put everything on the hard drive of your computer?”

“Yes, but when I got my new computer last month, I transferred your files to disc and put them in with the hard copies so everything would be together in one place. You don’t think …”

“I don’t know what to think,” Mallory interrupted. “It could be nothing, or it could be something. Was there anything in my files that would have caused Donovan concern? I mean, did I tell you anything under hypnosis that would implicate him? Something we didn’t discuss or something I might have forgotten.”

“Not that I can remember, but your files went back to the day you were admitted. After I came on the scene there was … Let me think. Visitation records, of course, and the letters Donovan sent you and copies of the ones you sent him along with the audiotapes of your hypnosis sessions. I wish you had told me you wanted those things the other day when you were here.” She consulted her watch again. “Oh, dear, I really do have to be going. These money meetings take precedence over everything in this place. In addition to everything else going on, Dr. Malfore told me that he was going to hand in his resignation following the meeting, but wouldn’t tell me why.”

“Who is Dr. Malfore?” Abby asked.

“He was my first psychiatrist here at Argone. Now he’s chief of staff,” Mallory answered. When Constance stood, Mallory took her hand. “Please, Constance, just one more minute. I need you to tell my sister I’m not crazy. Tell her I’m
mentally healthy and that my suspicions about Donovan are well-founded.”

Constance Oldmeyer placed both her hands on Abby’s shoulders. “She’s telling you the truth, my dear. My files contain Mallory’s childhood memories of Donovan having an affair with your mother, which may or may not be a motive for murder. If you need added reassurance, I’ll be happy to fax you copies of my findings. I’ll need a signed release from you, of course, Mallory. It was such a pleasure meeting you, Abby.” She turned to Mallory and gave her a hug. “I’ll call you as soon as all this gets straightened out. A few days at the most. Take care of each other. Love each other.” And then she was gone, her shoulders slumping as she trundled down the brick path that led to the main part of the building.

Mallory turned to look at her sister, her face miserable. She dropped down to the apple green grass and crossed her legs Indian fashion. “What do you make of all this, Abby?”

“I’m not sure, but like you I have to wonder if Donovan is the one who canceled his contribution. Obviously you and Constance have discussed him at length. This whole thing is so unrealistic I wouldn’t be able to get this stuff past my editor even if I was planning on using it in the book.”

Mallory stared off into the distance. “Don’t say that, Abby, because you have to use this stuff. It’s all part of the plot, don’t you see? Some of it will turn out to be nothing at all—red herrings, so to speak, and the rest—Somehow in the end it will all fit. I know it.” She plucked a blade of grass. “Tell me if this makes any sense. Donovan knows I know something. But he’s not sure exactly what I know. He knows Dr. Oldmeyer would have kept records of everything I told her. It’s those records that worry him, so he has to get rid of them. But he can’t just barge into Argone and get them himself now, can he? No. He has to get someone to get them for him, someone who has the authority to move the records. As chief of staff, Dr. Malfore is the only one who has that authority. But, of
course, he would never get rid of patient files, closed or not … unless he was pressured into doing it by someone threatening to take away Argone’s main line of financial support. I
know
Dr. Malfore, and if in fact he did take those files for that reason, in my opinion, he would feel he’d betrayed his own high principles. Leaving Argone would be a likely step for him to take, especially if after his taking the files, the gift to Argone was canceled anyway.”

Abby’s mind was reeling. Mallory should have been the mystery writer. She could put two and two together and come up with five and sometimes six if she thought about it long enough. “Everything you’ve said could be true. But it could just as easily be a series of coincidences.”

“Time will tell,” Mallory said, getting to her feet. “It all depends on who the ‘big’ contributor is.” She took a deep breath and let it out in a resigned sigh. “Well, I guess we might as well head for the airport. God, this makes me crazy.”

“Bad word choice, Mallory,” Abby said, jokingly.

Mallory didn’t appear the least bit amused. “Abby, wait a minute. I know all this sounds fishy. I drag you here and suddenly everything goes haywire. It seems like everything I tell you or try to prove comes back to bite me on the ass. I’m afraid if I lose my grip, I’ll slip right back into that dark place I inhabited for so long. I need you to believe in me. There was a time when I thought as long as Constance believed in me, that was enough. You’ve now jumped ahead of Constance. I wouldn’t lie to you, Abby. That’s not who I am anymore. Please. Look at me. Tell me you believe me.”

Right then Abby had to make what was probably the most important decision of her life, but all she wanted to do was close her eyes, go to sleep, and wake up with Olivia and Beemer licking her feet. She held out her arms. “I believe everything you said to me, Mallory. I’d trust you with my life. I’d even trust you with Olivia and Beemer. From now on it’s
us
against him or them or whoever.”

An instant later she realized everything she’d just said was true.

“Are you sure you want to do one more drive-by, Mallory? We’ve been up and down this street at least fifty times. We took pictures of our old house, Donovan’s old house, and we even took pictures of the house where the raisin-cookie lady lived. She used to bring them to Donovan’s house and he’d share them with me. We have pictures of the malls, the police station, and the town hall. We have street maps, gas-station locations, bank locations. I think we have more than enough background material to finish
Proof Positive
and a couple more books besides. I don’t want to overload the reader with details. They’ll get bored, and if they get bored—bye-bye book. Hello, trash can!”

Mallory sat forward in her seat and peered out the windshield. “I don’t think I’d want to live here again, would you, Abby?”

“I barely remember it, so I can’t answer that. The only memory that’s alive for me is of all the times I ran across the lawn to Donovan’s house,” Abby said in a choked voice. “To think that he killed our parents … and Connor … I can’t bear thinking about it, Mallory. I know everything looks really bad for him but … Oh, I don’t know. To tell you the truth, I pray to God it isn’t true, that you’re wrong. I’m sorry, but that’s how I feel.”

Mallory’s fine chiseled features took on a pinched look. “I understand. I really do.”

“I don’t want to think about this any more today,” Abby said firmly. “I want to visit Bobby, make sure he’s doing all right, then go home.” She pulled a slip of paper out of her purse. “Here, you be the navigator.”

Abby made a right-hand turn on Calvert Avenue and headed out to Grove and then to James where she picked up Route 27. “I think we just did the long way around,” Abby grumbled
as she drove through the small town of Metuchen. Thirty minutes later, Abby turned the car into the hospital parking lot.

“Hey, little brother,” Abby said, peeking around the door into Bobby’s private room. “What’s up?”

“Abby! Boy am I glad to see you.” Cautiously, Bobby inched himself up into a sitting position.

“I have a surprise for you. Come on in, Mallory. It’s time you and your little brother got better acquainted.”

Bobby’s jaw dropped. “Wow! Mallory.”

Mallory walked over to the side of the bed, leaned down, and gave the boy a big hug. “Once they let you out of this joint, you and I are going to have to get really acquainted. I’ve always wanted a little brother to torment, and you look really tormentable,” she teased, putting her fist against his chin.

“Yeah, well don’t think I can’t put up a good fight. Ask Abby. She’ll tell you.”

“Oh, boy, can I ever,” Abby agreed. “Be careful what you wish for, Mallory.”

“Hey, this is great. Really great,” Bobby said. His smile reached to both of his big ears.

“How long ago did Carol and Donovan leave?” Abby asked.

Bobby rolled his eyes. “I’m trying to forget they were here. Mom’s wacko. Big-time. First she insisted that I go home to recuperate so she could take care of me. Then, she was going to try to get a room here in the hospital to be near me … She wouldn’t lay off. It’s like she’s obsessed or something.”

Abby squeezed his arm. “She was that way with me, too, Bobby. Finally, I just couldn’t take it anymore. That’s why we’ve become so estranged. I feel real bad about it, but like you said, it’s as if she’s obsessed. What am I saying? She
is
obsessed. Obsessed with controlling people’s lives. And when they refuse to let her take over their lives, she freaks.”

“Tell me about it,” Bobby agreed.

“Listen, we can’t stay but a few minutes,” Abby said. “We
have a plane to catch. We just came to make sure you’re feeling okay. Are you?”

“Not bad, considering. I get tired easy, but they tell me I’ll be back to my old self in no time.”

“Hey, Bobby,” Mallory said, wiggling his foot. “Maybe you can help us, you being a guy and all. This book Abby’s writing,
Proof Positive
… it has this teenage boy who needs to hide stuff from his parents. Private stuff. You know, junk that only means something to him.” Abby gave her a disgusted look, but Mallory ignored her. “If you wanted to hide something, where would you hide it?”

Bobby’s brow furrowed. “Well, if I was old enough and had a car, I suppose I’d probably hide something under the spare tire in the trunk.”

“Will you listen to that, Abby! In a million years we never could have come up with that!”

Abby grimaced. She hated the way her sister was duping Bobby. On the other hand, she wasn’t eager to call Carol or Donovan and ask them where their parents’ stuff was, so she let it go.

“What about boxes of stuff, like old papers and pictures and stuff?” Mallory asked. “Think about home. Picture the house and all the storage areas. Where would a kid hide something so bulky?”

“How many boxes of stuff?” Bobby asked.

Mallory shrugged. “Two to four maybe. Probably two.”

Bobby narrowed his eyes and twisted his lips. “In our garage, there’s a pull-down ladder that leads up to a big storage space. You wouldn’t know the ladder was there unless you were looking for it. If I was going to hide something, I’d probably hide it up there.”

“How come I never knew about it?” Abby asked.

“I don’t know,” Bobby said. “Probably because Dad keeps his guns up there. The only reason I know about it is because I caught him coming down the ladder one day. He asked me
to keep it between the two of us. He said it was the only place where he could hide Mom’s Christmas presents so she wouldn’t find them.”

Guns?
Abby had never known Donovan to own guns. Did he use them to hunt? Or did he collect them? She had a million questions, but at the moment she couldn’t find it in her heart to ask even one. “I’d love to stay longer, little brother, but we really have to get going if we’re going to catch that plane. If you’re going home over Christmas break, come over. I want to introduce you to my canine family.”