Рита Браун - Whisker Of Evil

“We both know that’s not enough. As for her first husband, the less said about him the better. But this Blair,” Mim shifted in her seat, “what do you think of male models?”

“That anyone who lives by their looks is doomed to disappointment. I should know.” Alicia said this genially.

“Hmm.” Mim’s voice dropped. “He seems normal enough.”

“You mean that he’s not gay?”

“In so many words.”

“You’d know. I mean, sooner or later you’d know. He probably has the sense to know that his days are numbered in his business. You said he had another business.”

“He owns land in the northwestern part of the county, which has a great deal of underground water. This will probably become very important in the near future, especially since we’ve had a series of droughts, not horrible but bad enough to wake us up. He’s not stupid or vapid.”

“Isn’t that a prejudice? That terribly attractive people are stupid or vapid?”

“Yes and no. My experience is that the divinely beautiful or handsome have so many things done for them, doors opened, that they aren’t aware of how much easier life is for them. They sometimes don’t develop the skills other people learn early in life. One thinks immediately of Elizabeth Taylor.”

“You coped.”

“Aren’t you flattering.” Big Mim smiled. “But I’m not beautiful.” She held up her hand. “I take good care of myself and I’m attractive, but the kind of beauty you have—or, say, a Clark Gable had—is some kind of radiance. That’s very, very special.”

“Thank you, Mim. But remember, beauty can be a curse, too.” She stared pensively for a moment at the huge summer bouquet on the coffee table. “Do you think Blair loves her?”

“I’m not sure.”

“Does she love him?”

“Yes. She has the sense not to tell him, but I know Marilyn. She’s in love and he’s good to her, attentive, kind.”

“What can you do but wait?”

“I know, but I hope she doesn’t make another big mistake. It’s all so messy and painful.”

“I expect that’s a working definition of life.” Alicia laughed. “Along with a lot of happiness woven throughout the mess and pain. Somehow it all works out.”

“It has for you.”

“Ha,” she laughed. “Once I realized I didn’t have to marry every man I slept with it became easier.”

“I always thought you were in love with Mary Pat. She certainly was in love with you. Not that we ever spoke of those things then, but now we can. I hope—I mean, I hope I haven’t offended you.” Big Mim was genuine in her concern.

“You have not. I did love Mary Pat and I think she loved me, but she was spoiled, as the very rich can be. Forgive me, Mim, I know you fall into the very rich category.”

“I’ll admit I’ve been spoiled in many ways.”

“Mary Pat had to be the center of my attention. I was much younger than she, twenty years her junior, and I suppose, truth be told, that I wanted to be the center of attention, too. Actors usually do.” She laughed. “I wanted a career. She didn’t resist that but she was diffident. And she wanted to live here, not Los Angeles.”

“Do you ever regret putting your career first?”

“No. Not once.”

“What about your marriages? Wasn’t it hard to go against your basic nature?” Mim innocently asked.

Alicia paused for a long time, the marquise diamond on her left hand catching the light. “Yes. It was, especially when I was younger. Oh, I know I could have had affairs with women. Hollywood is accused of being sin city, but that kind of behavior goes on everywhere, even here in Crozet.”

“Amen.”

“But you know, I took my vows seriously. Each time I married I really wanted the marriage to work. Of course, in retrospect, how could they work? I was not where I was supposed to be, too afraid to look inside and, worse, in a grueling business where one is discarded sooner or later. It has taken me until now, until my fifties, to understand who and what I really am—and to be grateful for what God has given me. And eventually I’ll find love. I hope so, anyway, and if I’m fortunate enough to find a life partner I’m not going to hide or lie about her. I’m going to be grateful and proud.”

“In some ways I envy you. You proved yourself,” Big Mim said.

“So have you.”

Mim twirled her earring. “Oh, I like to meddle. I like to run the show. Turns out I’m good at it, but I never had to go out into the world. You did. I admire that.”

“Thank you, but don’t you think, somehow, some way, we all wind up just where we are supposed to be, doing what we’re supposed to be doing?”

Mim smiled. “If we have any brains at all, yes.”

“Discipline,” Alicia said. “That’s the key to everything.”

“Apparently few people have it. I think of it as a WASP virtue.”

Alicia’s eyes widened. “I don’t. You either have it or you don’t. Being raised a WASP isn’t going to help you. Think of all the lazy sods we know who are white Anglo-Saxon Protestants.”

“It’s funny, Alicia, but the older I get the more I wonder if I know anything, and then there’s Aunt Tally, who truly believes she could run the world.”

“She could.”

They both laughed.

“I’m so glad you’ve come back, for a long stay, I hope.” Big Mim meant that.

“Mary Pat’s school ring.” Alicia inhaled. “She’s calling me back. I came back to rest, to enjoy St. James. It’s all so wonderful and restorative, but now she’s calling me back.”

“Harry went back to Potlicker Creek. Later. She had Susan Tucker with her—you remember her, Gregory was her maiden name—and Fair Haristeen. They combed the woods and the creek bed, but after all these years they found nothing. Harry fancies herself an amateur sleuth.”

“I don’t think there’s anything left of Mary Pat except the love she gave to all of us.”

“I always thought someone killed her, took the horse, and shipped him off to Ireland or South America or wherever. If they’d both been killed you think we’d find one or the other. But no trace of Mary Pat or Ziggy was ever found.”

“And I’d just left for L.A. for my first screen test the day before she disappeared. It didn’t look good, did it?”

“No.”

“I came back immediately, of course. The papers couldn’t accuse me of being her lover, thanks to the libel laws. And the police couldn’t accuse me of murder. No proof. But a pall hung over me. Hell. Sheer hell. As soon as I could put everything in order I left again. I was glad to go. And the gods were with me. I had a great career.” She paused. “I never could come up with a motive as to why someone would kill Mary Pat.”

“There is one. There always is.”

Alicia sighed. “Done is done. It seems Crozet has other problems right now.”

22

S ugar Thierry’s suffering ended at 4:36 P.M., Monday, June 14. Harry and Miranda received a phone call at the post office from Bill Langston.

Miranda placed the phone in its cradle. “Be thou faithful unto death, and I will give thee a crown of life.” She quoted Revelation, Chapter 2, Verse 10.

Harry looked at her. “Sugar?”

“Yes.”

“Poor Sugar. I don’t know if it’s a sin to pray for someone’s death, but surely it isn’t a sin to pray that he’s not in pain.”

Miranda’s warm features relaxed. “The Good Lord hears your prayers and knows your spirit. Harry, I think everyone in Crozet has prayed for that young man.”

Blair Bainbridge walked through the door. “Hello, ladies.”