Mary Clark - I 've Heard That Song Before

The part-time job that Pat Jennings had taken at the Walker Art Gallery had begun to make her something of a celebrity. Now that Peter Carrington had not only been charged with murder, but had been caught on tape bail-jumping and assaulting a cop, all her friends were anxious to have any tidbits of gossip that she could pass on about anyone in the Carrington family.

Pat was closemouthed with everyone except Trish, her best friend for the last twenty years. They had been assigned to the same dorm as freshmen in college, and had thought it a riot that each had chosen to be known by a different variation of their shared name, Patricia.

Now Trish worked in the business office of the tony department store Bergdorf Goodman, located at Fifth Avenue and Fifty-seventh Street, only a block away from the gallery. Once a week, the two women grabbed a quick lunch together, and, in deepest confidence, Pat caught her up on the gossip as she heard it.

She confided that she thought Richard Walker was having an affair with a young new artist, Gina Black. “He had a cocktail party for her and it didn’t draw flies. When she stops in at the gallery, I can tell she’s crazy about him. I feel sorry for her because my bet is that she won’t last. From the way he talks, he’s had plenty of girlfriends over the years. Think about it-he has two ex-wives, and both those marriages didn’t last long enough to have the tea towels washed. I bet both wives got sick of his womanizing and gambling.”

The next week, Pat discussed Elaine Carrington: “Richard told me that his mother has been staying in her New York apartment most of the time. Her feelings are hurt because she thinks that Peter Carrington’s new wife, Kay, really doesn’t want her stopping in the mansion unless she’s specifically invited to be there.

“I don’t think Richard has gone to New Jersey much, either,” she continued. “He told me that he understands how difficult it must be for Kay, knowing that in all likelihood her husband killed her father, even though he may not remember it. Richard said that he believes it must have been like the way Peter attacked that cop. Well, we both saw the tape on television. You could tell Peter Carrington was absolutely out of it. He looked scary.”

“He sure did,” Trish agreed. “What a shame to marry a guy with all that money and then find out he’s insane. Other than that young artist, are there hints of anything new in Richard’s love life?”

“Well, there are hints, but I’m not sure it’s anything new. There’s a woman who’s been calling him who must be an old flame. Her name is Alexandra Lloyd.”

“Alexandra Lloyd. That’s a fancy name,” Trish commented. “Unless it’s one she made up. Maybe she’s in show business. Did you ever meet her?”

“No. My bet is that she’s an artist. Anyhow, he’s ignoring her calls.”

Three days later, Pat Jennings couldn’t wait until their next lunch to talk to Trish, so she called her. “Richard is an absolute wreck,” she whispered into the phone. “I know he’s had a couple of big losses on the ponies. This morning his mother stopped in to see him. When I got here they were in his office with the door closed, and boy, were they going at it! He was telling her that he absolutely had to have money, and she was screaming she didn’t have it. Then he yelled something about how she knew perfectly well where she could get it, and she screamed, “ ‘Richard, don’t make me play that card.’ ”

“What did she mean?” Trish asked breathlessly.

“I have no idea,” Pat admitted, “but I’d sure love to know. If I find out, I’ll call you first thing.”

The nurse who met him at the door of Gladys Althorp’s bedroom cautioned Nicholas Greco not to stay too long. “She’s very weak,” the nurse told him. “Talking tires her.”

His former client was lying in a hospital bed that had been set up next to her regular queen-sized bed. Her hands were resting on the coverlet, and Greco noticed that the wedding ring she had always worn was missing.

Is her finger too thin now to keep the ring from sliding off, or is this one final rejection of her husband? he wondered.

Gladys Althorp’s eyes were closed, but she opened them a moment after Greco reached the side of the bed. Her lips moved and her voice was very low when she greeted him.

Greco got right to the point. “Mrs. Althorp, I didn’t want to disturb you, but there is something I’d like to follow up on. It might even have to do with someone who may have helped Peter Carrington hide Susan’s body.”

“I heard the police sirens the night he came here. I made the nurse take me to the window. I saw them drag him into the car…and…” Gladys Althorp’s chest began to heave as she gasped for air.

The nurse rushed to her side. “Mrs. Althorp, please don’t try to talk. Just breathe slowly.”

I should not be here, Greco thought. He laid his own hand over the woman’s emaciated hand. “I am so sorry. I should never have troubled you, Mrs. Althorp.”

“Don’t go. You came for a reason. Tell me.”

Greco knew that it was best to be blunt. “I would very much like to know the names of your daughter’s best friends, the ones who used to go with her to parties when Ambassador Althorp had them chauffeured.”

If Gladys Althorp was surprised at the request, she did not show it. “There were three other girls. They went to Elisabeth Morrow School with Susan.”

Mrs. Althorp was speaking more slowly, giving herself time to take a long breath between every word. “Susan’s closest friend was Sarah Kennedy. She married Stuart North. Vernie Bauer and Lenore Salem were the others. I’m afraid I can’t…” She sighed and closed her eyes.

“Mr. Greco, I really think you must not ask any more questions right now,” the nurse said firmly.

Susan would be only forty now, Greco thought. The others would be the same age, within a year or two. He would expect their parents to be in the midsixties to midseventies age range. He wanted to ask Susan’s mother if the families of those women still lived locally, but instead he nodded to the nurse and turned to go. Then he saw Gladys Althorp open her eyes again.

“The girls were all at Susan’s funeral,” Gladys Althorp said. A hint of a smile played at the corners of her lips. “They used to call themselves the four musketeers…”

“Then they still live here?” Greco asked quickly.

“Sarah does. When she married Stuart, they bought the house next door. They’re living there now.”

When Greco left the Althorp home, he doubted that he would ever see Gladys Althorp again. On one hand, he chided himself for disturbing her even for those few minutes. On the other hand, however, he recognized that he felt a growing sense of uneasiness about how neatly everything had fallen into place, which made him believe that there were important pieces of the puzzle that still had not been put in place.

Some of the facts that did not add up were beginning to command all his attention. He had come to the conclusion that Peter Carrington must have had help in hiding Susan’s body until after the cadaver dogs had completed their search.

And if Peter did kill Jonathan Lansing, he must have had someone follow him to the place miles up the Hudson where he left Lansing’s car, Greco mused.

And there was significance to the missing copy of People magazine that had been on the table the night Grace Carrington died. He thought he knew what that might have been about. Nancy Hammond saw Grace tear that page out of the magazine. Her husband, Jeffrey, claimed he hadn’t noticed her do that. Nancy Hammond said that the attention of the other guests was diverted by Peter’s sudden arrival home. She thinks that she is the only one who saw Grace tear out the page and jam it in her pocket.