MARY CLARK - The Cinderella Murder

The waiter was back, and as Richard promised, the choices looked delicious. She never ate dessert—sugar was a surefire way to bloat, which the camera magnified tenfold. But maybe she’d allow herself just one bite of that amazing-looking chocolate torte.

The waiter was midway through his tour of the tray when Richard suddenly dropped three hundred-dollar bills on the table. “I’m terribly sorry, but I’m afraid my stomach is having troubles.”

“Sir, is everything okay?” the waiter asked. “I can call for medical assistance if it’s serious.”

“No.” He was standing up already. “I just—I need to go. Can you please make sure she gets a cab?” He was stuffing fifties in the waiter’s hand. “I’m terribly sorry, Maddie. I’ll call you tomorrow. And, please, if it’s not too forward, I’d like you to stay with me when you come up for your audition, okay? It’s a ways from San Francisco proper, but we’ll get you a driver.”

He blew her a kiss, and then he was gone.

The waiter looked at her apologetically. “So, should I call you that cab?”

“Sure. But first, I’ll have the chocolate torte. And a glass of your best champagne.”

“Very good, ma’am.”

Twenty years ago, Richard had stood her up for a date, and look what happened. She’d won a Spirit Award. He may have left tonight’s dinner early, but he had invited her to his home. He had called her Maddie.

Before he knew what hit him, she’d have him wrapped around her little finger. Madison Meyer Hathaway. It had a nice ring to it.

71

The mood in Jerry’s hospital room was as bright and celebratory as the last visit had been terrifying and dreary. He still looked weak and his head was still bandaged, but the oxygen mask was gone. The bruises were deep purple but beginning to fade ever so slightly.

Laurie and Alex had driven straight here from the hotel, arriving at the hospital’s parking garage just behind Leo, Grace, and Timmy. They’d only been in Jerry’s room a few minutes, and already the nurse had popped in twice to remind them not to get “the patient” too excited.

Jerry pressed an index finger to his lips. “Keep it down,” he said groggily, “or Nurse Ratched will send me to sleep without a martini.” He glanced toward a tiny stuffed panda bear resting on a nearby tray. “Timmy?”

Laurie nodded.

“I thought so. One of the nurse’s aides said the ‘sweetest little boy’ had brought it.”

“He’s just outside.” Laurie sent a quick OK text message to Grace, who was waiting in the hall.

“You were afraid the bruised and battered mummy might scare a nine-year-old?” His voice was still weak but growing stronger by the minute.

“Possibly,” she admitted.

Leo’s cell phone rang at his waist. He silenced it as he took a seat in a chair in the corner. “I keep telling her the kid’s probably tougher than she is.”

“And I keep telling you he’s only a nine-year-old.”

“Speak of the devil,” Jerry said as Grace and Timmy rushed in. Jerry managed to hold up his wired fist to Timmy, who “bumped” it with a grin. “I’ve got a bigger crowd here than I get for some of my parties.”

“Yeah, right,” Grace said, leaning in for a gentle hug. “I’ve seen your parties, honey. You’d need a larger dance floor.”

“I have a feeling it will be a while before I’m doing any dancing.” His tone suddenly became more serious. “I can’t believe I was out for three whole days.”

“How much do you remember about what happened?” Alex asked.

“I left the house to pick up some lunch. When I came home, a man with a ski mask was in the den. I had this second where I thought there was some explanation, because his shirt said ‘Keepsafe’ on it. Then I thought, Why would a guy from a security company wear a mask? I remember trying to run, then blackness. You know the worst part of it? Now you guys know I sneak greasy fast food when no one’s looking.”

Laurie was pleased to see Jerry hadn’t lost his sense of humor in the assault.

Leo’s cell was buzzing now. He glanced at the screen and then slipped out to take the call while Jerry continued to talk.

Laurie and Alex were still filling Jerry in on everything they had learned from Nicole about Steve Roman and Martin Collins when Leo returned to the room and asked Grace if she could take Timmy downstairs for some frozen yogurt in the hospital cafeteria.

Laurie was worried. If her father didn’t want Timmy to hear, whatever he was about to say was going to be bad.

“But you said I was tough as nails,” Timmy complained. “Why can’t I listen?”

Grace responded matter-of-factly, “Because your grandpa said so.”

“That’s just what I was going to say,” Laurie told him.

“And I’m backing them all up,” Alex added.

“Hospital patients get to vote, too,” Jerry said.

“Not fair,” Timmy sighed. His feet dragging, he left the hospital room, shooed out by a determined Grace.

“What’s up, Dad?” Laurie asked once her son was out of earshot.

“Those calls were from Detective Reilly. There was a shooting at Martin Collins’s house. Steve Roman is dead—a self-inflicted gunshot. He left a note confessing to both the attack on Jerry and the murder of Lydia Levitt. As we thought, he was spying for Collins, starting first with Nicole and then moving out from there to see what she had said to others.”

“Was Collins there?” Laurie asked.

“Two gunshot wounds. Steve Roman was trying to kill him, but they think he’ll live. The police found a videotape collection in Collins’s bedroom. It looks like whatever child Nicole saw him with twenty years ago wasn’t his only victim. Collins may survive, but he’ll never get out of prison. And speaking of video, Reilly said to thank you, Laurie, for the tip about Dwight Cook’s boat. Turns out it was packed with surveillance equipment too, just like the house. Once again, Under Suspicion is bringing some much-deserved justice.”

“So does it show what happened the night Dwight died?”

“Not yet. It’s all digital, so they’ve got a computer tech trying to find where the video files may have been uploaded. If you don’t mind getting everyone back to the house in the SUV, I’ll take the rental car to meet Reilly. I want to make triple sure there’s no reason for us to fear some other crazy church member following in Steve Roman’s footsteps.”

Laurie assured him they’d be fine in one car. He hugged her good-bye, whispering, “I’m proud of you, baby girl.”

When she turned back to Jerry, his eyes were closed. It was time for them to go, too. She gave him a gentle kiss on the forehead before following Alex into the hall.

Laurie was quiet as they rode the hospital elevator to the lobby level. She was elated that they’d nailed Collins, a fraud and, worse, a pedophile. But when this all started, she had made a promise to Rosemary to do her best to find Susan’s killer.

Laurie couldn’t imagine losing a child. Twenty years later, and Rosemary still went to bed with haunting images of her only daughter running through a park with one bare foot, her necklace being torn from her throat in a violent struggle for her life.

The realization came with the ding that sounded as the elevator doors parted. “The necklace,” she said aloud.

72

“What about a necklace?” Alex asked as they stepped out of the elevator.

“I don’t know. Not yet, anyway.”

“Come on, Laurie. I know you. I can tell when you’re working on a theory. It’s that kind of hunch that Leo calls your cop instinct. Is this about Susan’s necklace? The one found near her body?”

“Just give me two minutes to work it out in my head, okay?” She could barely hang on to the various threads of thought starting to knit together in her mind. She didn’t want to lose her momentum by trying to spell it all out prematurely. “Can you round up Grace and Timmy from the cafeteria? I’ll get the car from the garage and swing around front.”