Sibs F Paul Wilson Page 6

  "We've talked to a lot of her co-workers at St. Vincent's. The ones who knew her best seem to think she was very troubled lately. Even a little depressed."

  Kara thought about that. In retrospect, she could see that there had indeed been a change in Kelly over the past year. Nothing terribly obvious. She hadn't called anywhere near as often, and she had seemed a bit withdrawn on the few occasions they had seen each other. But suicidal…?

  If there was something so terribly wrong, why didn't she come to me?

  Kara was suddenly feeling pretty depressed herself.

  "Does this mean Kelly's going to be written off as a crazy bimbo who threw herself through a hotel window?"

  "No," he said slowly. "Not by a long shot. That doesn't sit well with me."

  Her spirits rose a tiny bit.

  "Why not?"

  "Kelly had to hit that window with tremendous force to go through it the way she did. Jumpers just don't do it that way. They open the window, step out on the ledge, and go. They don't do what Kelly did. Besides, I used her purse keys and did a quick search of her apartment the day after her death. I didn't find a suicide note or anything like it."

  Kara looked around. Maybe that explained some of the uncharacteristic disarray she'd noticed during her own search.

  "So we're back to murder," she said.

  "I don't know where we are, Kara," Rob said. His voice was tired. "But I promise you: I'll keep this case open as long as they let me."

  "Thank you, Rob." She believed him. "Can I call you again on this?"

  "Call me any time. You know that."

  "Thanks."

  Kara hung up and stared across the room at the pile of papers she had pulled from one of the closets. She was going to go through everything there until she found an answer.

  Kelly a suicide? No way.

  "Was that Aunt Ellen of the phone?" Jill said.

  Kara suddenly had an insane urge to tell her the truth. No, bug. That was your father.

  "Just a policeman."

  She looked at Jill. She so resembled Rob. The idea of Jill and Rob being in the same city was almost unnerving. If they ran into each other, there was no way he could miss the resemblance. And then he would know that he had a daughter.

  Rob was a good man. Seeing him again had released an almost overwhelming attack of guilt. She never should have kept her pregnancy a secret from him. She saw that now, but at the time it seemed the only thing to do. Nothing was going to deter her from having the baby, and nothing was going to convince her to raise the child in the city. And there was no way Rob was going to leave the city willingly. She could have used the pregnancy to coerce him into quitting the NYPD and moving to the suburbs, but what kind of marriage, what kind of life would that have been? He would have felt like a prisoner, or a hostage. He would have come to resent Kara, maybe even resent his child. The result would have been intolerable for the three of them.

  So Kara had done the hardest thing she had ever done in her life. She left the man she loved and returned home to have her child and raise her by herself. The idea had shocked, offended, and embarrassed her mother, and even Kelly had thought she was crazy, but they'd all stood by her just the same. For awhile the farm had been a war zone… until Jill was born. Jill brought them all together again.

  It hadn't been easy raising a child on her own, but Kara had managed. She'd done it away from the city where they were safe, where she could instill in Jill the values she thought important. She was proud of the result. Jill was her own little person and Kara loved her more fiercely than she had ever believed she could love anything.

  But did she need a father? That had plagued Kara for the past ten years. Soon the vague questions Jill had asked about the father she had never seen were going to become more pointed. Vague answers would no longer suffice. What was Kara going to do then?

  And Rob. Kara realized she still cared very deeply for him. He had a right to know he had a daughter, just as Jill had a right to know her father.

  What had seemed so simple, so clear, so cut and dried, so black and white ten years ago was now a mass of confusion. A mess. One she would have to straighten out someday.

  Someday, Kara thought. Someday she'd get them together, and pray that they'd both forgive her.

  ▼

  5:45 P.M.

  "Aren't we going to Aunt Ellen's now?" Jill said. She was getting whiny, which meant she was hungry.

  "After dinner."

  "Where are we going to eat?"

  "Anyplace close where we don't have to wait," Kara said as she stood inside Kelly's door and helped Jill into her coat. On the way in they'd passed someplace called Pancho Villa a couple of blocks down on First Avenue. "How's Mexican food sound?"

  "What's that?"

  "Tacos and stuff. We had tacos once, remember?"

  "I think so. Are you mad, Mom?"

  The question caught Kara by surprise.

  "No, Jill." She smiled for her. "At least I don't think I am. Why?"

  "You've got a mad face."

  "Do I?" Yes, she thought, I probably do. "I'm sorry. I don't mean to. Actually, I'm not mad. Just frustrated. And it's got nothing to do with you."

  "What's frustrated?"

  "Let me see. Imagine you're paddling a canoe in a river and you want to get to a certain spot on shore but the current keeps pulling you away. And no matter how hard you paddle, you can't get to shore. As a matter of fact, the current keeps pulling you further and further away. How would you feel?"

  "I'd feel scared."

  Kara laughed and hugged her daughter. "I guess you would!"

  And maybe I'm scared, too.

  Scared because she couldn't get a handle on what had been happening in her twin's life. Kelly had become an enigma. Kara had more questions about her now than before. Except for the hidden clothing, everything Kara had found was so damned ordinary. She had spent much of the afternoon going through Kelly's papers. Her sister, it seemed, was a scrupulous record keeper. Kara had found a copy of her apartment lease, the warranties and instruction manuals on all her appliances, and a shoebox crammed with receipts for what looked like every single purchase she had made last year. Kelly, it appeared, was preparing to do her taxes. But nowhere was there a single receipt for the sexy clothes Kara had found.

  She kept receipts for toothpaste, damn it! Why wasn't there one for that new leather skirt under the dresser?

  Why was the sleazy part of Kelly's existence so rigidly walled off, so tightly compartmentalized from the rest of her life? Who was she hiding it from?

  Kara had always thought she knew her twin. Now she wondered if she had known Kelly at all.

  But there was someone who might at least know something: the Dr. Gates on the label of Kelly's sleeping pills. Kara had called the drug store on the label and the pharmacist had told her that the prescription had come from a Dr. Lawrence Gates, a psychiatrist in Chelsea. Kara hadn't been that surprised at the specialty. Maybe he was just what Kelly had needed. Getting to him was the first thing on Kara's list of things to do tomorrow.

  Tomorrow. She hated the idea of staying overnight in the city, but couldn't see any alternative. Silly to waste a couple of hours each way fighting the traffic in and out every day. For years Aunt Ellen had been asking her to come and stay with her for a few nights. This time Kara would take her up on it. No rush to finish up here. She could take her time. Kelly's check book showed that her rent was paid up to the end of the month.

  "Come on," she told Jill. "It's taco time."

  As she led Jill out through the front door of Kelly's apartment building into the chilly twilight, she almost bumped into a man standing on the front steps.

  "Very sorry," he said with the start of a smile.

  Kara was about to smile in return and excuse herself when she noticed his eyes widening in shock and the color bleaching from his cold-reddened cheeks.

  "My God! It's you!" he cried. "Dear sweet Jesus, it's you! You're alive!"

 
Startled, Kara clutched Jill against her and pressed back against the building's front door which had closed and latched behind her.

  "What's he saying, Mom?" Jill cried. Kara could hear the terror in her voice. "What's he saying?"

  Kara didn't answer. Her mind was racing, trying to recall the various options she had been taught in her women's self-defense courses. But she'd been poised and ready in those classes, and standing on a padded gymnasium floor. This was on a set of stone steps with a child clinging to her.

  But the man didn't seem to be threatening them. More confused and frightened than anything else. And he was backing down the steps, away from them. Well dressed, like a fortyish yuppie, but that didn't mean he couldn't be a nut case. Kara decided to hurry him on his way.

  "I don't know what your problem is, buster," she said in her toughest voice, "but you'd better take it somewhere else! And quick!"

  At the bottom of the steps he stopped and squinted up at her. He seemed to regain some of his composure.

  "I… I'm terribly sorry," he said. His voice was quavering. "For a moment there I thought you were someone else. But I see you're not. Your hair is straighter and…" His voice trailed off. "You're just not her."

  A thought struck Kara.

  "You knew my sister?"

  The man suddenly seemed very tense, as if he were preparing to run away.

  "Sister?"

  "Yes. Kelly Wade."

  The man glanced around, looking indecisive. Then he took a deep breath and looked directly at Kara.

  "Yes. I knew her. It's just terrible about her… about what happened to her."

  "Did you know her well?"

  "No. Just a little. Hardly at all."

  Kara's hopes fell. This fellow wasn't going to be any help.

  "Do you live here?" she asked.

  "Uh, no. I was just coming by to, uh, see if there was any family around so that I could express my condolences."

  "I'm family."

  "Yeah. I can tell." He managed a quick, nervous smile. "You could be her twin."

  "I am."

  Another quick smile, little more than a flicker. "No wonder. The resemblance is spooky."

  "And this is my daughter, Kelly's niece."

  "How do you do," he said to Jill, and Kara immediately liked him for speaking directly to the child. "I'm terribly sorry about what happened to your sister," he told Kara. "I… I wish there was something I could say."

  An idea occurred to Kara. This fellow seemed like a harmless sort, and genuinely upset by Kelly's death. He was the only person Kara had met today who knew Kelly; maybe he could give her some insight into her sister's life in New York before the end.

  "We were just going out for a bite to eat. Want to come along?"

  As long as they stayed in a public place like a restaurant, what harm was there?

  "Oh, no," he said, quickly. "I've got to be going."

  "Okay," Kara said and started down the steps with Jill at her side. "Good night, then."

  They were on the sidewalk and on their way to the corner when he trotted up behind them.

  "Maybe just for a few minutes."

  "Fine," said Kara. She held out her hand. "I'm Kara Wade, by the way."

  He shook it and seemed to fumble for his own name.

  "Ed," he said finally, "Ed Bannion."

  ▼

  "I met her at St. Vincent's," Ed was saying. "She took such special care of my mother when she had complications after her gallbladder surgery. I was very impressed with her."

  They were seated near the window on the second floor of Pancho Villa's. Kara licked the salt off the rim of her margarita and watched the rush hour traffic thicken in the growing darkness outside. Jill was next to her, dipping tortilla chips into the bowl of salsa and listening to the strolling guitar player singing two tables away. Ed sat across from her, sipping his own margarita.

  Now that they were inside and in the light, Kara saw that he was a fairly good looking man, late thirties, with thinning brown hair. He might have been more attractive if he weren't so tired looking. There were dark circles under his eyes; he seemed tense.

  "You don't work at the hospital, then?" Kara said.

  "Oh, no. Why do you ask?"

  "I thought you might be a doctor."

  "Actually, I'm a lawyer."

  "How well did you know Kelly?"

  "Not well at all, unfortunately. We had lunch together a few times. I liked her a lot." He shrugged. "It might have developed into something more, but…"

  Kara nodded. But Kelly's time was cut short.

  Ed said, "I sensed she was a very special person, but I know hardly anything about her. What can you tell me?"

  Kara told him about Kelly's passion for mystery novels and 60's folk rock, how her favorite thing was to lie on her couch munching Dorito chips while reading John D. MacDonald and listening to the Byrds or the Lovin' Spoonful. She liked middle period van Gogh paintings and old Tracy and Hepburn movies. Jill added in her own anecdotes about her best times with her Aunt Kelly.

  Ed listened attentively. If anything, he appeared puzzled, as if he wasn't hearing what he expected.

  Then it was their turn for the strolling guitarist. He stepped up to their table and wanted to know if they had any requests. He was dressed as a caballero and wore a huge sombrero. Kara was about to say no when Jill piped up and asked for the only Mexican song she knew.

  "La Bamba!" she said.

  Kara and Ed listened politely while the singer ran through the song. He offered a more traditional rendition than the Richie Valens-Los Lobos version Jill was used to, but she seemed enthralled nonetheless.

  During the song, Kara realized that this encounter was not going the way she had hoped. Ed knew less about Kelly's New York life than Kara did. The information was flowing the wrong way. But at the moment she didn't see a way out.

  The three of them clapped when the guitarist finished. He added a nice accent to the restaurant's ambience, but Kara was glad to see him move on to another table.

  "Can I go over and listen, Mom?" Jill said.

  "Sure," Kara told her. "Just don't get in his way."

  Ed smiled as he watched her go. "Looks like that singer has got himself a fan."

  "Jill loves music," Kara said. "So did Kelly."

  "What a shame," Ed said, shaking his head and staring down at the tablecloth. "I was so shocked when I read about her fall. So tragic."

  "Fall?" Kara said. She glanced around to make sure Jill was out of ear shot. "Kelly didn't fall! She was pushed!"

  Ed's head snapped up. His face was pale and his eyes were wide as he looked at her.

  "No-no! She fell! It was an accident!"

  Kara was surprised by his vehemence.

  "Why do you say that?"

  "Because," he said slowly in a calmer tone, although he still appeared upset, "I simply cannot believe that anyone would want to harm her."

  "Neither can I," Kara said. It was a natural conclusion. Who would want to hurt Kelly? "But it's true. She was murdered."

  "Oh, God!"

  Ed ran a trembling hand across his face. He had gone another shade paler. He looked as if he was going to be sick.

  It occurred to Kara that if the thought of Kelly being murdered upset him like this, he must have cared for her a lot more than he had let on. Obviously he knew nothing about Kelly's bizarre sexual behavior—and he wasn't going to learn of it from Kara.

  "I'm sorry if I upset you," she said.

  "No, it's all right. It's just such a shock. Do the police have any idea…?"

  "Nothing," Kara said without trying to hide the bitterness that leapt into her voice. "They've got a description of two guys and a set of fingerprints, but no suspects."

  "Are they… are they close?"

  "Apparently not. And I'm afraid that if they don't find someone soon, they'll forget about Kelly. But I won't let them. I'm a very persistent person. I'll be on their backs. I won't let Kelly's file wind up on the bott
om of their stack of unsolved murders."

  "Good for you," Ed said, but his voice was flat.

  He still appeared to be in a state of shock, but his color was better. He seemed to be pulling out of it.

  Kara noticed that Jill was on her way back to the table.

  "Let's change the subject, shall we?"

  "Gladly," Ed said.

  He paused, staring off into space, then seemed to come to a decision. He reached inside his coat pocket and withdrew a card.

  "Here's my number."

  Kara recognized the mountain logo. "You work for Paramount?"

  "I'm with their legal department. I do mostly corporate law now, but I can still help you with the police. I want you to keep me informed as to what's going on with your sister's case. Because if there are any problems, of if they start giving you the runaround, they'll start hearing from me as well."

  Kara was touched.

  "That's very nice of you. Kelly was lucky to have a friend like you."

  "It's the least I can do."

  ▼

  I'm certifiably insane, Ed Bannion thought as he rode across town in the back of a cab. He had dropped the woman and her daughter off at the dead sister's apartment and was now eager to get back to his own place on West 70th. Insane! That's the only explanation for what I did tonight!

  He blamed it on the uncanny resemblance between the two sisters. For a moment there he'd actually thought the dead woman had come back to haunt him. He'd been so shook up he'd given her his real name. Idiot! After that, there was no turning back. Thank God he'd had the foresight to prepare a little story ahead of time. Never could have made up one on the spot.

  And her talking about her dead sister as if she were all sweetness and light, Florence Nightingale herself. The little girl backed her up, too. Hard to believe they were talking about the sex kitten he'd had in the Plaza last week.

  But maybe… maybe they weren't. Maybe they were talking about that frightened miserable woman he'd seen just before she ran for the window.

  And then the sister—the live one, Kara—had dropped the bombshell: murder.