Backwoods Husbands

Amalia Ranieri

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The Back Woods Husband

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Backwoods Husband By Amalia Ranieri Triskelion Publishing www.triskelionpublishing.com

Published by Triskelion Publishing www.triskelionpublishing.com 15508 W. Bell Rd. #101, PMB #502, Surprise, AZ 85374 U.S.A. First e-published by Triskelion Publishing First e-publishing May 2005 ISBN 1-933471-15-8 Copyright © Amalia Ranieri 2005 All rights reserved. Cover art by Triskelion Publishing PUBLISHER’S NOTE: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to persons living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

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Any resemblance between Crystal Lake and Martha’s Vineyard is intentional. The differences, and there are many, are the result of the author’s memory lapses and imagination.

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Prologue

“Husband … back woods,” gasped Maureen in a voice that was almost inaudible. Nora had to lean close just to hear her friend’s voice. “Who did this to you, Maureen?” she screamed cradling her friend’s body. She had discovered Maureen lying on the floor in a semi-conscious state at the annual Warren Laurence and Associates annual Christmas party. The affair, held in Christopher Warren’s immense old home was well under way when Nora _came upstairs to use the ladies room. It was on her way back down that she _heard a faint moaning coming from the small sitting room and stumbled upon Maureen’s almost lifeless body. As she held her friend and gently shook her Maureen’s eyes closed and her head fell to one side. “Call an ambulance,” she yelled as the other guests crowded into the room “How did I get involved in this?” she wondered. I came to Crystal Lake to simplify my life, to get away from all the craziness. Instead she had gotten entangled in the affairs of the notoriously private and reputedly volatile Christopher Warren and his wife, Maureen. In just a few short months her idyllic life had gotten all tied up in knots. She closed her eyes for a moment and remembered her relatively carefree existence last September – before she’d met Christopher Warren or Maureen, before she started chasing the story for Financial Weekly, and well, before Maureen had somehow drawn her into her deceptively innocuous web. She closed her eyes for a moment and tried to remember.

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Chapter 1

Nora Haston lay back on the warm sand and stretched her arms enjoying the feel of the bright sun on her skin. She had done it. She had escaped. Although she had dreamed of getting away, she never really thought she would succeed. But she had and here she was starting over. She thought of Brian and her smile faded. He was supposed to be here with her, that was part of the dream, part of the fantasy. But she could not think about that now. It was too painful. Besides, she reminded herself sternly, she had to focus on the positive. She almost laughed aloud remembering the shock on Paul's face when she told him she was leaving her corporate finance job. He had tried to talk her out of it. He ranted and raved. He begged, he pleaded, and he cajoled. Finally just to get some peace, she agreed to take a leave of absence for a year instead of quitting. But even as she was agreeing, she knew in her heart she was never going back. She said goodbye to corporate America forever. No more trains, or subways, or airports. No more being smack. No more office politics, back stabbing, professional jealousies and pettiness and best of all - no more children masquerading as adults. No, she was not going back - not if she could possibly help it. Of course, there was one minor problem. She had to support herself and Sara. She had accumulated a small nest egg, but they could not live on that forever. If they did, there would be nothing for her old age. She frowned for a moment. Maybe it was a good thing Paul had insisted she take a leave of absence. What if she could not make it here? What if Hilda Grossman, her agent could not sell the novel she was working on? After all, her first three books had found, as Hilda put it so tactfully, “only limited audiences.” They were works of nonfiction written in her spare time. She would never get rich from them. In fact, she could not put food on the table, never mind a roof over their heads, if she kept writing for such small niche markets another of Hilda's euphemisms. This one would be different. “Try to write something more mainstream,” Hilda had advised, “something with wider appeal.” Nora knew what she really meant was “try to write something more than one hundred eggheads would want to read!” What if she could not do it? What had she gotten herself and Sara into? She started to panic. She wondered if she had made a mistake leaving her high-paying corporate job for the vagaries of life as a free-lance writer. What if she couldn’t make it; what would happen to

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Sara. Get a grip, she told herself. Then she thought about Friday and what lay ahead and her panic subsided. She was going to see Christopher Warren. He was the publicity adverse co-founder of Warren Laurence Associates. If she could pull this off it would be a real coup. It would give her writing career a huge boost; it would open doors for her. Best of all, the article would put four thousand dollars in her pocket - enough to support herself and Sara for two months if she was careful. She knew she could write the story. Getting Christopher Warren to agree was another matter; that was the hard part. All she had to do was get him to agree to participate in a feature story about his company for the spring issue of Financial Weekly. The magazine regularly profiled the most successful investment specialists in the country. Most companies would kill for a story in FW - but not Warren Laurence and Associates. That was not quite true. David Laurence, the other founder was more than willing to participate. Unlike his partner, he frequently talked to the press. He had been the subject of a profile in FW just two years earlier. Christopher Warren, however, had never been featured - despite being asked each year. Unlike his partner, he hated the press. Although they were partners, David Laurence and Christopher Warren were as different as night and day. David Laurence came from old money, was gregarious and fun loving and insisted everyone call him Dave. He married his college sweetheart and was frequently photographed at charity or sporting events with his wife and three children. His partner was another matter. Single and somewhat reclusive, Christopher Warren was rarely seen at public events. The two men had met at Yale when they were assigned to the same dorm. Three years after graduating, the two men formed the company. Christopher Warren had worked at a variety of jobs in college to supplement his partial scholarship. Not much was known about him except that he was a quiet intense man completely devoted to his business. Christopher, as he insisted everyone call him, was never seen anywhere socially. Everyone who worked for him was intensely loyal to him, even if he could sometimes be quite abrupt. It was hard to find anyone, either employee or client, who had anything bad to say about him. They all respected his penchant for privacy. Other than one interview given a few years after he and Dave started the business, he never spoke to the press. Nor would he allow any personal information released. No pictures of him appeared in the firm's annual report or publicity brochures. Dave Laurence always handled the media. Whenever asked about his partner's reluctance, Dave gave the same answer, “He says he'll talk to the press when they can find someone who understands the business and will not mangle the facts. He did an interview years ago and felt the interviewer distorted everything he said.” If the odds of getting him to agree to

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the interview weren’t low enough as it were, there was one additional problem. He had given that one interview to a reporter who now worked at Financial Weekly. What gives Bob the idea that Christopher Warren will talk to me, Nora wondered. She still was not sure her old friend's plan would work. When Nora told Bob Williams that she was quitting her job and moving to Crystal Lake, he was supportive. Bob was the executive editor at Financial Weekly and had helped her before. It was Bob who had introduced her to Hilda. Several days after she told him of her plans, he called with a proposal. He told her that occasionally Financial Weekly bought pieces from freelancers - usually when the freelancer was either well known or had access to someone they wished to profile but would not talk to the magazine. “And which category do you think I fall into,” Nora asked sarcastically. “Have you ever heard of Warren Laurence Associates?” asked Bob. “Yes, . . . but,” she started to answer before he had cut her off. “Just listen,” he snapped, “we want you to write one of the main features for the spring issue that showcases investment advisors.” He hesitated a moment before continuing slowly, “there is just one catch. It’s a profile of Christopher Warren and you'll have to get him to agree to an interview. If you can get him to agree to talk to you, we'll buy a feature from you.” “Just how am I supposed to do that?” Nora asked. “I don’t know the man and didn’t I read somewhere that he doesn’t talk to the press - not that I'm the press - what the hell do you expect me to do?” she had asked more than a little annoyed. He got her hopes up for a few minutes. However, when she realized the impossibility of the task, she felt betrayed. “That is what will make this work,” he said, “the fact that you're not really a member of the press. I'll admit it's a long shot, but what do you have to lose? Besides, you have one other thing going for you - the fact that you're going to live in Crystal Lake should help persuade him. Think about it. Crystal Lake is not where you would expect to find the headquarters of an investment advisory firm that consults with the largest companies in the country. But Christopher Warren loves Crystal Lake. That is why the company is there and not in Boston or New York.” “It's not that I couldn't write the article,” Nora said thoughtfully, “or for that matter that I'm not grateful for the opportunity. But, how do you expect me to get him to agree to talk? Can you help me get the door open?” “Let me take a shot at that,” he answered. “I've known Dave Laurence for years - ever since he got back from the Peace Corps. Maybe he'll help.”

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A week later Bob called back. His old friend had gotten his partner to agree to talk to Nora about the article. However, that was all. She would have to convince him that she would write something that would be fair and worth the time he would spend talking with her. He would give her twenty minutes and that was it. Then, even if he agreed, they had to give Christopher the right to review and edit the piece himself before publication. Financial Weekly never allowed this but was willing to bend its rules to get this piece. Even with that, Dave was not optimistic. He said the only reason Christopher had even agreed to talk about it was that Nora was not a ‘real reporter’ and that she had the good sense to move to Crystal Lake. However, Christopher Warren would be on the road most of the summer. He would not see her until right after Labor Day. A real charmer, she thought. Nora kept her opinion to herself - not that Bob would have cared what she thought as long as she delivered the piece. Nora had not changed her impression when she read the lone article Bob had sent over. It was that long ago interview and it was less than flattering. Christopher Warren had not made a good impression on the writer. After reading it she could understand why he had developed such a distaste for reporters. Now, with Friday looming, she wondered how she would persuade him to agree to an interview. “Just think of him as one of those horrible clients you used to be so good at cajoling into doing business with you,” Bob had advised. “You mean the ones I'm trying to get away from. The ones I came to Crystal Lake to avoid,” she had asked rhetorically as she hung up. So here she was once again back dealing with an uncooperative client. Well, she thought, not exactly a client, a potential client. A barrage of sand interrupted her thoughts as Sara threw herself down on the blanket next to her, hurling her possessions in all directions. She had returned from her search for shells. “Guess what Ma?” she said, “There’s a man down there reading your book.” “Are you sure?” asked Nora intrigued. “Which one?” “The first one” “Well, maybe we'll stop by and say hello on the way out,” she said. “We really should get going. It will take us almost half an hour to get home on those bikes and you have to get to bed early. School starts tomorrow.” “Ma, I'm twelve years old,” Sara said defiantly. “I'm not going to bed before nine thirty. You know, I'm not a baby.” Nora smiled at her daughter and reached out to hug her. Sara pulled away. “Ma, please! Not in public. Someone might see.”

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Nora smiled and began to gather their belongings. After folding their towels and blanket and she put them in her large tote bag with the book she'd been reading. She pulled on a pair of shorts and a tee shirt over her bathing suit. Before picking up her sneakers, she clipped her hair back and waited. When Sara was finally ready she said, “Okay, now show me this strange man who’s reading one of my books.” Halfway down the beach, toward the exit, Sara pointed at a man lying on a blanket by himself. She was right. He was reading Nora's book. When they got in front of him, Nora smiled and said, “Do you like the book?” The man did not look up at first. When he did he frowned for a minute clearly annoyed at the interruption and then said curtly, “It's not really beach reading. You wouldn’t like it.” With that, he looked down and continued reading, completely ignoring them. Nora opened her mouth to reply and then muttered, “Forget it.” She grabbed Sara's hand and hurried down the beach. “What a rude man,” Sara said loudly. “I thought you said that the people on Crystal Lake were nice.” “Well, most of them are,” Nora, told her. She did not want Sara to see how embarrassed she was. She fastened the tote bag to the back of her bike while Sara put on her sneakers. Together they got on their bikes and began to pedal home. The ten-minute car ride would probably take them half an hour on the bikes. “What was I thinking when I said we'd take the bikes?” Nora called to her daughter. “It was a great idea,” Sara said. “Maybe at your age but not at mine.” “It’s easy,” said her daughter with her usual complete lack of tact. “You did say that you were going to start exercising once we got here. Biking is great exercise. Besides you're mostly tired now.” With that Sara zipped up the hill as though it were a flat stretch. Nora struggled behind her losing ground every minute. “Smart aleck” Nora yelled after the vanishing bike. She knew her daughter was right and she was getting into shape. They'd biked all over the place that summer. As they started up the last hill before reaching their road, Nora stopped. “I cannot make it,” she called, “I'll have to walk the bike up this hill.” Sara who was half way up the hill stopped and waited for her mother. As Nora reached Sara, an old pick up truck pulled up beside her and stopped.

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“Can I give you a lift?” a male voice called out. Nora saw that it was the rude man from the beach. “No thank you. We're fine,” she replied. “Suit yourself,” he said and sped off. Nora dragged her bike to the top of the hill and then climbed on it for the last mile while Sara rode easily besides her. A few minutes later they turned down the dirt path that led to their home. To one side stood Mrs. White's colonial and to the other the carriage house they called home. For the moment she was renting the carriage house from Mrs. White. By next summer Nora would either have to buy it or move. The house was going to be sold. By next summer, she would know whether she would be staying at Crystal Lake or going back to New York. She'd know whether she could make it here - not only financially but emotionally, as well. She'd know whether she could live without the dayto-day excitement and aggravation of the world of finance. Nora would know whether she could make a place for herself and Sara at Crystal Lake. Most important of all, she would know whether Sara would be happy in this place. For someone so young, she'd been through a lot. Her happiness and security would be the primary factors in the final decision. Nora had fallen in love with the carriage house the minute she'd seen it. Sara had not been so sure. But Nora had won her over. There were some improvements she would like to make to it but she could only make those changes if she owned it. For now it was perfect. They dragged the bikes around back. Nora unlocked the above ground portion of the basement so that they could put the bikes away. While she fussed with the door, Sara threw herself down on a deck chair on the small patio. A sliding glass door from the country kitchen opened onto this patio. The patio was the part of the house that Nora loved best. She drank her coffee and read the newspapers out there every morning. Sometimes they ate dinner out there, as well. That summer Nora and Sara had spent more time on the patio than they did in the dining room. That would change in a few weeks when the weather got colder. Nora would miss the gardens that bordered the patio when winter came. She would miss the quiet broken only by the chirping of the many birds that perused the gardens. “Go get us some lemonade,” she called to Sara, “while I put these bikes away.” Sara disappeared inside, returning a few minutes later with the cool drinks. The fresh air, the ocean waves and the long bike rides had taken their toll on both mother and daughter. After showers and an early dinner, Nora and Sara were sound asleep long before nine thirty. Nora slept like a rock that night. Since she had made that final decision to move to Crystal Lake, she

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always did. No longer did she lie awake worrying about clients and business problems. And she rarely thought about Brian or what had happened anymore.

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Chapter 2

At four o'clock on Friday afternoon, Nora got in her two-year-old Toyota and headed for town and her meeting with Christopher Warren. She would have less than half an hour to convince him. She had planned her strategy and was all set. Bob _ called several times that day with instructions and suggestions. Finally, at lunchtime she told him not to call again. “Don't call us, we'll call you,” she quipped. She knew him. He could work himself into a real frenzy and if she were not careful he would have her in a state as well. He was not amused but she had insisted. This was a definite advantage over working for someone else. There had been many times in the last few years when she wanted to tell clients the very same thing, but she could not. Well, now she could. Anyway, once in a while she could. If she did it too often, she might not be able to feed Sara and herself and that would not be funny. Arriving downtown for her meeting fifteen minutes early, she parked the car and sat for a few minutes collecting her thoughts. She got out, located the building to make sure she was in the right place and then walked around the block to use up some time. Still a few minutes before her allotted time, she entered the building and climbed the stairs to the second floor where Christopher Warren's office was located. She knew she was still a few minutes early, but was not taking any chances. If she were late, he would probably take the time out of her allotted twenty minutes if he saw her at all. “Now that is crazy,” she told herself, “he cannot be that much of an ogre ” As she got to the head of the stairs, she opened the door and stood there for a minute. The thick wall-to-wall carpet partially covered with what was obviously an expensive Oriental rug, dark blue and red, the old elaborate moldings and the quiet reminded her of a number of the many corporate offices she had visited over the years. For a minute, she forgot that she was on Crystal Lake. A well-dressed woman sat at the desk at the end of the hall. Even at a distance Nora could see that her clothes were expensive and her grooming impeccable. She headed toward her. The woman appeared to work for whomever occupied the corner office. She assumed that would be Christopher Warren or Dave Laurence. The elegant woman seemed to be having an intense personal discussion or perhaps even an argument with the man standing at her desk. He _ just flung a magazine into the in basket sitting in the corner of the desk. From the cover Nora recognized the current issue of Newsweek magazine. For a moment, Nora thought he was Christopher Warren. When she saw him pick up a stack of mail from the

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desk, she realized that he was a messenger. She could not be sure because of the angle at which he was standing, but she thought she saw him shove something in his pocket. He stormed off toward Nora almost knocking her over as he passed. Neither he nor the secretary seemed to notice Nora. The woman at the desk seemed disturbed by the confrontation. Nora waited another minute giving her time to collect herself. When she saw the woman toss her head as if to forget the whole matter, she approached her desk. Still the woman was startled when she said. “I'm Nora Haston and I have an appointment with Mr. Warren,” she said. For a minute the woman just stared. Then she stood up, shook herself and offered her hand, “Oh yes,” she said, “We're expecting you. Mr. Warren is running a little behind schedule. Let me sit you in his office. I'm sure he'll be here shortly. He's rarely late for anything.” The woman escorted Nora into the corner office and left her there alone. Nora sat on a leather couch with a coffee table in front of it. There were several magazines lying on the table. She picked up the nearest one and started leafing through it, noting it was the same issue as the messenger had left on the desk outside. She was too nervous to read much. Momentarily she became engrossed in a story about an embezzlement that had taken place a decade earlier. She remembered when it had happened. William Roberts, the Assistant Treasurer of Continental Data Corp. had been accused of embezzling several million dollars from the company at which he worked. He had been the protégé of one of the founders. The founder had stood behind him until the young man skipped bail and didn’t show up for trial. She wondered what had happened in that case and for a few minutes read the article intently. Apparently, he and the money had disappeared for good. Hmmph, she thought to herself. With that, she turned back to the magazine but could not concentrate. She looked around. The office had a large mahogany desk covered with papers. Behind it was a matching credenza with a computer and next to it a second computer screen. Nora walked over and looked at it. She had one just like it in her office in New York. She used it to monitor and execute trades. Christopher Warren probably used it for the same reason although she suspected he rarely traded leaving that to more junior partners. The Oriental rug, the old wood desk, the leather couch, and the wainscoting on the walls gave the room a look and feel of quiet elegance. Somehow the computer, the stock screen and the mess of papers on the desk did not destroy the peaceful illusion. She looked around the office for some personal affects to learn a little more about the man she was about to meet. There were none: no photos, no pictures nor any other personal mementos - nothing to help her break the ice. There was nothing to indicate a hobby, an outside passion or even a social life.

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The phone rang softly several times, never more than once as someone outside the office answered each call. Nora glanced at her watch and realized that she'd been sitting there for fifteen minutes. She was wondering what to do when the woman returned. “I'm sorry to keep you waiting,” she said. “This is really not like Mr. Warren. Can I get you something?” Before Nora could answer, the phone rang again. The woman picked up the phone and said, “Mr. Warren's office.” She listened for a minute and then hung up the phone. “That was Mr. Warren,” she explained. “He asked me to apologize to you. He should be done shortly. He's asked me to show you around - give you the two-cent tour.” Nora nodded and followed the woman out of the office. “Oh,” she said, “I don’t know what got into me. I'm Maureen Strebor.” She still seemed somewhat preoccupied. She opened a file cabinet and took out a glossy brochure that she handed to Nora. “I really don't know what I'm supposed to tell you,” she said, “so I thought I'd give you the same tour we give to prospective clients. Usually Mr. Laurence or Mr. Warren or an associate give the tours, but its Friday afternoon and most everyone has gone home. So you're stuck with me.” “You'll do just fine,” Nora said, “in fact, you're probably better than the other guys.” Putting aside her annoyance at being kept waiting, Nora realized that she might unwittingly tell her something that would help her convince Christopher Warren to do the piece. Maureen showed Nora around the building that had been put up before the turn of the century. She told Nora about the building and its history. It had not been taken care of and had been close to being torn down when Warren Laurence Associates had bought it at Christopher’s insistence. The renovation project had been his baby. He was very proud of the building. Nora made a mental note of that fact hoping it would come in useful at a later date. Finally, she thought, a shred of information that might help. She’d figure out how to work it in later. After showing Nora the conference room, the library and the small private dining room, Maureen brought her back to Christopher Warren's office. There was a message waiting for Maureen when they returned. Maureen picked up the phone and dialed. “Christopher Warren please,” she said to the person on the other end of the phone. She held on for a moment and then said, “okay . . . okay . . . I'll tell her . . . I'll ask her . . . good luck. See you Monday.” Nora did not like the way this sounded. She did not like it one bit. Maureen turned to her and said, “Mr. Warren apologizes. His deal is falling apart and he cannot leave. He asked me to apologize and to take you to dinner.”

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Nora was annoyed. She wasted the whole afternoon and who knew when he would have time to set up another appointment, especially if a deal was falling apart. She’d been involved in enough of those disasters to know they could consume every spare moment of time and then some. On the other hand, it was not Maureen's fault and she did not want to appear ungracious. And besides, Christopher Warren would probably feel a little guilty about this when they did eventually meet. It might make him a little easier to convince. “That’s okay,” she said not meaning a word of it. “I'll call Monday and set up another appointment. No need for you to ruin your weekend.” “You won’t be ruining my weekend,” replied Maureen, “I have nothing planned. I don’t get out that often and I would like to go. Please, let's go.” She was about to decline again but she stopped herself. Maureen was not the only one who did not get out much. Sara was wonderful, but sometimes Nora craved some adult companionship. Other than an occasional cup of coffee with Mrs. White and the phone calls from Bob, she had not had much adult interaction since coming to Crystal Lake. And she was not sure that Bob's phone calls fell under the category of adult interaction. Besides, she liked Maureen. It might be nice to have a girl friend again. “Why not,” she said. “I'll have to make a phone call to see if my daughter can stay with my landlady. If she can, you've got a date.” Maureen handed her the phone. She quickly called Mrs. White. Sara was already there helping Mrs. White with her latest puzzle. “Glad to have the company,” Mrs. White assured her when she called. “Where would you like go?” Maureen asked after Nora hung up the phone. “I'm new here,” said Nora, “so you choose. I'm not picky so anything you want will be fine with me.” Maureen thought a minute and said, “I know just the place. Do you like Italian food?” “What’s not to like?” Nora replied. With the dinner issue settled, Maureen quickly straightened up her desk and the two women set out. They went to the Italian restaurant Maureen had suggested. It was near the water. There were only two other couples there ahead of them so they were not hurried. Like many other resort communities, the population at Crystal Lake dropped precipitously after Labor Day. After bringing them their drinks the waiter left them alone. Nora told Maureen a little about herself and Sara and they had come to Crystal Lake, glossing over the unhappiness about Brian. As she was sipping her second drink, Nora realized that she had been talking for close to forty-five minutes. She really did need some adult companionship.

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“I'm sorry,” she said to Maureen, “I'm doing all the talking. You're very easy to talk to. Tell me a little about yourself.” “Well,” started Maureen, “I've worked for Warren Laurence and Associates for five years - all the time for Mr. Warren. Came as a temp and never left. Kind of like the guest who came to dinner.” She talked at great length about the firm. Clearly she loved her job and had a great deal of respect for Christopher Warren. Nora wondered if it was more than that. They enjoyed a leisurely dinner of salad and pasta. As they were finishing their cappuccino, Nora said to Maureen, “I've had a very good time tonight. I'm glad you talked me into coming.” “Maybe we can do it again,” suggested Maureen. “I'd like that,” said Nora. “I'll call the office Monday to set up another appointment with Christopher and maybe we can get together again also.” “How are you getting home?” she continued, “I could give you a lift if you need one.” “I usually walk,” Maureen said. “I live on North Water right off Main St.” Nora was impressed. North Water St. was in the most exclusive section of town. “That’s on my way,” said Nora, “I'll drop you.” She left Maureen in front of her house and waited until the lights went on inside before heading home. The houses on North Water Street were old and well cared for. Maureen's house was no exception. In fact, she lived in one of the nicest houses on the block. Nora thought about the evening on the short drive home. She thought Maureen was probably a little bit in love with Christopher Warren and maybe did not even realize it. As she pulled the car into her driveway, she realized Maureen had told her nothing about herself before coming to work for Warren Laurence Associates. It was as if her life had started the day she walked in the front door. “How'd it go?” asked Sara as they walked into their own house. “Must have gone great if he took you out to dinner?” “Not quite, pumpkin,” she said, “Not quite.” Before she had closed the door, she could hear the phone ringing. Sara ran to get it while she locked up. “It's Bob,” she announced, “and boy is he mad.” Nora started to laugh as she picked up the phone. “I can only assume from the amount of time you've been gone and the way you are laughing that you convinced him,” Bob barked. “Not exactly,” she said, “as a matter of fact, I never got to meet him. ... Stop yelling and I'll tell you what happened.” After calming Bob down, she explained to him what happened. Bob was not happy and made her promise to call the minute she had a new appointment set up.

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“I'll call you,” she said, “if you promise me one thing.” “What’s that?” he snapped. “That you'll calm down and not call me with any suggestions!” “That’s two things. But okay, you've made your point. I'm going to see Dave Laurence next weekend. I'm going to their War-Law Ball - you know - that big shindig they throw every year for all their clients. If you cannot get this guy nailed down by then, maybe Dave can help. Talk to you Monday morning,” said Bob as he abruptly hung up. Nora got the message. Bob expected her to call first thing Monday morning to set up a new appointment. Well, she would call, but not first thing in the morning. She did not want to appear too anxious. Sundays were Nora's favorite day of the week. She'd laze around and would not do any work. Sometimes she didn’t even cook. This Sunday was no different. One of the things she liked about Crystal Lake was that it was possible to get both the New York Times and the Boston Globe on Sundays. That is exactly what Nora did most weekends. She and Sara slept late and spent the day relaxing. Nora spent the afternoon on the patio drinking gallons of coffee and reading the newspapers while Sara visited at a new friend's house. She returned around three thirty and Nora promised to take her out for an early dinner - anywhere Sara wanted to go. Crystal Lake had some great restaurants but Nora resigned herself to another meal of pizza because that was what Sara always chose. She was starting to doze off when the phone rang. Sara ran and got the phone. “It's for you,” she called. “Who is it?” “I don’t know,” Sara replied shrugging her shoulders. Nora picked up the phone and said, ““Hello.” “Nora Haston,” asked a deep voice. “This is Nora Haston.” “This is Christopher Warren,” said the voice on the other end of the phone. “First let me apologize for standing you up Friday. It could not be helped. I was wondering if you're free tonight to get together and have the conversation we didn’t have Friday.” “I was planning to take my daughter out for an early dinner,” Nora said slowly. She was not going to let work interfere with her time with Sara. That was part of the reason she had come to Crystal Lake. She chuckled, thinking of the apoplexy Bob would have if she repeated this conversation to him. Of course, she had no intention of doing that.

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“Well,” said the voice on the other end of the phone, “why don't I come over and bring dinner for the three of us with me. It's the least I can do.” “That is not really necessary,” said Nora starting to feel a little sorry for the abrupt way she had spoken. “I could fix something.” What was she saying she thought to herself, there was nothing in the house to fix and Sara would be disappointed. “I insist,” he said, “Dinner for three coming up. I'll see you shortly.” He hung up the phone without giving her a chance to object. “Sara,” Nora called, “Change of plans.” She explained what had happened. “But what if he brings something I don’t like?” asked Sara clearly annoyed. “Eat a little and pretend you like it.” “Will you take me out for pizza after he goes if I don’t like what he brings?” she persisted. “Oh Sara,” said Nora, “Oh, all right. Now please, help me straighten up a little. I have to change.” Sara got up and aimlessly began to pick up her books. Nora could see that she would not be much help but decided not to make an issue of it. She grabbed the newspapers putting them in a neat pile by the fireplace and then ran upstairs to change out of her shorts. As she ran past the mirror she thought it might not be a bad idea if she combed her hair also. She peered into her closet trying to decide what to put on. Hmm, she thought, I could wear my black dress or my black slacks or my black skirt. Over the last few years her wardrobe had become fashionably black. It was easy and she looked good in black. She vowed that she would diversify in the future. She was almost changed when the bell rang. Now what, she thought, that can’t be him. “Sara, see who that is,” she called. She heard her daughter open the door and say “Just a minute.” Thirty seconds later Sara called to her, “Ma, it's a man delivering pizzas. You need to bring your purse.” She grabbed her purse and ran downstairs “How much do I owe you?” she asked as she opened the door. This is priceless, thought Nora. Now he orders pizza and I get to pay for it. Bob was definitely going to get the bill for this. Standing at her front door was the rude man from the beach holding three boxes of pizza. “Nothing,” he replied and began to laugh. He laughed so hard he almost dropped the pizza. “This is a first,” he said, “I've been called many things in my day, but no one has ever taken me for a delivery man. I'm Christopher Warren.” “Oh Ma,” giggled Sara behind her, “this is going to make Bob crazy.”

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“Who’s Bob?” asked Christopher as he walked past Nora and put the boxes on the kitchen table. She stood there with her mouth hanging open. “I'm so sorry. I don’t know what to say,” she finally said. “Don’t say anything,” said Christopher. “I have to go upstairs and finish combing my hair,” said Nora finally recovering. “When I come down perhaps we can pretend this never happened.” With that she turned and ran back upstairs to her bedroom. She slammed the door shut and fell on the bed laughing. Sara was right. Bob would be beside himself when he heard this story. After a few minutes she composed herself and got up. She combed her hair, straightened her clothes, put a little makeup on and then headed downstairs. When she entered the kitchen where Christopher and Sara were talking, she extended her hand as she approached. “Hi,” she said, “so nice to finally meet you.” “Can we eat out on the patio?” asked Sara. “Do you mind?” Nora asked Christopher. He shook his head. “I didn’t know what kind of pizza you both liked, so I got one plain, one with mushrooms and one with everything but anchovies. I guess you were expecting something a little fancier than pizza,” he added. “I should have asked you what you wanted.” “No,” said Sara happily, “we love pizza. That is what we were going to have for dinner.” “Sara's choice,” Nora said in response the question on his face. The three of them took the pizza and a pitcher of lemonade out to the table on the patio. Sara chatted away about school and the beach and the new friends she was making. Little by little Christopher joined in the conversation. He told them of the first time he had come to Crystal Lake. He was entering his junior year in college and his roommate, Dave Laurence, invited him for a week before school started. Christopher had never seen any place so wonderful and promised himself that he would someday live here. Several years after finishing college, he and Dave had teamed up to form their company. Dave had wanted to be in Boston but Christopher insisted on Crystal Lake. “If we're good enough, the clients will come to us,” he had told his partner. “If we start in Boston, we'll never know if we were good enough to make it in Crystal Lake.” Christopher promised that their first branch office could be opened in Boston. To his surprise, he had been right. The business had followed them to Crystal Lake. Several years ago they opened a branch office in Boston. Dave was chiefly responsible for the branch. Christopher preferred Crystal Lake and Benlaria.

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When Christopher talked about Benlaria, his whole face lit up. John Stachenson, the famous businessman, had built Benlaria, in the late 1800's as a summer retreat for his family. It was now Christopher’s home. No money was spared in either building or furnishing the place. It had been called Champagne by the local people in reference to the beverage served at most of the summer parties. And the name took. In its heyday magnificent parties attended by the rich and famous were often given. The mansion passed to his offspring at his death in 1935. The parties and good life continued until one day in 1947 - the day of the horrible incident at Champagne. No one talked about what happened that afternoon and no one was ever charged in the murder of the sixteen-year old great granddaughter of John Stachenson. After the murder, the parties stopped, as did any real life in the house. People lived there but were rarely seen. No repairs were made. Members of the famous family almost gave up living. Little by little the house began to die as well. It was Champagne no more. John Stachenson's grandson lived on alone in that house until his death in 1991. Children thought the house was haunted. Although the house was put on the market in 1992, it attracted little interest. It was too big and in need of too much repair for most families. But Christopher had always been attracted to the house. When he and Dave paid themselves their first bonus, he had his down payment. He went looking for a bank that would lend him what he needed to buy and fix up the place. However, most were not interested. The banks thought the place needed too much work and that Christopher did not have the resources to get the work done. He was at the point of accepting the fact that Champagne would never be his, when miraculously a bank stepped forward to lend him the money. The bank was First National Bank of Plymouth, an old line bank that usually only handled accounts of wealthy individuals. Although he could never prove it and old Mr. Laurence denied it, Christopher believed that Dave's father had done some arm-twisting behind the scenes. First National Bank of Plymouth had been the bank that handled the Laurence family business for several generations. And Christopher had not applied to them for a loan. He knew he was out of their league. The first thing he did when he bought it was to change its name. No longer would it be known as Champagne, it would be Benlaria. In response the question on Nora's face, he said simply, “for my parents.” “You and Dave are so different, yet you seem to work together well,” prompted Nora when she sensed that Christopher was finished talking about his love for Crystal Lake and Benlaria. “On the surface we may seem very different,” replied Christopher, “but underneath we're very much the same in the ways that count. Everyone thinks that we work separately. And for the most part

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we do. But neither of us takes a case without discussing it in detail with the other. In fact, I get some of my best ideas from kicking things around with Dave. However, once we've taken a case only one of us works on it although we keep each other updated at all times.” He paused for a moment. “Do you remember last spring when Reston took over Dyna Corporation?” he asked. As Nora nodded her head he continued, “We talked about that for days. It was Dave's case and he was going to turn it down. He thought Dyna Corp. would put up too big a fight and Reston would end up paying too much. While that might have meant a larger fee for us up-front, our reputation could have been sullied if the deal fell apart. Look how the press blamed Wasserstien for advising Campeau to pay too much for Federated.” Nora nodded again. He was right. He went on. “We're very conservative in the advice we give. We'd rather walk away from a transaction than get involved in a questionable one that could taint us. Anyway, Dave made an agreement with Reston. He valued Dyna Corp. at tops –twenty three dollars a share. It was trading at fourteen-. The deal with Reston was that if a deal could be struck at twenty tow fifty- or less per share, Reston would go forward. If not, he would walk away. That is not generally known and we would like to keep it that way.” He stopped and looked at Nora for a moment. “No one will hear it from me,” she said in response to his unasked question, “go on.” “At first Reston was not happy when Dave presented him with this proposal. The other investment firms were promising higher valuations. But, eventually he came around. You may remember, he got the company for twenty-two twenty-five- a share. Once Reston signed the agreement with Dave, I was not involved at all. The Redwood takeover and the Consel takeovers were Dave's,” he said referring to two other well-publicized deals from earlier in the year. “Tell me a little about your deals,” Nora said trying to steer the conversation away from Dave. He glanced at her intently for a moment before continuing. He knew exactly what she was doing. “You may remember the Floridian takeover, that went on for so long I thought it would never end. Mantle and Presse were also mine. And the big flop of the year - Aramino - that was mine also.” “It was only a flop in your eyes,” interjected Nora. “The only one who blamed you was Aramino. The press certainly did not; nor the financial community.” “We never should have gotten involved in the first place. Aramino was not asking for our advice. He only wanted the use of our name to give legitimacy to his project. I could kick myself over that one. I should have seen it coming. All you have in this business is your good name. Some may think that what really counts is your contacts but it's not. It's your good name. Look where contacts got Milken.”

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“Do you mean to tell me,” asked Nora, “that Dave knows what happened with Aramino?” Christopher nodded. “Then how come he always tells the press that it was your case and they'll have to ask you about it.” “Because it was my case,” he said. “One of the reasons Dave and I get along so well is that we respect each other. I don't talk about his cases and he doesn't talk about mine.” Nora felt a slight chill as she realized the sun was setting and it was getting dark. She glanced at her watch and realized they had been sitting and talking for almost three hours. Sara had left the table long ago and Nora could faintly hear the television set in the background. “Why don't you come inside and let me make some coffee,” said Nora. “We can have desert. I'm surprised that Sara hasn't been out asking for some.” Together they cleared the table and went inside. Nora started the coffee while Christopher rinsed the dishes and put them in the dishwasher. Sara, hearing the noise in the kitchen, came running. “Are we finally having desert,” she asked putting a big emphasis on the finally. “Yes, dear,” Nora said taking a cake from its box and putting it on a plate. She then cut each of them a slice and put the plates on the kitchen table. “I hope you don't mind eating in here,” she said to Christopher. “Not at all,” he replied. The three of them sat down at the kitchen table. Sara gobbled up her cake. While her mother and Christopher sipped their coffee, she relayed to them in detail the plot of the situation comedy she had just finished watching. Christopher listened to her attentively as though he were truly interested in the show. He asked her several questions about it. Nora could see why his clients were so loyal. Sara was pleased as punch. When Sara was finished he looked around the room thoughtfully and asked Nora about the house. She explained that it had been put up right after the turn of the century. “If we stay on Crystal Lake,” she said, “I plan on buying this place and renovating it a little at a time as my finances allow.” When the conversation had turned to the house, Sara rolled her eyes and slipped away from the table. She did not have the same interest in old houses as her mother had. Christopher glanced at his watch and jumped up. “Oh,” he said, “I didn't mean to intrude for this long. I must get going and let you get back to whatever.” As he stood up he said, “Yes, I'll do the interview. Your old friend may have told you that I insist on having final approval of anything that gets printed. I hope that's okay with you.” “It's really not the ideal way for me to work, - but what choice do I have?”

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“None,” he replied quickly. “I guess I won't be able to put in any juicy gossip then,” she said jokingly. “There isn't any,” he said quietly. “There must be,” she said laughing. He was taken back for a minute. But when he realized she wasn’t serious, he smiled weakly. She walked him to the door. Their chuckles brought Sara to the room. As Nora opened the front door he said, “When is the piece due?” “The beginning of March,” she replied, “But I'd like to get started as soon as possible.” “Well the next week or two is kind of hectic,” he said, “given what happened on Friday. Maybe we can set something after that - definitely before I go to Europe at the end of October. I'll be away for a little over a month on that trip, but we should be able to at least get you started. When I come back, we could do a second interview if you have any follow up questions. That is if you think it will be necessary. Call my secretary and set it up.” Nora nodded. This was not going to be nearly as difficult as she had thought. “That will be fine,” she answered. Bob would be thrilled. And, she was secretly pleased herself. She liked this man. He was half way down the steps, when he turned and said, “Do you know what the War-Law Ball is?” “Yes,” said Nora as Sara shook her head and made a face. “How would you two ladies like to accompany me? It's next Sunday afternoon.” Nora hesitated for a second. His invitation had taken her by surprise. She opened her mouth to reply but was cut off by Sara who said in her most grown up voice, “why we'd love to go.” “Yes we would,” echoed Nora. “The party starts at one,” said Christopher, “but I usually go early to help Dave and his wife with the last minute arrangements.” He paused for a minute frowning while he tried to figure out the details. “Could I pick you up around eleven?” “Why don't I drive Sara and myself over around one?” said Nora. “That should make things a little easier for everyone involved. And, we won't be in the way” “You don't mind,” he asked. “Not at all,” she replied. “Well, until Sunday,” he said and turned and walked down the path. He got into the old pickup truck that he'd been driving when they first ran into him at the beach.

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She had barely closed the door, when Sara turned to Nora and said, “He likes us Ma, he likes us. And not just you, he likes me too.” Nora smiled at her daughter and said, “Well who could blame him.” Before going to bed that night, Nora sat down with a pad and began to make notes. She jotted down anything Christopher Warren had said that might be of use in her article. Not that it was going to be a well-balanced piece, she thought, given the restrictions he was placing. But Bob didn't care. It would be a coupe for Financial Weekly just to get him. Everybody who was anybody in the world of finance would want to see what Christopher Warren had to say. And it would not hurt her career either. The last thing she did was draw a simple chart. It had two columns. At the top of one she wrote DL for Dave Laurence and at the top of the other she wrote CW. Under the DL she listed Reston/Dyna, Redwood, and Consel. Under CW she wrote Mantle, Presse, Floridian, and Aramino. She put a big question mark next to Aramino. She had put the pad and pen away when she had a second thought. She picked the pen up again and under CW added another line. It simply said Europe - why? Nora piled up her papers neatly and headed up to bed. It had been a long surprising day and she was tired. She flopped into bed and immediately fell into a deep sound sleep. She awoke slowly and smiled happily. It had been a long time since she had made love and she was pleased that she had not forgotten what to do. She stretched lazily and reached out for Christopher only to find that he was no longer in bed with her. She sat up startled and then she realized that of course, he had not spent the night. In fact, he had gone home after dinner. It had all been a dream – although a very vivid dream. She was amazed at how realistic the whole experience had been. Well, she thought to herself, maybe soon, She started musing. Of course, she still had Sara to worry about and she needed to set a good example. But, Christopher was different. She felt an immediate connection and was sure he did also. In her heart she knew it was only a matter of time. As incredible as it would have seemed to her just twenty-four hours ago, she now felt like she had met her soul mate, someone that perhaps she could share her life with. And unbelievably, he liked Crystal Lake just as much as she did.

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Chapter 3

“What do you wear to a War-Law Ball?” asked Sara the next morning. “And what's the WarLaw Ball anyway?” she added. “I'm sure I don't have anything to wear. Can I get a new dress?” “One question at a time,” said Nora. “Let's start at the beginning. The War-Law Ball is a party given once a year by Christopher Warren's company. The company invites all its important clients and potential clients. The party is given at David Laurence's home. Mr. Laurence is Christopher Warren's partner and has a big house right by the ocean. The back yard is huge and they set up several tents and serve lots of fancy food and drinks.” “Why do they call it a Ball if it's a party?” interrupted Sara. Nora smiled. “Let me try and explain this. They don't really call it the War-Law Ball. That's kind of it's nickname. Kind of like your cousin Amanda. You call her Mandy.” The blaring of a horn interrupted their conversation. “The school bus,” yelled Sara grabbing her lunch and books. “Well can I?” she demanded as she opened the door. “Can you what?” asked her mother. “Get a new dress.” “Of course,” said Nora, “You know what? We'll both get new dresses.” Nora stood on the front steps and watched until she could no longer see the school bus. She picked up the newspaper and went inside. She poured herself a fresh cup of coffee, stuck the newspaper under her arm along with the big yellow pad she had used the night before to make notes. She got a pen and her cup of coffee and headed outside to enjoy the patio for one of the last times before the weather turned cooler. First she read the paper and then she began to review the notes from her conversation the night before with Christopher Warren. She started a rough outline of questions she would need to ask for her interview. Several times she got up and went inside to get more coffee. She smiled to herself. Every one called David Laurence Dave, but nobody called Christopher Warren Chris. She would have to ask him about that. She became so engrossed in her work that she forgot about the time and her promise to call Bob. She had neglected to take her portable phone out on the patio with her. Because she became completely engrossed in her work, she forgot about everything around her. When she glanced at her watch, she was

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surprised to see that it was lunchtime. She picked up her notes and put them in a neat pile. Picking up the newspaper and coffee cup, she went inside. As she was putting the newspaper away, she was surprised to see the light blinking on her answering machine. Relaxing out in the warm September sun, she had forgotten everything but her work. And then she panicked. What if something had happened to Sara and the school had tried to get in touch with her? Quickly she hit the play button on her machine. She had four messages - three from Bob, who by the last call had worked himself into a real frenzy and the fourth from Maureen Strebor. Once again she had overreacted. But ever since that not so long ago night, and the phone call and Brian.... She willed herself not to think about that and to focus on the present - the much happier present. She dialed Bob's number. His secretary said he was on the other line but he'd be with her in a minute. He must have left instructions to be interrupted if she called. Less than a minute later he picked up. “Did you call yet? Did you set up another appointment?” he barked. “Yes, I had a nice weekend, how about you?” answered Nora. “Nora,” he said curtly, not at all amused or penitent. “Okay, okay,” she said, “in answer to your first question - no I did not call and to your second no I did not set up another appointment, but ...” “No buts,” he interrupted. “I want this story. Have you any idea what this will mean to both of us, if you get it? Have you?” “Oh Bob, just shut up and listen.” She told him the whole story. She thought he would have a heart attack when she got to the part about Sara mistaking Christopher Warren for a pizza deliveryman, but he did not interrupt again. When she finished he said, “Good. I'll have research get together whatever they can about Warren Laurence and Associates and we’ll send it off to you by overnight mail. That should give you some background information. Do you think you'll be able to get him to talk about Aramino?” “I don't know,” answered Nora, “he mentioned it in passing but didn't seem eager to go into detail. Don't count on it.” “When do you think you'll have your first interview?” “Not for a few weeks. He said that he's busy for the next week or two. And he said that he was going to Europe at the end of October for a little over a month. But I should be able to get the first interview in before he goes. And yes, don't even ask. I'll try and find out why he's going to Europe.”

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“Good work,” he continued, “Do you remember that I'm going to the ball on Sunday?” Before Nora could reply he said, “I'll see you on Sunday - at the ball.” And then he hung up quickly without waiting for her to reply. Manners were never Bob's long suit thought Nora as she hung up the phone but he had always been a good friend to her. She never took offense to his brusque style. Then she picked up the phone and dialed the number Maureen Strebor had left. “Mr. Warren's office,” answered the soft voice on the other end. “Maureen?” questioned Nora, “Nora Haston.” “Mr. Warren told me to add you and your daughter to the guest list for the party on Sunday,” Maureen said rather formally. “Ah ha.” “I'm so glad you're coming,” continued Maureen, “I usually don't know many of the guests.” Although the words were warm, Nora sensed a certain coldness in her voice. “Well that will make two of us this year who don't know many guests,” replied Nora, “but we'll know each other. Sara is so excited about this. She can hardly wait. And she's not the only one,” Nora added. In spite of herself she was beginning to look forward to the party. It had been a long time since she had looked forward to a social occasion. Maybe she was also looking forward to seeing Christopher Warren. She shook her head as though to chase such a thought from her head. “I usually take a day off the week before the party and go up to Boston to shop and get my hair and nails done. I'm going on Thursday. Would you like to come with me?” asked Maureen. “I could make an appointment for both of us at Roberto's and then we could shop.” “I did promise Sara that we'd get new dresses but I hate to impose,” started Nora. “You wouldn't be imposing and besides I'd love the company,” Maureen said. “It's settled. If you have the time, we can make a day of it. We could go early, have some lunch and still be home in time for dinner.” “I'd like that,” Nora said. “I haven't spent a day with an adult girlfriend since I can't remember Oh since we had dinner the other night. But before that it seems like years.” “Good. I'll make the appointments for our hair and nails. What time can you be ready to go?” “Sara's bus picks her up at 8:15 and I like to see her off. Anytime after that would be fine.” “Then I'll pick you up at 8:30 on Thursday.” After exchanging a few small pleasantries with Maureen, Nora hung up the phone and went to search for something for lunch.

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Bob was as good as his word. The next day, by overnight messenger, a large envelope stuffed with copies of articles about Warren Laurence and Associates arrived. Some of the articles were five years old. Nora divided the articles into three stacks - those about David Laurence and his deals, those about Christopher Warren and his deals and the third for articles about the firm or both men. As she had expected the pile containing the David Laurence articles was much bigger. It looked like Dave talked to just about anyone who called for an interview while Christopher talked to no one - other than that one reporter many years ago. Dave Laurence was often photographed with his wife and children while attending charitable and sporting functions both in Boston and New York. He must be a big Boston Celtics fan as he quite often attended their home games. Nora thought she recognized Christopher Warren sitting next to him in one of the pictures taken at a playoff game, but she could not be sure. He was not identified in the caption and the picture was fuzzy. It was quite possible that she was mistaken.

Thursday was a sunny warm day. Sara - tried desperately to cajole Nora into letting her miss school so she could accompany them to Boston. When she was not successful she left Nora with a long list of instructions and questions for Maureen. Ten minutes after the bus left, Nora heard a horn honk outside. She looked out and saw a late model Jaguar. “Must be another real estate agent trying to convince Mrs. White to sell the carriage house again,” she thought. She was just about to turn away when the car door opened and Maureen Strebor stepped out. Nora was a little taken back. She grabbed her purse and a light jacket and ran to meet her friend. “Nice car,” she said, “Warren Laurence and Associates must pay very well.” “Not really,” Maureen snapped, “my grandfather died a few years ago and left me a little money. I left it in the bank for a while but then I decided to get what I really wanted. After all, what's money for if not to be spent?” Nora nodded in agreement. “You have to promise not to let me buy a black dress,” she demanded of Maureen. “It seems like everything I own is black.” “Well the color suits you,” replied Maureen, “but if you insist.” The two-hour drive to Boston went quickly. The two women chatted and enjoyed the changing colors of the foliage. Maureen had made appointments for them to have their hair and nails done at Roberto's hair salon at two fifteen. They could shop first and then, unless Nora objected, have a little lunch at a new restaurant that Maureen had read about.

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They quickly found a dress for Sara and then wandered around Saks looking for the perfect casual outfits for the ball. Nora found a black dress with a matching jacket. When Maureen commented on her previous promise, Nora simply said, “Well starting with my next purchase, I’ll add some color to my wardrobe. She loved the way she looked in the outfit and couldn’t wait for Christopher to see her in it. She blushed remembering the dream. Maureen couldn't make up her mind between a blue dress and an equally attractive green one. Finally she bought both saying she would return the one she didn't wear. “This always happens to me. I can never make up my mind,” she confided Nora. “And,” she added, “I always say I'm going to return the second outfit, but I never do. No wonder I'm always broke.” Their shopping took longer than they had expected. After paying for their purchases they hurried towards Faneul Hall for a quick bite at a place Maureen had read about. The food was good although the portions were on the small side - which was fine with Nora. They had just enough time for a quick cappuccino before rushing into Roberto's for their appointment. Nora was introduced to Charlie who would do her hair and to Kristen who would do both her nails and Maureen's. The women who had been doing her hair for years, Carla, did Maureen’s hair. There was no one else in the shop. The five of them chatted amiably. Kristen did Maureen's nails first and when she was finished turned her attention to Nora. They gossiped about the upcoming election and then got into a heated discussion about May/December romances. It seemed like everyone had a different opinion. There was much good-natured kidding and laughing especially when poor Charlie said anything that the four women disagreed with. Suddenly, Carla turned to Nora and said, “Help me. Wouldn't Maureen look great as a blonde? For years I've been trying to convince Maureen to lighten her hair but she just won't hear of it.” Nora turned to look at her friend and was startled by what she saw. Maureen's laughter and smile had turned. Her face was twisted with anger. Nora could see the rage in her. She looked like she would explode. Before she could say anything, Maureen screeched at Carla, “That's it. I told you I never wanted to hear that suggestion again. My hair is brown. That's the color God gave me and that's the color I'm going to keep. If you can't remember that, maybe I'd better look for another hairdresser.” As quickly as the conversation had started, it came to a crashing halt. There was dead silence in the salon. Nora did not know what to say or what had come over her friend. “I didn't mean..,” started Carla faltering.

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“Fine,” interrupted Maureen, “then let's drop it. I don't want to hear another word about it.” Again, the silence in the room was shattering. After a few half-hearted attempts at conversation, they all gave up. Charlie had finished trimming Nora's hair and picked up a blow dryer and began to blow out her hair. The noise of the dryer drowned out any further attempts at conversation. The rest of the visit was eerily quiet. You could hear a pin drop. As they were leaving, Maureen turned to Carla and smiled and said, “Oh, Carla, I'm sorry. I don't know what came over me. Can you forgive me?” Carla nodded and Maureen made another appointment for the following month. Although everything should have been fine, something about Maureen's apology bothered Nora. She had said the right words but it was obvious that the smile was forced. Nora soon forgot the incident as they headed back home. The fall foliage was beautiful and the sun was shining. And Maureen told her a few anecdotes about some of the prior War-Law Balls. By the time they pulled into Crystal Lake, Nora had completely forgotten the episode at the beauty parlor. Maureen had some very funny stories to tell - some even about her boss. Nora wondered if Christopher Warren would allow her to use them in her article. Somehow, she didn't think so. She even had Nora looking forward to the party on Sunday. Nora invited Maureen to come in for some supper, but Maureen said she had taken some work home the day before and needed to get it done. She thanked Nora for a wonderful day and both agreed to do it again sometime soon. After Maureen drove off, Nora headed over to Mrs. White's house to pick up Sara. The two were completely engrossed in a game of Scrabble. Sara looked up at Nora and said, “Did you get me a dress?” When Nora nodded her head in ascent, Sara demanded to see it. Nora agreed to get Sara's new dress so she could try it on for Mrs. White. When she returned her daughter looked at her smugly and announced, “I won.” To which Mrs. White replied, “I let you win.” “No you didn't,” shouted Sara in such outrage that both Nora and Mrs. White began to laugh. Sara took the dress and stomped off to the bathroom to try it on. When she was gone Mrs. White said, “She's really quite bright you know. I didn't really let her win. She won fair and square. I'm glad you've become friends with Maureen Strebor,” she continued, “she's been here for quite a few years but doesn't seem to have any friends her own age. Matter of fact,” she added slowly, “I don't think she's got any close friends at all. Everyone in town likes her. She's completely devoted to her job. But a young woman needs more in her life than a job.” Once again, she paused. “Did you have a good time?” she asked.

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“Yes,” Nora answered, nodding her head slowly. For the moment, she had completely forgotten the scene at the beauty parlor. “Maureen's not the only one who could use a friend her own age,” she added. At that moment Sara came out of the bathroom with a question on her face. “How do I look?” she asked. “Beautiful,” her mother and Mrs. White answered together. It took Nora quite some time to fall asleep that night. Somehow, she could not get Maureen's face, twisted with rage, out of her mind. Something did not fit. But, she did not know what. Eventually she fell asleep and the scene at the beauty parlor sank deep into the recesses of her mind.

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Chapter 4

Sara was up bright and early Sunday morning. Nora heard her in the hall peeking- into her bedroom to see if she were awake yet. She was a considerate child and knew better than to wake her mother up. Nora opened one eye and tried to focus on the alarm clock without letting Sara see that she was only half asleep. Sara knew better than to wake-her up. But, once Nora was awake, Sara was allowed to come into the bedroom. When Sara saw her eye flutter she burst into the room. “Oh, Sara,” groaned Nora finally focusing, “it's six thirty.” Sara danced around the bed and started asking questions. “Should we get ready to go? When can I put on my new dress? What's for breakfast?” “Wait a minute,” interrupted Nora finally, “it's only six thirty. Let me sleep a little longer. If you want, you can get in bed with me, but please no more questions 'till I've had my coffee.” Sara jumped into the bed and burrowed under the comforter pulling it off Nora. Nora pulled part of it back and closed her eyes. Sara turned over. Then she sat up causing the comforter to uncover Nora's shoulders. “Sara,” yelled Nora. “Okay, okay, I'm just fixing my pillow,” muttered Sara as she turned and patted the pillow causing the comforter to further uncover Nora. “Sara....” “Okaaaay,” replied Sara plopping down on the bed pulling the comforter up. This was not before she carefully covered her mother first - accidentally poking Nora in the eye in the process. There was two minutes of no movement before Sara rolled over again. Then she reached down and scratched her knee - again poking her mother. “Sorry,” she whispered. Finally Nora could stand it no longer. She sat up in bed, hugged her daughter and said, “Okay, okay, you win. We'll get up. But I meant what I said. No questions until I've had my coffee. And we have six or seven, hours before it's time to go. So don't start hounding me to get dressed for a few hours.” Together the two went downstairs for breakfast. It wasn't quite seven o'clock. Nora put on a pot of coffee while Sara rummaged in the pantry. Out of the corner of her eye Nora saw her holding the

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box of pancake mix and eyeing her mother. She obviously thought better of it and put the mix back taking out a box of cereal instead. The sun was starting to shine as Nora ran out front to pick up her newspaper. She took the newspaper along with her coffee out back and joined Sara who had gotten a book to read with her breakfast. She was absent-mindedly eating her cereal as she became engrossed in her book. Nora let out a sigh of relief. She had a shot at a quiet breakfast. By early afternoon the two were ready to go. Sara looked almost grown up in her new dress and panty hose. She had borrowed one of her mother's necklaces and carried one of Nora's pocket books. Some of her excitement had worn off on Nora - or maybe Nora was excited on her own. It had been a long time since she'd been to a party and an even longer time since she had a date. The ten-minute ride to Dave Laurence's house passed quickly. Nora followed the directions Maureen had given her, driving slowly as she was not familiar with this part of Crystal Lake. The houses were big and set on large pieces of land. Some of them could not be seen from the road. The road narrowed to one lane and the place was peacefully quiet. As the approached the end of the road, the silence was broken by the happy clatter of people's voices and car doors slamming. Nora pulled up slowly to the front of the house following a late model Mercedes and Lexis. As each stopped a young man wearing a uniform approached to take the car and park it for the owners. When Nora got to the front of the house one of these smiling young men ran up, opened her door and offered a hand to help her out. He handed her a chit and said, “Welcome to the Warren Laurence annual Ball. Hold on to your ticket. It will help us locate your car when you are ready to leave. Have a good time.” Nora noticed that another of these men had opened Sara's door and was helping her out. Sara was thrilled. They walked slowly up the steps of the old Laurence estate. It was one of the regal old houses with a huge front and side porch built at the turn of the century. Nora could understand how Christopher Warren had fallen in love with the place the first time he visited. The front door was wide open and people were everywhere - laughing, talking, eating, and drinking. Nora was surprised that neither David nor Christopher were at the door greeting people but didn't give it a second thought. Sara was speechless. “Well pumpkin, what do you think?” asked Nora. “Can we go inside?” asked Sara. Nora took her hand as they walked through the front door. There were several waiters walking around with trays of hors'dourvs. One approached Nora and Sara and offered some shrimp from his tray as another approached and said, “May I take your drink order ladies?”

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“I'll have a gin and tonic,” said Nora. “And you miss?” “Me,” squealed Sara delighted to be treated like an adult. “How about a Shirley Temple?” asked the waiter. “I think you'll like it.” Sara looked at her mother who nodded. “One gin and tonic and one Shirley Temple coming up,” responded the waiter. He returned quickly with their drinks. Sipping their drinks the two began to wander from room to room admiring the house. Nora was surprised when she looked at her watch to discover that they had been at the party for over an hour. Where was Christopher? She had not recognized anyone but that did not really surprise her. The only other people she knew who were supposed to be at the party were Maureen and Bob. She was sure Bob was sitting in a corner somewhere nursing a scotch, but where is Maureen, she wondered. And where was Christopher? Why wasn't he looking for her? She hoped nothing was wrong. “Come on Sara,” said Nora, “I want to get a glass of club soda and see the backyard.” “Can I have another Shirley Temple?” asked Sara. After a moment she added, “Aren't we supposed to meet Christopher here?” “Yes you can have another Shirley Temple,” answered Nora. “And, I'm sure Christopher will be along shortly.” The two got fresh drinks and headed out the back door. They stood on the top of the patio for a minute and looked around. The backyard was magnificent. The rest of the backyard dwarfed the patio. Although it was large it did not seem so as the rest of the yard was immense. The steps from the patio led down to a perfectly manicured lawn. Like most of the old estates on Crystal Lake, there was no swimming pool. The perfect lawn extended down to what looked like the end of the property. From there one could see the bright expanse of water and sky. It was hard to tell from this distance where the water ended and the sky began. Nora noticed a small staircase at the back of one of the corners of the yard. She guessed that this led down to the small private beach that was not visible from where they were standing. Several large yellow and white tents were set up on the lawn. “What are those tents for?” asked Sara pointing. “We can go take a look if you'd like,” said Nora. “They're probably serving more food in there.” Listening to the music coming from one of the tents she added, “There might even be dancing in one.” As the two approached the steps Nora heard her name being called.

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She turned around to see Bob waving at her. She and Sara stopped and waited for him to catch up with them. He was carrying a glass of scotch in one hand and a piece of chicken in the other. “Good food,” he commented as he approached. “So where's your boyfriend?” he asked. Nora winced and replied, “Nice party. I don't know where Christopher Warren is. I'm sure he'll be around shortly. And please Bob, don't go around calling him my boyfriend.” “Oh you're too sensitive,” her old friend replied. “Lighten up a little. This is a party.” Nora had not realized how upset she had become by Christopher's absence. She was beginning to feel a little silly being at a party where she knew no one. Thank God Sara was with her. “How are things going at the magazine?” asked Nora trying to change the drift of the conversation. With that opening Bob began to ramble on about his work and his problems with his new boss. Nora glanced at Sara and saw that she was paying no attention to what Bob was saying. She too had lost interest in the conversation. As Bob continued, Nora scanned the crowd trying to catch a glimpse of Christopher. She was beginning to wonder if she had imagined the invitation when she heard a strangled voice say, “Nora, we've got to talk.” She turned to see Christopher Warren. She felt a wave of relief rush over her and gave him a big smile. It was only then that she noticed his face seem drawn. He was white as a ghost and he looked like he had not slept for a few days. Before Nora could respond another voice interrupted, “I've been looking all over for you. It's time. I'm going to make some welcoming remarks and then I'll make the big announcement.” Nora looked up to see a fortyish well-dressed man approaching. From all the photographs she had seen she immediately recognized David Laurence, Christopher Warren's partner. As he approached their small group he greeted Bob. Nora was taken back for a minute. What was he talking about? Then she realized that he was talking to Christopher. He looked at her and extended his hand. “I don't believe we've met,” he said, “I'm Dave Laurence.” “Nora Haston, and this is my daughter Sara,” Nora replied shaking his hand while putting her other arm around Sara. He turned to Sara and extended his hand and asked, “So young lady, what do you think of our little party?” “This isn't a little party,” Sara replied, “This is great.” And she gave him a big smile as she solemnly shook his hand. Nora began to see why this charming man was so popular. He was totally at ease not only in a business setting but at an informal party as well. Christopher, on the other hand, looked anything but comfortable.

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Dave turned again to Nora and said, “You're the writer who finally got old Christopher here to loosen up a little. Anything I can do to help, just let me know.” And then he added jokingly, “I know where all the skeletons are hidden. So give me a call if you need something to spice up your piece.” He was laughing as he slapped Christopher on the back. Nora thought she noticed Christopher blanched at the skeleton remark. Dave took Christopher by the arm and said, “Now, if you'll please excuse us, we have some important business to attend to.” With that he steered Christopher away from the group. As Christopher left he caught Nora’s eye and mouthed something at her. She shook her head trying to figure out what he meant. She must be dreaming. She thought he had mouthed, “I'm sorry.” As they walked away, Dave pointed and said to Christopher, “There's Maureen....” The rest of his remarks were lost to the noise of the crowd. The whole encounter left her slightly confused. “Well is he coming back?” demanded Sara, tactful as ever. “Why I don't know,” Nora said. “I'm sure he is. He invited us, didn't he?” But when she reflected on it she realized that Christopher had not said anything about seeing them after the speeches. Of course he would, she thought. Why wouldn't he? Dave Laurence stood in the middle of the patio with Christopher and Maureen. She had worn the blue dress and was smiling nervously. She looked great. Dave picked up a glass of water and a spoon. He tapped the glass with the spoon and the crowd quieted down. Everyone looked at him expectantly. “Ladies and gentleman,” he began, “I'll be brief so you can get back to enjoying yourselves. We'd like to take this opportunity to thank you all for your business and support throughout the year. This modest party...” at which the crowd laughed, “Is our way,” he continued, “of expressing our gratitude. That's all I'm going to say about business. And if I had nothing else to tell you, I'd be through, but I have a happy announcement to make.” He paused for a minute, taking a sip from the glass he was holding. He waited for the crowd to calm down before continuing. “I have to tell you,” he continued, “they took me by surprise. Even I had no idea this was coming. We'd like to share our happy news with you.” He stopped for a moment and took a sip from the glass of water. “Pay attention,” Bob hissed at Nora. “This may be something you could use in your piece. See if you can get some comments from Christopher later.” Nora glared at him and he stopped talking as Dave continued. “Friends and associates, it is my great pleasure to finally, and I mean finally - this guy is almost over the hill.” Again he stopped as the

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crowd laughed as he put his arm around Christopher's shoulder, “to announce the engagement of my partner and best friend, Christopher Warren, to Maureen Strebor.”

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Chapter 5

There was dead silence for a minute and then the crowd applauded. People began approaching Christopher and Maureen shaking Christopher's hand, kissing Maureen and congratulating them both. Maureen had moved next to Christopher and had slipped her hand through his arm. She smiled and laughed with the guests who approached. All her earlier nervousness seemed to have disappeared. Nora just stood and stared straight ahead. For a moment she felt like she was going to faint. Bob looked at his feet and then examined his empty glass and then looked at his feet again. He whistled softly and then looked at his empty glass again. Finally he looked at Nora and said, “I'm going to get another drink. Can I get you one? You look like you could use one.” “I'm driving and I've already had one. I really shouldn't have another,” answered Nora. “Well you look like you could use another. Gin and tonic as usual?” Nora nodded. She did not argue. She watched him head for the bar grateful that he had not questioned her. She pulled herself together and put her arm around Sara who was speechless. “When Bob gets back,” Nora said to her daughter, “we must go over and congratulate Christopher and Maureen.” “But I thought we were his date,” Sara said stubbornly. So did I, thought Nora, but she simply answered, “No honey. We were invited because of the article Mommy's writing about Christopher Warren. That's all. It's strictly business.” And that is how it is going to be thought Nora to herself, strictly business. Bu thoughts of that dream crept into her mind. She willed them away determined not to make a fool of herself. She was grateful that she hadn’t shared her feelings with anyone, although she felt fairly certain that Mrs. White guessed. She would be professional, finish her piece and then never ever see Christopher Warren or Maureen Strebor again. With a little luck she would be able to do one interview and get all the material she needed. Bob returned with the drinks. Nora took hers, took a big gulp and said, “Come on, we should go and congratulate the happy couple.” “Why?” demanded Sara again stubbornly, “I thought...” she started but stopped by the look her mother gave her. Bob looked at her surprised and then blurted out, “Great,” he said, “I thought this engagement thing would upset you. Just shows you what I know.” Yeah, thought Nora, just shows what you know.

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The three of them approached the crowd surrounding Christopher and Maureen. When they got close enough to talk, Nora kissed Maureen on the cheek and then turned and extended her hand to Christopher. “Congratulations,” she said, “when did all this happen?” She turned to Maureen and added, “You didn't breathe a word of this the other day when we went to Boston. I didn't even realize that the two of you were dating.” For one moment Nora thought she saw a look of triumph cross Maureen's face. But then it was gone and Nora decided it must have been her imagination. “Christopher surprised me with this yesterday,” Maureen answered extending her hand to show an engagement ring. The ring had a diamond and two sapphires. Although Nora knew only a little about jewelry she could tell that this was a very expensive ring. Not the type of bauble one popped into a jewelry store and picked up at the last minute. Christopher stood by saying nothing. Maureen had enough excitement and enthusiasm for the two of them. “I didn't know what to say,” Maureen continued, “when he gave me the ring - so I said the first thing that came into my mind - YES!” The crowd standing around admiring her ring laughed. “Well, you did the right thing,” boomed the voice of a newcomer to the crowd. Nora turned and saw a vaguely familiar distinguished looking man in his sixties approach the group. She had the feeling that she knew him; she just could not place his face. He congratulated Maureen while Nora tried to edge away from the group. She did not want to stay one moment longer than absolutely necessary. She felt like a complete idiot. Bob was not much help -standing there like a big lump saying nothing. If she could give him one big shove to get him to leave she would have. Only she felt it would call attention to herself at a time when she was trying to be as inconspicuous as possible. All she wanted to do was get out of this party and go home. She felt like a fool. Just as she was about to make her getaway, Bob said, “Mr. Laurence, I'd like to introduce you to Nora Haston. She's a writer who is going to do a piece for my magazine on Christopher Warren.” She could have hit him. Could he possibly be that dense? Nora looked at the man again and realized why he looked so familiar. He was Dave Laurence's father. In twenty-five years this was exactly what Dave would look like. She extended her hand and said, “Very nice to meet you sir. This is a lovely party.” She introduced Sara and then took her by the hand and led her away. If Bob wanted to stay and talk, let him. She could not be polite for one more moment. Sara, blissfully, was quiet for once. She asked no questions. Thank heaven for small favors. “We'll stay a little longer and then we'll go,” Nora said to Sara not wanting to ruin the party for her. Sara nodded her head. As they walked down onto the grass towards the tents Nora heard someone calling her name. She looked back to see Christopher hurrying towards them.

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“Go on into the tent over there,” Nora said to Sara pointing to the tent where the music was playing, “and watch the dancing. I'll be with you in two minutes.” She had no intention of having any sort of a conversation with Christopher Warren at this point. Sara looked like she wanted to argue but one look at her mother's face told her this was not the time. Nora watched her daughter disappear into the tent and then turned to face Christopher. “Nora,” he started, “I'd like to explain, but ... but... I don't know how.” “There's nothing to explain,” Nora said quietly cutting him off before he had a chance to go any further. “I'm doing an article about you and you invited me to the party as part of the research for that piece. It was simply business. That's all - simply business. Nothing more. I'll call Maureen in a few days to set up an appointment, if that's all right with you.” Although she wanted to be terribly sarcastic with this man who had hurt her and made her feel like a fool, she could not. It just was not in her. Somehow, she did not feel he had hurt her on purpose. “Nora,” he started and then was silent for a moment. “What can I say? Please call and set up that appointment. As much time as you need.” Nora turned and hurried away without saying goodbye. She did not want him to see the tears that were forming in her eyes. She stood at the entrance to the tent for a moment gathering her composure before she went in to find her daughter. She felt as though someone were watching her. She turned and looked back. Christopher was standing where she had left him just staring at her. But he made no effort to follow her and did not glance away when she looked back. She turned quickly and went into the tent. A band was playing and many of the guests were dancing on the portable wooden floor that had been set up in the middle of the tent. Sara was standing at the edge of the dance floor watching. Nora went and put her arm around her. She stood watching with Sara willing her mind to go blank. She did not want to think about anything. After several minutes Nora felt a tap on her arm. She turned and saw old Mr. Laurence standing at her elbow. “I'd like to talk to you for a minute,” he said. As she turned to face him, Bob came hurrying up. He must have been watching her and was on his way to the rescue. “It's all right Bob,” she said as he approached. “Why don't you dance with Sara while I talk to Mr. Laurence?” “Are you sure,” he asked looking at Mr. Laurence who had a very determined look on his face one that seemed to spell trouble. “I'm sure,” she replied. “Mr. Laurence and I are going to have a little chat. That's all. Besides, I think Sara would love to dance with you.”

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Sara and Bob headed off to the dance floor. Bob looked almost as uncomfortable as Christopher had earlier. As she watched them leave, Nora remembered that dancing was not his strong suit. When they were out of hearing range Mr. Laurence began. “You know,” he said slowly, “the reason Christopher doesn't do interviews generally is because of that one he did many years ago. The reporter twisted everything he said and tried to make him look like an arrogant fool. That boy is like a second son to me.” His face got an even fiercer look on it as he said the words second son. “I'd be very upset if anything was written that hurt him,” he continued. “And that includes this sudden marriage announcement to that woman. If you're writing for that business magazine of Bob's, there should be no reason to even mention it. I'd do anything to see that he is not hurt.” He paused for a few seconds before adding vehemently, “anything.” Nora listened, wondering what he was getting at. Then she got the message. She started to laugh. Mr. Laurence growled at her some more. “Why Mr. Laurence,” she said, “are you trying to intimidate me?” Mr. Laurence 's face turned a bright red at her reply and laughter. “Don't worry,” she continued before he had a chance to respond. “First of all, that's not my style. I happen to think that the work Christopher and your son have done building their firm is admirable. And second, even if I wanted to write something distorted and vicious, I couldn't. Christopher has the right to veto the final piece. You have nothing to worry about.” She put her hand on Mr. Laurence's arm and patted it. As she turned to leave, she added, “Christopher is very lucky to have a friend like you, very, very lucky.” She smiled at him and he smiled back. All the animosity was gone. She felt a strange kinship with the old man. She liked him. “I'm glad we have an understanding,” he said quietly before walking away. Although she had planned to leave shortly after the announcement was made, she did not. When Bob and Sara returned, they went to another tent where a sit down meal was being served. They sat at a table and were joined by several Warren Laurence employees. The conversation was lively and before Nora realized it, they had been sitting for two hours laughing and joking. The few times she did consider leaving, she glanced at her daughter and saw she was having a good time. So she put what had happened earlier in the day out of her mind and joined in the festivities. When they did get ready to leave, Bob sidled up beside her and whispered in her ear, “What was that all about with old Mr. Laurence?” “Oh nothing,” she answered, “and don't ask me again. It was really nothing.” As Nora's car was brought around front and she was about to step into it, she once again felt someone staring at her. She shivered and turned to look. Christopher Warren was sitting on the porch

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by himself. He was nursing a glass filled with amber colored liquid. She could almost feel his stare. It went right through her. She could not read what was in his brooding eyes - but something was not right. She turned and got into her car. She had nothing to say to him. As they drove home, she reflected on the day’s events. The one thing that stuck in her mind was the fact that virtually everyone at the party was surprised by the engagement. Even Dave Laurence, Christopher's best friend and the man who worked with both Christopher and Maureen every day, was taken back. Talk about keeping an affair quiet. Almost as startling as the news of the engagement was the wedding date. Maureen and Christopher planned to be married in one month. It was almost like a shotgun wedding. But that did not happen anymore. Besides, both Maureen and Christopher were too responsible to let something like that happen. Mrs. White was out in her garden picking flowers as they drove up. She waved and called over, “How was it?” This was all the encouragement Sara needed. “It was great. You should have seen it. A big fancy house, waiters all over the place, and tents in the backyard - it was a big backyard - and I danced they had dancing. Oh and guess what???? Christopher got married, no not married, engaged to that lady that Mom is friends with - Maureen what's her name?” Mrs. White was nodding and her head jerked up when Sara got to the last part. She glanced over at Nora who simply nodded her head up and down. “Oh dear,” she said. She looked at Nora and then back to Sara and asked, “How'd you like to come in for a game of Scrabble while your mother changes her clothes?” “Great,” said Sara skipping up towards Mrs. White's front door. “Take your time Nora,” Mrs. White said, “you look like you could use a little time alone.” Nora nodded. “Thanks,” she replied heading for the refuge of her own home. “Our games usually take at least an hour. I'll put on a pot of coffee and we can talk, if you'd like - after our game,” added Mrs. White. Nora managed a weak smile and headed to her own house. She opened the front door and went up to her bedroom. She took off her new dress and flung it on the back of a chair. Then she lay on the edge of her bed planning to get up in a few minutes. Although it was dusk she did not put the lights on. Somehow the darkness was peaceful. She closed her eyes and lay back. One tear fell from her eye but that was all. What was she so upset about? It was not like she had any sort of a relationship with this man. The only intimacy between the two of them had been in her dreams and in the real world that

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certainly did not count. He was free to marry whomever he chose. True she was a little embarrassed. She must have misunderstood his invitation. But the only ones who knew she thought the invitation was a date were Bob and Mrs. White and neither of them were likely to tell anyone else or to say anything. She wondered why Maureen thought she had been invited. The more she thought about it, the more puzzled she became. How come Maureen had not said anything about seeing Christopher on a social basis when they went to dinner or when they went to Boston? In fact, Nora was positive she had asked her at dinner if she had a boyfriend and she was sure Maureen had said no. Maybe she and Christopher wanted to keep their romance a secret. As she pondered the situation, she drifted off to sleep. The last thing thought she had, clear as a bell, before drifting off to sleep was that she had not misunderstood.

She awoke with a start to find she had been

asleep for well over an hour. She jumped up, slid into a pair of jeans and tee shirt and ran over to retrieve Sara. “If I look like I just got up,” she announced gaily as she walked in the door, “it's because I did. Can you believe it? I fell asleep. But I feel much better now, much better.” Sara had set the table while Mrs. White made a light dinner. The three of them sat down to discuss the Scrabble game which Mrs. White had won and the day’s events. “You could have knocked me over,” Mrs. White kept repeating every time the engagement was mentioned. She, like the rest of Crystal Lake, was surprised at the news of the upcoming marriage.

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Chapter 6

Nora was up early the next morning - long before her daughter. She made a pot of coffee and settled down with the newspaper. She tried hard to concentrate on what she was reading and she tried even harder not to think of the events of the day before. But, it was not easy. She promised herself she would make Sara her pancakes and then start work as soon as her daughter left for school. No more sitting outside with a pot of coffee and the newspaper whiling half the morning away. Hilde was expecting at least an outline from her, if not a chapter or two by the end of the week. Nora had let herself get caught up in the excitement of the party and had gotten behind on her work. She'd lost a day when she went with Maureen to Boston and another going to the beach with Sara. She reminded herself sternly, she had to make some money to support herself and Sara unless she wanted to go back to the rat race in New York - and she was still certain that she did not want to do that. Fifteen minutes before it was time to get Sara up, Nora went into the kitchen and got out the pancake mix. When the first batch was on the griddle, she woke her daughter up. Together they ate a companionable breakfast and put the dirty dishes in the dishwasher. Sara thoughtfully avoided all mention of the prior day’s events. Sometimes she could be quite thoughtful. The minute Sara left for school, Nora headed for the computer. She had not been at it very long when the phone rang. She glanced at it and considered letting the answering machine pick it up. Against her better judgment, she picked up the receiver only to find Maureen on the other end. Nora silently cursed her luck wishing she had let the machine answer the call. Then she could have returned the call at her convenience - if at all. She was in no mood to talk to Maureen. She congratulated her once again and then waited to see why she had called. “Could you meet me for lunch one day this week - preferably today,” Maureen asked. This annoyed Nora for two reasons. She really did not want to see Maureen ever again, not that she really blamed her for anything. She had no desire to be included in her life and she certainly did not want to talk about the upcoming wedding. It also bothered her when people assumed that because she worked at

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home and more or less made her own hours that she did not really work and was at their beck and call. Maureen was so excited that Nora did not have the heart to snap at her. “I've gotten really behind on my work,” Nora said, trying to avoid meeting Maureen for lunch. “I owe my agent quite a bit of material at the end of the week. As it is, I'll probably have to put in a few nights.” The last part was not one hundred percent true but she hoped Maureen would buy it. “Perhaps another time, maybe when you return from Europe.” “Oh, please,” said Maureen, “can't you squeeze out just a little time for me? I really don't know many people here and there's something I really need to talk to you about. I'll bring lunch to your place if you'd like. That way you wouldn't lose too much of your work time.” Nora felt terrible. That won't be necessary,” she said. “I have to come into town one day this week anyway to run a few errands. Hold on a minute. I've got to look at my calendar.” She put the call on hold for a minute and thought. She knew that she was technically free all week and could have gone whenever she wanted; but she was definitely not up to seeing her today. “How about Wednesday?” she asked as she picked up the phone again. “Perfect,” Maureen said, “and I really do appreciate it. How about Manuel's at twelve thirty? That's near the center of town off Main St. Will that help with your errands?” “That's fine,” said Nora, “I'll see you on Wednesday at twelve thirty.” She was just about to hang up when Maureen said, “Oh wait, I'm supposed to set up an appointment for you for your interview with Christopher when we get back from Europe.” Nora was a little taken back. He had promised she could do the first interview before the European trip - but it really did not matter. She would still have plenty of time. She bit her lip. “No problem,” Nora answered curtly. They agreed on a date and time for the interview. Nora promised to call the office several days before the interview to confirm the date and time. “I'm putting together a file of clips of articles about Warren Laurence and Associates that might help you with your piece,” Maureen added. “If I'm finished I'll bring it to lunch on Wednesday.” “Thanks,” was all Nora could manage as she put down the phone. After she hung up the phone she got out her calendar and marked the interview down with a note a few days earlier to call to confirm the appointment. She looked at her calendar and laughed. The only other appointment she had marked was Sara's school play. She shook her head ruefully. She was going to have to make some adult friends and quickly. Winter was coming and she needed more social interaction that Sara and Mrs. White could provide.

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When Nora got to Manuel's on Wednesday, Maureen was already waiting for her. She waved Nora over to the table where she was sitting. Nora sat down and Maureen immediately began talking. She was very excited. Nora sat and absent-mindedly listened to her friend talk about her plans for the future. The wedding was being rushed so that Maureen could join Christopher on the European trip. They would combine the business trip with a honeymoon. “You must have had to reschedule some of the business meetings,” Nora commented. “Not really,” Maureen replied coloring slightly. “Are you going to stay longer than Christopher planned originally?” asked Nora. “No,” snapped Maureen. Since she apparently did not want to pursue that line of conversation, Nora let the matter drop. “Hmmmm. So tell me where you're planning to go,” continued Nora not really knowing what to say at this juncture. “First I have something to ask you,” Maureen replied not answering the question. “Okay - shoot.” “Well, you know that I don't have very many close friends and no family to speak of,” she started. “Yes.” “Well I was wondering,” continued Maureen, “if you'd be willing to stand up for me at the ceremony.” “You mean be your maid, I mean matron of honor????”, Nora asked incredulously. “Exactly.” “Well I don't know what to say,” Nora replied. “Well then say ‘Yes’.” “It's just that you took me by surprise. I never expected to be asked. When is the wedding?” asked Nora desperately stalling for time. “October 24th. It's a Sunday.” “Hmmmm, Well,” said Nora not knowing what to do or say, “how can I say no?” “How can you say yes?” her brain screamed. You never wanted to see these people again and now you're going to stand up at their wedding. What's the matter with you? “Let's see. What's for lunch?” Nora asked picking up the menu desperately trying to change the subject. She would figure out how to get out of this later. Somehow she managed to get through the rest of the lunch without saying much. Maureen was so happy and excited that she talked about her

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upcoming plans and dreams for the future. If the circumstances had been anything but what they were, Nora would have been happy for her friend and pleased at the prospect of having a new friend at Crystal Lake. As it was she could barely wait to get away. She gulped her food and then signaled the waiter to bring over the check. Maureen insisted on picking up the bill. “It's my way of saying thank you and I'm sorry at the same time. I've been so excited about the wedding I haven't had time to put together that file of articles and press releases I promised. But don't worry I'll have it for you before the wedding. I promise.” “That's okay, the magazine sent over a whole file of background information. It's really not necessary that you do it.” “Oh no,” cried Maureen, “I want to. I can provide background information that the magazine won't have access to. Don't forget. This will be my husband that you're going to write about. I want to help show Christopher in the best light possible.” After a second she added, “not that he really needs any help.” Nora said goodbye and was finally on her way home. It seemed like she had been with the chattering Maureen for hours. She glanced at her watch and realized that she had only been in the restaurant for forty-five minutes. Yet, it had seemed like an eternity. Maureen spent a minimal amount of time in the office once she became engaged. One month was not much time to plan a wedding, invite guests, buy the appropriate clothes and of course, get ready to move. Maureen would move into Christopher's house immediately after the wedding. She said she had too much on her mind to decide what to do with her own house so it would remain vacant for the short term. After they returned from the honeymoon, she said she and Christopher would decide whether to sell it or rent it. Despite her firm intention to see Maureen and Christopher as little as possible, Nora saw Maureen several times during that month. Once to buy dresses - a wedding dress for Maureen, a matron of honor dress for Nora and a flower girl's dress for Sara who had been drafted to participate in this wedding also, another for the wedding rehearsal, once to get their hair and nails done and once to hire a caterer. After a while Nora gave up fighting with Maureen. She never won. Although Nora saw Maureen almost weekly, she saw Christopher only once. That was for the ten minutes that he had shown up at the wedding rehearsal. Nora had the feeling that something was not quite right. She just could not figure out what was wrong. When she mentioned this to Mrs. White, Mrs. White sat and thought for several minutes. Then she said, “Well, you know, some men are very nervous about getting married and it shows. Especially

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someone who has reached Christopher's age and has never married. But I agree with you - something just doesn't seem right. But I can't figure out what it is. Maybe it's nothing. In any event there's nothing we can do about it.” The small wedding was held at the old Laurence estate where the engagement had been announced just weeks earlier. The house was decorated tastefully and appropriately for a wedding. The house could have held three or four times the twenty five invited guests. Nora wondered why they had not invited more. Many business executives would have used an occasion like this to invite all their business colleagues. When Nora mentioned this to Maureen, she had replied, “Christopher believes that marriage is a very personal affair. It's something that you want to share only with a few close friends and family. Since neither Christopher nor I have any family, the people we've chosen to invite are family to us.” At the time it had seemed to make sense to Nora. Now, she was not so sure. She thought she had read somewhere that Christopher had a sister. But, she must have gotten that wrong. Maureen would certainly know about Christopher's family. If he had a sister, he certainly would have invited her to the wedding. Looking around at the guests at the wedding, Nora was surprised that she recognized many of them. Then she realized that many of them were the employees of Warren Laurence and Associates whom she had met at the party the previous month. The ceremony was quick with a justice of the peace reading the basic vows. The bride and groom did not exchange vows they had written themselves. Somehow this did not surprise Nora. She could not imagine Christopher Warren reading vows he had written for his wife in front of a crowd full of people. He barely kissed her on the cheek when the justice said, “You may now kiss the bride.” This was not a man who was demonstrative of his feelings in public. He danced one dance with his new wife and then retired to the front porch where he sat alone through most of the festivities. Dave joined him for a bit but eventually came back. Maybe Christopher was not going to enjoy his wedding party, but Dave Laurence would. He would be the perfect host his partner couldn't or maybe just wouldn't be. Nora had to admit she had never seen Maureen look more beautiful. Maybe Christopher did not look happy, but Maureen was radiant. Nora and Sara were the first to leave. Sara, showing a maturity beyond her twelve years, could sense that her mother did not want to stay and did not make a fuss about leaving even though she would have loved to remain longer. As they were about to drive away from the house, Nora turned and looked out the back window one last time. It was a beautiful house and under different circumstances she would have looked forward to future visits. But for her, there would be no future visits. Of this she was certain. All though

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it might seem cruel to others, she was definitely not going to continue to see Maureen. She would refuse all further invitations. At a different time she and Maureen could have been friends, but not now. She didn't want to hear about her honeymoon or plans for the future or problems. This was the end as far as she was concerned. For a moment she thought that perhaps she was acting childish. Christopher had simply invited her to the ball as a good business gesture – nothing more. She had read something into the invitation that was not there, probably out of loneliness. Now she was behaving like a spoiled brat because she hadn’t got what she wanted. Grow up she mentally chastised herself. No, retorted the stubborn streak that usually guided her in the right direction and occasionally got her into trouble. Despite the fact that she had no further contact with Christopher Warren, she was still drawn to him. This annoyed her no end and she was more determined that ever to put him out of her mind forever. Unfortunately for Nora, this was not turning out to be so easy. As she backed out of her parking spot, she saw Maureen come out and sit beside her new husband. She put her hand on his arm. Nora turned away and put the car in drive. This was the last thing she had wanted to see. There was something very intimate about the way Maureen put her hand on his arm - something that she was not comfortable watching. If she had continued to watch, she would have seen Christopher push his new wife's hand off his arm as he got up and stalked off the porch into the darkness of the night. But, she had not. She had turned away.

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Chapter 7

The first postcard arrived one week later. Sara brought it in with the rest of the mail when she returned from school. “Look,” she said, “a post card from Maureen and Christopher.” Nora glanced up from her computer and said absentmindedly, “read it to me, honey.” “Dear Nora,” Sara read. “Just arrived in London this morning. The Concorde was great. We can't wait to see all of London. We hope to catch a few plays. Love, Maureen and Christopher.” “Let me see that,” Nora demanded. Sara handed -her the card. There was a picture of Big Ben on the front. Nora turned the card over and saw that Maureen had written the whole card herself taking the liberty of signing her new husband's name. Nothing odd about that thought Nora. She used to sign Brian's name to many things - things he never knew about nor would care about - like Christmas cards and thank you notes – and vacation post cards. Thinking about Brian so unexpectedly caused her to smile and then wince as she remembered. “What's the matter, Ma,” asked Sara as Nora tossed the post card in the wastebasket next to her desk. “Nothing pumpkin,” answered Nora forcing the unhappy thoughts from her mind, “let's see about a snack.” She saved the file she'd been working on and then shut off the computer and got up from her chair. “Can I have this?” asked Sara taking the post card from the wastebasket. Nora turned and when she saw what Sara was holding nodded and said, “sure.” The next one arrived two days later.

Dear Nora, Having a wonderful time. Went shopping at Harrods and Saw Mousetrap the other night. Love, Maureen and Christopher P.S. Got you and Sara a little surprise from Harrods.

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And a few days later a card from Wales arrived.

Dear Nora, Christopher has so many meetings scheduled. I popped over to Wales for a little sight seeing. It's grand. Love, Maureen And then,

Dear Nora, Here I am in Scotland. It's beautiful. We leave in two days for Paris. Paris - the city for lovers. Love, Maureen

And several days later.

Dear Nora, Paris is magnificent. I spent two whole days at the Louvre. Italy's next. I can't wait. Love, Maureen

Then from Milan.

Dear Nora, Greetings from Milan. The food is great. Love, Maureen

Rome was next.

Dear Nora, I'm exhausted but it was worth it. Spent three whole

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days traipsing around Rome. Can't wait to see you again. Love, Maureen

And, finally the biggest surprise.

Dear Nora, Greetings from the Alps. Yes I know this wasn't on our itinerary but Christopher has back-to-back meetings planned for the next week so I decided to take a little side trip and then jet home a few days early. Love, Maureen Sara saved all the post cards. She thought it was exciting to get mail from all around the world. She confided to Nora that when she got married she was going to have the exact same kind of honeymoon. Although Nora didn't give it much thought, she did mention to Mrs. White that things didn't seem to be going as well as Maureen had hoped. She appeared to be spending a good part of her honeymoon alone. Mrs. White thought a moment and then said, “Well you know dear, the first year is always the hardest, adjusting to each other and what, especially for two people like Maureen and Christopher. They've both been living alone for so long. They're each probably set in their ways. There's bound to be a period of adjustment.” Maureen called the day after the last post card arrived. She was back alone, from Europe. She wanted to have lunch. Nora protested that she was too busy but once again, she found herself giving into Maureen. “This is the last time,” she told herself firmly, “the last time.” When she got to the restaurant a few days later to meet Maureen for lunch, she found her sipping a glass of white wine. The glass was almost empty. As Nora sat down, she signaled the waiter for a refill. “A glass of club soda,” Nora said when the waiter turned to her. “Oh come on, join me,” said Maureen. “At least have a glass of wine with me.” “No, I really can't,” Nora answered. “I have to work this afternoon. Club soda will have to do.” Maureen opened her mouth to argue but then thought better of it and shut her mouth. Nora smiled to herself. I finally won one, she thought.

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The waiter left to get their drinks and Maureen reached under the table and pulled out a large shopping bag. “Just a few things I picked up for you and Sara while I was away,” she said handing the bag to Nora. “Oh, you shouldn't have,” said Nora, “It really wasn't necessary.” “But I wanted to. So please. Let me. Besides, this is my way of saying thank you for being my friend,” Maureen said softly. Nora smiled at her. How could she refuse? If things had been different she and Maureen could have become good friends. “Okay,” she said, “now tell me all about your trip. Tell me everything you saw and did.” Maybe she was being too hard. If Christopher was a workaholic, why couldn’t she and Maureen be friends? Maureen began talking about her trip. She talked of all the places she had seen, all the great food she had eaten and all the things she had purchased. There was just one thing she did not talk about - her new husband. It was almost as if she had been on the trip alone. When Nora asked about Christopher, Maureen said rather stiffly, “Oh you know Christopher. He's business, business, business, all the time. That's why he's so successful. Business always comes first.” Although she tried to say it proudly, Nora could see that she was hurt. And who could blame her. For a fleeting minute, Nora thought she saw a look of regret on Maureen's face, but it was a momentary look, if it were there at all and then it was gone. “Welcome back, Maureen,” interrupted a bearded young man. Nora looked up and saw a man who looked vaguely familiar although she could not figure out where she knew him from. Maureen did not seem particularly happy to see him, but then she did not appear particularly happy just now anyway. “Thanks,” she answered. She didn't say anything else. It was as though she wanted him to go away but he wasn't taking the hint. After a few long moments of silence Maureen said, “Nora this is Bill Roberts from our mail room.” And after another long pause she added, “Bill, this is Nora Haston.” “Very nice to meet you,” said Nora extending her hand. “Likewise,” he replied shaking her hand. Maureen continued, “Nice to see you Bill. See you soon in the office.” She left no doubt that he was to leave. He took the hint. For just a moment Nora thought he hesitated. But, he nodded goodbye and was on his way. Nora decided she must have imagined the hesitation. “He just doesn't seem the mail room type,” Nora said watching the man leave trying to figure out where she had seen him before. “What's that supposed to mean?” demanded Maureen.

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“I don't know. He seemed well spoken or better mannered.... or, I don't know. Let's order,” Nora answered not able to explain and feeling ridiculous. “Nothing appeals to me,” Maureen said after looking at the menu a few minutes. My stomach's been a little queasy lately. It must be all the foreign food and excitement.” “Or maybe,” joked Nora, “maybe you're pregnant.” Maureen let out a sob, grabbed her purse and ran for the ladies room. Nora was startled. She did not know whether or not to follow and finally decided to give Maureen her privacy. And what would she say if she did follow her. The last thing Nora wanted to discuss was the intimate details of Maureen's married life. After ten minutes she was beginning to wonder if she had made a mistake in not following Maureen. She was about to go look for her when Maureen returned to the table. “I'm sorry,” Nora said quickly as Maureen sat down. “That was a thoughtless thing for me to say. And it's none of my business. I'm sorry. I...” “No, no,” interrupted Maureen, “I just over reacted. The truth is that I would love to have a baby, it's just that Christopher doesn’t want ...” and with that she gave another sob. “I think that's our waiter over there,” Nora said pointing across the room desperately trying to change the subject. She had no desire to discuss Maureen's obvious marital problems. Maureen nodded and picked up her menu. The two women ordered and chatted aimlessly. Maureen picked at her food eating little. Nora, on the other hand, gobbled down her meal. By the end of the luncheon Maureen had pulled herself together. When the bill came she insisted on paying, “my way of apologizing for my unsightly outburst,” she said. Nora resisted saying it was not necessary but Maureen persisted. As the two women were putting on their coats to leave, Maureen picked up the shopping bag of gifts and handed it to Nora. She said, “I have a favor to ask.” “What?” asked Nora slowly dreading what was coming. “Well, each year Warren Laurence Associates throws a Christmas party for the employees. It's a catered cocktail party followed by a sit down dinner. It's really quite lovely. You'll love it. In fact some say it's even nicer than the War-Law Ball. I'd like you to come.” “But I'm not an employee,” protested Nora, “and I thought I read somewhere that this was one event from which the press was strictly excluded.” “That's true,” answered Maureen, “but strictly speaking,” and at this she broke into a big smile, “you're not the press.” Then she added, “I have some connections. I can get you in.” She winked at Nora. Now she was laughing and had Nora laughing too.

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“Oh all right,” Nora said. “It sounds like fun. When is it?” “December 12th at eight in the evening.” “That's fine - it's three days before my big interview. Okay. You know what,” she added, “It sounds like fun.” “What do you mean?” her brain screeched at her. It sounds like fun - you'll never extricate yourself from these people if you continue to cave in every time Maureen calls. Nora tried to push these thoughts from her mind. They left the restaurant together and when they got to the corner each went in opposite directions. After taking a few steps, Nora realized she did not know where Benlaria was. She turned and called to Maureen. When Maureen turned, Nora said. “I forgot to ask where the party is going to be held?” “At Benlaria - Christopher's house,” Maureen said, “I'll call and give you directions in a few days.” Nora nodded and headed for her car. She thought it a little odd that Maureen had said Christopher's house and not our home. But then it had only been her home for a very short while. So maybe it was not that strange after all. She wondered if she would be able to get out of going to the party. She could come up with some tactful excuse for missing the party - until she realized that she really couldn't do that - not with the interview scheduled just a few days later. It would look odd. Besides, she would see Christopher again and it might make things easier between them if she saw him in a social setting with other people around before the interview. As she was waiting for the engine to warm up she remembered where she had seen the man in the restaurant before. That first day when she went to talk to Christopher - the time he had stood her up - Bill had been the man she had seen in earnest conversation with Maureen when she had first arrived.

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Chapter 8

A few nights before the party, Nora's phone rang. “Hi Nora. It's Maureen, got a minute,” asked the voice on the other end of the phone. The two exchanged pleasantries for a few minutes and then Maureen said, “I really must apologize. I know I promised to put together some information for you for background on your piece and I haven't given you anything. Well I'm almost finished.” “Don't worry about it,” Nora replied, “the magazine sent over plenty of information. I'm sure you've got a lot to do right now, I can get by with what I have.” She didn't tell Maureen that Bob had been quite annoyed that her interview had been pushed back until after the wedding and the European trip. He was afraid that after agreeing to the interview Christopher was having second thoughts. Nora didn't really want Maureen to help. It just gave her one more excuse to call and Nora was determined to end this budding friendship as soon as possible. The longer it went on the harder it became. Nora knew she was not being rational about it, but she just was not comfortable with Maureen now that she and Christopher were married. “No, no. I want to help,” Maureen insisted. “I've got a complete set of press releases for you.” Nora was forced to admit they had not sent along any press releases. Maureen continued, “Christopher is my husband; at least for now he is,” she added bitterly. Nora paused for a minute. She did not really want to go down this road. But she could not help herself. Maureen was clearly distressed. “Is everything all right?” Nora asked. “Not exactly. It's just that... hold on a minute.” Nora heard another voice in the background. Maureen returned to the phone and said briskly, “Do you have something to write on. I want to give you directions to the party.” “Maureen, is everything all right?”

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“I'll hold on while you get something to write on,” Maureen answered as though she had not heard what Nora had said. It was quite apparent that she did not want whoever had entered the room to hear this particular conversation. Nora was pretty certain she now who that someone was. “Maureen, what's wrong?” “Nothing.” “Maureen, talk to me,” Nora demanded forgetting her resolution not to get involved. Whoever had entered the room was apparently still there. And Maureen apparently had no intention of talking in front of that person. “Okay, Maureen. Hold on,” she finally said, “I'll get something to write on. But at the party we'll have a long talk. I mean it. Whatever's wrong can be fixed.” “Yeah sure,” Maureen answered curtly. Maureen gave Nora directions and hung up quickly. Whoever had come in, and Nora was sure it was Christopher, had not left. One thing was certain. Marriage to Christopher Warren was no picnic. Nora forgot her resolution to distance herself from the Warrens. She would have to find a way to help Maureen. After all she was her friend. And Nora was not one to desert a friend - especially one who was so obviously in pain.

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Chapter 9

The night of the Christmas party, Nora dropped Sara off to sleep overnight at Mrs. White's house. A Scrabble marathon was in the offing. The winner was going to serve the loser breakfast in bed. Nora did not see how Mrs. White could win - she either got to serve Sara breakfast in bed or got a messy kitchen. What a choice! She kissed Sara goodbye and hugged her tightly. At this point, an evening of Scrabble sounded great. Nora was not really looking forward to the party at all. However, with her interview with Christopher Warren just a few days away, this might be a good opportunity to get some useful background information - or so she tried to convince herself. She followed the directions Maureen had given her to the older part of town. The house that Christopher owned was at the end of the street and had acres and acres of woods behind it. It was over – one hundred years old and quite beautiful. Nora could see why Christopher loved it so. Under different circumstances, Nora would have loved to visit. It was breathtaking. Unlike the earlier party where several valets parked the cars, guests were left to park their own cars to the side of the house. This was a much smaller, more intimate affair. Once again Nora wondered what she was doing at the gathering. She reflected on how much trouble Maureen had gone through to get her invited - after all it was supposed to be employees only. She felt like a party crasher. Dave Laurence and his wife were at the door greeting the guests as they arrived. Dave took her coat and hung it in the huge front closet while his wife, Joan, chatted amiably with Nora and another couple who had arrived at the same time. Almost immediately a waiter joined them and escorted them into what was originally the front parlor. He took their drink order and returned a few minutes later with their selections. The inside of the house had been restored as impeccably as the outside. All the wood had been polished and gleamed like new. A small bar was set up in one corner. In another were two musicians playing classical music very softly. The banister was wrapped with garland for the holidays and there

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were a few poinsettias and other Christmas decorations scattered about. Another waiter came from the kitchen with a tray of hours'derves. Nora sipped her drink and looked about half listening to the conversation around her. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed that the next room had been set up for dinner. After a short while, she excused herself from the group she had been standing with and went to take a look across the hall. No one noticed her leave. Four tables had been set for dinner in what appeared to be the living room. Either Christopher owned no living room furniture or it was being stored elsewhere. Nora tip toed in to take a look. The four tables were each set for eight. Heavy linen, bone china, sparkling stemware and fine silver were on each table. Two candles lit each of the round tables. There were small gifts on each plate along with name cards. The seating had been assigned. Nora looked around to see where She would be sitting. She found her card next to the one with Maureen's name. As she looked at the other place cards she noted that they were seated as far away from Christopher as possible. Nora wondered if that were accidental or if it were Christopher's doing or more likely Maureen's. She sipped her drink and strolled around and looked at the artwork on the walls. Whoever had chosen it had good taste. She must have been meandering around the room for 15 minutes when she heard a deep familiar voice say, “Well do you approve. I hang what I like not what the critics like.” It was a voice she had not heard in some time. She turned to see Christopher Warren leaning against the door jam watching her. She had no idea how long he'd been there. “Yes,” she said. “I like it very much. You have good taste - at least by my standards.” Then she laughed and added, “For whatever that's worth.” Christopher smiled at her and said, “Ahh, birds of a feather...” Then he stopped himself. They chatted pleasantly about the artwork for another ten or fifteen minutes. Nora felt herself being drawn in as she had that night he had come to dinner at her house. It seemed like such a long time ago. She thought about the dream and for just a moment she wondered what might have been if things had turned out the way she had hoped. This unsettled her. She did not want to like this man. She did not want to think of what might have been. She wanted to get away. So, she said, “I really should freshen up a little. Can you point me in the right direction?” “This way,” said Christopher leading her into the foyer and pointing up the large gleaming staircase. See the last door at the end of the hall.” “Thanks,” she answered.

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As Nora headed up the stairs she noticed Christopher disappear through the living room into another part of the house. He did not rejoin his guests. She wondered where Maureen was. She really did want to talk to her. It would be difficult to have a private conversation at the dinner table with six other people around. Maybe Maureen was sorry that she had told Nora she was unhappy. Or maybe she and Christopher had patched up their differences. Maybe she was sorry that she had said anything about her problems at all. Most of the doors on the second floor were closed tight. Nora was a little disappointed as she would have liked to peak inside. One was very slightly ajar and Nora heard a muffled sound as she walked past. It was so faint she did not give it a second thought. She went into the bathroom at the end of the hall. She flipped on the light and was greeted by more art work. She examined the small paintings on the wall. Then she combed her hair, touched up her makeup and got ready to leave. She did not hurry as she was in no mood to join the festivities. She wished the evening were over. She had no idea how long this night would actually be. All in all she spent about ten minutes in the small bathroom. Nora closed the door as she left and headed down the hall for the stairs. Again, as she passed the room with the door slightly ajar, and again she thought she heard a noise. She stopped for a minute and heard nothing. She continued down the hall. When she got to the head of the stairs and was about to start down, she stopped. Something bothered her. Something was not right. But she could not figure out what was wrong. She could not put her finger on it. Then it hit her. It was the room with the door ajar. She went back and knocked very lightly. No answer. She thought she heard a moan but then maybe she was imagining things. She pushed the door open a little more. There was a small lamp on a table in the corner and it was lit. It cast a soft glow over the room. Nora pushed the door open and looked in. The room was set up as a library and there was no one in it. Just as she turned to leave when something caught her eye. It looked like a hand extending from behind a sofa that stood in the middle of the smallish room. There was a leather sofa in front of a fireplace that looked inviting for reading or whatever on a rainy evening. Nora shook her head and turned and took a step closer towards the hand. It was definitely a hand. “Hello,” she called tentatively. No answer. Then she heard a moan. She ran around the edge of sofa and let out a shriek at what she saw. There lay Maureen - semi unconscious with blood oozing from a cut on the back of her head. She had apparently hit her head on the ledge of the fireplace. The

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ledge was about six inches off the ground and looked to be made of slate. Just looking at it and thinking about hitting her head on it made Nora wince. Nora ran to Maureen and cradled her in her arms. Her shrieks had been heard below and a few guests were starting up the stairs to see what the commotion was. “Call an ambulance,” Nora yelled as the first head poked around the door. “Maureen's practically unconscious.” “What happened? Who did this to you?” Nora cried. She had to put her head down close to hear Maureen's response. Just before she lapsed into complete unconsciousness, Maureen grabbed Nora's hand and whispered, “husband, ... back woods.”

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Chapter 10

Joan Laurence ran to call an ambulance while Christopher pushed through the crowd to get to his wife. By this time all the guests were peering into the room. “What did she say?” he demanded, “what did she say?” Nora looked up and replied in a faltering voice, “I don't know what she meant but she said, 'husband back woods'.” “That's impossible,” thundered Dave Laurence from the back of the crowd pushing his way forward. “Christopher's been with me for the last hour and a half. We have been in the back study discussing business. There is no way he could have done this. Why would you say that. You must have misunderstood.” Nora was taken back by the ferociousness of his attack. She had not misunderstood. She heard what she heard. And she wasn't accusing anyone of anything. She was simply repeating what Maureen had told her. Besides Nora knew Dave was lying. Christopher had not been with Dave for the entire past hour and a half. He had spent at least ten of those minutes chatting with Nora. She was about to challenge him but then thought better of it. What was the purpose? It would not help Maureen. There was no point in having this discussion in front of thirty other people. Besides he was probably just being a good friend to Christopher. He must have known that Maureen and Christopher's marriage was on the rocks and if it came out that Christopher had no alibi he could become a suspect in this ugly matter. Nora wondered if he realized how much he was jeopardizing himself by lying for his friend. She hoped Christopher realized how lucky he was to have such a good friend. Her thoughts were interrupted by the arrival of the ambulance. The paramedics ran in and lifted Maureen on to a gurney. “Okay, Ma'am,” one of them said to Nora, “let's go.” Maureen was still clutching her hand.

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“But ... What about her husband?” Nora asked. “Okay lady. You and her husband can go in the ambulance. But that's it. Two's the limit. We really should take only one. But okay. Let's go.” Three minutes later Nora found herself in the back of the ambulance with Christopher and Maureen and a paramedic. Maureen still clutched her hand. Christopher sat in a corner looking miserable. He did not say a word. After awhile Maureen's grip on her hand slackened. Nora held on tight willing her to regain conscious. When they arrived at the hospital the paramedics directed Nora and Christopher to a small waiting room. Maureen was whisked into surgery. Nora and Christopher sat alone in the small waiting room outside the operating room. Neither spoke. Christopher sat with his head in his hands, one elbow resting on each knee. And Nora paced. She could not sit still. She knew her pacing must be driving Christopher crazy but she could not help it. A few times he looked at her thoughtfully, but he never said a word. She thought about leaving several times, but could not think of a graceful way to get out. She watched him out of the corner of her eye. His marriage may have been falling apart but he appeared genuinely upset about his wife. Either that or he was a great actor thought Nora. Maybe this accident would shock him into treating his wife with some care. This just might be the catalyst he needed to force him to put time and effort into his marriage. They had been sitting there for about three hours when the door to the operating room opened slowly and a very tired looking doctor, still dressed in scrubs, came out. “Mr. Warren,” he said slowly and deliberately as Christopher and Nora rushed towards him, “I'm sorry.” It only took a few seconds for the full impact of those words to sink in. Nora did not get home until close 'till dawn. She stayed at the hospital with Christopher while the paperwork was being filled out. He was completely dazed and said little. He signed where the doctors told him to sign and simply nodded when the nurse on duty offered to call Crystal Lake's only funeral pallor. He took the business card handed to him and nodded again when they told him to call in the morning. First, however, the doctor told them, there would have to be an autopsy to determine the cause of Maureen's death. For the first time all evening Christopher reacted. “Isn't it obvious,” he yelled, “why would you want to do an autopsy? Don't tell me you don't know how she died?” The doctor put his hand on Christopher's arm, while Nora stood by helplessly. “I understand that you're very upset sir,” he said gently, “but you must realize that there is a chance that foul play was

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involved. At this point we can't tell whether she was pushed or she fell. An autopsy is standard procedure in cases like this.” Christopher's eyes widened at the doctor's words. “You've got to be kidding,” he exploded. “We had a houseful of guests - all close friends. Are you trying to tell me that one of them pushed her? That's preposterous.” “Christopher, calm down,” Nora said trying unsuccessfully to soothe him. Things were close to getting out of hand. The doctor patted Christopher's arm again in an attempt to defuse the situation. “It's the law, Mr. Warren, you must realize that. It's nothing personal.” “That's right,” thundered a voice from the door, “it's the law. No exceptions.” They all turned and looked. Standing in the doorway was a man in an official looking uniform. From the outfit he was wearing he appeared to be some sort of a law enforcement official. But if he were not in uniform, Nora would have sworn that he was a movie star - a little older than Tom Cruise and maybe a little taller. He held out his hand to Nora and introduced himself. “Sheriff Pretzer,” he said. Nora reached for his hand and responded, “Nora Haston.” Then he turned to Christopher and said, “With a wound like that, Mr. Warren, not only are we going to want an autopsy, but we're going to want to talk to everyone who was at your house last night. That includes all the guests and any hired help you may have had for the evening.” The anger seemed to have evaporated from Christopher as quickly as it had appeared. “yes, of course,” he said, “you're right. I'll have someone from the office prepare a list for you first thing in the morning.” Sheriff Pretzer took two business cards out of his wallet and handed one to Nora and the other to Christopher. “I'd like each of you to come in and give us a statement.” Although he was speaking to both of them his eyes were riveted on Nora. “I understand you found the body,” he said. She nodded her head. “Well,” he continued, “ordinarily I'd insist on taking your statements tonight. But it's late and you both look exhausted. So we'll wait 'till morning. But that's all. Call first thing in the morning - and I mean first thing.” They both nodded at him too tired and dazed to argue. With that he touched his cap as if to say goodnight and turned to leave. He took two steps and then turned back and asked Nora, “Do you need a ride somewhere?” Nora looked around to see whom he was talking to. When she realized she was being addressed, she nodded appreciatively. She had given no thought to how she would get home. “Yes, thank you,” she said gratefully, “yes I do.

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She took a step in his direction when she realized that Christopher Warren had no transportation either. They had both come in the ambulance with Maureen. “And Mr. Warren also? “ she asked. “We both came in the ambulance.” Sheriff Pretzer frowned at Christopher and said, “of course.” Christopher was in such a daze that he did not realize what was going on. Nora doubted that he had given any thought to how he would get home. Everything had happened so quickly. “Come on,” Sheriff Pretzer said, “I'll drop you both off.” The three of them left and wordlessly got into the police car. They dropped Nora at her house first. As she got out of the car, Christopher spoke for the first time. “Give me your car keys,” he said. “I'll have someone bring your car over in the morning.” She took the car key off her key ring and handed it to him wordlessly. She was so exhausted she could barely think. In fact, she was trying not to think. Maureen's last words whirred around in her mind - husband back woods - what did it mean. If he had not mentioned her car she would have forgotten about it completely. She went up to her bedroom, threw her clothes on the floor and fell into bed. She was bushed, both physically and mentally. She didn't want to think. She wanted to sleep. She was afraid to think. She was frightened of the conclusions she might draw if she thought and she could barely keep her eyes opened. She got her wish. She slept. When she awoke the next morning the sun was shining brightly. She was relaxed and well rested. She stretched and smiled and rolled over leisurely to look at the clock. What she saw caused her to fly out of bed. It was 11:15 in the morning. No wonder she felt rested. Where was Sara? Then she remembered. The smile left her face. She knew she would have to call the sheriff, set up an interview and she would have to relive the previous evening. She could no longer put off thinking - thinking about everything she knew - thinking about what might have happened - thinking about the things she wanted to avoid thinking about. It could no longer be avoided. She threw on her robe and ran down to the kitchen. She put on a pot of coffee. She looked at her answering machine and saw the light blinking three times - three messages. Was it possible she had slept through the phone ringing on three separate occasions? She hit the button and listened. The first call was from Sheriff Pretzer's office demanding that she call immediately. That call had come in at 9:30. This was followed by a call from Mrs. White who said that she and Sara were going into town to run some errands and then to see an early movie. They would not be back 'till late afternoon. And finally, Dave Laurence's secretary called. She was rescheduling Christopher's appointments. She

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cancelled the appointment later in the week and requested that Nora call to reschedule for sometime in the first week in January. The timing for this interview was getting dicier. Nora poured herself a cup of coffee and got Sheriff Pretzer's card from her purse. She dialed the number and was put through immediately. “Where the hell have you been?” he demanded angrily. “I said first thing in the morning and it's almost lunch time.” “I'm sorry, “ Nora explained, “but I was exhausted when I got home last night. I fell into bed never even thought to set the alarm.” “Well, I guess I can understand that. You had quite a shock,” he agreed in a tone that was not quite as harsh. “I'll get there as quickly as I can. “No need to rush. Have some breakfast and then come in,” he added in an even softer voice. She agreed to come down to the station in an hour. He gave her the address and then hung up after saying good-bye. She finished her first cup of coffee quickly and reached for the phone again. This time she dialed the number Dave Laurence's secretary had left. Nancy Driand, Dave's secretary, set up an appointment for Nora in the first week in January. And she told Nora that Maureen's funeral had been scheduled for the fifteenth and gave her the address of the funeral home. Nora poured herself another cup of coffee and headed up to take a shower. She needed to think a little before she spoke to the sheriff. From the tone in his voice at the end of their conversation, she didn't think he'd mind. She wondered if he was this understanding with everyone. She turned on the shower and stepped in. She let the water beat against her face and then her back and she thought. And thought. To begin with there was something strange about this marriage. The sudden surprise announcement of the engagement and the rushed wedding ceremony would have suggested a pregnant bride in another era. But this was not the case here. And why did they marry in the first place? That was the real mystery. Christopher had never appeared happy about the wedding. And Maureen apparently had soured on it fairly quickly. Why? From all appearances Christopher was an uncaring husband who put his business before his marriage. That certainly didn't make him a murderer. But there was more. It appeared that although they had been married only a few short weeks, Maureen had given up on Christopher and making the marriage work. Nora was positive from her last conversation with Maureen that the marriage was going to end. At the time Maureen had called, she had been secretly pleased. Perhaps there would be a future for herself and that man she seemed to have a connection to,

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that intelligent man who had invited her and Sara to the party, the one she had … and then she shook her head. She and Christopher had never been intimate and now she was letting a silly dream color her thoughts. What she wasn't sure of was who had made that decision to end the marriage - Maureen or Christopher or both? All the evidence seemed to paint Christopher as a thoughtless and perhaps even cruel husband. But did this make him a murderer? - -Then there was Maureen's last words “Husband, back woods.” What did that mean? Christopher was her husband. Was it conceivable that Maureen and Christopher had argued and he had pushed her in a fit of anger? That was possible. Although Christopher did not appear to be a violent man, Nora realized that she did not know him well. Perhaps he did occasionally lose his temper and react violently. Maybe that was why Dave had been so quick to jump in and claim that his friend had been with him during those crucial minutes. Was Dave defending his friend or was he afraid of what the bad publicity might do to the firm if his partner were implicated? - -What was out in the back woods. Nora was certain that the sheriff had people searching there for clues already. Nora tried to remember where Christopher had come from when she ran into him while she was looking at the paintings in his living room. The harder she thought the more uncertain she became. He had been watching her for some time. Of that she was sure. But she wasn't sure how long he had been watching her. It could have been thirty seconds or it could have been ten minutes. And he was standing practically right behind her when he spoke. She never heard him come into the room. She had no idea where in the house he had come from. Of one thing she was certain. He had been watching her for a while. She just did not know how long that while was. For the ten minutes they had chatted he seemed perfectly relaxed. Would a man who had just had a violent argument with his wife and pushed her be able to appear so calm? Only a man with no conscience could have done that, she decided, or one who had finally gotten rid of a wife he didn't love. As far as Nora could tell, Christopher had never demonstrated anything resembling even affection for Maureen. As she dressed in some old jeans and a sweatshirt she wondered how much of this she would tell the sheriff. She would tell them all about finding Maureen. There was no question about that. They would know about the quickie marriage. But would she tell them that the marriage was unhappy? She had no real proof that the marriage was failing. But in her heart she knew it was. And if she told them that she knew that Christopher had not been with Dave the whole time he claimed to be, Christopher would look very guilty. Somehow, she didn't think he'd done it. But then, why lie. Was she being swayed by her hopes and dreams? And if he wasn't with Dave where was he? Her mind went around and around.

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And what was in the back woods? The more she thought the more distracted she became. She came to no conclusions and reached no decision. If anything, she was more confused than ever. Before leaving, she wrote a quick note to Mrs. White apologizing for sleeping late and not being there when they returned from the movies. She did not explain in the note about what happened. She simply said that she would explain when she saw them later. After taping the note to Mrs. White's door, she got in her car and headed for the sheriff's office. It was the car that finally decided her. She was half way to town before she realized that her car had been returned. Christopher had arranged for it. She had completely forgotten about it. Could a man who was thoughtful enough to have her car returned something she had completely forgotten about be vicious enough to push his wife and leave her there with a head wound bleeding? Or did he return her car to keep her away from his house and the back woods - and whatever secret was in those woods - the secret Maureen had tried to desperately to tell. So she made up her mind. She would tell them what she knew, the hard facts. But she would not tell them about her conjectures that marriage was unhappy. She had no real proof anyway. It was quite possible that her own dreams were getting in the way of her seeing the marriage clearly. Maybe Christopher would tell them that himself. She would not mention seeing Christopher right before finding the body. Not unless he had told them that he was with her. Somehow, she didn't think he would. If they asked the right questions, she would tell them. She could not lie. But if they did not ask, she would offer no additional information. As she pulled into a parking space a block from the sheriff's office, the local newspaper caught her eye. The lead article in the LAKER's screamed, WIFE KILLED AT XMAS BASH. In smaller letters it went on to say, 'Husband A Suspect'. Nora shuddered. She thought she had left this type of journalism behind in New York. So much for keeping this quiet. She guessed Mrs. ^ White would figure out why she was down at the sheriff's office. She threw thirty five cents down and picked up a copy. She still had a few minutes before she was due at the sheriff's so she got back in her car and read the article. The paper must have gone to print very early this morning and so it had very little factual information other than the fact that Maureen had been killed. Some information about Warren Laurence Associates was included. The paper speculated about the marriage and the fact that it had happened so quickly. Unfortunately, someone had told a reporter at the newspaper about Maureen's last words. That accounted for the report that Christopher was a possible suspect. The article was very short on facts. Nora suspected that the story had come in right before the paper went to print, leaving the paper not only

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short on facts but also short on time. She reread the article a second time. She couldn't tell if Christopher was really a suspect or the paper was simply calling him one because of Maureen's last words, or maybe both. After all, when a wife is killed, a husband is usually a suspect. In this case Maureen's damming words - husband back woods - directed attention down one path. And there could be little doubt whom she was pointing at.

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Chapter 11

“So nice of you to join us, Ms. Haston,” drawled Sheriff Pretzer as Nora rushed into his office. “Can I get you a cup of coffee or something?” Ignoring the sarcasm in his voice, Nora shook her head and sat down in the chair in front of his desk. He questioned her for close to an hour, taking notes whenever she said anything he felt might be useful. He asked her to repeat Maureen's last words several times. “You realize this seems to implicate Mr. Warren?” he asked. She nodded her head in agreement. “Have you any idea what Mrs. Warren thought was in the back woods,” he asked. He took Nora off guard for a minute. She had never heard anyone call Maureen by her married name. She shook her head. She had no idea. As the interview went on, it became apparent that his interest in her extended beyond the case. By the end of the interview, Nora felt comfortable enough to ask him a few questions. She turned the table and asked him what he thought Maureen had meant by the back woods remark. He shook his head and said he didn't know but meant to find out. Several police officers were out combing through the woods behind the Warren house looking for clues. They had been out there since dawn but had found nothing of interest. Of course, they really did not know what they were looking for but Sheriff Pretzer was confident that they’d know what they were looking for when they found it. Nora wanted to ask more questions but decided against it. She suspected that the sheriff's interest in her was more than professional. She smiled to herself. She had been married for so long it often came as a surprise to her when she discovered that the opposite sex was interested in her. Men were attracted to her quiet good looks and demeanor. At this point she was not quite ready to try dating again and she did not want to encourage him. That would not be fair. After her last venture she was not sure she would ever be ready again. Besides, she wanted to get home and pick up Sara. She apologized again for her lateness and got ready to leave. The sheriff walked her to the door. He could be quite

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charming when he put his mind to it. He asked if she had had any trouble retrieving her car. She reminded him that Christopher had promised to see that the car was delivered to her. “And,” she added, “He was a man of his word.” The sheriff did not reply to this. He just nodded his head absentmindedly and waved her good bye. She wondered if he thought it suspicious, but since he did not pursue the topic, she dropped it. She ran to her car. She could not wait to get home to the safety of her home and the normalcy that Sara brought to her life. It was not until she was half way home that it hit her. Maybe Christopher was not so considerate after all. Maybe he had just not wanted her out by his house. Maybe he had something to hide and did not want to take the chance of her stumbling on to whatever it was. Maybe he had something to retrieve from the back woods. Perhaps that was why he was so eager to arrange for her car to be returned to her. Maybe he was not as chivalrous as she had originally thought. She shook her head as though to force these thoughts out of her mind. She did not know what to think. But she knew she no longer wanted to think about Maureen and her sudden demise. She shook her head as though that would chase the unwanted thoughts from her mind. As she parked her car in front of her house, Sara and Mrs. White pulled in right behind her. “Come on in for a cup of coffee, dear,” her neighbor called, “we want to hear everything. What happened?” As Nora helped Mrs. White with her packages she noticed the morning's copy of the LAKER'S lying on the sofa. She guessed that by now everyone on Crystal Lake knew what happened. “Everyone in town was talking about the accident... or was it murder?” Mrs. White said as she put on a pot of coffee. Nora apologized for not picking Sara up earlier, but Mrs. White brushed off her remarks. “Nothing to apologize for,” she said, “I love her company. She brightens up my day.” Nora noticed that Sara was smiling although she pretended she did not hear what her neighbor had said. “Was my car here when you left at nine thirty?” Nora asked Mrs. White. “The sheriff brought me home last night and Christopher arranged to have it delivered.” Mrs. White gave her an odd look. “Not only was it here at nine thirty,” she said, “it was here at six thirty when I got up. I looked out to see if the Globe had been delivered yet and the car was there then.” Nora frowned for a minute. That would seem to further reinforce the idea that had hit her while she was driving home. Maybe Christopher did have something to hide. He must have made provisions to have her car returned as soon as he got back to his house. Or maybe he just made the plans before going to bed. Maybe it was just simpler for him that way. She shook her head determined once again to

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forget about the previous evening - and she succeeded. The two women chatted companionably about the weather and Sara and the upcoming holidays. Nora soon relaxed and forgot about the previous night. After an hour she and Sara headed home. The next morning Nora read all about the most exciting news story to hit Crystal Lake not only in the LAKER'S but also in the Boston Globe. If Christopher had not been so prominent, the mysterious death of his wife would never have made the Globe. The police had interviewed everyone at the party to determine their -whereabouts during the hour before Nora had found the body. Everyone was accounted for except an eighty year old secretary, a messenger and two waiters who were working at the party. The office manager had vouched for the two employees. In fact, one was even a relative of one of the partners although the paper did not say which one. The two waiters had been held for twelve hours but the police had no evidence to hold them, so they were released. They were not ruled out as suspects but the sheriff indicated that he doubted that either of them was responsible. The cause of death was, as Nora suspected, from the head injury the victim received when she fell or was pushed into the ledge on the fireplace. The police had not ruled out the possibility of an intruder although Mr. Warren had not reported anything missing from the house. The funeral was planned for the fifteenth - and that was it. Although the article in the LAKER'S was longer than the one in the Globe, it contained no additional information, just a rehash of old information about the company. There was not the slightest hint in any of the articles that the marriage was unhappy. Nora suspected that old Mr. Laurence was behind that. Nora answered the phone on the third ring. It was Nancy Driand again. She said that while cleaning out Maureen's desk she had come upon a file marked “Re: CW article”. The folder contained company brochures, some quite old, along with copies of newspaper and magazine articles and quite a few press releases. “I think Maureen would want you to have this even though she didn't get a chance to finish putting everything she wanted into it,” said Nancy. “Would you like me to mail it to you or would you like to drop by the office and pick it up?” Nora said she had to come to town the next day and would stop by to pick the folder up. She and Nancy agreed on eleven in the morning on the following day. The next morning Nora picked up her copy of the LAKER'S and cringed. Since Maureen's death was the biggest news story that Crystal Lake had seen in years, the story was still making headlines. The headline today simply read AUTOPSY RESULT ??? The article went on to say that the autopsy

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results were inconclusive. The medical coroner could not tell whether Maureen had been pushed or had fallen. Nora was a little surprised to see the autopsy results released so quickly. Although not familiar with such matters, she was under the vague impression an autopsy took longer than a few days. She shrugged. What did she know? Besides it was unlikely that the coroner in Crystal Lake had all the latest equipment or knew all the latest techniques. She doubted he had seen many murder victims. She arrived at Warren Laurence Associates a little before eleven. She planned on running in, getting the file and getting out without talking to anyone other than Nancy. She did not want to see Christopher. She would see him tomorrow at the funeral and that would be enough. She had no idea what she would say to him if she saw him. There were too many questions in her mind, too many things that did not make sense, too many loose ends. When she arrived, Nancy was sitting at Maureen's old desk. She got up and shook Nora's outstretched hand. “Nice to see you,” she said, “too bad it couldn't have been under different circumstances.” Nora nodded. “Come with me back to my desk,” Nancy continued. “I put the folder in my desk.” Nora followed Nancy about ten feet. Nancy sat down at her desk and opened a drawer. From the top she pulled out a folder. As she removed the folder from the drawer a few pieces of paper folded together fell on the floor. Neither women noticed. “Here it is,” she said as she handed the folder to Nora. Nora opened her briefcase and put the folder in. She snapped the case shut and stood up to leave. The two women chatted for a few minutes and then Nora turned to leave. Nancy told her how busy they all were. She said no one really realized how much work Maureen had done until she was gone. Nancy had begun setting up interviews for Christopher to find a new secretary. She had several set up for the end of the week. When Nancy saw the shocked look on Nora's face, she tried to explain how necessary it was that Christopher needed to have a competent secretary as quickly as possible. Nora said goodbye and was almost out the door when she heard Nancy call her. She turned around to see Nancy picking up the few fallen pieces of paper from the floor. “These must have fallen from the folder,” she said handing them to Nora. “Thanks,” said Nora taking the papers. Instead of stopping to open her briefcase again, she simply stuck them without thinking in her purse. When she got home she took the file out of her briefcase and looked through it. The file contained copies of the company's brochures, both current and past, along with copies of articles most of

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which Nora already had gotten from Bob. Maureen was right. There were some things in the file that she did not have, things besides the press releases. Of most interest was a small article from the Laker printed several years earlier. It was an engagement announcement for Christopher Warren and Anne Waters of Boston. Anne was a well-respected analyst with an old line Bostonian investment firm. That she and Christopher Warren knew each other was no surprise. That she and Christopher the supposed confirmed bachelor - had been engaged at one time was another matter entirely. The few articles that had contained any personal information about Christopher always indicated that he was unmarried and was likely to remain that way for the rest of his days. What was even more startling was that Maureen would have thought that Christopher would have wanted Nora to know about it. Nora doubted that he would allow any mention to that old engagement, especially in light of his recent troubles. But then, it really had nothing to do with the piece she had been hired to write. But still... Nora wondered what had happened to that engagement and why Maureen would want her to know about it. That didn’t make sense. She thought Maureen would prefer that the news of the old engagement not be included. She took out a pad, made a few notes. She was also a little surprised by the rest of the information that Maureen had chosen to include. Much of it was information that was common knowledge in the financial community and the rest added little. But why include the engagement announcement for a marriage that had never taken place? Nora shook her head. It didn't add up. Then she got her list of questions for the interview, which now would not take place for almost another three weeks and added a few questions. She was not sure she would ask about Anne. She would have to see how the interview was going. But just in case, she wanted to have some questions ready. Maureen would not make much of a contribution to the article after all. Time permitting, the next time she was in Boston she might pop in and see Anne for a few minutes. When she was finished, she put the folder along with the notes and her list of questions away. She was determined to put Christopher Warren, his wife's death, her silly dream, and all her nagging questions about it away for good. She was prepared for the interview and did not need to do any more work for it. With the holidays fast approaching, she was determined that Sara and Christmas were all that she would focus on for the next two weeks. Like Scarlet O'Hara, she'd worry about the rest tomorrow. Only Nora's tomorrow was next year. Maureen was buried on the day Nora was supposed to have had her first interview with Christopher. The day was cold and gray. The ceremony was small and she was buried in a singe plot in the local cemetery. The ceremony was short and the minister said few words. The only people at the

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funeral were Warren Laurence and Associates employees and a few of Maureen's neighbors. Nora didn't think there was anyone at the funeral who didn't live at Crystal Lake. Then she looked around a second time. She did not recognize the tall, slender, fashionably dressed woman standing next to Christopher. She looked vaguely familiar but Nora could not place her. There was an odd intimacy between Christopher and this woman, whoever she was. At one point during the brief ceremony, a lock of Christopher's dark hair had fallen into his eyes. She had gently and affectionately reached up and brushed it back into place. Christopher had smiled at her when she did this. Nora felt like an intruder watching the two of them. It was as though Maureen's life started the day she moved to Crystal Lake. Christopher Warren left the cemetery with the mystery woman who stood beside him at the ceremony. He returned to his office immediately following the burial, as though nothing had happened. The rest of Crystal Lake returned to their homes and their holiday preparations. Maureen's death might have been allowed to fade into oblivion but for one person. Old Mr. Laurence, Dave Laurence's father, had told Nora that he looked upon Christopher Warren as a second son. Now, he worried about him as if he were his own. Some say he worried more about Christopher than he did about Dave. But then, there was nothing to worry about when it came to Dave. The fates seemed to have smiled on Dave Laurence. Everything went his way - whether it was school or business or his personal life. Nothing seemed to go wrong for him. He had always done well in school, now had a thriving business, which he loved. He had a wife he adored and three wonderful children. Nothing ever went wrong for this man. Christopher, on the other hand, always appeared worried. While school had been easy for him, he had had to work hard to pay for it. And, although he had the same business as Dave, he worried about it constantly. It was his whole life. Of course, he did not have old family money to fall back on if the business failed. So, old Mr. Laurence worried about Christopher the way most people worry about their own offspring. He was concerned and was determined that Christopher not carry around with him forever, the stigma of somehow being responsible for his wife's death. Unless the crime were solved, everyone would believe Christopher were guilty. He did not want people whispering behind Christopher's back for the rest of his life. This is what he was afraid would happen if the mystery surrounding Maureen's death were never solved. It was already starting. People were buzzing about it all over town. The next time something like this happened, Mr. Laurence did not want Christopher dragged in for questioning because people were always a little suspicious about what happened to his wife. He’d seen it happen

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before, the insidious gossip that could eat away at a person’s reputation and self worth. If he had anything to say about it, this would not happen to Christopher. So, old Mr. Laurence used his power and position in the community to raise a ruckus and see that this was not just another unsolved crime. He was convinced that Christopher was innocent and was determine to prove it. He wanted everyone else to know this also. The first thing Mr. Laurence did was hire one of the best private forensic investigators in the country. The investigator immediately arranged to have the body exhumed and a second autopsy performed. A complete autopsy - not just a quickie rush job like the first attempt. This one was done by one of the best, an expert flown in from Boston. This time the latest technology was used and this time the cause of death was exact. The blow to the head, which had resulted when person or persons unknown forcibly pushed her, had caused Maureen Warren’s death. There was no chance, according to the expert, that Maureen could have fallen by accident. Absolutely none. She had been pushed. Of this he was certain. This finding, along with Mr. Laurence's daily prodding forced the police to reopen the case. They would begin by re-interviewing everyone who had been at the party that night.

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Chapter 12

Nora got her call from Sheriff Pretzer's office exactly one week before Christmas. The sheriff wanted her to come in and go over her statement. He said he had a few more questions for her. She was told to plan on spending between an hour and an hour and a half. Old Mr. Laurence had really gotten under the sheriff's skin. Everyday LAKER'S carried another article questioning the police's inability to find Maureen's killer. The paper had even gone so far as to call Sheriff Pretzer incompetent and suggested he resign. Nora was sure he was not pleased about that. So, back Nora went one more time for a second interview. The police were focusing on the timeline. They kept going over and over the time when she found the body. They asked her about the noises she heard both on her way to the bathroom and on her way back. Did she think the killer was in the bathroom when she went by the first time? Did she see anything, no matter how small or insignificant that perhaps she had forgotten? Did she hear anything else? Was she sure she heard something when she went by the first time? Could she tell if anyone was in the room with Maureen? They asked her the same questions over and over until she thought she would scream. Unfortunately she could shed no new light on the mystery. She knew they weren't harassing her but were under a lot of pressure and were desperately trying to solve the case. She understood how important it was for them to uncover any inconsistencies or flaws in her story. Still, it was quite trying, no matter how nice the sheriff tried to be. As stressed as Nora was, she had to admit, he made every effort to be pleasant. Nora herself probably would have been a suspect if it were not for the fact that half the guests saw her walk up the stairs and into the bathroom and then come out again ten minutes later. Joan, Dave Laurence's wife, had told the police that she'd watched Nora walk out of the bathroom, stop and listen, and then continue on. Nora was a bit surprised no one asked her how she knew where the bathroom was. She'd made up her mind, before coming in to give her second statement, not to lie. She hadn't lied

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the first time and she wasn't going to this time either. If she was asked she would have told that Christopher had been with her part of the time that Dave claimed they'd been together. Of course, that would have made Christopher look guilty. But at this point Nora was not sure about his motives. Dave wouldn't look so good either. Of course, old Mr. Laurence would really be angry with her then. But no one asked and so the matter remained uncovered. Since Joan had glanced at her watch as Nora left the bathroom, the police were able to establish the exact time Maureen was found. The autopsy had concluded that Maureen had been pushed between thirty and sixty minutes before Nora discovered her lying on the floor. Eventually they finished with their questioning and she left the station. She had been at the police station for close to three hours. The whole morning was shot. When she arrived home she took out her bike and rode down to the beach. She needed to relax and a deserted beach was just what she needed. Once she arrived at the beach, she leaned her bike against a wooden fence and walked down to the shore. The beach in the winter was one of the things Nora liked best about Crystal Lake. The air was crisp and there was nothing around to interrupt her thoughts except a few sea gulls. The quiet lapping of the water was soothing. She walked quickly down the beach for almost half a mile until she came to her rock. The rock was the size of a small car - half in and half out of the water. There were a few smaller rocks around it. Gingerly, she stepped on one of the smaller rocks and then very carefully, she climbed up the rock and sat on top of it to think. She often came to this rock to sort out matters in her mind. It was sitting on this very rock that she had made the final decision to quit her job and bring Sara to Crystal Lake. I'll be in a fine mess, she thought, if I fall in. And out there alone, with only the water and the sea gulls and the quiet, she finally thought things through - or at least tried to. She began to unwind. She took several deep breaths, closed her eyes and enjoyed the bright afternoon. She tried to calm her mind, which was racing in every direction. It was useless. No matter how hard she tried she couldn’t stop thinking about what had happened. She stopped fighting her thoughts and focused. Obviously, someone had pushed Maureen, either accidentally or on purpose. Maureen had no enemies and no one had gained anything from her death - except Christopher. Maureen's timely demise saved him the embarrassment and expense of a messy divorce. He certainly didn't seem to be mourning the death of his wife and he wasn't where he said he was right before his wife's death. Or rather where Dave Laurence said he was right before Maureen's accident.

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Then there was the business of the mystery woman at Maureen's funeral. Who was she? Nora could have sworn that she had seen her somewhere before. The woman looked familiar but Nora could not figure out where she had seen her before or what was she doing at the funeral? The more Nora mulled over the facts in her head, the less sense they made. Eventually, she shook her head as if to shake the thoughts away and climbed down from her rock. Somehow she couldn't believe that the nice man who brought pizzas to her house could have killed his wife. That man who had invited her and her delighted daughter to the War-Law Ball that long ago September Sunday afternoon did not seem to have a mean bone in his body. But then...-ugh, she reflected she didn't want to think about that - not if she could help it. Her mind kept going back to the woman at the funeral. Then it hit her like a woman possessed. She jumped of the rock and raced down the beach to retrieve her bike. Sara was already home from school when Nora rode up on her bike. As Nora came in the front door Sara called to her, “Can you help me with my Math homework?” “In a little bit, honey. There's something I have to do first.” Nora ran to her desk and began ruffling through the papers. She knew she had seen that mystery woman from the funeral somewhere before. While she was cycling home she finally remembered where. Her picture was in one of the background articles Bob had sent from the magazine. Nora was positive. She could see the picture in her mind. Now all she had to do was find it. Nora found the folder that contained the articles and sat down on the floor. She shuffled through the papers glancing quickly at any that had a picture. The first time through she didn't see anything but she was certain. She went through the folder of articles for the second time more carefully and she found what she was looking for. She had almost missed it. It was a picture of Dave Laurence at a Celtics game. Nora had to look very closely at the picture to make sure but she was right. Her memory was dam good, she told herself. Sitting next to him was Christopher and next to Christopher was the mystery woman. The photo was over seven years old and the caption simply said Dave Laurence and friends. So, this woman was an old friend, if not more. She was positive that the woman had not been at the wedding. She was very striking looking and given the small number of guests, Nora would have noticed her. Hmmm, thought Nora unable to come to any conclusions. She put the article and her thoughts aside and went to help her daughter with her homework.

Nora and Sara celebrated a quiet Christmas that year. Nora gave herself a week's vacation. She spent her time with Sara and even took her for a few days to Boston. They walked The Freedom Trail,

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despite the freezing weather, visited the children's Museum and drank tons of hot chocolate at Fanueil Hall. Nora forgot all about Christopher Warren and Crystal Lake and her problems. Well, she forgot them for most of the time. Every once in a while she’d find herself daydreaming about that night Christopher came to the house and had dinner with her and Sara. When her mind started remembering that strangely vivid dream of herself with Christopher, she’d shake herself and think of other things. She could not believe how hard it was to forget, no matter how many times she willed herself to do just that. Since she was in Boston anyway, she called Anne Waters and made a short appointment to see her while she and Sara were in the city. When Nora explained that she'd left her job in New York and was doing an article for FW, Anne said that she'd be delighted to spare her a half an hour - more if she needed it. It wasn't until she'd hung up the phone that Nora realized she hadn't told Anne what the subject of her article was. She considered calling back but then decided against it. When the afternoon of the interview arrived, Nora had second thoughts. She worried about leaving Sara alone in the hotel room by herself for an hour or so. When she asked Sara if she'd be okay, Sara responded the way she usually did when Nora fussed over her, “Oh Ma, really,” she said, “I’m almost thirteen-.” So that was that. As Nora hurried along the chilly streets of Boston to her interview, she finally admitted to herself that while she was a little worried about leaving Sara by herself, she was major league worried about Anne's reaction when she realized Nora had come to talk about Christopher Warren. Well, she decided, she'd ease into it gently. She took a deep breath and hoped for the best as she entered the building where Anne's office was located. She sat in the softly lit reception area while the young woman at the front desk called Anne to let her know that Nora had arrived. Nora stood up and smiled as Anne opened one of the large oak doors that separated the reception area from the rest of the offices. Although she did not know Anne well, she had always liked her. She knew some people found her gruff or cold, but Nora saw beyond that. They’d worked on opposite sides of the fence on several deals in the past, and Nora had come to like and respect the fabled ice queen. As Anne walked towards Nora, she extended her right hand as she ran her left hand through her blonde hair. Nora noticed a thin band of gold on her left hand. “Nice to see you,” Anne said as they shook hands. “Thank you for seeing me on such short notice,” replied Nora, “and might I add congratulations. When did you get married?”

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“In the spring.” The two women exchanged pleasantries as they walked towards Anne's office. “Now,” she continued as they sat down in her office, “what's this article you're writing about?” So much for easing into it slowly thought Nora. “It's a profile piece,” she said hesitating for a minute, before adding “of Christopher Warren - one of the..” “I know who he is,” Anne said very quietly in a cold clipped tone. Nora could have sworn she had turned white for a moment. “If I had realized that you were writing about him, I would never have agreed to see you. Please don’t be offended but I am going to have to ask you to leave. I have nothing to say about Mr. Warren.” Nora was a bit taken back both by the frigidness in her voice and her reference to Christopher as Mr. Warren. It was as if she were talking about a complete stranger instead of a man she had one been engaged to. Nora stood up uncertainly for a minute trying to figure out a way to save the interview. Anne had picked up a memo from her desk and was pretending to read it. But Nora could see that her hand was shaking. “I really have nothing to say,” she said one more time. She never looked up again. Nora stood there for another thirty seconds and then she turned and left. She did not know what else to do. Clearly, she had been dismissed and just as clearly she had upset Anne. But, why, she wondered? What could possibly have happened between the two of them to make Anne act so strangely? Before she walked out the door, she turned to Anne and said, “I'm sorry Anne, I didn't mean to upset you. Can we pretend that this never happened?” Without looking up, Anne barely shook her head up and down in agreement. After descending to the street level in the elevator, Nora left the building. She stood on the street for a few minutes trying to figure out what had just happened. She contemplated returning to Anne’s office once again to try and make amends. As she stood there, Anne came out of the building. Her lips were tightly pressed together and she marched straight ahead – a woman on a mission with a definite destination. She was so engrossed in her thoughts she never saw Nora standing to one side. Nora considered following her but then thought better of it. Anne could have been going somewhere that had absolutely nothing to do with Christopher Warren, the murder or the article. She hurried back to the hotel and was back in her room with Sara in less than half an hour. Sara was surprised to see her back so soon. “Wasn't the lady there?” she asked Nora. “She was there all right,” answered Nora, “but she didn't want to talk about Christopher. I'm going to forget I ever went to see her.” But of course she couldn't. Nora wondered what Christopher had done to make this woman react the way she did. When she got back to Crystal Lake she dropped Anne a short note offering her

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apologies for the intrusion and assuring her that there would be no mention of Anne in the article. But she still wondered what had happened. January was like a cold slap in the face. It was Nora's least favorite month of the year, and this year was proving no exception. The day for her interview finally arrived. Sara went back to school and Nora set off for her long awaited meeting with Christopher Warren. It was almost three o'clock as she ran up the flight of stairs to the second floor in the old office building where Warren Laurence and Associates had their offices. She opened the door to walk in when she was stopped suddenly by loud voices. She could hear yelling. She was taken back as the offices at Warren Laurence and Associates, like those of most investment bankers, were always library quiet. The silence was shattered by a man's voice. As Nora listened, she realized it was Christopher's voice. “Where are those pictures?” he barked at the woman sitting in Maureen's old desk. Nora noticed that he had not wasted any time finding a replacement for Maureen. “I called the mailroom over two hours ago Mr. Warren,” the woman explained, “and they said they'd send someone over right away.” “Who'd you talk to,” demanded Christopher. “Charlie.” “Get him on the phone. Never mind, I'll do it myself.” By this time Nora noticed, heads were peaking out of most of the offices on the small floor. All the secretaries were looking busily down at their desks while studiously straining to hear every word. Christopher stormed back into his office while Nora waited a moment. She didn't think that this was a good time to announce her arrival. Christopher hit the button on his speakerphone and the whole office heard the next conversation. “Charlie,” Christopher screeched, “Where are those pictures? I need them now.” “I'm sorry sir,” the voice on the speaker phone answered, “we sent a messenger over to pick them up as soon as Sally called, but he hasn't returned.” “What do you mean he hasn't returned? It shouldn't take ten minutes to pick up those pictures never mind two hours.” “I know sir. I'll send someone else around to get those pictures right away.” “Do that.” And then there was ten seconds of silence. “And Charlie,” Christopher said, “that first guy - FIRE HIM.” “But Mr. Warren,” Charlie interrupted, “the first messenger we sent is your cousin's kid.”

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“What are you talking about?” barked Christopher, “I don't have any relatives working here. Where'd you get a crazy idea like that?” “Ms. Strebor, I mean, uh, Mrs. Warren ...,” said Charlie. This seemed to infuriate Christopher even more. “That's ridiculous,” Christopher said almost before Charlie had finished. “You heard me. FIRE HIM.” And with that, with no good bye of any sort, he smacked the button on the speakerphone again and the room went silent. No one moved for a moment and then muttering and paper shuffling could be heard everywhere as Christopher walked out of his office. Everyone, including Nora, moved quickly. No one wanted to be caught listening. The heads disappeared back into the offices and started pounding on the keyboards. Nora let the door close in front of her as she beat a hasty retreat out of the building. Oh, this would be a lovely interview, she thought, Christopher Warren certainly had a temper. Mentally, she crossed of her list of questions, those she had added about Anne Waters. They really had nothing to do with the piece anyway. Nora was not stupid. With the mood Christopher Warren appeared to be in, a question about Anne Waters might easily end the interview. Nora walked around the block twice and then forced herself to go back. She climbed the stairs much slower this time dreading what was ahead. You've got to do this she told herself as she opened the door and entered. If she could get the interview and complete the article to everyone's satisfaction, she could not have to worry about money for a few months – enough time to get the first draft of her next book finished.

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Chapter 13

Nora was not surprised that the interview started awkwardly. She began by her offering condolences even though she felt foolish doing so. Immediately, she knew that it was a mistake to mention Maureen, but the words were already out and she couldn't get them back. Christopher brushed her remarks aside as if she were a pesky fly. “Let's get going,” he said brusquely. “Okay,” replied Nora taking a small tape recorder from her briefcase. She used it for all of her important interviews. No one had ever objected. “Do you mind if I tape our discussion?” she asked, as she got ready to turn the recorder on. “I’d prefer that you don’t use that thing,” replied Christopher. Slightly surprised, Nora nodded and took out her notes. Luckily she was over prepared and had written out close to one hundred potential questions. When she had prepared the list of questions, she thought she had been wasting her time. She expected that they would have the same free flowing conversation they had that long ago Sunday afternoon at her house. She couldn’t have been more wrong. Now she was glad that she had her silly list of questions. She could scarcely believe that this was the same man. He was distracted. He obviously had other things on his mind. Perhaps he was thinking about what had happened earlier. He answered each of her questions as quickly as possible. Nora had hoped that her questions would provoke some discussion and would elicit some interesting anecdotes, but she was getting nowhere. She was getting no new information and was starting to sweat. At this rate she would have been able to write the piece from the articles Bob had sent. She knew that would not be acceptable to a magazine like Financial Weekly.

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After fifteen minutes she was beginning to get desperate. At the speed they were going, she'd be finished in half an hour and would have gotten no useful information. Then she tried a different tactic. She changed the subject completely. “What do you think about the off-balance sheet financings at Enron?” she asked. “I can't believe those guys,” he exploded. For fifteen minutes he told Nora exactly what he thought of the whole incident. As he spoke, he started to relax. Nora made an occasional note. When it seemed like he was slowing down, she'd nod or inject a comment. After a bit she asked the next question on her list. Now he was on a roll. Gradually, very gradually, as he talked, he changed from the tense abrupt screamer she had witnessed earlier into the funny intelligent man who'd come to her house just a few short months ago. He answered her questions, offered information and gave her several insights that she would never have thought of herself. Several times he stopped and said, “Now you'll want to use this in your piece so maybe you'll want to take some notes.” Inevitably he was always right. As he spoke, she went back and re-asked some of her earlier questions. As he talked he got more comfortable. After about ten minutes he loosened his tie and rolled up the sleeves of his shirt just two folds. Somehow these actions reminded Nora, once again, of the dream she’d had that night he’d come to her home for dinner. She shook her head to put it out of her mind and to get herself to focus on the current conversation. Once or twice when she re-asked a question he’d answered abruptly before she thought she saw a smile almost break through on his face. He knew what she was doing, she thought, although he never said anything. She looked out the window and noticed that it had gotten quire dark. She was quite surprised when she looked at her watch to discover that she'd been there for over three hours. She hadn't meant to take up that much of his time. When she apologized he smiled and said, “no problem.” “I just have a few more questions,” she said, “and then I'll be out of your way.” She asked her remaining questions and then thanked him for his time. As she gathered up her things he asked, “Is that all? Do you think you'll need to follow up on anything?” “Well,” Nora explained, “what I'll do now is to write a very rough draft. I'll probably do that in a few days. I like to mull the information around a little bit before getting started. When I have the rough draft, I'll be able to see if there are any loose ends, anything else I need to ask. If you'd prefer, I can even arrange a telephone interview for the remaining pieces, especially if I only have a few questions.” “Or,” she added, “I could even send you an e-mail with the questions.”

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“That won't be necessary,” he answered quietly, “I can always find a little spare time. Whatever you need. And don't forget,” he reminded her, “I have the right of final approval. I'll need to see the final piece before you submit it.” Nora nodded. “I want to thank you for your time,” she said extending her hand. “I certainly got some useful information. I think you'll like the final piece.” As they walked to the door of his office, she said, “I have one more question. All of America is dying to know” He tensed for a minute and then nodded seriously. “Yeeeees,” he answered cautiously. “What do you think,” she asked, “about the Celtics chances for the playoffs?” He started to chuckle. “You don’t want to get me started talking about the Celtics,” he said, “I’ll go on all night.” He was still smiling as she walked out the door of his office. The halls and other offices were empty as everyone had left for the day. She walked down the long hall and just as she was about to open the door to leave she looked back. Christopher Warren had stopped laughing. He'd come out of his office and was leaning against the door jam with his arms folded against his chest. He stood there watching her. The laughter was gone from his face and if Nora didn't know better she would have sworn it had been replaced by mask of sadness. He didn't wave or smile. He just stood there watching. It was almost as if he had not noticed that she had turned around. As Nora drove home she could not get the picture of Christopher Warren in his shirt sleeves watching her out of her mind. There was something haunting in the expression on his face. She tried to erase the picture from her mind but was unsuccessful. You don't need to get involved in this, she told herself, this guy's trouble. Nora would have liked to ask him about Maureen and Anne, and the mystery woman at the funeral but had not. For a supposedly confirmed bachelor, this guy was certainly not lacking for female companionship, if he wanted it. After his reaction when she offered her condolences, Nora was sure of one thing. Christopher did not want to talk about Maureen. Besides, she had no real reason for asking. She was doing a business article for a business magazine not a celebrity interview for PEOPLE magazine. Sara was home when she arrived. She was in the kitchen cooking dinner for the two of them. The sight of her erased all else from Nora's mind. Sara had made macaroni and cheese from a mix and was working on a salad to go with it. “Look, Ma,” she said as Nora walked in and gave her a quick hug,

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“I made dinner. And it's not all junk food.” It was not until Sara spoke, that Nora realized she was starving. It was well after seven o'clock and she had not eaten much of her lunch seven hours earlier. Nora felt the weight of the world lift from her shoulders. She had gotten enough information at the interview. She would be able to write the article and at least for a little while, she would not have to worry about money. She gave Sara a big hug. Life was good. They were going to make it. After dinner Sara went to work on her homework and Nora sat down to sort through her notes. She had been working at it for over an hour when a sudden thought hit her like a bolt of lightning - those papers that had dropped from Maureen's files the day she'd gone to see Nancy. Where were they? She looked through her brief case but couldn’t find them She’d almost given up and panicked and then remembered that she'd put them in her purse. She found the three pages folded up at the bottom of her purse. They were pretty ratty looking after a few weeks of being battered around. Before she had a chance to open them and look at them, Sara appeared ready for bed. She talked to Nora for a few minutes before kissing her mother good night. Nora took the pages back to the sofa where she'd been working and opened them up to see what they were. Nora quickly realized that Nancy had made a mistake in giving these papers to her. The papers had not come from Maureen's folder. They must have fallen out of her desk. The papers were a brokerage account statement. It looked like a personal account for trading stocks and bonds and other securities. They must have come from one of Dave’s statements. Nora started to fold up the papers intending to mail them back to Nancy when something caught her eye. She looked again and saw that she was right. She thought she saw something she'd recognized. Reston. Where had she heard about Reston before? She thought a minute and then she remembered. Dave had arranged a take over for Reston the prior year. Nora couldn't believe her eyes. She got out her old notes from the night that Christopher had first visited her. She searched through them until she found the list of companies that she had made that night. She had divided the list into two categories Christopher's deals and Dave's deals. She took the brokerage account statements along with the list of companies into the kitchen and put them on the table. She spread the statements out on the table next to the lists. Then she looked closely at the entries on the brokerage statement. The account had been opened with $25,000, a lot of money for many people but not for a man like Dave Laurence. The ending balance in the account was $75,000.

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The first trade had been the purchase of some Reston put options, followed a few days later by the purchase of some Dyna Corp. call options. Then she remembered. Reston had taken over Dyna Corp. It was obvious that Dave used the same financial genius trading as he did in making his business such a success. But why would he do this? This was insider trading - trading on information that only an insider would have. It was illegal. The fines for this type of offense were large and the SEC had been making noise about jailing insider traders. It was the type of insider trading known as “front running” and it made the SEC furious. He would be in serious trouble if he were caught. Not to mention what news like this would do to the firm. Buying puts and calls was an enlightened move. It was much harder to catch this type of insider trading than if he had been buying the stock outright. The trades were not large and they had been placed in the options market. Even if he did not go to jail, if he managed to pay a fine and avoid a jail term, his business would be ruined if word of this ever got out. What had Christopher Warren said? “All you have in this business was your reputation.” What company would ever go to Warren Laurence and Associates for help or advise if they knew one of the partners was trading in his personal account based on confidential discussions. This information would kill Christopher if he were to find out. What was the matter with Dave's broker Nora wondered? If Dave thought he could get away with this, certainly his broker should know better. Or was the broker an accomplice? Nora looked at the bottom of the statement to see who the broker was. Dave Laurence wasn't that stupid. The account had been set up at a discount broker and all the trades had been entered over a computer - no human intervention. There was no broker, just a computer. The perfect trading mechanism for someone who did not want to answer any questions about what they were doing. Nora had seen some of this firm's advertisements. It wasn't a bad deal for the person who knew a little about investments and computers. The discount broker boasted that you could trade any time of the day or night - all you needed was an inexpensive computer, an Internet connection and a phone line. All the investor had to do was plug their phone into the modem which was hooked into a computer and he or she was all set to trade anything - stocks, bonds, futures and options over the phone at any time of the day or night. Dave could have placed his trades at home at night if he wanted. Why would Dave bother with this, Nora wondered? The $75,000 in the account was peanuts to a man like Dave Laurence. He was taking a huge risk for a small return. With each trade he risked everything. And for what? - A few dollars that he didn't need.

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Maybe Maureen had found out and maybe it was Dave who killed her. Things were starting to fall into place. Maybe she was threatening to expose him or perhaps even black mail him. This would explain why he was so ready to claim that Christopher had been with him when Maureen was killed. He wasn't giving Christopher an alibi, he was establishing one for himself. Pretty slick, thought Nora, pretty slick. She looked through the rest of the statement. It looked like Dave had traded in the stock of most of the companies that he had worked with during the first nine months of the prior year. Was he having some type of a mid life crisis? Examining the statement, Nora discovered that the $25,000 used to open the account had been transferred in from another account at the brokerage firm. Two months after the account had been opened, after some big profits had been made on those original put and call option positions, $25,000 had been transferred out of the account. Nora compared the account numbers and discovered that the money had been transferred back into the account that had originally provided the funds. All that remained in the account were the trading profits. Nora looked at the other trades in the account. They all were in companies that Dave had worked with. There was some more options trading, some straddle positions and some outright shorting of stock. Yes, Dave knew what he was doing. In each instance the trades turned profitable in a matter of days and most were closed out in a matter of weeks. She sat for a long time trying to decide if she should call Christopher Warren or just turn the statement over to the police. She couldn't make up her mind. Several times she reached for the phone. Then she opened Maureen's folder and noticed that there were some press releases included. She picked out the half a dozen or so that related to the companies in which Dave had traded. Then she matched the dates of the press releases with the dates the trades had been executed. In each instance the trade was executed anywhere from two to five days before the first press release. The SEC would definitely consider this front running. If Maureen had figured out what Dave was up to, she would have been a big threat to Dave, perhaps even big enough to make him kill her. Whether she went to the authorities or just to Christopher with the information, she could injure him and hurt him badly. Or perhaps she was trying to black mail him. With her marriage falling apart, she would be in need of a steady flow of income. She had high expenses and would need a good income to support the life style she had become accustomed to even before she married Christopher Warren. It was highly unlikely that she could continue working at Warren Laurence and Associates if she and Christopher divorced.

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It was getting late and Nora was tired. It had taken Nora several hours to go through all the papers. She wondered if Christopher knew. She guessed he did not. Of course this did not explain why he and Maureen had been so unhappy - or the quickie wedding. She was trying to decide what to do should she go to Christopher or the authorities? Should she confront Dave or just forget the whole thing? She stretched her arms and shook her head trying to decide what to do. As she lowered her arms she looked down at the statement again and what she saw sent a shiver down her spine.

The account wasn't Dave's. The name on the account was Christopher Warren.

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Chapter 14

Nora sat and stared at the name on the account for a long time. It was late and she was tired. Maybe she was imagining things. She blinked her eyes hard a few times and then looked again. The name on the account did not change. She couldn't believe that Christopher would do this, risk everything he had worked so hard for, everything that mattered to him. But it would explain a number of things. For starters, Nora was now sure the papers had come from the folder. Why Maureen had put them in the folder and whether or not she intended to give them to Nora was not clear. Nora wondered when Maureen had discovered Christopher's front running trading activity. But these papers explained the quick marriage to Maureen. If she had found out, and it was fairly obvious that she had, she would have been a serious threat. However married to Christopher, Maureen could not be forced to testify against her husband. Not that she would have under any circumstances anyway, thought Nora. She had suspected from the beginning that Maureen was a little in love with him. She probably convinced herself that he would be a good husband. When things did not work out and she started talking about a divorce, Christopher probably panicked. Nora was sure that it was Christopher who had come into the room while she was talking to Maureen on the phone right before the Christmas party. But she would never be able to prove it. Even if she did not turn the evidence over to the authorities, if she told Dave what he had done, the business and Christopher's friendship with Dave would be irreparably harmed. Things could never be the same. Both were very precious to Christopher. Wouldn't Dave love to know that Christopher was trading in his companies after he'd sit and consult with him about possible strategies? Wouldn't Dave love to know what Christopher was doing after those late Friday night pizza feasts? Dave would be furious. An aggressive prosecuting attorney might even go after Dave as an accessory. After all they talked about everything together. Nora was convinced of one thing. Dave Laurence did not know what Christopher was doing. She was also equally convinced that Christopher would want to keep it that way.

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Christopher would have had to make sure Maureen did not say anything to Dave. Was Maureen using this information to get a large divorce settlement from Christopher? Was she offering to sell her silence? Under normal circumstances she would not have been able to get a large divorce settlement, if she got one at all. After all, they had only been married for a few months. She certainly would have to find a new job. Even if she were able to find a comparable position in another company, it was unlikely her salary would support her lifestyle. Of course, she did have her inheritance, so money may have not been as big an issue as pride. Was Christopher upstairs discussing this with Maureen right before he had come upon her looking at those paintings at the party? As hard as she tried, Nora was never able to figure out what part of the house he'd come from that evening. She had been so engrossed in the paintings she had not heard him come into the room. Nora was sure that Christopher had a good deal of money; maybe not as much as Dave, but more money than most people would ever see in a lifetime. His firm was immensely successful. So, why would he do this? Perhaps he was one of those thrill seekers, never happy unless he was pushing the envelope. Yet the more she thought about it, the more convinced she became that he could neither have killed his wife or traded on his partner's inside information. Yet all the information staring her in the face seemed to indicate that he had. Once again, Nora shook her head as if to chase all her thoughts away. She glanced at her watch and saw that it was one thirty in the morning. She stretched her arms and yawned. She resolutely stood up and went into the living room. She strode over to her tall bookshelf and stood on tip toes to find what she was looking for - her college advanced Calculus book. It was not something she referred to often any more. In fact, it had only been opened twice since she left college. But, she still kept it because of the happy memories associated with it. She folded up the brokerage statement, opened the book and stuck the statement into it. She banged the book shut and stretched again to put the book back on the high shelf. She realized what she was doing did not make sense, but she did it anyway. She hoped she was not making a big mistake. Once the book was back on the shelf, it was as though Nora had never seen the statement. She put it completely out of her mind. Then she turned off the light and went to bed. She had trouble sleeping. Intermingled with visions of her earlier dream about making love with Christopher Warren were images of him standing at his office door watching her leave with a dark brooding look on his face. Nora felt like her head had barely hit the pillow when the blaring of her alarm clock jolted her awake. I'm going to have to get a clock radio, she thought, this thing will give me a heart attack one

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day. She dragged herself out of bed and went downstairs to put a pot of coffee on before waking Sara. She sat at the table waiting for her first cup of coffee. Sara must have heard the alarm. Before the coffee had finished brewing, she skipped into the kitchen much more awake than her mother. “You look terrible Ma,” she announced as Nora hugged her. “What time did you go to bed?” “Late, Nora replied, “very late.” After a minute she asked, “It shows?” Brutally honest, Sara nodded her head as Nora said, “It's going to have to be a cold cereal day.” She noticed her daughter eyeing the pancake mix. Sara thought about it and evidently decided it wasn't a battle she’d win that day. She took the cereal and sat down to eat. Sara fixed her own breakfast quickly and was dressed before Nora finished her first cup of coffee. “Want me to get you the newspaper?” she asked her mother as she opened the front door to wait for the school bus. “Thanks,” Nora said as Sara ran out to get the papers that had been delivered that morning. “Which ones did we get?” she asked. “LAKER'S and the Globe.” “Put them in the living room,” Nora said. “I'll read them later.” Nora got little done that day. She was too tired and distracted to focus on much of anything. Just before noon her phone rang. It was Nancy Driand, Dave Laurence's secretary. “Mr. Laurence would like to have lunch with you,” she said, “if you can fit him into your schedule.” “Sure,” Nora said, “but why?” “With all that's going on he wants to make sure you get to see Christopher's good points. He's afraid that Christopher's too shy to brag about his accomplishments so he's going to do it for him,” said Nancy. “Please humor him,” she continued, “it can't hurt and he's so worried about Christopher. It will make him feel like he's helping.” She paused for a minute before adding, “but don't tell him I said that, he'd have a fit.” Nora agreed to a meeting early the following week. After the phone call she gave up any pretense of work. She was too tired and could think of only one thing. She ate a light lunch and then took her bike for a ride to the beach getting back home only a few minutes before Sara. She turned on the computer and sat in front of it just as the bus pulled up in front of the house. This is ridiculous, she thought, just like when I was in high school. Can't get caught not studying. She did not want her daughter to see her goofing off. She was trying to set a good example

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for her. Besides, she knew Sara worried about her and her lack of a regular job. Sara kissed her mother and went off to get a snack before starting her homework. Nora stared at the blank screen. “Ma,” yelled Sara from the kitchen, “what does separate bedrooms mean?” “What are you talking about?” Sara came back into the study dragging LAKER'S. The headline screamed 'SEPARATE BEDROOMS'. “What's so bad about that?” she asked, “you and I have separate bedrooms.” “Let me see that,” Nora said grabbing the newspaper. She had completely forgotten about the newspapers that Sara had brought in that morning before leaving for school. She scanned the article quickly. According to the newspaper, Christopher Warren's house had been broken into sometime yesterday, probably while she was interviewing him. It was the housekeeper’s day off so the break-in was not discovered until Christopher had returned home after eight. None of the neighbors had seen anything out of the ordinary. Of course, there were no houses close enough to his to see anything so that was not so unusual. Near as he was able to determine, nothing of any value had been taken but the house had been ransacked. Someone was obviously looking for something. It was impossible to tell if they found it. If they took anything, it was nothing of great worth to Christopher. As far as he could tell, nothing had been taken but he really couldn't say if anything of value of Maureen's was missing. In the course of their investigation, the police had uncovered the fact that Christopher and Maureen slept in separate bedrooms. He had explained this by saying that his wife was a very light sleeper and he was apt to work at odd hours of the night. He said that some of his business dealings involved companies in Europe and Japan and this often necessitated getting and making calls in the middle of the night or very early in the morning. The reporter who wrote the article was not buying his explanation. The reporter believed that the marriage was unhappy and had intimated as much in the article. Somehow the reporter uncovered the fact that Maureen had returned several days early, alone, from the honeymoon. When this was coupled with the separate bedroom story, things began to fall into place. The article ended with a suggestion to Sheriff Pretzer that he look a little closer at the circumstances surrounding Maureen's untimely demise and perhaps a little closer to home. The police had searched the back woods but had come up with nothing. Of course they really didn't know what they were searching for. Uh-oh, thought Nora, this was not good for Christopher. Old Mr. Laurence would be furious. She wondered if this article had prompted Dave to invite her to lunch -

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maybe to try and undo the damage he believed this article had caused. Little did he know that Nora already knew just about everything that this article had insinuated. “Well,” demanded Sara, interrupting her thoughts. “Well, what?” Nora responded. “What's so bad about separate bedrooms? I don't get it.” Nora swallowed hard and did her best to explain but Sara quickly lost interest. She left the room grumbling, “I still don't see what the big deal is.” Nora smiled to herself a little glad that Sara was too young to understand or to really care what the big deal was.

The rain had stopped about an hour before Nora was to leave to meet Dave Laurence for lunch. The only reason the rain wasn't snow was the unseasonably warm weather. Nora took advantage of the welcome rise in temperature and took her Burberry instead of her winter coat. She arrived at the out of the way restaurant about ten minutes before Dave and was sipping a club soda when he arrived. “Sorry,” he said as he sat down opposite her. “It took a little longer than I expected to drive over here.” “That's okay,” she answered, “I'm not in a rush today.” “You probably wondered why I picked this place,” he started. She nodded and said, “Well the thought did cross my mind. But, it's quite nice. I have no complaints. I'm easy when it comes to food.” He smiled at her and continued, “I had to make sure that Christopher doesn't find out about this. He'd be furious with me if he knew I was meeting with you and why. But I care about him too much to leave anything to chance. He's the brother I never had and I have to take care of him if I can. I know it sounds corny, but that's the way it is. So, promise me, regardless of the outcome, you won't tell him we had this lunch.” “Okay,” Nora laughed, tracing an imaginary x across her chest “cross my heart. But I don't really understand what the big deal is.” “Christopher can be as stubborn as a mule,” Dave said, “and sometimes he rubs people the wrong way. I just want to make sure you get to see all his good points - get a balanced picture. Not just the half baked ...” “Dave,” Nora interrupted holding up her hand like a traffic cop, “let me stop you. First, he didn't rub me the wrong way and ...”

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“Good,” interrupted Dave, “I was afraid after that disaster at the War-Law Ball....” and his voice trailed off. Nora winced at that. So Dave knew about that. She had hoped that no one else did. She shook her head and made a motion with her hand as if to dismiss that event and continued, “and second, I like him. There are a few things I don't understand about him, but I like him, and the things I don't quite get have nothing to do with the article. Now that we've gotten that out of the way, let's order.” There was silence for a few minutes as they both looked at the menu. After they ordered Dave did what he had set out to do despite the fact that Nora had told him that it was not necessary. He talked about his friend and partner. He told Nora about how hard Christopher had worked in school managing to stay on the dean's list while working almost full time to support himself, and how he always managed to send his family a little money at the same time. He even graduated debt free. He talked about the beginning days of the business, the hard times, and the time when he had wanted to quit but Christopher talked him out of it. He told her about the time when his second child was born very, very early and Christopher sat with him at the hospital for two days before they knew the child would live. He named that boy for Christopher. He talked about how the business grew and he talked about those famous Friday night late pizza feasts. Only for a moment did Nora wonder if Dave knew what Christopher did with that information. Less than half a second’s reflection made her realize that of course he did not know. It would have killed him. He obviously thought the world of his friend and would do anything to help him. Nora had no desire to hurt this very charming man so she kept quiet. As he helped her on with her coat as they were leaving, he reminded her of her promise. He was adamant that she never breathed a word to Christopher about this luncheon. As he walked her to her car, he said, “you know “I was surprised that Christopher agreed to talk to you. I was sure he'd refuse. But after talking with you, I can see why Christopher was so taken with you.” She smiled at him and said, “You know, Christopher is very lucky to have you as a friend.” “No,” he replied before turning to walk away, “I'm the lucky one.” No, she thought as she started the engine, Christopher clearly had the better friend. Or did he? She still couldn’t believe that he had taken advantage of his friend in order to trade as he apparently had done.

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The next morning as she sipped her coffee, Nora read the local paper. Nora wasn’t the only one to have stumbled over Christopher’s old engagement. Apparently the police had also. Once again, the LAKERS headline screamed the most lurid version of the few facts it actually knew, trying to make a big story out of a minor event. But, in Crystal Lake Christopher Warren was a celebrity. “LOVE TRIANGLE: ANALYST WANTED FORQUESTIONING IN TYCON’S WIFE’S MURDER” the paper blared. The headline took up almost half the front page, which was probably a good thing since the story was light on details. As Nora already knew, Anne and Christopher had been engaged. Apparently few people were aware of this. Anne was being sought for questioning and her lawyer was negotiating with the police for her to come in. He had emphasized that his client was not a suspect but simply wanted for questioning. She had every intention of cooperating with the police, he said and he was simply trying to work out the details. He said he did not believe his client had any information that would help in the investigation but was eager to help get the matter resolved. He declined to discuss his client’s relation ship with Christopher, who he referred to as Mr. Warren. In closing he pointed out that his client was not a suspect and he believed that the police were focusing on Mr. Warren. Nora cringed when she read that. She knew old Mr. Laurence would be furious. The reporter had questioned Sheriff Pretzer about the allegation. He said that at this time the police were investigating several leads and had more than one possible suspect. While his remarks didn’t completely refute what the lawyer had said, they didn’t completely help Christopher’s case either. The rest of the article simply rehashed old material.

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Chapter 15

The day after Nora had lunch with Dave Laurence the LAKER'S carried an update on the Warren home break in. There was not much new information to report so the piece was mostly a rehash of what was already known. The police had gone over the place with a fine toothcomb and came up with nothing. A few sets of fingerprints had been lifted from the place but they all turned out to belong to either Christopher or others who could readily explain why their prints were in the house. Nora suspected that old Mr. Laurence was behind the article, especially since there was absolutely no mention about Anne. The police were no closer to finding out either who had pushed Maureen or who had broken into the house. One thing was definite. Whoever broke in knew what they were doing. They either wore gloves or wiped the place clean. The police suspected that the intruder had worn gloves, as there were so many other prints in the house. Nora had completed a rough draft of her article and had only a few loose ends. She called Christopher's office to set up an appointment for the end of the week. He was out with a client but she got Sally, his new secretary. Nora explained that she needed only about half an hour and would be happy to do it over the phone. Sally said she'd check with Christopher and get back to her. When Sara came home from school, the two of them went over to Mrs. White's. She was going to visit her sister for a few days and Nora had offered to take her to the airport. “It's the least I can do,” she'd said, “all the times you've watched Sara for me.” Mrs. White was ready when they got to her house. Sara insisted on carrying her overnight bag down to the car. It was really to heavy for her, but she would not admit it. She bravely struggled with the bag. “Want me to help,” Nora called to her. “No, I can do it.” The two women laughed watching her struggle with the big bag. The three of them got in the car and headed for the airport. Going to the airport was one of the things Nora loved about Crystal Lake. It was so easy. It was a ten-minute drive. Parking was not a problem, although not nearly as easy as it had been before the new security requirements enacted after September 11th when you parked your car within thirty feet of the terminal and could walk onto the field to greet your guests if you wanted. It was

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so different from the big airports in New York where going to the airport was such an ordeal. Nora cringed just remembering. “You can just leave me at the front door,” Mrs. White said as they drove up. “Absolutely not,” Nora replied. “We're going to stay until your plane leaves - after all it's less than twenty minutes.” Mrs. White looked like she was going to protest but Nora cut her off. “Don't argue with me,” she said sternly. “Uh, oh,” Sara said in the back, “When she talks like that she means business. You'd better listen to her.” The three of them broke into laughter at that. They went into the terminal and sat down to wait for Mrs. White's plane. There were only a few airlines that flew into Crystal Lake plus a number of privately chartered planes. A commuter flight arrived from Boston just before Mrs. White's flight was called. A few passengers straggled off, but one caught Nora's eye - a tall, well dressed woman wearing sunglasses. She looked familiar to Nora although she could not immediately place her. She nudged Mrs. White's arm and whispered, “Do you know who that woman is?” Mrs. ^ White looked at the woman and shook her head. “Never saw her before in my life,” she said. She was interrupted by the loudspeaker announcement for Mrs. White's flight. Nora and Sara waved her good-bye and then headed for the parking lot. As they were leaving the building Nora saw the familiar looking woman getting into a cab. When she spoke Nora remembered where she had seen her before. “83 Main Street,” the woman said to the cab driver. It was the sunglasses that had thrown Nora, but only momentarily. Now she knew who the woman was. What she did not know however, was what she was doing here. 83 Main Street was the address for Warren Laurence and Associates. This woman was the one who had been with Christopher at the funeral and in the old picture at the Celtics game. When they arrived home, there was a message from Sally on Nora's answering machine. Christopher was tied up for most of the week, but would be available at five o'clock on Friday afternoon to answer Nora's questions. He'd expect her at his office unless he heard otherwise. For a moment Nora considered calling and asking if they could do a phone or e-mail interview, but only for a moment. Even though she was afraid to admit it to herself, she wanted to see Christopher Warren. Anyway, she could not take the chance of offending him by insisting on a phone interview - or so she told herself. There was also another message to call Hilda. Maybe her agent had finally sold her book. That would be great. It would take some of the financial pressure off and reaffirm her decision to leave New

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York and come to Crystal Lake. Nora tried Hilda's office but it was too late. She had left for the day. Nora would have to wait until the next day to find out what she wanted. “Oh, I almost forgot,” said Sara as Nora hung up the phone. “Amanda O'Reilly is having a sleep over on Monday. Can I go?” “Isn't it a little odd to have a sleep over on a Monday?” asked Nora. “Not really. It's her birthday and besides we're off on Tuesday.” “Okay.” “We're going to all bring our sleep over things to school and then start right after school.” “Does her mother know about this?” asked Nora. “Yup.” “Do you have her phone number? I'd like to call and talk to her - just to make sure everything's okay.” “Oh Ma.” “Oh nothing.” Sara went off to get the number. Nora knew that some people might think she was being over protective, but Sara was all she had. Sara returned with the phone number and Nora called Amanda's mother. “Okay, fine,” said Nora before hanging up the phone, “she'll be there.” Then she turned to Sara and said, “Now was that so bad? You're going to your party and I'm not worried. We both get what we want.” Sara hugged her mother excited about the party and went off to do her homework. Nora let out a sigh of relief. Sara was making friends. She was adjusting to life in Crystal Lake. Now, if only her mother could make a go of it. First thing next morning, Nora called Hilda. As she hoped, Hilda had a publisher interested in Nora's proposal. She told Nora what they were offering but then added, “I think we can do a little better, my dear.” They talked about it for a little longer and Nora agreed to come to Boston on Monday to go over the final details. Things were starting to go her way. With a little luck she'd be able to stay at Crystal Lake and not go back to New York after all. Nora arrived for her last interview with Christopher Warren a few minutes before five. He was waiting for her. Sally got her a cup of coffee and then left for the evening. Nora apologized for keeping him on a Friday night. “It's not a problem,” Christopher said, “I have no plans for the weekend. I had some company earlier in the week, but they've left. So you can see, I'm in no hurry to get home. Ask all the questions you like. The only thing waiting for me is a TV dinner.”

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Nora did not say anything for a minute. 'Some company', she thought thinking of the attractive woman she'd seen at the airport. “Okay,” she said, “let's get started.” She started asking her questions and he answered them all. He was even more expansive than he had been on the first interview after he'd loosed up, but the truth was that Nora only had a few loose ends to tie up. The matter really could have been handled over the phone. She was finished in less than twenty minutes. She felt a little silly coming in to meet him for just a few questions. “Well,” she said, “that's about it. I should be able to put the finishing touches on this piece over the weekend and have it ready for you to look at on Monday.” She stopped and smiled at him for a minute. It was the first time she had relaxed during the whole visit. There was something about that mystery woman that irked her. She knew she was being unreasonable but it bothered her that he was running around with whoever she was. She knew she had no right to feel this way, but she did. For a moment she was tempted to ask about Anne Waters but then she decided against it. It really had nothing to do with the piece she was writing. Still, she would like to know what happened there. Christopher Warren did not seem to have a good track record with women. “See,” she continued, “I didn't forget our promise to you. I'm going into Boston on Monday morning, but I could drop it off here on my way back around three.” “That would be okay, I guess,” he said slowly, “but I probably won't be here. I have to see a client and don't expect to be back until close to five.” “Well,” demanded Nora, “can't I leave it with Sally.” He was a bit taken back by her abruptness. “Sure,” he said, “no problem. Just leave it with Sally. Before Nora had a chance to respond, they heard a noise outside the office. “I thought everyone had gone home?” Nora said. “They have ... or at least I think they have,” he said. “Wait here.” He put his finger to his lips motioning her to be quiet while he got up from his desk and tip toed towards the door. The door creaked as he opened it and whoever was outside heard the noise and fled. Nora and Christopher ran out of the office. They saw no one but heard the door at the end of the hall slam shut. At first, Nora thought maybe it was just the wind and no one had actually been there. Maybe they were letting their imagination and nerves get the better of them. That was until they saw the mess. Whoever it was had been quietly rifling through Sally's desk. Two drawers were open and files that should have been in those drawers were strewn all over the desk. When the intruder was interrupted, he or she had been going through a particularly large file and had dropped it on the floor. Papers were strewn everywhere. “Oh my God,” whispered Nora, “what's

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going on?” She stooped down to pick up the papers but before she touched even one paper, she was stopped by Christopher's voice. “Don't touch anything,” he said, “Go back in my office and call the sheriff. This maniac may still be in the building. I don't want you getting hurt or messing up any fingerprints. Maybe this time we'll get lucky and catch this clown.” Nora ran back into his office and called the sheriff. He arrived in less than ten minutes with several police officers. They searched the building but were unable to find anyone other than the night janitor. Eventually -Sheriff Pretzer came into Christopher's office to talk to Nora and Christopher. “I need to take a statement from the two of you,” he said, “and I'd like to do it right now, if that's not a problem.” Nora called Sara to tell her she'd be delayed a little bit and then joined the two men. When she explained that Sara was alone, the sheriff agreed to hurry. He went over with each of them in painstaking detail exactly what had happened. Neither of them was able to tell him much. Finally, almost in desperation the sheriff said, “Mr. Warren, you certainly seem to attract crime lately.” Then he jokingly added, “Are you running drugs through here or perhaps laundering money for the mob? Why would someone be going through Sally's desk?” It was a question that was running through everyone’s minds. Nora couldn't be sure, but she thought Christopher turned white at the sheriff's joke. Neither Nora or Christopher answered for a moment, and then Christopher responded slowly, “well, sheriff,” he said, “all these crimes could be related. You see Sally is sitting in Maureen's old desk. I'd be willing to bet that whoever was going through that desk, also ransacked my house and probably killed Maureen as well.” He was silent for a moment before adding, “And frankly, I don't like it. I don't think it's funny. And instead of joking about it, I wish you'd do something about finding whoever's doing all these things – something besides running in my old flames.” You could have heard a pin drop in the room. The sheriff didn’t respond to Christopher accusation immediately and Nora couldn't think of anything to say to ease the tension. “Every time I turn around,” Christopher continued his voice getting quieter and quieter, “I find my life disrupted in a new and unpleasant manner. I pick up the newspaper in the morning and I find all sorts of speculations about my marriage and other ridiculous innuendos. What I don't find is any sort of police action.” Nora knew she had to stop him. He was getting angrier and angrier as he spoke. It was as if a dam had broken and all his anger was coming out at the sheriff whose only crime, if you could call it that, was using poor judgment in teasing Christopher. The sheriff was a decent man and certainly was

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not responsible for all of Christopher's recent problems. “Christopher,” Nora said softly, putting her hand on his arm. For a moment she thought he was going to fling her hand away, but then he stopped. He shook his head and said, “Sorry Pretzer. I know it's not your fault. I just get so frustrated.” He extended his hand to the sheriff and said, “Can you accept my apology? I know you are doing everything you can to solve this puzzle.” “Of course,” said the sheriff, “I understand how frustrated you must be. Losing your wife so soon after the wedding and everything. We'll get those fingerprints out on the computer as soon as is humanly possible. Don't worry. We'll find whoever killed your wife.” Although he sounded sincere, and Christopher was way too upset to notice, Nora could have sworn that he was watching Christopher very carefully when he made those remarks about understanding and finding the killer of Christopher's wife. But then maybe she was imagining things. The sheriff was a compassionate man but he was not stupid. Did he suspect Christopher? If so, what did he think he'd done? Somehow Nora did not think that insider trading was on the sheriff's list. Eventually, the sheriff let them all leave. He said it would take a day or two to get any positive identification on the prints but he was certain that they had gotten a few good sets. Now, if only they were of the intruder and not all Sally's. The sheriff said he would be in touch and beat a hasty retreat. After Christopher's outburst, he couldn't get out of there fast enough. She did not really blame him. Nora reminded Christopher that she would drop the completed article off on Monday afternoon and quickly followed the sheriff out the door. Although he nodded absent- mindedly in agreement when she left, Nora suspected he was thinking of other things. Was he, perhaps, concerned that his illegal trading activity would come to light as part of the police investigation? Nora hurried out of the Warren Laurence and Associates offices. She wanted to get home as quickly as possible. Sara was by herself and Nora didn't like to leave her alone after dark - especially since Mrs. White wasn't back yet from her trip. She had promised Sara that they could rent a movie and order a pizza. After the pizza and movie, Nora intended to finish off her Christopher Warren article. Then after her meeting with Hilda on Monday she'd be all set to start her new book. She could put this whole mess behind her and get on with her life. As an added bonus, she would get four thousand dollars from Financial Weekly as soon as she sent Bob her article. She would definitely forget about that trading statement nagging her from the recesses of her mind hidden away in her Advanced Calculus book. She was a little annoyed with herself over the way she had talked to Christopher at the end of the interview. She knew it was irrational, that she had no right to be annoyed, but this mystery woman

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bothered her. She felt like he had been unfaithful to her. In her rational moments she knew she was not being fair, but she couldn’t stop herself. She could kick herself for letting her annoyance show. He must think she was nuts. He, of course, had no idea why she was irritated with him but had picked up on her annoyance at the end of the interview before the intruder arrived. Well, she'd drop her piece off on Monday on her way back from Boston, and that would be the end of it. She honked the horn when she drove up to the house. Sara had the front light on and Nora could see her watching out the window, looking for her. She felt a tug at her heart. Well, once she started working on the book, she would make sure that Sara never got left alone again. She knew that she was not being perfectly reasonable, Sara was old enough to stay at home alone for an hour or two - even after dark - but she wanted to protect her daughter from everything bad in the world. Sara came running carrying her jacket and jumped into the car. “Come on honey, let's go pick out a movie. We'll order the pizza as soon as we get back. I'm sorry I'm so late. And,” Nora added, “how many times do I have to tell you not to come out of the house in the winter without zipping up your jacket. It's not like I wouldn't wait for you, or that I'd leave without you.” “Oh, Ma,” Sara said, “Can I pick out the movie?” “Within limits. You can pick it out, but it has to be something I can stomach. None of this blood and gore stuff that you seem to like.” “Oh, Ma.” There was nothing to debate about when they got to the video store. Someone had just returned the new Leonardo DiCaprio movie and Sara grabbed it. They were back in the car heading for home and pizza in less than five minutes. Because Nora had spent so much time at Warren Laurence Associates, she and Sara did not pop the video into the VCR until after eight o'clock. It was after ten before Sara was in bed and Nora had a chance to sit down and reflect on the day’s events. She was determined to finish her article before going to bed. She wanted the weekend to relax, as she knew once she got the final go ahead for the book, she'd have little time to herself. She got out her draft of the piece and added the few bits of information that had been missing. She reread the piece making a few minor changes and then she turned on the computer to make the changes on the computer. She worked until close 'til midnight before she was satisfied with the piece. She printed up two copies, one for her records and one for Christopher. She was sure that Christopher would find nothing to object to in the piece. She had left out all references to his recent marriage and ensuing problems. They had nothing to do with the piece she had been commissioned to write.

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She put one copy in a file in her desk and the other in an envelope and simply wrote Christopher Warren on the front. She attached a small slip of paper to the article. It simply said, Christopher, Any comments? Nora. She put the envelope addressed to Christopher in her briefcase and snapped it shut. Once she had his okay, she would e-mail the article to Bob. There was absolutely nothing for him to object to in her piece. There was something final about putting the article in her briefcase. Then with a certain sadness, she turned out the light and went to bed. She knew that when this article was finished, as it now was, there would be no more excuses to see Christopher. And, despite her very best intentions, this made depressed her. Even though deep down she knew what she was doing was not right, she would not breathe a word about Christopher Warren's trading secrets. She rationalized her actions by convincing herself that he had learned his lesson and was unlikely to ever go down that path again, given what had happened.

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Chapter 16

The Sunday morning paper carried a short write-up about the interview Anne gave the police. Her lawyer brought her in for questioning on Saturday and the interview was short. She had a strong alibi for the time when Maureen had been killed. She’d been having dinner with her husband and another couple in a well-known restaurant. The meal had been charged on her husband’s credit card and the waiter and maitre’ d remembered the foursome. Her lawyer refused to allow Anne to answer questions regarding her relationship with Christopher. He said he had no intention of allowing the police to go on a fishing expedition that would add nothing to the investigation and would provide fodder for the tabloids. He insinuated that the police were leaking information to the press and he did not want his client dragged through the mud for no reason. When the detectives tried to push him he told them to either arrest his client or the interview was over. And, so over it was. When the pair left the interview, the lawyer gave a brief statement detailing his client’s airtight alibi. He continued to refuse to allow her to answer questions. Then he hurried her off into an awaiting car. Calls to Anne’s office by reporters were not returned.

Nora was so excited about her trip to Boston and what it meant that she had trouble falling asleep on Sunday night. It was well past midnight when she finally drifted off. She was awakened by the noises Sara was making in the kitchen as she prepared breakfast for herself. Please, don't let her be making pancakes Nora prayed. She wasn't up to facing a messy kitchen first thing in the morning. She wanted to be on the road by nine o'clock. She glanced over at her clock and was horrified to see that it was already seven thirty. She hopped out of bed and ran downstairs. Someone up there must have been watching over her. Sara was sitting calmly at the table eating cold cereal and reading the back of the cereal box. She was already dressed for school and the clothes

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actually matched and were clean. The overnight bag they had packed the night before for her party stood next to the door. Sara was excited about her first sleep over since moving to Crystal Lake, so far so good. What wasn't so good was the empty milk carton sitting on the table. “Sara,” Nora asked, “is there any milk left?” Sara picked up the carton and shook it and then guiltily shook her head. Nora was adamant that this was going to be a good day. She looked at Sara's remorseful face and said, “Good. Now I can go out for breakfast.” She could have sworn Sara let out a sigh of relief. Sara knew she wasn't supposed to finish off the milk. She was supposed to leave a little for her mother's coffee. But, like most children, this was something she could never remember. Nora was determined not to start the day off on the wrong foot. She knew it was silly, but she felt that if the morning went well, the rest of the day would go well also. She wanted absolutely nothing to go wrong on this special day. “I think I'll treat myself to breakfast at the Mandarin Inn,” she said to Sara. “A day that starts with breakfast at the Mandarin has to be a great day.” Little did she know how wrong she was in that belief. Nora waited in front of the house with Sara until the school bus came. As soon as the school bus left, Nora jumped in her car and headed for the Mandarin. She pulled into their parking lot and noticed they had few guests that morning. She ran across the street before going into the inn and splurged on a New York Times. That was one thing she definitely missed about New York. The drug store still had a few copies left over from Sunday, so Nora went all the way. The Sunday New York Times cost five dollars in Crystal Lake - which was why she rarely bought it. Highway robbery, she muttered to herself as she crossed the street. She sat down at a table next to the window in the inn and the waitress poured her a cup of coffee. She told Nora what the breakfast specials were and Nora had a serious debate with herself. All the breakfasts at the inn were special. The chef prided himself on that. In the summer breakfast was served out in the garden but in the winter it was served in a room the inn called, appropriately enough, 'the breakfast room'. This morning there was a small fire lit in the fireplace. Breakfast always came with juice, fresh fruit and a main special. If one didn't want the main special, the inn's famous granola was always available. After a short debate with herself, Nora settled on the granola with plain yogurt. She sipped her coffee and opened the book review section of her newspaper. She'd been reading it for less than five minutes when she was interrupted, “Mind if I join you,” said a gruff vaguely familiar male voice. She looked up and saw Sheriff Pretzer.

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She longed to say, “yes I mind. Leave me alone. I want to sit here and read my paper in peace before I start my long drive. I don't want to talk about Christopher Warren, or Maureen, or anything that's been going on here at Crystal Lake.” But she did not speak her mind. Instead she simply said, “of course not. Sit down.” She folded up her newspaper carefully. She would take it home with her and read it tonight. That was one of the great things about the Sunday New York Times. You could read it all week. Besides, the sheriff was a decent man albeit one who did not understand the allure of The New York Times. “Just a cup of coffee,” he said to the waitress who approached to take his order. Nora started telling him about her trip to Boston. She hoped she could avoid talking about the unpleasant events of the last few weeks. She also wanted the sheriff to realize that she was on a tight schedule and didn't have all morning to sit around and chat. Seeing her with her paper all spread out might have given him that idea and she wanted to dispel it. He nodded as she spoke only half listening to her. When she paused to take a breath he said, “Let me get right to the point. It wasn't just a coincidence that we ran into each other. I thought that I recognized your car outside and so I came in to talk to you. I wanted to ask you a few questions alone.” Nora could have sworn he put an extra emphasis on the word alone, but then she decided that she was imagining things. Nora swallowed hard. “Okay,” she said, “whatever I can do to help.” “Near as I can tell,” he said, “you're the closest friend Maureen Strebor, I mean Warren, had.” “I'd only known Maureen a few months,” Nora said, “I didn't know her before moving to Crystal Lake. I met her in September the first time I went to talk to Christopher Warren.” The sheriff nodded and Nora continued, “She didn't seem to have many friends, and to be perfectly honest, I don't have a lot of friends here either. My daughter and I just moved here from New York. But I really wouldn't say she was a very good friend. I hadn't known her long enough for that. Anyway, she was a pretty private person. She really didn't talk about herself or her past much at all. In fact, I didn't even know she was dating Christopher Warren until there engagement was announced. So, I'm not sure that I can help you.” Please go away, she mentally willed him. But, apparently, he couldn’t hear her subconscious thoughts. “Two things I want to ask you about,” the sheriff said completely oblivious to Nora's wishes. “First, were Maureen and Christopher having problems?”

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Nora let out a long sigh. The waitress brought her juice and refilled her coffee cup. “What can I say,” she said. “Do, I think they were having problems? Yes. Can I prove it? No. And if they were, what does that prove?” “That he might have a motive for killing her,” the sheriff answered. “In this day and age,” Nora said, “come on sheriff, they'd been married only for a few months, there were no children. She had some assets of her own and had worked for years. Most courts wouldn't have given her a dime, assuming she asked. Even taking a worst case scenario, I can't see that he'd need to kill her.” She willed herself not to think of those papers hidden on the top shelf of her bookcase. She was about as successful as she had been trying to forget the intimate dream. “He's got a temper. He almost lost it the other night. You think I didn't see that,” the sheriff pointed out. “He could have pushed her in a fit of rage,” he added. “I don't think so. I just don't think he's capable of that.” “With all due respect, Ms. Hasten,” the sheriff said, “you might be looking at this guy through rose colored glasses.” “I beg your pardon,” Nora said coloring slightly and starting to get angry, “what are you implying?” She knew exactly what he meant and was mortified that anyone else would guess. “Nothing, Nora, nothing,” the sheriff said sadly shaking his head. Nora picked up her coffee and took a long slow sip. She composed herself as she did. Get a grip, she said to herself, do not let this guy upset you. He had hit a little too close to home whether she cared to admit it or not. “And the second thing you wanted to ask me,” she asked smiling at the sheriff as she put her coffee cup down. “Did you ever know a Bill Roberts? He was an employee at Warren Laurence Associates.” “Yes, as a matter of fact I did. Not well. I only met him once. I was having lunch with Maureen one day and he happened along. She introduced us. He seemed nice enough, but she made it quite clear to him that she wasn't interested in talking. Why do you ask?” “Well this is kind of tricky. We have the guys at the lab double-checking. We lifted several sets of prints on Friday night and sent them off to the labs. We think they've made a mistake - because the names are so close.” “What sort of a mistake?” “Do you remember in the very early eighties, I don't have the exact date yet, there was an embezzlement of several million dollars at Continental Data Corp. A William Roberts, a young and rising star at the firm, was charged.”

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Nora nodded. “Very, very vaguely,” she said, “I think I read something about the case a few months ago. If it’s the case I’m thinking about, they never found the money. What could that possibly have to do with Maureen’s murder?” “Well,” continued the sheriff, “the lab identified the prints we sent them as the prints of William Roberts, the man accused of that embezzlement. You know, the case never went to trial because the guy skipped bail. We should get a photo this morning. Of course the picture will be over ten years old and the guy could have had some plastic surgery.” “Wait a minute,” interrupted Nora, “there are a few flaws here. Why would a guy who successfully embezzled several million dollars work as a messenger using his own name? And....” “I know, I know,” interrupted the sheriff, “why do you think we're having the prints checked again? They probably made a mistake. I wish we had one of those new computer programs but the department doesn’t see the need to spend the money given that we have so few reasons to check fingerprints here at Crystal Lake.” The waitress brought Nora's granola as the sheriff glanced at his watch. “I've taken more than enough of your time,” he said. “Let me get out of your way.” With that, he got up and left the room. Nora looked at her watch and saw that she only had a few minutes before she needed to be on her way also. She looked sadly at her paper. She no longer felt like reading it. She also felt a little guilty. She knew she should have told the sheriff about the brokerage statement that she had found. And she knew why she hadn’t told him and she was not proud of herself for her failure. She promised herself she would think about telling him when she got back from Boston - as soon as she got back. She quickly finished her breakfast and signaled the waitress for the bill. Instead the waitress presented her with one of the sheriff's business cards. On the back he had simply written 'Sorry for ruining your breakfast. Knock 'em dead in Boston.” The sheriff had paid her bill on his way out. Nora smiled to herself. Don't underestimate this man, she told herself, he may be considerate but he's not stupid. She left the inn still determined to have a good day. So far it had not been great, but it had not been all bad either. She opened the car door and willed herself to forget about all that had happened and to think happy thoughts. Despite her good intentions, she spent most of the drive thinking about what the sheriff had told her and the brokerage statement that she had not told him about. It just did not make sense. It seemed that the more information they got the more confusing the picture became. There was something nagging at her for most of the trip. She did not realize what it was until she was parking her car in Boston. Then she knew what was bothering her.

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She would call the sheriff as soon as she got home. That very first day, when she first met Maureen, she had seen Maureen and Bill Roberts in a very heated discussion. She closed her eyes and tried to picture that moment. Now that she thought about it, she was sure that they were arguing. And she was also sure that Maureen had given Bill an envelope, which he had stuffed into one of his pants pockets. That was not the way most messengers Nora knew carried mail around the office for delivery to executives. There was something very strange about that exchange. Although she couldn’t be certain anymore, she thought that she had seen Roberts throw the magazine that had the article on the old embezzlement on Maureen’s desk. Maybe she had seen it someplace else. It was such a small detail on a hectic day, she no longer remembered. However, she was sure there was something going on that day between Maureen and Bill Roberts. Nora just could not figure out what. And maybe after she told the sheriff about the heated exchange between Maureen and Bill, she might tell him about the brokerage statement. Definitely, she promised herself, definitely. The minute she walked into Hilde's office she forgot all about Crystal Lake and its problems. Hilde had spoken again to the publisher interested in purchasing the book Nora wanted to write. She had gotten them to agree to an advance that would allow Nora to write the book without having to do other odd jobs just to pay the bills. Although Nora would have signed the contract on the spot, Hilde would not let her. They went over the whole contract and Hilde made a list of the things that she wanted improved. “That's one of the reasons you have me,” Hilde explained, “I look after your best interests.” Nora knew that she was right. They went for an early celebration lunch but ate quickly. Hilde wanted to get back to the office and start negotiating with the publisher. She hoped to get Nora's deal wrapped up and signed by the end of the week. By a little after one o'clock Nora was ready to head back to Crystal Lake. Right on schedule she thought. But instead of heading back to Crystal Lake, she headed for the library. She could spare an hour and still get back home before dark. Not that she had to be home before dark - Sara was sleeping out. She would have a quiet night to herself. That was not what she really wanted, she wanted to go out and celebrate. But she had no one to celebrate with - both Sara and Mrs. White were away. Well, at least she had her New York Times. When she got to the library, it took her some time to find what she wanted. The newspapers that she wanted were on microfiche and she had trouble lining up the pages and focusing the machine. It took her more time to finally find the right dates. Her eyes bothered her and a few times she almost gave up in frustration. Why are you doing this she asked herself more than once? This is not your problem.

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She finally found what she was looking for - the articles about that long ago embezzlement at Continental Data Corp. The story was just as the sheriff had told her. The money had been embezzled. Eventually a young and trusted employee had been charged. He had skipped out on bail and neither he nor the money were ever heard from again. But it was not the articles that interested Nora. She wanted to see the pictures. Newspaper pictures are often of poor quality. Add to that the fact that the person she was looking for had aged ten or more years and the trouble she had focusing the machine and lining the pages up correctly and anyone would have had a hard time. Nora was no exception. There were few pictures with the articles. The first picture Nora found was the day that William Roberts was arrested. Like many in similar circumstances, he had tried to turn his head away from the camera. She could not see his face clearly. The Bill Roberts Nora knew had a beard. As hard as she tried she could not tell anything from that picture. Then she got lucky. The following article carried a picture of William Roberts from his college yearbook. There was no doubt in Nora's mind. Add a beard and fifteen years or so and you had the Bill Roberts that worked at Warren Laurence and Associates. She looked at the picture for a long time. Why was he working as a messenger and why would he use the same name? What trouble was he in now? Nora wondered. Was Maureen involved in whatever was going on? After all, she was the one who had arranged for the job at Warren Laurence and Associates. Or so, Charlie in the mailroom claimed and he would have no reason for lying. The more Nora thought about it, the more she thought that Bill must have had a connection to Maureen. But she could not figure out what that association was. She read the article with little interest. She kept going back to the picture. But there was no doubt. Either the man had a twin or William Roberts was the Bill Roberts who worked for Warren Laurence Associates. That is, used to work for Warren Laurence and Associates. Then Nora remembered. Christopher Warren had fired him. Nora read the remaining articles. The newspapers had reprinted the same two pictures several days in a row but not the last day. She almost missed it. She was tired and was about to return the fiche to the librarian when she saw it. In the last article Nora saw a new picture. When she finally got the machine focused, what she saw sent a shiver down her spine. She'd been on the wrong track the whole time. No wonder the police had not been able to figure out what Maureen meant.

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Chapter 17

As soon as she saw the photograph she realized that she had made a terrible mistake. The picture made everything click. Looking at the picture she now understood why the police had found nothing of significance when they searched the back woods at the Warren place. Dave Laurence was right when he said that she must have heard wrong. She had misinterpreted the words. How could she have made a mistake like that? She didn't have to look twice. The picture was quite clear. Standing next to William Roberts at his arraignment was a very young, very blonde, Maureen Strebor. She was identified in the credits as Bill Roberts’ wife. Maureen's last words weren't “husband back woods” they were “husband backwards”. She had been using her married name and spelled it backwards. Roberts spelled backwards was Strebor. Nora looked at the picture for a long time. What a stupid mistake. The worst part was that Bill Roberts was still running around because of her mistake. He must have been the one who killed Maureen. Now she remembered the police saying that everyone at the party was accounted for at the time of the murder except two - and one of the unaccounted for was one of the owners relatives. The office manager had vouched for him on that basis. She'd be willing to bet that the relative was Bill Roberts and he was not really a family member. Nora thought about the day Bill Roberts was fired. She could still hear Christopher Warren's voice loud and clear. Everyone who was in the office that day heard it. Why would Maureen have told Charlie that Bill Roberts was a relative of Christopher's? Charlie must have misunderstood. But it did look like Maureen was instrumental in getting Bill the job at Warren Laurence and Associates. The odds of them both ending up there were infinitesimal. Were the two of them up to something? And if so, what? Maybe the two of them were going to try and embezzle from Warren Laurence and Associates also. Bill wasn't the only one who had disappeared long ago. His wife had disappeared with

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him. In her case though, it was not a problem, as she had not been charged with a crime. Was it possible that she hadn’t been an innocent spouse but had been involved? That didn’t seem likely. Nora wondered if Bill and Maureen had ever gotten a divorce. If not, that would certainly have given Bill something to blackmail Maureen about. Bigamy was a crime. Christopher would have been able to have the marriage annulled. Of course, an annulment wouldn’t make him look good, but eventually it would be forgotten. Maybe Bill was blackmailing Maureen. If he had threatened to tell Christopher that Maureen had once been married to him, Maureen would have had more problems on her hands. But why would he blackmail her? He certainly did not need money. Was it possible he had spent the whole three million? They must have been up to something, Nora finally decided, otherwise Maureen would never have gotten Bill that job - and lied to get him the position on top of everything else. Nora wondered if the sheriff Pretzer had come up with the same information as she had. She made copies of all the articles intending to drop them off at the sheriff's office after dropping her article off at Warren Laurence and Associates. She glanced at her watch and saw that she had been sitting in the library for more than two hours. She thanked the librarian for her help and hurried to her car. At this rate she would not get to the offices of Warren Laurence and Associates until five and she certainly did not want to see Christopher Warren now. Why hadn’t she simply e-mailed him the article? She knew the answer to that one. Secretly, she was hoping to run into Christopher again. What would she say to him? Let the sheriff discuss all this with him. That's what he got paid for. The last thing she wanted to do was discuss this with Christopher Warren. What could she say, “Oh sorry that I misunderstood the dying remarks of your wife. Sorry my mistake put you under such scrutiny. And by the way, are you still trading on inside information?” She still hadn’t figured that part out. She got into her car and headed for Crystal Lake. She was fifteen minutes outside of town when the engine started to make a funny noise. She barely managed to steer the car to the side of the road before the engine stopped running completely. She did not even bother lifting up the hood to look at the engine. There was no sense in that. She had no idea what to look for anyway. She dug through her purse for her cell phone. When she finally found it, she pulled it out and started to dial the AAA club when the phone let out a loud beep. “Damn,” she exclaimed as the phone died, “why can’t I ever remember to recharge this thing?” She vaguely remembered a phone booth a little further down the road and so she got out of the car and headed for it. Now she was concerned about getting to the phone and back to her car before it was pitch dark. She really was not thrilled to be walking alone along the highway in the dark.

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The phone booth was a little further than she remembered -close to a mile and a half from where her car had broken down. She called the Crystal Lake auto repair and the owner said he would come and get her as soon as his son arrived to watch the garage in roughly half an hour. Nora walked back to the car cursing and muttering. She had worn high heels for her meeting and her feet were killing her. Since coming to Crystal Lake, her feet spent most of their time in sandals and sneakers and very little in high heels. She could not remember when she had walked this far in heels. By the time she got back to the car, she wanted to kill the person who had invented them. The car was cold and she was tired. However, given her footgear her progress was slow. John, the owner of the auto repair shop, showed up only ten minutes later. “Sorry to keep you waiting,” he said. He opened up the hood of her car and poked around a bit before telling her that the car would have to be towed. “Can I drop you at home?” he asked. Nora hesitated. She could e-mail the article to Christopher but didn’t want to give him the impression that the article was late. For that matter she didn’t know if he was one of those executives who didn’t know how to use e-mail. The subject had never come up. “Actually, if you don't mind,” asked Nora, “I have a package to deliver in town. Could you drop me on Main Street?” “No problem,” said John, “if you'd like, I'll wait and then drop you home.” “I appreciate the offer, but I'll probably be a little while,” lied Nora. She didn't think that anyone would be at Warren Laurence Associates when she got there. She was cold and tired. And it hadn't been a good day. Despite all her plans and good intentions, it had been a lousy day and she just wanted to be alone – and John seemed like a talker. At this point, she hoped that the door would be open and she could leave the envelope on Sally's desk and then grab a cab. If not, she would slip the envelope under the door and then call in the morning to make sure that they found it. All she wanted was to go home and get in bed. She would take the copies of the articles she had made in Boston at the sheriff's office the next day when she picked up her car. John seemed to sense that she was not in the mood to talk. She gave him the address. He told her to call the following morning to get the prognosis for her car. By the time he dropped her off it was after seven o'clock - so much for getting there around three o'clock. Even if she had left Boston right after lunch she would have been cutting it close. Nora could see one light on in the building. She tried the front door and found it open. Either someone was working late or they never locked the building. After all, this was Crystal Lake not New York City. Then she remembered the light. She shivered as she looked up the quiet flight of stairs.

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Maybe this was not such a good idea she thought. What if Bill Roberts were up there? They really should lock this place. She took a few steps and stopped. She was frightened. She would bring the article over tomorrow. She could call and explain about her car breaking down. Christopher would understand. She would never say that she had been at the building but was frightened away. She turned and left the building. When she got out on the street, she stopped and after a minute laughed at herself. This is ridiculous she thought and marched back into the building and right up the stairs. When she got to the top of the stairs she pushed the door open and looked down the corridor to Sally's desk. She stood there vacillating for a moment. The light she had seen from the street was in the conference room. Nora remembered that from that long ago tour that Maureen had given her. She could hear no noise and wondered if anyone was in there. The conference room was several doors past Sally's desk. From where Nora stood, it looked like it was empty. Maybe someone had just forgotten to turn the light off. If she were quiet and quick, even if there was someone in there, they might never see or hear her. Feeling ridiculous for acting like a frightened child she gathered up all her courage and ran down the hall. She threw the envelope down on Sally's desk and turned and ran back towards the stairs. Unfortunately for Nora, she was in such a hurry that she threw the envelope with too much force. The envelope slid across the desk and knocked a coffee cup on the edge of the desk on to the floor. The noise of the cup falling shattered the silence and made Nora's heart jump. But it didn't frighten her nearly as much as what followed. “Who's out there?” a voice shouted as Nora ran down the hall. Her heart was racing a mile a minute. She was all the way down the hall and had her hand on the door before she recognized the voice. It belonged to Christopher Warren. “It's just me,” Nora relied weakly, completely at a loss for words. Then she turned and walked back to where he was standing next to Sally's desk. She pulled out the desk chair, sat down and started to laugh. She laughed till tears rolled down her cheeks. All the day's tensions evaporated. He stood, leaning against the door jam with his arms folded watching her in amazement. “Are you going to tell me what's so funny,” he asked after a few minutes. “It's just that...” started Nora before breaking into another fit of laughter. Eventually she calmed down. She had been so frightened. She started at the beginning. “I'm sorry I'm so late,” she explained, “but my car broke down and I had to call the auto repair and ...” He held up his hand to stop her.

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“Okay, okay. Don't explain anymore. I get the picture. If you can wait five or ten minutes, I'll give you a lift home.” Although he was smiling, he looked tired. He looked like he had the same kind of day that Nora had. “That's really not necessary,” Nora protested, “I can get a cab. Really it's no problem.” Once again he held up his hand to stop her. “But I insist,” he said in a quiet voice that said don't argue with me. “Okay,” said Nora, “you finish up with whatever you're doing. Just point me in the direction of the ladies room.” “You ran right by it,” he said smiling weakly, “third door on the left.” Nora headed back down the hall. When she got to the third door on the left she opened the door and went in as though she didn't have a care in the world. She was actually terrified, as the light was not turned on. She quickly flipped the switch as the door shut behind her. She hoped he didn't see how frightened she was. She quickly looked in all the stalls to make sure that no one was hiding in any of them. Now you are really being absurd she told herself. Once she was certain she was alone she sat down on one of the chairs in the outer room. The chairs were in front of a large mirror - a place where a woman could comb her hair and put on makeup. She closed her eyes and let her head fall back. After a minute or two, she opened her eyes and looked in the mirror. Oh my God, she thought, look what I look like. She hadn't combed her hair since she'd left the house in the morning and that mile and a half walk to call for the car repair and then back again and taken its toll. Her hair was all over the place. Not that she wore much makeup, but the little that she did wear was long gone. And she was tired. Fatigue was etched into her face. Not only was she physically worn out from the long day, she was also mentally exhausted. She got up from the chair and went into the bathroom and splashed some water on her face. Then she went back to the mirror and got a small brush from her purse. She combed her hair and put a little make up on. She looked a little better, but not much. Her weary body screamed for sleep and those demands were all over her face. She stood tall and pulled her shoulders up and was about to open the door and go back to the conference room, when she had a thought. How much of all that she had found out did Christopher know? Had the sheriff been to see him or was he waiting for confirmation on the prints before saying anything? Had he gotten that confirmation? –At this point, there was no doubt in Nora's mind that no mistake had been made in the fingerprint identification. She was positive those prints were Bill Roberts.

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If the sheriff had discovered that Maureen had been married to Bill Roberts, he would have quite a few questions for everyone involved. The copies of the old articles that she had made in Boston were in her briefcase. If Christopher looked in her briefcase, he would find them. But of course he would never look through her briefcase, thought Nora. That's right, she told herself, a man who was using inside information obtained innocently from his best friend, would never stoop to something so low as to go though someone's briefcase. Get a grip, she told herself, why would he go through your briefcase and if he did and found those articles, so what. She decided that she would kind of dance around the topic of Maureen and the recent crimes to see what he knew. It was quite possible that he already knew everything, and then she would have no dilemma. Besides, there was no good reason not to tell him what she had discovered. Still, given her druthers, she preferred not to talk about it. She quickly walked back to the conference room where she had left Christopher. Not that she thought anyone was lurking about in any of the offices, but why take a chance? He had moved back to his office and looked up when she entered. He was working intently on the personal computer on his credenza. “Just give me another minute or two,” he said, “I'm transmitting some orders to Tokyo. I'm leaving some trades to be executed when the NIKKEI opens.” “Take your time,” she said, “do you mind if I make a quick call to check on Sara? She's sleeping at a friends house tonight and I want to make sure she's okay.” He shook his head and pointed to the conference room. She tip toed out and went to make her phone call. She just wanted to make sure that Sara had gotten to the party safely and the she wasn't lonely or homesick and she wanted to hear her voice, to be reminded of the normal part of her life. Sara's “Oh, Ma,” told her she had nothing to worry about on that front. Sara was not going to be calling her mother tonight. She was having to good a time. How adaptable she is, thought Nora, after all she's been through. But she willed herself to stop those thoughts. She had not thought about Brian in a long time and she certainly was not going to start tonight. On this front she was successful. When she finished her phone call, she went and sat at Sally's desk waiting for Christopher to finish his work. She didn't have to wait long. He appeared, coat in hand, just as she sat down. She got up, put her coat on and picked up her briefcase. “Ready,” he asked. She nodded and followed him down the hall. Before she could stop herself, she said, “Aren't you going to put your coat on? It's cold out there.”

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He stopped and turned to look at her for a moment. Half amused he said, “Yes, Mother,” and put his coat on. She followed him into the parking lot and was a little surprised to see that he had the same beat up pick up truck that he had driven that first day when she met him at the beach. He got in and started the engine. It was as though neither of them knew what to say. Nora was never very good in these awkward situations. She had a tendency to babble. She started the conversation by mentioning that she had seen the sheriff that morning. This was the wrong thing to say. It appeared that Christopher had also seen the sheriff at some point during the day. “Look,” he said very gently, “I don't want to talk about any of that. I don't mean to be taking this out on you, but I've had a rotten day. The sheriff dropped in to see me this afternoon. I'm sure you can figure out what we talked about. And the meeting was way less than pleasant. So I'd appreciate it if you'd drop the subject.” Nora nodded quickly in agreement. She felt miserable. All she wanted to do was to get into her own house and get in her own bed by herself and sleep for several days. She glanced surrepticuosly at her watch. They were about ten minutes from her house. With a little luck, she'd be in her bed under her safe warm covers in fifteen minutes. Little did she know as they drove along that January night in silence that she was never going to get to bed that night.

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Chapter 18

Nora closed her eyes and leaned her head back. She'd just rest her eyes for a minute. She was too tired to even try and make polite conversation. – -Anyway, Christopher didn't seem in the mood for polite conversation. She was almost home, almost in bed sleeping away the cares of the world. She hated going home to an empty dark house. That was one of the few drawbacks to that carriage house - no burglar alarm. In New York she always felt perfectly safe once inside her home. She would walk around in the dark, not bothering to put lights on, secure in the knowledge that the alarm system was guarding her. Had anyone tried to get in, a loud bell would have frightened them away while another part of the system called the police. That system took away any fears that she may have had about being in the house alone. But the carriage house did not have one. Most people in Crystal Lake did not feel the need for an alarm system - they had nothing to be frightened of, no one to keep out. Nora resolved to have a system put in as soon as she bought the house. Let the whole town laugh at her she did not care one bit. She would feel safe. Right now that seemed very important. She smiled to herself. Unconsciously she had begun planning her life in Crystal Lake. It looked like she would be staying after all. That thought made her happy. She glanced over at Christopher out of the corner of her eye. He was obviously one of those people who found driving relaxing. He started to whistle a tune that she did not recognize. Or maybe he was just whistling off key. She did not know nor did she really care. Everything was so peaceful and tranquil. She was filled with a momentary sense of regret. If only he were not involved with all-that insider trading stuff. Get a grip, she told herself; this guy's a disaster waiting to happen. Besides, he's not interested. He looked over at her at that moment, caught her peeking at him and smiled. She smiled back and then closed her eyes again.

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“Go ahead and rest,” he said, “you look exhausted. Don't worry, if you fall asleep, I'll wake you.” Nora nodded. But she had no intention of falling asleep. Yet his kind gentle voice lulled her, giving her a sense of security. After I get that alarm system, maybe I'll put in a few skylights, she continued to day dream, not in the front of the house where they would ruin the roof line of the old carriage house, but towards the back, she thought. Skylights, if placed correctly, would bring a lot of light into the house. And a vegetable and herb garden, she thought. It had been years since she had one - not since before Sara was born. Nora loved fresh vegetables but with the demands of her job and raising Sara, there had never been enough hours in the day. Now, with her new life and setting her own hours, she would have the time - one of the advantages of being your own boss. Why, she could get up and work in the garden for an hour or two, if she wanted, and make up the time after Sara went to bed. Or, if she got lucky and finished early or ahead of schedule, she was free not to work at all or to work on something else. She could see her old bosses face if she'd told him, “I'll be in a few hours late tomorrow. I'm going to work in my vegetable garden in the morning.” She almost laughed out loud thinking about it. She and Sara would have fresh vegetables all summer and Sara would learn to like them. In her mind she began planning out a small herb garden next to the kitchen door. She vowed to become a better cook. She let Sara talk her into ordering pizza more often than she cared to admit. It was so easy. That was going to stop, she resolved. And Sara's room would get some attention. She planned on redoing Sara's bedroom. It was something they could work on together. She would let Sara pick out new wallpaper if she wanted. Or they could paint it, maybe even get cousin Amanda to come up and do a splatter job like she had on her own. Sara had admired Amanda's -handy work. And Nora had to admit, it did look good - even though it had not sounded so hot when described. Whatever Sara wanted. This way it would really be Sara's own room and maybe she would start to feel that this was her home and she was not just a visitor. The sudden blaring of a police siren broke her thoughts. She jerked up and turned to look out the back window. There was a police car behind them with the fights flashing in addition to the siren. Since there was no one else on the road, in either direction, there was little doubt who was being signaled. “What the hell?-” said Christopher with great annoyance in his voice as he pulled the truck off the road.

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A moment later, a police officer emerged from the car and approached the truck. It was so dark on the deserted country road that it was not until he was quite close that Nora recognized him. It was Sheriff Pretzer. He approached Nora's side of the truck. She rolled down the window to see what he wanted. Before she could speak, Christopher demanded, “What's the matter Pretzer, once in one day is not enough. Now you have to pull me off the road to harass me.” “I thought I recognized you, Nora,” he said ignoring Christopher and his outburst. “How'd it go in Boston today?” “Good,” replied Nora a little taken back by the whole thing. “Very good,” she added. And then there was silence for a moment before the sheriff asked, “Everything okay, Nora?” At this Christopher exploded, “and why wouldn't everything be okay,” he asked. The sheriff took his eyes off Nora and gave him a long hard look. “Of course everything's okay,” she said trying to avoid a confrontation. “My car broke down on the way back from Boston and Christopher was nice enough to offer to drive me home,” she explained. “Well, I'd have been happy to give you a lift,” he said giving Christopher another hard look. Given the obvious animosity between the two men and her growing desire to get home and to sleep, Nora decided that this was not the time to start a discussion about her findings in Boston. That could take hours. Besides there was a good chance the sheriff already knew. She would call him in the morning when she was alone and refreshed. “Well,” said the sheriff reluctantly, “if you're okay, I'll be on my way.” He paused for a minute waiting for Nora to protest and when she didn't, he tipped his hat and said, “See you soon.” Nora waved as he left. Little did she know as she watched him retreat that soon would only be a few long, long hours from now. Christopher was visibly annoyed by the intrusion. The tranquil mood was broken. And as he drove on, he whistled no more. Nora closed her eyes and put her head back again. But this time it wasn't to rest but to avoid having to make the pretense of having a polite conversation. Bed, thought Nora, bed and sleep. Christopher was furious. It was all over him. Bed, thought Nora, in just a few more minutes I'll be home in my big, comfortable, warm, safe bed - or so she thought. They turned down the private dirt road that led to Nora's house. The only other house on the road was Mrs. White's. The road was pitch black. Since Mrs. White was away, there were no lights on at her house. And Nora hadn't left any on at her house as she expected to be home long before dark. The truck moved slowly down the dirt road. Nora still had her eyes closed pretending to rest.

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“I thought you said that Sara was sleeping at a friends tonight?” Christopher said suddenly. “That's right.” “Well, I'm afraid that we've got trouble ahead. I saw a light flicker in one of the back bedrooms. Whoever it was must have heard the truck.” Nora was now wide-awake. “Are you sure?-” she asked in a faltering voice. “Pretty sure. But don't worry, I'll go in with you and search the house. I won't leave until I'm sure you're perfectly safe.” With that he reached over and opened the glove compartment and took out a gun. “Oh, my God,” screeched Nora, “what's that?” He looked at her strangely before replying, “What does it look like?” “Are you sure you saw a light?” Nora asked again. Now she was truly frightened. Then she added slowly, “Maybe we should go back to town and call the sheriff.” “Not that jackass,” Christopher said with great disdain, “besides, if we do that will give whoever is in there plenty of time to get away. And I'll bet it's connected to all the other crazy things that have been going on here lately. He leaned over and rummaged thought the glove compartment again. He pulled out a few bullets and loaded the gun. Noticing the look of concern on her face he said, “don't worry. I know how to use this thing.” Then he turned and got out of the truck. He motioned her to follow as he whispered, “Come on, stay behind me and be quiet.” The two of them tiptoed quietly up to the front door. Then he turned and mouthed something to her. He had his free hand out as though she was supposed to give him something. She could not understand and finally he whispered, “keys.” She shook her head and said, “don't need any. I never lock the door.” That was part of the reason she had come to Crystal Lake. She didn't want to have to lock her door. That as it turned out hadn’t been such a smart move. She thought she saw him roll his eyes but in the dark it was hard to tell and she was too scared to care. He opened the front door and went in motioning her to follow. For one quick minute she had a powerful urge to turn and run - to run as fast and as far away as she could. After all, she hadn't seen any light. Was he going to save her from some madman or was she following the madman into her own house?

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Chapter 19

Nora hesitated only a second before following Christopher Warren into the house. He very quietly closed the front door after them. She put her hand on the wall to feel for the light switch and just as she found it and was about to turn it on, she felt a hand on hers. It was Christopher's. He shook his head and motioned her to follow him into the living room. There was not a sound or a light from anywhere in the house. They stood in the dark living room looking around when Christopher motioned to her to stay and pointed at the stairs. Nora watched him tip toe up the stairs until she could see him no more. Once again she wondered if she should run. Suddenly, she heard a noise that made her jump. Christopher had stepped on the step that always creaked. She had forgotten about that. It scared her half to death. She looked desperately around for something to defend herself with until she saw it. She tiptoed over to the bookcase and seized a metal bookend from one of the shelves. This is ridiculous she thought. What good is a bookend if he's got a gun. Even if she could throw it, her aim was terrible and the bookend was heavy. Somehow she did not think that she would be able to throw it hard enough or straight enough to do any damage to a man with a gun - a loaded gun at that and she doubted that he would get close enough for her to hit him with it. Unfortunately, when Nora picked up the bookend the books that were being held in place by the bookend all fell over making a terrible clatter. Once again, she nearly jumped out of her skin - and she was not the only one. There had been someone in the house. Between the creaking of the step and the

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clatter of the books, the person became frightened and must have decided to bolt - or at least to try and make a run. Nora could only guess what was happening because she could not see anything. Christopher and the intruder had collided and there was a terrible scuffle going on. Nora ran an turned on the light. Then she heard Christopher's quiet firm voice. “I have a gun,” he said, “please don't make me shoot you.” After turning the light on in the living room, Nora ran and turned on the light on the stairs. As the light went on, she heard a male voice say. “Don't shoot. Please don't shoot.” Nora went back into the living room as the two men came down the stairs. In walked Bill Roberts in front of Christopher Warren. Bill kept his hands raised high in the air as Christopher kept the gun trained on him. Bill seemed resigned and did not look like he would try anything but Christopher was not taking any chances. “Sit,” Christopher said to Bill motioning him with the gun to an easy chair. Bill sat. “Now talk,” he said. “Where should I start?” asked Bill. “Try the beginning,” Christopher said sitting down on the sofa opposite Bill. Nora looked from Bill to Christopher in disbelief. Then she sat on the other end of the sofa. She held on to the bookend in her lap. “And try working with the truth,” Christopher added. Nora was surprised how calmly he spoke. “Perhaps I should call the sheriff first,” she said, “there's a lot...” “No,” Christopher interrupted turning to look at her for a moment, “I want to hear what he has to say first. Then we'll call the sheriff.” He turned his gaze back to Bill and said, “talk.” And so Bill told his story starting over ten years earlier. “When I got out of college,” he started, “I went to work for Continental Data Corp. I did very well rising quickly to the level of Assistant Treasurer in three years. Part of my quick success was due to the interest and sponsorship of Mr. Perez , the president and co-founder. For betraying his trust I feel terrible. He was very good to me and how did I repay him? Anyway, I'm getting ahead of myself. After I'd worked there for about two years, I met Maureen. I fell for her like a ton of bricks. I would have done anything for her. I thought she felt the same way about me. Boy, was I wrong.” He stopped for a moment. Nora thought he was going to start crying. “Anyway,” he continued, “I desperately wanted to impress her. So, I told her quite a bit about my work. She'd ask a lot of questions, detailed questions, and I ended up telling her things I probably

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never should have. I didn't really think she was interested in my work, I just thought she was interested in me.” Again he stopped and shook his head. “We were married about six months after we met, shortly before I was promoted to Assistant Treasurer. I thought I had everything. We were even talking about having a baby. She's good, very good - or rather she was a good actress - a real Jekyll and Hyde. I had no idea what was coming until it was too late. As I said, she used to ask very detailed questions about my work. In hindsight, I realize she was only interested in the parts that had to do with money. She never asked many questions when I talked about systems I had suggested that saved the company money, or investment strategies I designed, only the money itself and how the company made its payments - and, of course computers. Unfortunately for me, I realized this only when it was too late – long after I got into trouble.” He let out a long sigh and then continued. “Continental Data Corp. used a computer money transfer system to wire money to pay its vendors and other assorted bills. They also paid for all of their short-term investments by wire transfers. Those wire transfers were made on a little computer that sat in my office. With a modem, you connect right into the bank. This was before companies started using the Internet and was the way most companies moved money. There was no need to talk to a real person, just one computer telling the other computer what to do. It's similar to the systems some of the brokerage houses use now to let their customers place orders any time of the day or night.” Nora looked at Christopher when he said that. She thought he flinched. “I know how those systems work,” he said curtly, “go on.” So Bill continued. “Maureen asked me so many questions about how the system worked, what the codes were and where we kept the account numbers and I told her everything. She didn't ask all at once. I might have bee a little suspicious then. Just a little here and there. I told her everything. After all, she was my wife. We shared everything - or any way I shared everything. I had no reason not to.” “So you told her the codes? So what could she do with that information? Unlike today, those wires usually had to be input into the computer before three o'clock. What did she do? Come to the office and hold a gun to your head?” Christopher interrupted. “Let me finish,” Bill said, “You said you wanted to hear everything. I guess you know about the embezzlement. One day, when we were short handed, she came to my office with a late lunch. The wires had already been put in for the day and I had no pressing work that needed to be done. She brought a beautiful picnic lunch and spread it out on the desk. She'd fixed all the things I like best. She brought a big thermos of lemonade - another of my favorites. She must have put something in the

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lemonade because I had to leave several times to go to the bathroom. I left her all alone in my office with the computer. I never gave it a second thought. On one of my trips to the men's room she turned the computer on and transferred three million dollars to my personal checking account. She was good. I never had a clue until I got home two nights later. You see, she'd transferred the exact same amount as the cost of an investment I'd made that day. When I looked at my balances in the morning, I thought the bank had made an error and charged the account twice. It happens sometimes and is really no big deal. The bank just back values the money into the account. When she told me what she'd done, she suggested that I do a little accounting magic and cover up the theft. She pointed out that I'd look like the guilty party. She said I was smart enough to cover it up. I might have been able to cover it up for a while, but I think our auditors would have eventually picked it up. To hide the transfer, I would have had to forge someone's name to an invoice. I couldn't do that. I'd already betrayed several confidences by telling Maureen more than I should, I couldn't compound the betrayals. But what I could do was get the money back and then go and explain to Mr. Perez. If the money was back and I apologized and explained, I was sure he would forgive me. It might set my career back a few years and he might even suggest I look for another job, but we could have survived. But Maureen was, as always one step ahead of me. She had already moved the money out of our checking account. The money had gone oversees. We'd gone on our honeymoon to Switzerland, a rather strange choice I thought at the time. But she had said she'd always dreamed of going to Switzerland and it never occurred to me to argue, even though I'd have preferred the Caribbean or Hawaii. Maureen said those places were too common. While we were in Switzerland, she'd gone shopping alone several afternoons. I hadn't thought anything of it although she never bought much on those shopping trips. Now I know why. She was busy setting up several bank accounts. Once the money got oversees, it became difficult to track. The bank that had my checking account had received written instructions about the transfer. Guess whose signature was at the bottom of the letter. And I know how she got my signature on that also. She said she was going to write a letter to the editor, something about the environment. She said it would look better coming from a man. I didn't question her about it at the time. I was just flattered. She had written the letter but wanted to type it. She claimed she would do it later one day after I went to work.

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She held a blank piece of paper in front of me - my letterhead that she had specially printed for me for my birthday - and told me where to sign. I had no reason to suspect anything, so I did as she directed. She obviously never wrote that letter, she had a much more important use for that piece of paper. So when I went to the bank and asked to see the authorization, they had written instructions from me in my own handwriting. The money had been wired to one of the accounts that I'm sure Maureen opened on our honeymoon. The account was in the name of some company I'd never heard of – Lebron International. From there it was wired to a numbered account and disappeared forever. She was smart enough not to use a numbered account for that first transfer. That might have made the bank officer a little suspicious. Maureen wasn't taking any chances. Remember she didn't tell me for two days. By that time, there was no way I could recall the wire. I still thought I had a chance of getting the money back, when the Los Angeles Times got wind of the whole affair. Now I know how they found out about it, but at the time I was dumbfounded. Maureen must have tipped them off. I probably should have realized it at the time, but I didn't - not until it was too late. A reporter from the paper called Mr. Perez directly who denied any money was missing. Then he called our internal audit department and sent them down to go over our records. He really had no idea that I was involved, not initially at least. Of course the internal auditors were able to figure out the problem rather quickly. In fact, Mr. Perez called me in to tell me about the rumors. He said if the paper printed one word of the allegations he intended to sue them. He was so incensed over the whole thing - the idea that anyone would even insinuate someone was stealing from the company. I left work early that day and went home to Maureen to see if I could talk her into sending the money back. She adamantly refused. Well, you probably can figure out most of the rest. I was arrested and Mr. Perez, who still believed I was being framed, hired a lawyer for me, one of the best. But the worst was yet to come. Maureen stood by me. She claimed that she was working on getting the money sent back. She said she was sorry and begged me not to leave her. Despite everything that had happened, I believed her. I guess I just wanted to believe her. When I told the lawyer my story, he was more than a little skeptical. He told me that we could not get up in front of a jury with that story. No one would believe it. Especially with Maureen standing beside me telling everyone that she was innocent. He said if she'd taken the money she would have left. When she raised the bail money for me - even selling her engagement ring she solidified her appearance of innocence. He said our best hope was getting the money back and then going to Mr. Perez and hoping he'd drop the charges.

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I was confident that everything would work out. After all, I was out on bail and the woman I loved was at my side, in a manner of speaking anyway. I came home one night about six weeks before the trial and she was gone. Really gone. All her clothes were gone and a few other things. We hadn't bought much furniture because we were saving for a house and a baby, so there wasn't much to take. She took next to none of the little we had. Only the money. At first I thought, or maybe just hoped, that she'd come back. After a week when it became obvious that she wasn't coming back, I called my lawyer and told him what had happened. He said this did not look good for me. I knew that. We had several choices. We could plead guilty but we'd have a problem since we didn't have the money to give back. The courts would want the money returned if I were to get any leniency. He said if we tried to present the story as I told it, we'd be laughed out of court right into jail. The truth is, I'm not sure he really believed me. A jury would believe, at best, I was an accomplice and a fool and that my partner had taken me for a ride. No one was going to believe that Maureen had done this on her own without my knowledge. All the evidence pointed to me. In a worst-case scenario, a jury might believe that I had planned the whole thing and knew where the money was. They wouldn't care whether Maureen had anything to do with it or not. They might try and charge Maureen as an accomplice afterwards, but that wasn't going to help me. Besides, they'd have to find her to charge her. I don't think that the lawyer really believed me. But, like any good, high priced lawyer, he'd mount the best defense he could for me. He told me to go home and think it over. When he suggested I contact Maureen and consider giving the money back, I realized that he didn't believe me. What kind of a defense would he put up -for that matter, what kind of a defense could he put up. I'd given him nothing of value to use. Even to this day, I can't say that I blame him for being skeptical. I followed his advice, at least part of it. I went home and thought. That's all I did for several days. I thought. I thought about my options. I tried to figure out where on earth Maureen could be hiding. Because that's what she'd been doing. Hiding. Most of all I berated myself for being in this mess in the first place . But there was nothing I could do. The more I thought, the more I realized I only had one option. I had no defense. If I went to trial I was going to jail. So I took my only option. Did what I thought I had to do. I ran. And, I've been running ever since.”

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Chapter 20

There was silence in the room as he stopped and took a deep breath. It was as if he expected them to criticize or question him and he was ready to defend himself. When neither Nora nor Christopher said anything he continued. “I grew a beard and hitchhiked down the coast. I'd stop and do odd jobs from time to time to earn enough money to feed myself. I never stayed in one place to long - especially in the beginning. I was always afraid that some one would recognize me. But as time went on and no one recognized me I'd stay longer and longer. I avoided the places and people who would be most apt to recognize me and that meant avoiding the business and computer worlds, the things I knew best and loved. But it was too dangerous to go anywhere that had anything to do wit my former life. When Maureen left, she took more than my money and trust. She took everything I cared about - everything that meant anything to me. She also took away my livelihood, my means of support. About a year ago, I came here on a short vacation. As I said before, I like beaches. I wouldn't dare come in the summer - too many people. But in the winter, there are much fewer people and I can afford the winter. You don't make much money doing the odd jobs I've been able to get for the last ten years. And then one day I saw her. I couldn't believe it. I almost didn't recognize her. After all, it'd been over ten years. She no longer dyed her hair blonde and she was much better dressed, more elegant. I was walking down Main Street aimlessly on my last day here. Another few minutes I would have missed her and been back on the bus headed for home. I had to look twice. But there she was - my wife.” At that, Christopher let out a gasp. “Weren't you ever divorced?” he demanded. Bill shook his head. “How could we be divorced? Neither of us wanted to be found. “ He paused for a moment and took a deep breath before continuing.

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“I ran after her and at first she pretended she didn't know who I was or what I was talking about. She turned to get into her car and when I saw it was a Jaguar I lost it. For that one moment I didn't care if I went to jail for the rest of my life. I think she knew I was serious. There could be little doubt who took the money. She was driving the stolen money and I was to later find out, living in it as well - a house on Winter Street. Do you know what they cost? She told me to get in and we'd talk. I couldn't believe it. I was furious. She'd been living in the lap of luxury for all these years and I'd been scraping around in the back streets of the country just to avoid going to jail. I was sick of it all and I blamed her for it all. She was going to have to buy my silence. I know it sounds terrible - black mailing a woman - but I was desperate. She'd taken everything from me, everything and I was determined to get a little something back. She said she'd spent all the money. Spent it all - three million dollars. It was all gone. When I looked at the car she was driving and the clothes and jewelry she was wearing I realized that she was probably telling the truth. But I didn't care. I told her to sell the car and the emerald ring she was wearing. She was horrified. Said she couldn't. We argued. This time I was not giving up. I wasn't walking away empty handed. I wasn’t going back to my subsistence-level life while she drove around in a Jaguar. It just wasn’t happening.” Even after all these months it still made him angry. He struggled to regain his composure before continuing his story. “Finally, she said she had an idea. Said she had another deal lined up. I didn't know what she was talking about at the time, but then I didn't know the two of you were planning to get married.” He glanced at Christopher who shifted uneasily on the sofa but did not say anything. So he went on, “she said needed some time. I told her she had ten years and I wasn't giving her any more time. Then she said she could get me a job - at the company where she worked. She said she'd get me a decent salary and that I'd like it there. Said she needed a little time to set it up and to call her in a day or two. I didn't trust her at all. I opened the glove compartment and took out her car registration. I saw she was using the name Strebor and wrote down her address. I hung around town and called her after a day. She had arranged the job in the mailroom. When I asked her what name she had given for me and found out she had used Roberts, I thought I'd pass out. She warned me or rather I should say she threatened me. Said if I got any bright ideas about telling anyone anything, she'd swear that everything had been my idea and I had done everything that they had accused me of. She also said that she would claim that she had only left after I had abandoned her. I was incensed but relieved to have a real job at a real company. Thanks to that great dental plan you have I got my teeth fixed for the first time in ten years. I'd occasionally hit Maureen up for a

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hundred bucks. I know it sounds crummy, but it used to make me crazy - her driving a Jaguar, living in that beautiful house, while I scraped by on much less living in a small apartment. Sad thing was, if she'd just been a little patient when we were younger, I could have given her all those things. Everything was going along fine until you two got married.” Again Christopher did not say anything and so Bill continued. “I thought that Maureen would be happy but it didn't work out that way. The few times I saw her after the wedding she down right hostile - as if were my fault that things weren't going well. The night of the Christmas party, things blew up between us. She told me to meet her in the study before dinner. Said she had something she wanted to tell me. When I got there she was in a terrible mood. Said that we'd be leaving Crystal Lake soon. She'd gotten what she came for and she wasn't leaving me behind. When I asked her what she meant, she just laughed bitterly. She said if I wasn't gone in twenty-four hours that she'd alert the Los Angeles Times to my whereabouts. She was very upset. She looked as though she'd been crying. She said she'd written a letter explaining everything, her version of everything, and should anything happen to her it would be found. I'd be implicated in everything including her latest scheme. She never did tell me what her latest scam was. In fact, I don't even know if there was one. I tried to reason with her but there was no reasoning with Maureen. She was adamant. If she wasn't staying, neither was I. She warned me that going to Christopher wouldn't help either. When I reminded her that we had never divorced, she said it didn't matter; Christopher wouldn't care. She was completely out of control. The more I tried to reason with her, the angrier she became. I finally realized that this was a no-win situation and that I'd be better off just leaving. By this time she was pushing at me and screaming at me to get out. I saw stars and I shoved back. I just wanted to get away from her. She fell back, tripped over a small basket of wood, lost her balance and smashed into the fireplace. I reached down to help her up, God knows why, and I saw that she had lost consciousness. I guess I panicked and ran. I saw the two of you talking in the living room as I came down the stairs and headed right out the front door. I ran home, packed a few things, and - took a bus that night to Boston. I was afraid to be around when Maureen regained consciousness - God only knows what she'd say. The next morning I got hold of a copy of LAKER'S and saw that she had died without ever gaining consciousness. I almost panicked again. But then I reread the whole article and realized that the police didn't have a clue that I was involved. I was puzzled over Maureen's last words for about two days. Then I realized she hadn't said back woods but backwards. Luckily for me, no one else realized. I snuck back into town and no one ever guessed that I was involved.

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All I had to do was get that letter and I'd be okay. I took a page from Maureen's style. If I ran I'd look guilty, but if I hung around and acted like nothing was wrong, there was a good chance that no one would realize that I was involved and I could get on with my life. I could stop looking over my shoulder and maybe finally relax. The longer I stayed and the longer no one realized the connection between Maureen and myself, the better chance I had. For a while my plan worked. The only thing between success and me was that letter that Maureen claimed to have written. I had to find it. That's why I broke into your house,” he said nodding at Christopher, “and the desk at the office. I couldn't find it anywhere. That's why I'm here tonight. I know Maureen was friendly with you, Nora, and I thought she might have given you the letter. This was the last place I could think to look. I'm beginning to think that perhaps she was bluffing; that she was just angry and taking it out on me. I can't that find letter anywhere.” With that he stopped. He was finished. No one knew what to say. Nora wasn't even sure she believed him. She had never seen a vicious side of Maureen. He was describing a cruel, calculating scheming woman. Suddenly she remembered the trip to Boston and the way that Maureen had turned on the beautician when she had suggested that she lighten her hair. Maureen drove an expensive car and lived in a very expensive house, neither of which were likely to be affordable to most secretaries. Her clothes were not only beautiful they were expensive, as was her jewelry. Nora had noticed the emerald ring that Bill had mentioned along with several other pieces of tasteful expensive jewelry. But then she remembered Maureen telling her about her grandfather leaving her a little money. So she finally broke the silence. “Maureen told me that her grandfather left her a little money,” she said trying to defend her dead friend. “Maureen was one of eight children,” Bill explained. “Her father drank and her mother worked cleaning offices at night to support the family. Maureen wanted as little as possible to do with them. She was ashamed of them. There was no grandfather with money in that family. She used to tell people she was an orphan. She didn't even invite her family to our wedding. Refused to have them. The little money from her grandfather was the money she stole.” He said it with such force that Nora knew he was telling the truth. Again there was silence. Bill broke the silence. He said, “now what? Who's going to believe such a story. Who'll believe me.” Nora was stunned by what happened next.

The Back Woods Husband Christopher spoke. He said, “I believe you and what's more, I'll help you. “

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Chapter 21

It was after eleven when Bill finished his story. “Why would you be willing to help me?” asked a stunned Bill. “I killed your wife, true it was an accident but she's still dead. I ransacked your home and part of your office. You don't know me, not really. Why would you want to help me,” he asked again in disbelief. Nora was wondering the same thing herself. “Let's just put it this way, “ Christopher responded, “I, too, was married to Maureen, so I sympathize with your plight. Let's just leave it at that.” Bill nodded only too happy to have found an ally. “The first thing we need to do is get you a good lawyer - one that believes you. If you don't object,” said Christopher, “I'd like to call my attorney, Matthew Moridian. He's quite good.” “But I could never afford him,” protested Bill. “You don't have to pay him. Warren Laurence Associates always stands behind their employees in times of need. The firm's legal plan will cover his expenses.” “But I'm not an employee of Warren Laurence Associates anymore,” protested Bill, “remember I was fired. Actually I was breaking into your home when I was supposed to be picking up some pictures.” “I don't remember firing you,” said Christopher smiling, “I fired my cousin's kid, but we're not related. So I couldn't have fired you.” Bill was speechless. “Well should I call Matthew?” asked Christopher. “I'd appreciate it,” said Bill. And then he added softly, “greatly.” Nora pointed to the phone on the table in a corner of the living room. They could hear Christopher talking to the lawyer and then giving him directions to Nora's house. When he hung up the

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phone Nora said, “This looks like it's going to take awhile, would anyone like a cup of coffee. I certainly need one.” With that she went off to the kitchen to make a pot of coffee. She was still exhausted, but the fear was gone. She realized her warm safe comfortable bed was still far far away. She could hear the two men talking as she got the coffee ready. She put three mugs on a tray along with a pitcher of milk and the sugar bowl. After a few moments of thought she added a forth cup. From the way Christopher spoke, she suspected the lawyer had been asleep and it would be a long night for him, as well. He might need a cup of coffee more than the rest of them. She rejoined the two men in time to hear Christopher explain, “we'll have to see what Matthew says, but I think things are actually looking much better for you than you think. I'll bet the statute of limitations has run out on that embezzlement. So even if they find you, and after this there's a good chance they will, I doubt they'd be able to try you for anything. However, there's the little matter of Maureen's death. We'll let Matthew handle that but I'm willing to bet that he can convince a Grand Jury that it was accidental and there won't even be a trial. I'm certainly not going to push for one and I'll personally see to it old Mr. Laurence tells the press that he thinks you're innocent. He means well. He really does. And then there is the matter of your finances. You probably don't realize how good they are. If you and Maureen were never divorced, her marriage to me is invalid.” Bill nodded in agreement, and then said, “So, what does that mean?” “What it means,” said Christopher, “is that legally you are her husband and heir. That would mean the house on Winter Street, the Jaguar and all her other worldly possessions go to you my friend, not me. There is also the matter of her life insurance. Warren Laurence takes out a life insurance policy for all the employees as part of their benefit package. Again, since you are her husband you'd be her heir. I think her coverage, which is based on her salary, would be $100,000. Twice that if her death is ruled accidental. Of course, if you are tried and convicted, you'll collect nothing. That's why it's important that we hire someone like Matthew to handle this.” He stopped speaking for a moment as he poured some coffee and then some milk into one of the mugs Nora had brought out. She looked at Bill. He was sitting there in a daze. “I don't know why you're doing all this for me,” he said again. Christopher did not respond. Nora poured him a cup of coffee and Christopher got up and looked out the front window. “Where the hell is that guy?” he muttered to himself. A moment later they saw headlights heading

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tentatively up the road. Christopher stepped out on to the front steps and waved. A short man in his early forties stepped out of the car. He was wearing jeans, a sweatshirt and a pair of sneakers. “Sorry, I didn't dress for the occasion Chris,” he said as he walked into the house. Nora suppressed a smile. He called the great Christopher Warren Chris, and Christopher didn't object. “Do I smell coffee?” he asked as he crossed the threshold. Nora liked him immediately and she felt Bill Roberts was in good hands. Matthew exuded confidence and he made other people feel like he could help them no matter how huge the problem. Nora poured him a cup and he sat down. Christopher introduced Nora and Bill to Matthew and then said. “Remember the Continental Data Corp. embezzlement. A little over ten years ago.” Matthew shook his head. “Yes you do,” Christopher continued, “The guy never stood trial. He skipped out on his bail and they never found him or the money.” “Vaguely, vaguely,” relied Matthew, “it's coming back to me.” Then he sat up abruptly and looked sharply at Bill. “What did you say your name was?” he demanded. “You got it,” said Christopher, “tell him everything, Bill just the way you told us before, everything.” So Bill told Matthew everything he'd recanted to Nora and Christopher earlier in the evening. Matthew listened intently, nodding as he listened. A few times, he would interrupt and ask a question, but mainly he listened. Twice, Nora started to doze off but each time she caught herself. It took him over an hour to finish his story. When he stopped talking, Christopher said, “So what do you think? Can you get him off?” With that Christopher went into his analysis of the situation. Matthew frowned and then held up his hand for Christopher to stop talking. He put his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands and said, “Let me think for a minute.” They all sat and waited for Matthew's prognosis. After a few minutes he spoke. “The financial gain complicates the whole thing,” he said. “You're right about the statute of limitations. We don't have to worry about the embezzlement. Anything related to that would be just a trumped up charge and we could deal with it. The real problem is the fact that Bill would stand to gain, and by most people's standards gain significantly, by her death. That's what makes this more difficult.” With that he let out a long sigh and Bill interrupted. “I don't really care about the financial gain,” he said quietly, “I just want to be free of this and get on with my life. What if I offered to give it to charity?” Matthew let out a short whistle and said, “I hate to see you do that. Let me think some more.”

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But Bill interrupted him, “You may hate to see me do that, but I'm going to whether you like it or not. I don't want anything I didn't earn. I'm going to give it away anyway, so you may as well try and use it to save me. The only question is how much will go to charity and how much to repay Continental Data Corp.” “That should make things easier,” Matthew said. “All right,” he said to Bill, “let's go over everything one more time and then we'll arrange for you to surrender and make a statement. You may end up spending a day or two in jail, but that shouldn't be a problem for you.” When he saw the look of concern on Bill's face he added, “other than the occasional drunk, you'll be the only guest at the Crystal Lake jail. And certainly the most distinguished.” For another hour Bill and Matthew went over Bill's statement. Matthew asked a few questions, but for the most part he seemed satisfied with everything as Bill explained it. When he was satisfied, he said to Nora, “I'd like to call in and get a police escort down to the station. Not that we really need one. But it will make Sheriff Pretzer happy. That way he'll feel like he was part of solving this. Can't hurt to have him on our side.” For the first time in over an hour Christopher spoke, “-Do we have to call that jackass? Do you really think it's necessary?” They all looked at him in surprise. “What's got into you?” Matthew demanded, “why don't you like him. He's okay, and it can't hurt to have him on our side. What's your problem?” “Go ahead and call him, if you think it will help,” was all Christopher replied quietly. Matthew made the call and came back and sat down on the sofa. “He'll be here in fifteen minutes.” “Don't you think you should put that thing away before the sheriff gets here?” Nora asked Christopher pointing at the gun. “Why?” he asked puzzled. “Well you don't want any more trouble, do you?” she asked. “You think this is illegal, don't you?” he asked in return. When she didn't reply he said, “I have a permit to carry it, but if it will make you happy I'll lock it in the truck.” With that he got up and took the gun out of the house. As he was returning, Nora heard police sirens coming up the road. This annoyed Christopher. Matthew also heard them and was out of the house in a flash. “Go inside,” he ordered, “let me handle this.”

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Sheriff Pretzer got out of the car alone and came running up the steps. She could hear him talking through the open door. “Is Nora all right?” he demanded of Matthew. She snuck a look at Christopher out of the corner of her eye. He was even more furious than before. She couldn't be sure, but she thought she heard him call Pretzer a jackass again under his breath. “I recognized the address,” Pretzer continued toward Matthew as they walked into the house, “and got here as fast as I could.” Matthew was good at his job. He calmed the sheriff down as they walked. He started to explain as they came into the living room. When Pretzer saw Christopher he demanded, “what are you doing here?” - Matthew intervened before Christopher could reply. Matthew explained the whole situation in about fifteen minutes and then asked for the sheriff's help. He's good, thought Nora. He's very good. Matthew had managed to win the sheriff over. By the time they got ready to leave, he had the sheriff feeling as though he were part of the team. The sheriff actually wanted to help Bill, and that couldn't hurt. They finally agreed on a plan of action. Matthew would drive Bill down to the police station and Pretzer would follow them. Bill would make a formal statement. Pretzer actually called the prosecutor and made arrangements for her to come down and hear the evidence first thing in the morning. Depending on what she decided, they'd plan their course of action from there. Before they left, Bill thanked Christopher profusely. Matthew promised to call Christopher the following day at the office and let him know how things had gone. Pretzer promised to call Nora the next day and make sure she was all right. He glared at Christopher as he said it. It seemed to Nora like it was forever, but eventually they all left. She was alone in the house with Christopher. As she closed the door behind the sheriff she said, “As soon as I buy this place, I'm going to have one of those burglar alarm systems put in.” “Good idea,” said Christopher, “I keep telling Claire the same thing.” “Who's Claire?” “My sister.” “Your sister?” said Nora. “Yes,” answered Christopher, “my sister.”

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Chapter 22

Now Nora knew why the woman at the funeral and then later at the airport had looked vaguely familiar. It was not because Nora had remembered her from that early newspaper article that Bob had sent from the magazine. She looked like Christopher. If she had stopped to think about it for ten seconds, she would have figured it out. There was a strong resemblance between the two. But then she remembered that Maureen had told her that neither she nor Christopher had any family and was confused for a moment. “But, Maureen told me you had no family,” Nora asked. “Did your sister come to the wedding?” “No,” answered Christopher, “I wouldn't let her. I didn't want her there.” Noting the look of amazement on Nora's face, he continued. “It wasn't Claire who I was angry with, it was Maureen. I didn't want my only family at that sham of a wedding. She wanted to come. You, of all people, must have realized that all was not well between Maureen and myself, that there was something odd about the whole thing. That there was something wrong right from the start.” Nora looked at him unhappily and then answered very slowly. “I've known almost from the beginning why you married Maureen,” she said. “She told you-?” he asked in amazement. “No,” replied Nora, “I figured it out for myself. I know about the inside trading.” There was dead silence for a moment before she added, “in Dave's companies, so to speak.” “How could you possibly know?” he asked softly. She got up wearily and walked to the bookcase where she had hidden the brokerage statement. She stood on tiptoes and tried to reach the Calculus book. He was right behind her. “Just tell me which one you want and I'll get it for you.” “Advanced Calculus.” “Well that's a book unlikely to ever be looked at,” he started to joke. When he saw the serious look on her face he stopped. He took the book down and handed it to her. She opened the book and

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took the papers out. Then she handed the papers to him. His face turned white and he said, “oh Nora, we have to talk.” “Should I make another pot of coffee?” she asked. “It depends. Do you have anything stronger?” She pointed at a cabinet in the other end of the living room. While he looked through the cabinet, she went and got two glasses and some ice from the kitchen. He had a bottle of scotch out when she returned. He looked like he was going to drink straight from the bottle. She handed him the glasses and took out a bottle of Drambuie. He poured himself some scotch and then some Drambuie for Nora and said, “Sit down and listen. This may take some time.” He sipped his scotch and for a minute or two didn't say anything. It was as though he was searching for the right words to start. “If you found this some time ago, why didn't you do something with it - either go to Pretzer or even Dave?” “I can't give you a good answer to that,” said Nora, “I guess I didn't want to believe you would do this.” Christopher gulped and then started. “Bill Roberts wasn't the only one Maureen duped. Remember when he said that she was working on another deal. Well he was being polite. He should have said another patsy. Only this time the stakes were higher, much higher. She had no intention of walking away leaving me holding the bag. She planned on staying. Maureen came to work for me a few years ago. She was a devoted secretary and an excellent worker. She never complained and she did whatever we asked. Gradually, very gradually she won over our confidences - at least mine. I don't think Dave was ever completely comfortable with her. He always thought she was after me. But she even wore him down after a few years. Dave and I used to spend many Friday evenings in the office long after the others had gone home for the weekend. We'd talk over business, potential business and strategies. We might have a few beers, but that was it. Then one Friday night, there was a pizza waiting for us on the conference room table. Needless to say we ate it and ended up staying even later - of course we stayed later - we weren't hungry. I don't remember how Maureen came to join us on those Friday evenings, but I'm sure it was her idea. I certainly wouldn't have thought to invite her and I doubt Dave did. Anyway we'd sit around and chat and she mostly listened. Occasionally she'd add something to the conversation, she really was quite bright, but mostly she just listened. Now that I think of it, it was Maureen's idea to open those computer trading accounts. I occasionally trade stocks and bonds and I always used a full commission broker. However, because of

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my hectic schedule, I would sometimes decide to buy a particular stock and then not be able to do so for several days. I used to complain 'give me a round the clock broker'. Maureen saw the advertisement for the discount broker with the computer hookup. She brought it into the office and showed it to me. I liked the idea, especially since I have a computer at home and a laptop with a modem that I take with me when I travel. Do you know what a modem is?” Before she had a chance to answer, he continued, “of course you do. Anyway, I told her to do whatever she had to do to get me set up. She got the application and filled it out for me. I signed it and gave it back to her. Now here comes the tricky part. She came into my office the next day and apologized for spilling coffee on my application. She'd gotten a new application and filled it out again. I signed the second application without giving it a second thought. I made the same mistake as Bill made with her. I never asked to see the application with the spilled coffee on it. Why would I?” Nora nodded, why would he. He paused for a minute and then went on. “The account was one of these accounts that allows you to do many things - buy and sell stocks, bonds, options and mutual funds. It also lets you transfer money between accounts. I gave Maureen a check for $50,000 and promptly forgot about it. I was working on several deals at once and had little time to consider stocks for my personal account. Maureen, however was working overtime. She deposited the $50,000 into my account and promptly transferred $25,000 into the second account - the one I didn't know about. Like Bill, I gave her all my personal passwords. I should have just given her my checkbook. It would have been easier in the long run. If you looked at the statement in detail, and you obviously did since you know the trading was in stocks of companies that Dave worked on, you saw what she did. She'd eat dinner with us on Friday night and place trades either over the weekend or early Monday morning. That's the beauty of the computer. No human intervention. Just passwords. So there’s no way for the computer know that the wrong person was using the account. As you saw she made some quick money and had the original $25,000 back in my account almost before I missed it. When the statements came in she pointed out to me the missing $25,000 and asked if I'd like her to look into it. And it was back the following month. I didn't give it a second thought. These things happen all the time. I had no reason to suspect that anything was wrong. The day before the War-Law Ball, she waltzed in here wearing an engagement ring. She knew I sometimes worked on Saturday mornings and she had decided to make her move. She brought a copy of this statement with her and showed me everything she'd done. She threatened to go first to Dave and

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then to the SEC if I didn't marry her. She had a list of demands. Our engagement would be announced the next day at the Ball, we'd marry in a month and she'd accompany me on my European trip as a honeymoon. I think she actually thought she could force me to love her. This infuriated me. I hate being backed into a corner. And she had done it - with my help. She showed me the engagement ring she had bought - with the trading profits from her insider trading and then left me to think. I didn't know what to do. If even a rumor of this got out, it would be the kiss of death for our business. And it would kill Dave. I stayed up all night trying to figure out a way out. But I couldn't come up with a solution. Even if I'd gone to Dave, and he believed me, she still could have gone to the SEC. There is no way that they'd believe that I didn't do it. You see how they're going after those guys for insider trading. Jail time was a real possibility. Whoever thought that would happen. I couldn't let this happen. At least she gave me an out. She didn't give poor Bill one. She took everything from him. She left me a little she left me the things I loved the most. I still had the business and of course, my friendship with Dave. I racked my brain trying to think of something to tell you, something that you'd understand. But, as you probably noticed, I came up with nothing. So, early the next morning I went to see Dave to tell him of my upcoming marriage. He actually tried to talk me out of it. Even at that point, he still didn't trust Maureen. He likes you, though.” For the first time since the beginning of his story he smiled. “Well, I think the world of him,” Nora said, “go on. I'd like to hear the rest.” “You know most of the rest. The engagement was announced and the wedding took place. But the more I felt locked in the harder it was for me to be even civil to her, forget being nice. Why do you think she came home early from the honeymoon? I couldn't help it. You think Prince Charles ha-d trouble being in the same room as Princess Diana, I could give him lessons. The thing that infuriated me the most was that she thought that we'd get married and live like any other happily married couple. She was even talking about having children. Sure like any other couple, where the wife is black mailing the husband. Things got so bad so fast that even Maureen realized it wouldn't work. Bill was right when he said that Maureen was in a terrible mood and looked like she'd been crying. We'd had it out right before the party. She'd agreed to a divorce after a long bitter fight. She didn't want a divorce. -She kept saying we could work things out. That if I'd give it a chance we could be happy. We finally agreed on a settlement, ten million dollars. Can you believe it? She wanted ten million dollars. I'd have probably had to sell my house or perhaps even gone to Dave for a loan, but I didn't care. I had to get rid of her. I

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just wanted her out of my life. Out for good. I'm afraid I probably was quite cruel and I'm sure she was quite upset when she saw Bill.” “She probably took out her anger and disappointment on him,” agreed Nora, “Do you think she wrote a letter?” she asked. “I don't think so,” Christopher said, “We had only finished arguing a little bit before the guests arrived. After that she spent most of the time packing. She was moving back to her house on Winter Street right away. That was part of the agreement. That night after the party she was moving back. I didn't care if I had to move every piece of clothing she owned myself. She wasn't spending another night in my house. Once the accident happened and we buried her, I thought it would all go away. Like a bad dream, it kept coming back. I know Dave's father meant well, but he didn't help matters. When the break-ins started, I didn't know what to do. After the first one, I told Dave everything. I had to talk to someone. And I wanted him to hear it from me first in case it ever came out. He's been such a good friend.” “In more ways than you know,” Nora added. “I know,” he said, “he thinks I don't, but I do. He went sneaking off to try and plead my case with you the day after I told him everything.” He laughed. “He's like an old mother hen taking care of her offspring. Under different circumstances I'd wring his neck, but given what's happened, how can I be angry with him? So you see,” he said, “I knew everything that Bill was saying was the truth. Now you can see why I believed him and why I felt I had to help him.” They both sat there in silence for several long minutes. Then Nora stood up and went into the kitchen and got out the small ashtray that she kept for those few guests who were still addicted to nicotine. She came back into the living room and put the ashtray down on the coffee table. Then she took the brokerage statement from him, that statement that had caused so much trouble for so many people and tore it up. She tore it into tiny, tiny pieces that she put into the ashtray. Then she struck a match and burned the whole thing. They both watched until the last flame died out. Then Nora turned to Christopher and said, “What statement? I never saw a brokerage statement.” Christopher burst out laughing. Nora suspected that he was laughing more from relief than from anything that she said that was particularly funny. She got up from the chair she was sitting in and walked over to the window. The first rays of sunlight were beginning to peak through the edge of the horizon.

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It was a new day, a time for new beginnings. For a moment she forgot that there was anyone in the room with her. She felt as though she had been carrying around the weight of the world on her shoulders and someone had lifted it from her. Christopher's voice startled her. “I should really be going,” he said, “it's almost morning and you didn't get any sleep. And I could tell that's all you had on your mind when I was driving you home last night. You looked exhausted. Besides in another few hours that jackass Pretzer will be calling you to make sure I didn't mutilate you while his back was turned?” Nora was tired, but not nearly as tired as she had been the night before. She turned to walk Christopher to the door. He stopped with his hand on the knob and asked, “Do you think we could start over again?” he asked, “as though everything that happened in the last few months hadn't happened?” Nora didn't know what to say. “Why, I guess so,” she finally answered slowly. “Of course,” she added a second later in a much firmer voice. “I'd like that.” “All right,” he said, “starting over, like the last few months hadn't happened... hmmm,” he mused. “I've got it. How'd you and Sara like to be my dates for the next War-Law Ball.” “Why,” said Nora, “we'd love to.” And then she stopped a moment before adding jokingly, “but we insist on being picked up. Last time I drove us and look at all the trouble you got into while we were on our way.” “You've got a deal,” he said as he ran down the stairs. Nora noticed that he was whistling as he neared the car. Before she could stop herself, it popped right out of her mouth. “Oh, one more thing,” she called. He stopped and turned and looked at her as she called to him, “Am I going to have to listen to them announce your engagement again.”

He looked at her for a long minute and then answered, “Maybe.”