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Bruno was a good actor. He stared straight into the young counselor’s eyes.

“We’ve been warned to take particular care of Timmy,” Toby said, trying to come fully awake, “but I do know that his grandfather called the head counselor today and told him he was in the hospital with a heart condition. I’ll call my boss right away on his cell to get his permission. He’s visiting friends at a birthday party.”

“Commissioner Farley is dying,” Bruno said, his voice laced with fury. “He wants to see his grandson.”

“I understand, I understand,” Toby said nervously. “Just one phone call.”

There was no answer on the phone.

“He probably doesn’t hear it,” Toby said worriedly. “I’ll try again in a few minutes.”

“I am not waiting a few minutes,” Bruno thundered. “The commissioner is a dying man who wants to see his grandson.”

Thoroughly intimidated, Barber said, “I’ll get Timmy. Just let me help him change.”

“Don’t change him. Put on his bathrobe and slippers!” Bruno ordered. “He has plenty of clothes at home.”

“Yes, of course. You’re right. I’ll get him.”

Ten minutes later Bruno was holding the hand of a sleepy Timmy and putting him in his car.

His mind was racing with a combination of triumph and anticipation.

85

Robert Powell arrived home to receive the first of his overnight guests.

Muriel rushed upstairs to change her jacket. Horrified when she looked in the mirror, she freshened her makeup and brushed her hair. She walked downstairs trying not to show that she was unsteady on her feet. When she came into the den, she saw that Nina was the next to return. She saw the expression of contempt in her daughter’s eyes. Wait till you see, she thought as she went over to Rob to kiss his cheek. He put his arm around her tenderly.

Claire, Regina, Alison, and Rod arrived within a few minutes of each other. Laurie and Alex were last, but within ten minutes all had gathered and were in the den.

Jane stood at the bar to pass out wine and cordials.

Robert Powell held up his glass. “I cannot thank you all enough for being with me, and I apologize that you have had to endure this ordeal for twenty years. As you know, I, too, have been under a terrible cloud of suspicion. But I am happy to say that tomorrow morning, during my interview, I will announce to the world that I now know who killed my beloved Betsy-and I will name that person. So let us have this final toast to the relief that is to come, and say good night to each other.”

There was absolute silence in the room. The platter of hors d’oeuvres, so carefully prepared by Jane, was ignored.

Everyone put their glasses down without speaking and began to leave the room.

Josh was hovering in the hallway, ready to assist Jane with collecting the glasses and turning off the lights.

Laurie and Alex waited until the others were upstairs to say good night to Robert Powell.

“That was a pretty strong statement, Mr. Powell,” Alex said flatly. “And very provocative. Do you really think it was necessary?”

“I think it was absolutely necessary,” Robert Powell said. “I have spent many years going from one to the other of those four young women, trying to imagine who went into my wife’s bedroom and stole the breath from her body. I know Betsy had her faults, but she was exactly right for me, and I have missed her for twenty years. Why do you think I never remarried? Because she is irreplaceable.”

Where does that leave Muriel Craig? Laurie wondered.

“And now I wish you a very good night,” Powell said briskly.

Alex walked Laurie to the door of her room. “Keep your door locked,” he said. “If Powell is right, someone is right now trying to decide what to do. Crazy as it sounds, someone might blame you for setting up this program.”

“Or blame you for driving every one of them to admit she hated Betsy, Alex.”

“I’m not worried,” Alex said quietly. “Go to bed and lock your door.”

86

Regina sat on the edge of the bed. I know he means me, she thought. Josh must have given him the suicide note. I wonder if I’ll still get the money. I can use it for my defense. For twenty years I’ve wanted an end to this. Well, I have it now.

In robotlike fashion she changed into pajamas, went into the bathroom, splashed water on her face, turned off the light, and went to bed. Then, sleepless, she stared into the dark.

87

Alison and Rod lay side by side, their hands clutched under the light covers.

“I did do it,” Alison said. “I know I was in Betsy’s room, and I was in the closet watching.”

“Watching what?” Rod asked quickly.

“Someone holding the pillow over Betsy’s face. But Rod, it wasn’t someone, it was me.”

“Don’t say that!”

“I know it’s true, Rod. I know it’s true.”

“You don’t know it’s true. Stop saying that.”

“Rod, I’m going to go to prison.”

“No, you’re not. And for one reason: I couldn’t live without you.”

Alison stared into the darkness and came to realize the truth that anger had hidden from her. She said, “Rod, I know that you have always felt that I married you so that you could send me to medical school. I may have believed that myself. But you weren’t the only one who fell in love the first day of kindergarten. I did, too. It’s a terrible thing, but I know I have wasted twenty years hating Betsy Powell.”

She laughed mirthlessly. “If only I had had the satisfaction of knowing what I was doing when I killed her.”

88

Claire sat on the couch in her bedroom, making no attempt to sleep.

So he actually did love my mother, she thought. From the time he started coming into my room less than a month after we moved in here, I allowed it for her sake. I could see that she was so happy, and I wanted to keep her that way. I was sure that if I told her, she’d move out of here, and then where would we be?

Back in a tiny apartment. She dated men along the way, looking for what Robert Powell could give her. We were so close when I was little. I felt I owed it to her. It was my big secret, making that sacrifice for my mother. Counting every night he didn’t come near me as a blessing. Then I overheard them talking. He was telling her about the night before, and she was pleased I was so responsive.

Damn her, damn her, damn her.

I smothered her in my mind from the time I was thirteen. If I was the one who did it that final night and somebody saw me and is saying so now, so be it, so be it.

89

Nina did not attempt to go to bed. Instead she sat, legs crossed, replaying in her mind the events of the day. Was it possible that her mother had carried out her threat? She’s a good actress, Nina thought, and who wouldn’t believe her?

I didn’t know that Robert Powell was so bulldozed by Betsy that he didn’t see her for what she was. Or maybe he did see her for what she was and found it thrilling.

If Rob has been playing up to my mother these couple of days, she’s obviously been fool enough to fall for it. If she’s said I confessed to killing Betsy, it’s impossible for me. And when Rob shows her the door tomorrow, she can go straight to the police chief to claim the reward. What, if anything, can I do about it?

90

As the last light went out in the house, Bruno got out of the car. He had given Timmy a sleeping pill and now had him slung over his shoulder. Carefully he climbed over the fence, moving slowly to be sure not to disturb him. He carried him into the pool house and opened the door of the utility room. He laid him on the pile of blankets he had prepared for him and loosely tied his hands and feet.