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Authors: Mary Higgins Clark

Tags: #Fiction, #General, #Anthologies (Multiple Authors)

Stillwatch (36 page)

BOOK: Stillwatch
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New York City: Suspect in firebombing of car resultingin death of loan shark. No indictment. Thought to beon fringe of Mafia.

 

May have settled gambling debts by performingservices for mob.

 

Other relevant fact: Exceptional mechanical aptitude.

 

“A perfectly clean record,” he said sarcastically.Over sliced-steak sandwiches they discussed, compared andevaluated the fact sheet on Toby Gorgone, Eleanor Brown’s trialtranscript, the CAA findings on the plane crash and the news ofCatherine Graney’s murder. By the time coffee was served, they hadseparately and jointly arrived at disturbing possibilities: Toby was amechanical whiz who had left a suitcase on the Jennings plane minutes

 

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before takeoff and the plane had crashed under mysteriouscircumstances. Toby was a gambler who might have been in debt tobookies at the time the campaign funds disappeared.“It seems to me that Senator Jennings and this character Toby taketurns exchanging favors,” Crowley commented. “She alibis for himand he pulls her chestnuts out of the fire.”“I can’t believe Abigail Jennings would deliberately send a younggirl to prison,” Sam said flatly. “And I certainly don’t believe she’dbe party to the murder of her husband.” He realized they were allwhispering now. They were talking about a woman who in a fewhours might become Vice President—designate of the United States.The restaurant was starting to empty. The diners, most of themgovernment people, were hurrying back to their jobs. Probably atone point during lunch every one of them had speculated about thePresident’s conference tonight.“Sam, I’ve seen dozens of characters like this Toby,” Jack said.“Most of them in the mob. They’re devoted to the head guy. Theysmooth his path—and take care of themselves at the same time. PerhapsSenator Jennings wasn’t involved in Toby’s activities. But look at itthis way: Let’s say Toby knew Willard Jennings wanted to give up hisseat in Congress and get a divorce from Abigail. Jennings wasn’t worthfifty thousand bucks in his own right. Mama held the purse strings. SoAbigail would have been out of the political scene, dropped by WillardJennings’ circle of friends and back to being an ex-beauty queen froma hick town. And Toby decided not to let that happen.”“Are you suggesting she returned the favor by lying for him aboutthe campaign money?” Sam asked.“Not necessarily,” Frank said. “Here—read the Senator’s testimonyon the stand. She admitted that they stopped at a gas station aroundthe time Eleanor received the call. The engine had developed a knockand Toby wanted to check it. She swears he was never out of hersight. But she
was
on her way to deliver a speech and probablystudying her notes. One minute she probably saw Toby in front of thecar tinkering at the engine; the next maybe he was behind it getting atool out of the trunk. How long does it take to scoot around to thepublic phone, dial a number and leave a two-second message? I’d

 

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have torn that testimony apart. But even assuming we’re right, I can’tunderstand why Toby picked Eleanor.”“That’s easy,” Jack said. “He knew about her record. He knew howsensitive she was. Without that open-and-shut case, there’d have beena full-blown investigation into the missing funds. He’d have been asuspect and his background investigated. He’s smart enough to havegotten away with another ‘no indictment’ on his fact sheet, but theSenator would have been pressured by the party to get rid of him.”“If what we believe about Toby Gorgone checks out,” Samconcluded, “Catherine Graney’s death becomes too timely, tooconvenient to be a case of random murder.”“If Abigail Jennings gets the nod from the President tonight,” Jacksaid, “and it comes out that her chauffeur murdered the Graneywoman, those confirmation hearings will be a worldwide scandal.”The three men sat at the table, each somberly reflecting on thepossible embarrassment to the President. Sam finally broke the silence.“One bright note is if we can prove Toby wrote those threateningnotes and arrest him, I can stop worrying about Pat.”Frank Crowley nodded at Jack. “And if your people get enoughon him, Toby might be persuaded to tell the truth about the campaignfunds. I tell you, to see that poor girl Eleanor Brown taking that lie-detector test this morning and swearing she’d never even stolen apiece of chalk would break your heart. She doesn’t look eighteen,never mind thirty-four. That prison experience almost killed her. Afterher breakdown a shrink had her paint a doll’s face to show how shefelt. She still carries that doll around with her. The damn thing wouldgive you the creeps. It looks like a battered child.”“A doll!” Sam exclaimed. “She has a
doll
. By any chance, is it aRaggedy Ann doll?”At Frank’s astonished nod, he signaled for more coffee. “I’m afraidwe’re barking up the wrong tree,” he said wearily. “Let’s start allover again.”

 

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Toby poured a Manhattan into the chilled cocktail glass and set itdown in front of Abigail. “Drink this, Senator. You need it.”“
Toby where did she get that letter? Where did she get it?
”“I don’t know, Senator.”“It couldn’t have been in anything you gave her. I never saw itagain after I wrote it.
How much does she know?
Toby, if she couldprove I was there that night . . .”“She can’t, Senator. No one can. And no matter what she mayhave dug up, she hasn’t any proof. Come on, she did you a favor.That letter will clinch sympathy for you. Wait and see.”He finally appeased her the only way that worked. “
Trust
me!Don’t worry about it. Have I ever let you down?” He calmed her alittle, but even so, she was still a bundle of nerves. And in a fewhours she was due at the White House.“Listen, Abby,” he said. “While I fix you something to eat, I wantyou to belt two Manhattans. After that have a hot bath and sleep foran hour. Then get yourself in your best-looking outfit. This is thebiggest night of your life.”He meant it. She had reason to be uspet—plenty of reason. Theminute he heard the letter being read, he’d been on his feet. But assoon as Pelham said, “Your husband was lost a week later,” he’dknown it would be all right.Abby almost blew it. Once again he’d been there to stop her frommaking a terrible mistake.Abby reached for her glass. “Bottoms up,” she said, and a touch ofa smile lingered around her lips. “Toby, in a little while we’ll have it.”The Vice Presidency. “That’s right, Senator.” He was sitting on ahassock across from the couch.“Ah, Toby,” she said. “What would I have become without you?”

 

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“State assemblywoman from Apple Junction.”“Oh, sure.” She tried to smile.Her hair was loose around her face and she didn’t look more thanthirty years old. She was so slim. Slim the way a woman should be.Not a bag of bones, but firm and sleek.“Toby, you look as though you’re thinking. That would be a first.”He grinned at her, glad she was starting to loosen up. “You’re thesmart one. I leave the thinking to you.”She sipped the drink quickly. “The program turned out all right?”“I keep telling you . . . it wouldn’t have made sense for you tocarry on about the letter. She did you a favor.”“I know. . . . It’s just . . .”The Manhattan was hitting her. He had to get some food into her.“Senator, you relax. I’ll fix a tray for you.”“Yes . . . that would be a good idea. Toby, do you realize that a few hoursfrom now I’m going to be Vice President-designate of the United States?”“I sure do, Abby.”“We all know how ceremonial the office is. But Toby, if I do agood job, they may not be able to deny me the top spot next year.That’s what I intend to have happen.”“I know that, Senator.” Toby refilled her glass. “I’m going to fixyou an omelette. Then you’re going to take a nap. This is your night.”Toby got up. He couldn’t look anymore at the naked yearning onher face. He’d seen it the day she got the news that she wouldn’t beeligible for a scholarship to Radcliffe. She’d come over to where hewas mowing the lawn and shown him the letter, then sat on the porchsteps, hugged her legs and dropped her head in her lap. She’d beeneighteen years old. “Toby, I want to go there so bad. I can’t rot in thisstinking town. I can’t. . . .”And then he’d suggested she romance that jerk Jeremy Saunders. . . .He’d helped her other times, helped her to find her destiny.And now, once again, somebody was trying to ruin everything for her.Toby went into the kitchen. As he prepared the dinner he tried toenvision how interesting it would be when Abby was one heartbeataway from the Presidency.

 

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The phone rang. It was Phil. “The Senator okay?”“She’s fine. Look, I’m getting her dinner.”“I have a piece of information you wanted. Guess who owns PatTraymore’s house.”Toby waited.“Pat Traymore, that’s who. It’s been in trust for her since she wasfour years old.”Toby whistled soundlessly. Those eyes, that hair, a certain lookabout her . . . Why hadn’t he figured it out before this? He could haveblown everything by being so dumb.Phil’s voice was querulous. “Did you hear me? I said . . .“I heard you. Just keep it under your hat. What the Senator don’tknow won’t hurt her.”A short time later he went back to his apartment above the garage.Under his urging, Abigail decided to watch the program while restingin her room. At eight o’clock he would bring the car around andthey’d leave for the White House.He waited until the program had been on a few minutes, thenquietly left his apartment. His car, a black Toyota, was in the driveway.He pushed it until he could roll it down to the street. He didn’t wantAbby to know he was going out. He had a little less than an hour anda half for the round trip to Pat Traymore’s house.It was enough to do what was needed.

 

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41

 

 

 

Pat drove across Massachusetts Avenue, up Q Street, over the BuffaloBridge and into Georgetown. Her head was aching now—a steadythrobbing. She drove by rote, observing traffic lights subconsciously.Presently she was on 31st Street, turning the corner, pulling intoher driveway. She was on the steps, the slap of the wind on her face.Her fingers were fumbling in her purse for her key. The lock wasclicking; she was pushing the door open, going into the shadowyquiet of the foyer.In a reflex action, she closed the door and leaned against it. Thecoat was heavy on her shoulders. She shrugged it off, tossed it aside.She raised her head; her eyes became riveted on the step at the bendof the staircase.
BOOK: Stillwatch
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