Read Online I Heard That Song Before by Mary Higgins Clark - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Mary Higgins Clark
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retraction from Gladys Althorp and, if it is not received, institute a suit against her to clear his name?”
Slater’s eyes had turned icy, but not before Greco caught a sudden look of fear in them. “You were about to leave, Mr. Greco,” he said.
Neither man exchanged another word as Nicholas Greco left the house. Greco walked down the path, got into his car, and started it. Who is Slater on the phone with now? he wondered as he drove down the street. Carrington? The lawyers? The new Mrs. Carrington?
An image of Kay’s heated defense of Peter Carrington when he met her in her grandmother’s home came into his mind. Kay, you should have listened to your grandmother, he thought.
12
I n the morning, Peter showed no sign of being aware that he had been sleepwalking during the night. I wasn’t sure whether or not to bring it up to him. What could I say? That it looked as if he was trying to push something or someone into the pool or pull something or someone from it?
I thought I had the explanation. He was having a nightmare about Grace drowning in the pool. He was trying to rescue her. It made sense, but talking to him about it seemed pointless. He wouldn’t remember any of it.
We got up at seven. The Barrs would come in at eight to prepare breakfast, but I squeezed juice and made coffee because we decided to take a quick jog through the grounds of the estate. Oddly enough, up until now we had spoken very little about my father’s role as landscaper here. I had told Peter how hard my mother’s death must have been on Daddy, and how his suicide had devastated me. I did not, of course, mention the appalling things Nicholas Greco had said. I was infuriated by his suggestion that Daddy might have chosen to disappear because he had something to do with Susan Althorp’s disappearance.
As we jogged, Peter began to talk about my father. “My mother never changed the landscaping after my grandmother died,” he said. “Then, in fairness to Elaine, when she married my father, she said the whole place looked as if it had been designed as a cemetery. She said it had everything but a sign reading ‘rest in peace.’ Your father did a beautiful job in creating the gardens that are here now.”
“Elaine fired him because of his drinking,” I said, trying to sound matter-of-fact.
“That’s her story,” Peter said mildly. “Elaine always fooled around, even when my father was alive. She made a play for your dad and he brushed her off. That ’s really why she fired him.”
I stopped so suddenly that he was six strides ahead of me before he slowed and came back. “I’m sorry, Kay. You were a child. How could you possibly have known?”
It had been Maggie, of course, who told me that it was Daddy’s drinking that cost him the job. She blamed everything that happened on Daddy’s drinking: the loss of the job here, even his suicide. I realized I was suddenly furious at her. My father had been too much of a gentleman to give her the real reason he’d been fired, and then, being a know-it-all, she’d decided she knew the reason. Not fair, Maggie, I thought, not fair.
“Kay, I didn’t mean to upset you.” Peter’s hand was in mine and our fingers intertwined.
I looked up at him. Peter’s aristocratic face was strengthened by his firm jaw, but always it was his eyes that I saw when I looked at him. Now they were concerned, troubled that he had inadvertently hurt me.
“No, you didn’t upset me, not at all. In fact, you’ve cleared up something important. All these years I’ve had a mental image of my father stumbling around this place in a drunken stupor, and I’ve been embarrassed for him. Now I can erase it forever.”
Peter could tell that I didn’t want to discuss the subject any further.
“Okay, then,” he said. “Shall we pick up the pace?”
By running down the stone walks that wind through the gardens, and then reversing a couple of times, we got in a mile, then decided to do a final loop
Slater’s eyes had turned icy, but not before Greco caught a sudden look of fear in them. “You were about to leave, Mr. Greco,” he said.
Neither man exchanged another word as Nicholas Greco left the house. Greco walked down the path, got into his car, and started it. Who is Slater on the phone with now? he wondered as he drove down the street. Carrington? The lawyers? The new Mrs. Carrington?
An image of Kay’s heated defense of Peter Carrington when he met her in her grandmother’s home came into his mind. Kay, you should have listened to your grandmother, he thought.
12
I n the morning, Peter showed no sign of being aware that he had been sleepwalking during the night. I wasn’t sure whether or not to bring it up to him. What could I say? That it looked as if he was trying to push something or someone into the pool or pull something or someone from it?
I thought I had the explanation. He was having a nightmare about Grace drowning in the pool. He was trying to rescue her. It made sense, but talking to him about it seemed pointless. He wouldn’t remember any of it.
We got up at seven. The Barrs would come in at eight to prepare breakfast, but I squeezed juice and made coffee because we decided to take a quick jog through the grounds of the estate. Oddly enough, up until now we had spoken very little about my father’s role as landscaper here. I had told Peter how hard my mother’s death must have been on Daddy, and how his suicide had devastated me. I did not, of course, mention the appalling things Nicholas Greco had said. I was infuriated by his suggestion that Daddy might have chosen to disappear because he had something to do with Susan Althorp’s disappearance.
As we jogged, Peter began to talk about my father. “My mother never changed the landscaping after my grandmother died,” he said. “Then, in fairness to Elaine, when she married my father, she said the whole place looked as if it had been designed as a cemetery. She said it had everything but a sign reading ‘rest in peace.’ Your father did a beautiful job in creating the gardens that are here now.”
“Elaine fired him because of his drinking,” I said, trying to sound matter-of-fact.
“That’s her story,” Peter said mildly. “Elaine always fooled around, even when my father was alive. She made a play for your dad and he brushed her off. That ’s really why she fired him.”
I stopped so suddenly that he was six strides ahead of me before he slowed and came back. “I’m sorry, Kay. You were a child. How could you possibly have known?”
It had been Maggie, of course, who told me that it was Daddy’s drinking that cost him the job. She blamed everything that happened on Daddy’s drinking: the loss of the job here, even his suicide. I realized I was suddenly furious at her. My father had been too much of a gentleman to give her the real reason he’d been fired, and then, being a know-it-all, she’d decided she knew the reason. Not fair, Maggie, I thought, not fair.
“Kay, I didn’t mean to upset you.” Peter’s hand was in mine and our fingers intertwined.
I looked up at him. Peter’s aristocratic face was strengthened by his firm jaw, but always it was his eyes that I saw when I looked at him. Now they were concerned, troubled that he had inadvertently hurt me.
“No, you didn’t upset me, not at all. In fact, you’ve cleared up something important. All these years I’ve had a mental image of my father stumbling around this place in a drunken stupor, and I’ve been embarrassed for him. Now I can erase it forever.”
Peter could tell that I didn’t want to discuss the subject any further.
“Okay, then,” he said. “Shall we pick up the pace?”
By running down the stone walks that wind through the gardens, and then reversing a couple of times, we got in a mile, then decided to do a final loop
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