Fading Starlight Part 12

Lauren looked at the screen on her phone. What had she done? Had she really thrown away her final chance to be proven innocent? For a woman who was possibly guilty? The sudden cessation of texts seemed to drag on forever, but what more was there to say?

Wait, I know how we can salvage this. Do you remember what the engraving said? We might be able to still work with just you describing the necklace.

Lauren released her breath. There was still a chance for her name to be cleared. But what was the cost?

I do remember it, but I would be crossing a line of privacy I promised not to cross when I was allowed to move in here. Rent-free. I cannot repay the Edwards family that way. You will have to decide whether or not it is worth telling the truth about Marisa with things as they are.

No, I'd say it's up to you whether or not you're willing to help me tell the truth. The decision of whether this article runs is 100% up to you.

Her rescue was so very close. Rhonda's verse came once again to her mind. Be careful not to make a treaty with those who live in the land where you are going, or they will be a snare among you. Only then was the answer clear to her. The people who lived in the land were those who at first would appear to be helpful allies, but in the end would be a snare. Just like Kendall. Cooperating with her was the treaty that shouldn't be made. Lauren took a deep breath, worked up her nerve, and sent her response.

At this point, I'd say that article is not going to run, then. The cost is too high. Good luck to you.

And to you. You're going to need it.

"Miss Montgomery, Mr. Winston is on the phone for you." Frances stood at the doorway of Charlotte's bedroom, looking grim. "He said it was urgent."

"Yes, thank you, Frances." Charlotte sat up in bed, smoothed back her hair, and reached for the phone at her bedside table. "Neil, to what do I owe the pleasure of this early-morning call?" Her voice had that just-awakened scratchy sound that she hated. It made her sound old.

"Miss Montgomery, I received a call last night from Sotheby's auction house. It seems that they have been approached about quietly selling a piece of jewelry. I suspect it is the very piece that you notified me as being stolen, and I told them so."

"And?"

"They are awaiting my further instructions."

At last the trap had worked. Now they could take care of that little thief once and for all. "How was it they came to contact you?"

"It is such an unusual piece, the people at Sotheby's made some inquiries, which eventually led them to your estate, and hence, me. They were concerned it could have been obtained in a less-than-legitimate way."

"And, of course, it was obtained in a less-than-legitimate way. When did Lauren Summers bring it to them?"

"It wasn't Lauren. It was a young Asian woman. They believe that she is simply working as the runner for someone else."

"I am sure they are correct about that. That necklace was stolen."

"What do you want me to do about it?"

Charlotte drew back the draperies in her room and looked out toward the ocean. She thought about the girl who walked the path every morning to go down to the beach. The one who had pretended to be so kind, planting flowers out of neighborly goodwill. Well, her true colors had been revealed. "I want the thief arrested and prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law." She savored the thought of watching the police car pull up and take that lying, thieving girl away.

"Are you sure about that? There will be quite a bit of publicity. This will likely blow up all over the news."

Charlotte thought for just a minute. She did not want to reinsert herself into the limelight, that was true. But the thought of putting that girl where she belonged outweighed that. "As a matter of fact, I am quite sure. Please notify me as soon as you have more information."

Tuesday night, Lauren had the sewing machine running at full tilt, so when she first heard a distant banging, she dismissed it. It was during a pause when a louder knock sounded, and there could be no mistaking it. She went to the door, wondering who it could possibly be. Frances was standing there, a pleasant look on her face.

"Good evening, Frances. What can I do for you?"

"Miss Montgomery has asked you to come round for tea tomorrow. Would that suit you?"

"Tea? With Miss Montgomery?" Lauren couldn't imagine an invitation that would surprise her more than this one. But if the offer was made, who was she to refuse? "Well, sure. Tea would be great."

Frances nodded once. "She'll be glad to hear it." Frances didn't move. She looked at the ground, her face growing a bit red. "There is one more piece to her invitation. I hope you don't find it insulting."

"Go on."

"She asked that I tell you to . . . make certain that you are dressed appropriately."

Lauren laughed. "Well, that does take a bit of the flattery out of the invitation. Now that you've brought up the subject, though, I know what to wear in a modern-day tea room in Los Angeles, but I'm a little less clear on what one should wear to tea with Miss Montgomery."

Frances grinned. "A nice dress will do fine."

"All right. Something between Downton Abbey and t.i.tanic?"

Frances looked confused. "I'm sorry?"

"I was speaking of the television show set in early-1900s England and the t.i.tanic movie-there was a scene where they were having tea."

"Oh, sorry. I don't get out to many movies, and Miss Montgomery only turns on the television for the evening news, so I'm afraid I'm a bit behind on all those kinds of things."

"I have to tell you, for the most part, you're not missing much."

"So I've been told." She nodded then and turned to go.

"Thank you for the invitation. I find it strangely touching."

Frances stopped and turned. "I'm pleased to hear you say that, because it's the first one I've issued in some time."

"Really?"

"Really. In fact, I believe it may be the first one ever." She turned and walked away.

Lauren closed the door, quite stunned. She resisted the urge to pump her fist, although she couldn't quite understand why gaining an invitation from a grumpy hermit meant so much to her.

twenty-four.

The dress Lauren had worn to Chloe's tea was the most obvious choice, she decided. She'd always liked the dress, even if it was sixty years out of style. It was fun to have a chance to wear it again. She took one last look in the mirror, took a deep breath, then headed across the road, wondering what the next hour might bring.

When Lauren arrived at Miss Montgomery's house, Frances led her past a large living room. Lauren glanced toward it as she walked by and noticed the heavy velvet drapes that flanked the floor-to-ceiling windows along the curve of the back wall. The hardwood floor was polished to a gleam, making a lovely setting for the Persian rug and the Queen Anne furniture arranged all around it. They kept moving until they made their way around to the back of the house. There Frances led Lauren into a small sun-room, surrounded by windows on three sides. There were plants around the perimeter, and in the middle sat an oval gla.s.s-topped white wicker table, which currently held a multi-tiered serving dish. It looked so similar to the setup at the Great Dane that Lauren smiled at the happy memory.

There were serving dishes of clotted cream and several other kinds of condiments that Lauren did not recognize or have any idea what to do with. Miss Montgomery was sitting on the far side of the table. "Thank you for coming." She gestured toward the seat across from her.

"Thank you for the invitation." Lauren sat down, unsure of what to do next.

Frances arrived with the teapot just then and set it on the table in front of them. Miss Montgomery poured some tea into a floral cup, then placed it on a matching saucer along with a small silver spoon, and handed the cup and saucer to Lauren. She then repeated the process, putting the second cup in front of herself. "How are you enjoying the neighborhood?"

"It's beautiful."

"Yes, it is." Miss Montgomery poured cream into her tea, then used her spoon to delicately fold it in. "I would think that someone your age might be a little lonely out here." She looked at Lauren evenly, clearly waiting for an answer.

Lauren supposed there wasn't any reason to be anything less than truthful here. "Actually, being away from most people is a good thing for me right now."

Miss Montgomery continued to look at her and nodded once. "Ah yes, the dress issue in Hollywood. I did hear about that. I also have seen with my own eyes that you do indeed have a talent when it comes to dresses."

"Unfortunately for me, negative publicity seems to outweigh talent, effort, or hard work."

"That's something I understand all too well." She took a sip of her tea, then reached up and took a scone off the middle tier of the server and set it on her plate. She took a small bite, then looked toward Lauren as if she expected something that had not yet happened.

Lauren was a bit at a loss as to how to proceed with this conversation. Miss Montgomery clearly did not want people prying into her personal life, so she couldn't very well ask the usual "tell me about yourself" kinds of questions. So, what were they to discuss? She finally managed, "Your home is beautiful." It was true-and obvious enough that anyone would make the same observation. Nothing prying in that.

"Thank you."

The silence grew long and loud. Finally, Miss Montgomery said, "Have you noticed anyone in the area who is not supposed to be here?"

"I really haven't been in this area long enough to know who is and who isn't supposed to be here. But I don't think I've seen anyone out of place. There's Frances and your niece, George and Edna, and Christi and Elliott and their dogs. The only other people I've noticed were the contractors at the cottage, and oh, some of my friends drove up a couple of weekends ago to help me with some kitchen repairs."

She took a deep breath, waiting for the interrogation, but Miss Montgomery just kept waiting. Lauren was racking her brain for what it was she was supposed to be saying. The silence grew longer and more awkward. Lauren added, "Um, why do you ask? Is there someone skulking around?"

"I couldn't say for sure, but my gardener told me that several times recently he has seen a blue sports car parked not far outside the gates. There usually isn't anyone in it, which makes me think the owner might be walking around here somewhere."

Lauren shrugged. "Not that I know of. Is there a way to get past the guard on foot? There's not another way in, is there?"

Miss Montgomery shook her head. "Not really. The beachfront at the end of the road is quite far below, and there are no stairs or access points there. Even if there were, it would be very difficult to make it around the rock wall to our own beach. You haven't seen anyone down at the beach, have you?"

"No, I've never seen anyone else on the private beach. Not at all."

Miss Montgomery took another bite of scone, took another sip of tea, then turned her attention back on Lauren. "Your friends who came-does one of them drive a blue sports car?"

"No, it was a red truck. I don't believe I've seen a blue sports car . . ." No sooner had the words left her mouth than Lauren realized the ident.i.ty of the car's owner. It had to be Kendall Joiner. She sat for a moment and considered what she should do. Telling the truth was one thing, but what if Miss Montgomery really was a murderer from all those years ago? Did Lauren really want to tip her off that someone might be on to her? Still, Kendall had proven quite sleazy. "You know, I'm pretty sure I do know who that car belongs to."

"Oh really?" She sounded as if this did not surprise her. "Please tell."

"It took me a minute to put the pieces together, but there is a reporter who has been contacting me ever since I moved in here. She has some information about the whole wardrobe incident."

Miss Montgomery nodded. "Why would she need to drive out here about that?"

Lauren studied the trail of pink flowers around the rim of her saucer. The gold edging was so delicate. So beautiful. Why couldn't life be more like a teacup? "She also keeps asking me for information."

"Oh really? What kind, exactly?"

"Well, uh . . ." Lauren looked up to find Miss Montgomery watching her closely. "She wanted information about you."

Miss Montgomery's right eyebrow quirked in the old-time movie-star manner. "And have you given her any?"

Lauren's face burned. "A little." She wanted so badly to look away, but she was determined to face whatever was coming head on. "She was particularly interested in your clothes and jewelry. I hadn't told her much, but after you ripped out my flowers that last time, I was angry and . . ." She looked down at her plate. "I'm ashamed to say it, but I took a picture of your . . . uh, of something you were wearing and showed it to her. I'm so sorry. I was just angry and hurt. I didn't let her look at it for long, and I realized right after I'd done it that it was the wrong thing to do."

"What was the picture of-the one you showed her?"

To answer this truthfully would be to let her know that Willow had taken her necklace. Lauren didn't want to be the one to do that, so she simply said, "I . . . uh . . . it was . . . a close-up of a necklace I saw you wearing."

"I see." She took a sip of her tea. "You saw me wearing this, you say. Would it by any chance be the necklace that I'd told you I lost?"

Lauren stared at her plate. "Yes."

"I thought so. Which might explain why I got a call from an LA Times reporter, asking for comments about an article they are about to run. It seems to involve a long-ago murder and my missing necklace. How do you think they might have linked those two things?"

Since Lauren had never shown Kendall the photo for longer than a moment, or told her what the inscription said, this made no sense. "I don't understand how this could have happened."

"I think you more or less told me how it happened. It probably happened in a very similar way to how my necklace seems to have disappeared." She placed her napkin gently back on her lap. "Trust me, that necklace will be found and the guilty parties held to account."

"Miss Montgomery, I do not have your necklace."

"Then you have nothing to worry about, do you? No matter, you have broken the neighborhood privacy policy and, rest a.s.sured, you will pay for it." She picked up a sandwich and set it on her plate. "My manager will be in touch in the next few days. Until then, I don't think we have anything more we need to say."

"Yes, ma'am." Lauren pushed back from the table and stood. "I really am sorry. All I ever wanted was to be a friend to you or, at the very least, a caring neighbor."

"It would seem that you did not succeed on either account, then, wouldn't it?"

"I guess you're right. I am truly sorry." Lauren walked from the house, feeling once again like the failure she kept turning out to be.

twenty-five.

Charlotte sat in her tower as the evening shadows fell across her. Still, she felt no need to turn on the lights. Sometimes darkness suited her.

That Lauren girl troubled her exceedingly. She seemed so nice, so believable, so unselfish. But those kinds of people were never real. Surely, if nothing else, Charlotte had learned that. She had hoped that by now the police would have been able to link Lauren definitively with the person who had brought in the necklace for sale. Since that was taking too long, Charlotte had invited her over for tea, wanting to see what this girl might say on her own behalf. Nothing surprising, she supposed, except that it was odd that she admitted to showing that reporter the necklace. That was something she'd need to inform her lawyer about. Of course she couldn't trust the girl-she'd known that all along, hadn't she?

She thought back to the day her father died. She was in her room, crying her eyes out, while her mother was drinking heavily in the other room. Her friend Alice had come over, stayed with her for the whole night-held her, cried with her, commiserated with her. Alice had been one of the friends who had never judged her for her parents' lack of marital status, which was odd, because she was the only one of her friends who was a churchgoer-the ones who usually were so quick to judge.

Alice spent nearly every moment with Charlotte during that week. She helped answer the phone when Charlotte's mother was too drunk or Charlotte too overcome. She had done everything a friend could do. Alice had been her one friend, too, who had never tried to work her way into one of her father's films. She was the only one who wasn't after something.

At least it had appeared so for a while.

The whispers of the church crowd grew louder and louder after Charlotte's father died. It was as if something of his clout and power had protected them from the judgmental comments and condemnation. Once he was gone, once the will had been read and it was apparent that no more power was held by Charlotte or her mother, well, the gloves were off.