The Wife Who Knew Too Much(59)
“Who are you?” I demanded, my fists clenching in frustration.
But daubs of paint on canvas couldn’t answer questions. And the woman herself was cold in the ground.
* * *
I was lying in the dark when I heard a scratching sound. A strange chill pervaded the room, a sort of mist, that smelled of chlorine. The scratching sound seemed to be coming from a shutter blowing in the wind. Funny, I didn’t recall that window being open, or even having shutters before. I got up to close it, and looked down to the beach, which was much closer than I’d remembered, as if the bedroom had fallen to the ground. The mist cleared suddenly, and I gasped as I saw Nina standing there looking back at me. Not Nina herself, but the painting come to life—naked, with mottled skin, spindly limbs, and vacant eyes. The chlorine smell was overpowering now, and it was coming from her. As I watched, a big black SUV barreled down the beach heading for her. I knew it was the car that had tried to kill me, and I screamed to warn her, but my voice wouldn’t come. The Suburban hit her at full speed, sending her fragile body arcing high into the air. She landed in the swimming pool with a loud splash, a mangled corpse, as blood and red hair fanned out against the blue water.
I woke up in a cold sweat. The crack where the drapes came together glowed pink. I threw them open, letting in the morning light to banish the nightmare. But the vision of Nina broken and floating in the swimming pool wouldn’t go away. I felt like it was there for a reason, urging me to take action. In my heart, I no longer trusted the official version of Nina’s death. I needed the truth. Not knowing could be dangerous. I’d never searched the grounds for that Suburban. I’d never visited the swimming pool where Nina drowned. Okay, I was no detective, and maybe I wouldn’t be able to solve the mystery on my own. But the time had come to stop being passive. I inhabited this woman’s life like a borrowed coat. If I didn’t find out what happened to her, I could end up suffering the same fate.
I pulled on sweatpants and a down jacket and made my way through the silent house to the back terrace. The sky was brightening, and the air was calm and frigid, with a bracing smell of seaweed. I inhaled deeply as I walked up the footpath past the spot where Derek and Kovacs had struggled the night Nina died. The memory was upsetting enough that I’d avoided this area ever since. That could’ve come with a cost. For all I knew, the Suburban was parked in the motor court right now. It might belong to someone I saw every day. Better to know.
I followed the path over the frost-covered lawn to the motor court on the west side of the property. The night of the party, rows of cars belonging to Nina’s guests had been parked there. But as I crested the rise, I saw it was empty now. A brick garage with six bays ran along the edge of the motor court. There was an apartment above it, where Dennis lived. The shades were drawn—hopefully he was asleep. I walked up to a garage bay and tugged the metal door handle, but it wouldn’t budge. I tried a couple of the others with no success. Around to the side was a pedestrian door. Gloria had given me a set of keys when I first arrived. Most of them I’d never used, but now I tried them until I found the one that worked. The door squeaked so badly that I cringed. Immediately to my left, stairs led up to Dennis’s apartment. If he came down to investigate, I’d brazen it out. I was Mrs. Ford, after all. I had the right to be here. I even had a key.
The separate garage bays were connected internally, making one long, open space that smelled pleasantly of concrete and motor oil. I walked the length of it, surveying the cars. Connor’s beautiful Lamborghini sat idle and neglected. That car reminded him of Nina, which was why he didn’t drive it. There was an antique Porsche roadster, a Jaguar, a rugged, military-looking Mercedes SUV, and the Mercedes sedan that I’d ridden in on numerous occasions. In the farthest bay, a large, square vehicle was hidden under a silver car cover. I walked up to it with a sick feeling. The cover turned out to be held on with cables fastened with a padlock. The only way to remove it would be to cut it off, and then I’d be left with some explaining to do. The shape of that Suburban lived in my nightmares. I knew it was the same car, but now I wouldn’t be able to prove it. When Connor returned from Dubai, I could demand that the cover be removed, and an inquisition undertaken to find out who’d driven it. But was that smart?
I should find out what I could by investigating on my own. I left the garage, crossed back over the terrace, and went around to the east, where a lavish pool and tennis complex hid behind a tall fence. The gate was locked, but I had the key. Inside, the complex had the forlorn air of a summer retreat after the cold weather set in. The lawn, though perfectly trimmed, was brown in places and speckled with fallen leaves. The Olympic-size pool had been drained and closed. Its sturdy vinyl cover was held in place with metal cables and dotted with pools of stagnant water. I walked the pool’s perimeter, trying to understand what had happened here that night. A woman lost her life. Not just any woman. Connor’s wife. She’d been diagnosed with a terminal illness, thrown a party, and come here at its end, determined to end her suffering. Did that make sense? Not to me. If I’d been in mental anguish, I could never have held up my head and entertained my guests, like I’d read she did that night. Then again, I hadn’t known her. A lifetime spent as Edward Levitt’s wife had probably taught Nina to smile for the cameras even when she was bleeding inside.
Camera. Shit.
Lost in my reverie, I’d failed to register the sound as I walked around the pool. A camera shutter was clicking somewhere nearby, when it shouldn’t be. I looked about wildly to find the source of the noise. He was up in a tree, sitting on a branch that ran along the fence, dressed all in black. The long lens of his camera had recorded me as I visited the place where my predecessor died.