Page 30 of Accidental Murder
THURSDAY
When Kayla awokein the morning, her body ached. Her face, which she’d neglected to wash before falling into bed, was puffy and creased. She closed the lace curtains in the bathroom to block the glaring sun and scrubbed her face with a warm washcloth for three minutes to ensure every trace of makeup was gone. She massaged a small amount of lotion around her eyes, finger-combed her new hairdo, and applied a modicum of makeup. Satisfied she resembled Ashley, albeit under duress, she went in search of a black dress. Eve was due to arrive in less than an hour.
A chilly breezepenetrated Kayla’s coat. She crossed her arms to ward off the cold and stared at the clearing at the east end of Mallard Lake where pine needles swirled like mini tornadoes. A few ducks braved the cold water. The pond, one of a series of pools in Golden Gate Park, had been Ashley’s favoritelocations to visit, a place where she could kick off her fancy shoes and reflect. Kayla couldn’t think of a more fitting site for the memorial service. So what if the day was overcast?
At the last minute, Eve had secured a flutist who, at present, was playing a solemn “What Child is This?”Kayla’s eyes filled with tears. The week before Christmas was a rotten time to die. Her stomach grumbled, but the idea of food made her want to vomit. Earlier, under Eve’s scrutiny, she’d eaten a piece of toast.
Her insurance startup client Fred Collins and his wife approached her. They offered their condolences and a quick story about how Kayla, the saint, had saved the memory on Fred’s computer three days ago. She listened attentively and wanted to omit him as a suspect, like she’d wanted to cross all her clients off her list, but she couldn’t.
At a distance, she caught sight of Dennis Wald. He looked well groomed, but even a tailored suit couldn’t hide what she knew to be the coarse man beneath.
“Ashley.” He drew near and reached for her hand. “I’m so sorry for your loss.” He covered hers with his other. “Your sister was so special.”
“Thank you,” she murmured.
Dennis released her hand and backed away awkwardly. He bumped into Taylor Simmons and said something Kayla couldn’t make out. Simmons responded. The two men bowed, almost as a reflex, and Dennis shambled off.
Simmons, whose gray suit matched the color of the sky, watched Dennis for a brief moment before stepping toward Kayla. “I’m sorry for my behavior yesterday. I was . . .”
“Heartbroken,” Kayla finished for him. “If there’s something I can do on behalf of Sara or your little girl, please let me know.” A vain offer, she knew. This kind of man, someone who understood logic and order and dollars and cents, would never turn to her in his time of need.
Simmons attempted a smile and trudged to the pond where he solemnly perched on the edge of one of the stone benches facing the water.
Kayla stared after him, identifying with his grief. Why had Sara killed herself? What could have driven her to it?
“Ashley, darling!” Margaret Thornton cut a path across the grass with Ashley’s business manager in tow. The pair were a study in contrasts, Margaret in an elegant cashmere coat and spiky heels, Walter in baggy sweater, khakis, and scuffed loafers. Margaret clutched Kayla’s shoulders and air-kissed her on each cheek. “What a pain it was finding this place. None of the road markers match the maps.”
Kayla had worried about mourners getting lost, but no one other than Margaret had mentioned the problem. Probably because Eve was standing at the curb waving a miniature American flag and directing people.
“This was my sister’s favorite place,” Kayla said.
“It’s lovely.” Margaret pulled her close. “Prenez le temps de pleurer.”
Kayla startled.French. Margaret could be saying,I know who you are, and Kayla wouldn’t have a clue.
“She’s right,” Walter said. “Take the time to cry. Be selfish.”
Relief washed over Kayla, thankful for his translation.
Mary Dorman, in a burly wool coat and sensible shoes, sauntered by Kayla without saying a word. Her face was pinched with sadness. Mrs. Tennyson blew Kayla a supportive kiss. Nolan Trask, in an ill-fitting black suit, lumbered behind them, his shoulders hunched. His bearing surprised her. He always stood erect, his posture a product of military discipline.
“Kayla!” Veronica scurried ahead of the headmistress from Jewels of the World Academy.
Kayla winced. If she could’ve spared the child this torment, she would’ve, but the headmistress, a devoted educator, hadinsisted Veronica be present. She’d said Veronica needed to understand that Kayla wouldn’t come to tutor her anymore. The finality of a memorial would help her make the transition.
Veronica scuttled to Kayla’s side and threw her arms around her. “Kis for Kayla.” She smiled her toothy grin.
Kayla straightened the lacy collar on the girl’s navy dress. “Sweetheart, my name is Ashley.” The lie caught in her throat.
Veronica tugged on a tress of hair and looked questioningly at the headmistress.
“Yes, Veronica. We discussed this. Ashley is Kayla’s twin sister.” The headmistress held up two fingers to Veronica. “Two girls who look the same. Remember? I told you.”
Veronica ground her teeth as she tried to process the information. “I know, know, know.”
“Now, Veronica, don’t go all cuckoo on us.” The headmistress offered a mock frown. Kayla knewcuckoowas code forsettle down. Veronica relaxed.
Forcing back tears, Kayla clutched Veronica’s hands. “My sister said she loved working with you. You were her favorite student. What if I tutor you some time?”