Death Wears a Beauty Mask and Other Stories by Mary Higgins Clark

Author:Mary Higgins Clark
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: Simon & Schuster

Definitely, a Crime of Passion

“ ‘Beware the fury of a patient man,’ ” Henry Parker Britland IV observed sadly as he studied the picture of his former secretary of state. He had just learned that his close friend and political ally had been indicted for the murder of his lover, Arabella Young.

“Then you think poor Tommy did it?” Sandra O’Brien Britland said with a sigh as she patted homemade jam onto a hot scone, fresh out of the oven.

It was still early morning, and the couple was comfortably ensconced in their king-sized bed at Drumdoe, their country estate in Bernardsville, New Jersey. The Washington Post, the Wall Street Journal, the New York Times, the Times (London), L’Osservatore Romano, and the Paris Review, all in varying stages of being read, were scattered about, some lying on the delicately flowered, gossamer-soft quilt, others spilling over onto the floor. Directly in front of the couple were matching breakfast trays, each complete with a single rose in a narrow silver vase.

“Actually, no,” Henry said after a moment, slowly shaking his head. “I find it impossible to believe. Tom always had such strong self-control. That’s what made him such a fine secretary of state. But ever since Constance died—it was during my second administration—he just hasn’t seemed himself. And it was obvious to everyone that when he met Arabella he just fell madly in love. Of course, what also became obvious after a while was that he had lost some of that steely control—I’ll never forget the time he slipped and called Arabella ‘Poopie’ in front of Lady Thatcher.”

“I do wish I had known you then,” Sandra said ruefully. “I didn’t always agree with you, of course, but I thought you were an excellent president. But then, nine years ago, when you were first sworn in, you’d have found me boring, I’m sure. How interesting could a law student be to the president of the United States? I mean, hopefully you would have found me attractive, but I know you wouldn’t have taken me seriously. At least when you met me as a member of Congress, you thought of me with some respect.”

Henry turned and looked affectionately at his bride of eight months. Her hair, the color of winter wheat, was tousled. The expression in her intensely blue eyes somehow managed to convey simultaneously intelligence, warmth, wit and humor. And sometimes also childlike wonder. He smiled as he remembered the first time he met her: he had asked if she still believed in Santa Claus.

That had been the evening before the inauguration of his successor, when Henry had hosted a cocktail party at the White House for all the new members of Congress.

“I believe in what Santa Claus represents, sir,” Sandra had replied. “Don’t you?”

Later, as the guests were leaving, he had invited her to stay for a quiet dinner.

“I’m so sorry,” she had replied. “I’m meeting my parents. I can’t disappoint them.”

Left to dine alone on this final evening in the White House, Henry had thought

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