Mary Higgins Clark - 1984 - Stillwatch by Mary Higgins Clark

Author:Mary Higgins Clark [Clark, Mary Higgins]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

“Of course it’s true.” The neighbor’s lips parted in a crafty smile.

“Renée’s mother, Mrs. Schuyler, played the grande dame in Boston. She told the press that Renée had realized her marriage was a mistake and planned to divorce Dean Adams.”

“Pat, shall we get something to eat?” Lila’s arm urged her away.

“Wasn’t she getting the divorce?” Gina asked.

“I doubt it,” the other snapped. “She was insane about Dean, crazy jealous of him, resentful of his work. A real dud at parties. Never opened her mouth. And the way she’d practice that damn piano eight hours a day. In warm weather we all went wild listening to it. And believe me, she was no Myra Hess. Her playing was altogether pedestrian.”

I won’t believe this, Pat thought. I don’t want to believe it. What was the columnist asking now? Something about Dean Adams having a reputation as a womanizer?

“He was so attractive that women always made a play for him.” The neighbor shrugged her shoulders, “I was only twenty-three then, and I had a huge crush on him. He used to walk with little Kerry in the evening.

I made it my business to bump into them regularly, but it didn’t do me any good. I think we’d better get on that buffet line. I’m starved.”

“Was Congressman Adams visibly unstable?” Gina asked.

“Of course not. Renée’s mother started that talk. She knew what she was doing. Remember, both their fingerprints were on the gun. My mother and I always thought that Renée was probably the one who flipped and shot up the place. And as far as what happened to Kerry … Listen, those bony pianist’s hands were mighty powerful! I wouldn’t have put it past her to have hit that poor child that night.”

20

Sam sipped a light beer as he stared aimlessly across the crowd at the Palm Springs Racquet Club. Turning his head, he glanced at his daughter and smiled. Karen had inherited her mother’s coloring; her deep tan only made her blond hair seem that much lighter. Her hand rested on her husband’s arm. Thomas Walton Snow, Jr., was a very nice fellow, Sam thought. A good husband; a successful businessman.

His family was too boringly social for Sam’s taste, but he was happy that his daughter had married well.

Since his arrival, Sam had been introduced to several extremely attractive women in their early forties—widows, grass widows, career types, each ready to select a man for the rest of her life. All of this only caused Sam to feel a cumulative restlessness, an inability to settle down, an aching, pervasive sense of not belonging.

Where in the merry hell did he belong?

In Washington. That was where. It was good to be with Karen, but he simply didn’t give a damn about the rest of the people she found so intensely satisfying.

My child is twenty-four years old, he thought. She’s happily married. She’s expecting a baby. I don’t want to be introduced to all the eligible forty-plus women in Palm Springs.

“Daddy, will you please stop

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