Sidney Sheldon's the Silent Widow Read online

  ‘You look exhausted,’ Gretchen told Nikki. ‘You know, if you’re having sleep problems you should really think about going vegan, or at least only eating raw last thing at night. What did you have for dinner last night?’

  ‘A burger,’ said Nikki.

  ‘There you go.’ Gretchen sat back, satisfied she’d proved her point. ‘Red meat. That’s the worst thing for nightmares.’

  ‘Is it?’

  ‘Yup. Apart from cheese. Oh my God, it wasn’t a cheeseburger, was it?’ Gretchen gasped melodramatically.

  Nikki laughed and confessed that, unfortunately, it was, but that she really didn’t feel her diet was to blame for her night terrors.

  ‘Well, what do you think it is then?’ Gretchen asked.

  ‘I don’t know,’ said Nikki. ‘Guilt, maybe?’

  Gretchen didn’t buy it. ‘That’s baloney. What have you got to be guilty about? Doug’s death was an accident.’

  ‘I know.’

  ‘You were an amazing wife to him, Nikki.’

  ‘An amazing, infertile wife,’ Nikki added wistfully.

  Gretchen frowned. ‘Come on. You were the one who cared about that, far more than Doug ever did.’

  Was that true? Nikki couldn’t remember any more.

  ‘Maybe it’s anger, then,’ she said. ‘Maybe I’m still so damn angry at him, my subconscious is trying to ease the pressure by having me sadistically murder my already dead husband in fantasy?’

  ‘You know what I think?’ Gretchen said. ‘I think all you psychologists are full of shit. It’s a dream. It doesn’t mean anything. I mean, Christ, Nik, you’ve been under a hell of a lot of stress. No wonder your subconscious is going a bit haywire. What you need is a distraction.’

  ‘Such as?’ Nikki asked wearily.

  ‘Well,’ Gretchen leaned forward conspiratorially. ‘I assume you’ve been following all the stuff about your poor murdered patient and Willie Baden?’

  Reaching down beneath the table for her pocketbook, Gretchen pulled out the latest copy of US Weekly. Paparazzi pictures of the Rams’ owner, looking paunchy and dreadfully old on the beach in Mexico, had been placed alongside glamour shots of Lisa Flannagan from her modeling days. Between these, and three pages of lurid prose about Willie and Lisa’s affair, under the headline ‘Baden’s Betrayal’, were a few pictures of Valentina Baden, Willie’s wife.

  Nikki studied them closely. Mrs Baden was an attractive woman for her age, which she guessed was probably early sixties. Slim and elegant with a neatly trimmed bob of gray-blond hair. But at the same time she looked haggard and hounded in all of the paparazzi photographs, using her sarong as a shield and cowering behind oversized sunglasses.

  Leafing through the feature, Nikki shook her head angrily. ‘Poor woman. Why don’t they leave her alone?’

  Gretchen shrugged. ‘They never leave anyone alone. You know that. And whatever else Valentina Baden may be, she’s not poor.’

  ‘You know what I mean,’ said Nikki.

  ‘I do, but I suspect you’re wrong about that too,’ said Gretchen. ‘My guess is she’s completely used to his affairs by now. I mean, it’s not as if this murdered girl was his first.’

  ‘Bastard,’ Nikki muttered under her breath.

  ‘Maybe they have an “arrangement”?’ said Gretchen jokingly. ‘Valentina might be a cougar with a string of young lovers for all we know.’

  ‘Don’t be facile,’ Nikki snapped. ‘This is what men do. This is his shit, not hers.’

  Gretchen recoiled at Nikki’s anger, white-hot suddenly. Neither of them knew the Badens personally, after all. This was just gossip, something the old Nikki would have enjoyed. Before Doug’s death knocked all the joy out of her.

  ‘I don’t understand you sometimes,’ she observed quietly.

  ‘What do you mean?’ said Nikki.

  ‘I thought you’d be outraged that the media are focusing on Willie Baden and the affair, rather than the actual murder. I mean, this poor patient of yours is dead. Shouldn’t that be the story? But instead you seem more worried about Baden’s wife, who isn’t dead, and who knew what she was signing up for!’

  ‘No one signs up for betrayal,’ Nikki said bluntly. ‘And besides, Lisa Flannagan is dead. She can’t be hurt any more. Unlike Valentina Baden.’ She jabbed a finger furiously at the magazine. ‘I mean, she’s the only innocent party here. Lisa wasn’t innocent! Trust me, I knew the girl. She was a selfish, lying narcissist, sleeping with another woman’s husband for money.’

  Gretchen said nothing, but a feeling of deep unease settled over her, as it did so often with Nikki nowadays. Ever since the awful night of Doug’s car crash, Gretchen had watched Nikki being whipsawed between grief and anger. The circumstances of Doug’s death had changed her. Made her harder. Colder. Less forgiving. Gretchen hoped the change was temporary.

  ‘Well, if it’s any consolation, I think Valentina Baden’s a tougher cookie than you give her credit for,’ she said, trying to lighten the mood a little. ‘Before she married Willie she was with some hotshot financier who she completely took to the cleaners in their divorce.’

  ‘Really?’ Nikki was intrigued, her anger apparently exhausted for the moment. Not for the first time, she marveled at Gretchen’s vast knowledge of celebrity gossip. ‘How do you know this stuff?’

  ‘I read,’ said Gretchen. ‘Valentina’s actually had an amazing life. She grew up in Mexico City and when she was a teenager her younger sister went missing and they never saw her again. Can you imagine? She’s given interviews about it, how the family assumed the sister was dead but they never knew for sure. Or whether she’d been raped or kidnapped or what had happened to her.’

  ‘How awful,’ said Nikki, feelingly. ‘That must have been torture.’

  ‘Valentina never had children of her own,’ Gretchen went on, ‘but she used her husband’s money to set up a charity to help families of missing kids. Do you remember the Clancy case?’

  Nikki thought about it. Clancy. The name rang a vague bell.

  ‘A young American au pair went missing while working in Mexico City,’ said Gretchen. ‘It was probably about ten years ago now.’

  Nikki cast her mind back. ‘I do remember! I think I saw the dad on TV. Wasn’t he a firefighter or something?’

  ‘Right,’ said Gretchen. ‘Well, it was Valentina Baden’s money that put him on TV and brought public attention to the search for his daughter. I think Valentina felt a personal connection to the case, because of the Mexico City thing and her sister. Charlotte, the girl’s name was. Charlotte Clancy.’

  ‘Did they ever find her?’

  Gretchen shook her head. ‘Never. It was like Valentina’s sister all over again. The endless not knowing. All I’m saying is, Willie Baden’s wife has been through a hell of a lot worse in her life than this. It’s your murdered patient I feel sorry for. So young!’

  ‘She was young,’ Nikki agreed, softening. ‘And, you know, she was trying to improve her life. It’s not that I don’t feel terrible about Lisa—’

  ‘Do you think Willie had her bumped off?’ Gretchen interrupted breathlessly. ‘You know, took out a hit on her?’

  Closing the magazine, Nikki laughed. ‘You’ve been overdosing on The Sopranos again, Gretch. A “hit”?’

  ‘I’m serious!’ protested Gretchen. ‘I mean, he’s rich enough, right? I’ll bet he knows people who know people.’

  Nikki shook her head. ‘Willie didn’t do it. It was already over between them. Although, he was angry about her leaving,’ she mused, thinking back to her final session with Lisa, and Lisa’s almost throwaway remarks about Baden smashing china and making threats when she called it quits.

  ‘You see?’ Gretchen warmed to her theme. ‘He had motive.’

  Nikki shook her head. ‘I don’t think it was Willie Baden. His pride was hurt in the moment. No one likes being dumped. But I never got the sense Lisa was afraid of him.’

  ‘Maybe she should have been?’ said Gretchen. �
�Well, if it wasn’t Willie, who do you think did it?’

  Nikki looked at her old friend for a moment with a strangely intent expression. ‘I have no idea,’ she said eventually. ‘Why does everyone seem to think I would know who killed Lisa Flannagan?’

  Gretchen shrugged. ‘You were her therapist.’

  ‘Patients don’t tell us everything, you know. I’m sure one of the detectives investigating the case thinks I’m hiding something from him.’

  Gretchen frowned. ‘Why would he think that?’

  ‘Who knows?’ said Nikki, thanking the waiter as he placed her poached eggs in front of her. ‘He’s an odd little man, full of testosterone and rage. He obviously hates me. He hasn’t said it in so many words, but it wouldn’t surprise me if he had me down as a suspect.’

  ‘Don’t be so ridiculous!’ said Gretchen.

  ‘Is it ridiculous, though?’ asked Nikki absently. ‘I was the last person to have seen her alive.’

  ‘Well, yes, but—’

  ‘And we all have our dark sides. Don’t forget I spent last night pushing my beloved husband off a cliff to his death. And I liked it.’ Nikki paused, then broke into a broad grin.

  Gretchen exhaled.

  OK. That was a joke. She’s joking.

  Black humor was a well-known coping mechanism for grief. Gretchen might not be a therapist, but even she knew that. Still, she found Nikki worryingly difficult to read these days. Joke or no joke, something was off about her, and that something seemed to be getting worse, not better.

  This murder, coming on top of everything else, had clearly added to the stress she was under. One more blow and Gretchen worried Nikki might unravel completely.

  The sooner they caught the maniac that did it, the better.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  It was five o’clock by the time Haddon Defoe arrived at the hospital. Taking the elevator to the fifth floor, past the Addiction Recovery Clinic where he worked a couple of days a week, he hurried down the corridor, praying he wasn’t too late. But when the nurses directed him to the Family Counseling Suite his heart sank. That could only mean one thing.

  Marsha Raymond’s tear-stained face instantly confirmed Haddon’s worst suspicions.

  ‘He’s gone, Dr Defoe.’ Trey’s mother shook her head, her lower lip trembling. ‘’Bout fifteen minutes ago. I was sitting in there with him, holding his hand, and all of a sudden his heart jus’ stops beating. He never said one mo’ word after those police left this morning. They should never’ve been here, that’s what the doctor said.’

  Instinctively, Haddon pulled the grieving woman into his arms and held her. His own mind was racing wildly. It was all too much to take in. Only an hour and a half had gone by since Marsha had called him, giving him a garbled story about Trey being kidnapped and knifed and in the hospital, and begging him to come. He’d driven to Cedars as fast as he could, his mind jumping between thoughts of Trey and what the hell could have happened, and his old friend Doug Roberts, who had loved the boy like a son. What would Doug have made of all of this? And now Haddon was here but he was too late. Trey Raymond was dead. But not before the police had been here, quizzing him, defying his doctor’s orders. The whole thing was a mess.

  ‘He was cut, more than fifty times!’ Marsha wailed, extricating herself at last from Haddon’s embrace and sinking into an armchair. ‘They stabbed him in the heart, stripped him, and dumped him by the road. They musta thought he was dead.’

  Yes, thought Haddon. They must have.

  ‘Who would do that, Doc Defoe? Who would do that to my baby?’

  ‘I don’t know, Marsha,’ Haddon said quietly. ‘I’m so sorry.’

  ‘I don’t want sorry.’ The small woman’s head shot up, her eyes alive with anger. ‘I want to know WHY. I want to know WHO. My Trey never hurt nobody, Doc. He made his mistakes in the past, we all know that. But he was clean. He was a good boy. He had a new life, everything ahead of him! Dr Roberts …’ Her voice broke, and the tears came again in a great flood, leaving the thought unfinished.

  ‘Have the police said anything to you?’ Haddon asked gently.

  Marsha shook her head, still distraught.

  ‘Does Nik— Dr Roberts know?’

  Another shake. ‘Nobody knows. Only you. You the first. He’s not even cold, Doc!’

  A family liaison nurse appeared at the door as the sobbing began again, but Haddon waved her away. ‘I’m a family friend, Nurse. I’ll handle this.’

  He turned back to Marsha. ‘Would you like me to talk to the police? And to let Nikki know what’s happened?’

  Marsha Raymond dabbed at her eyes with a handkerchief and nodded. ‘Thank you,’ she sniffed. ‘I’d appreciate that. I need to get back to my mother. She’s waiting at home for news. And then, I guess … arrangements …?’

  ‘Don’t worry about any of that,’ Haddon said smoothly. ‘Let me handle it. I’ll speak to the police and we can take it from there. You just focus on Coretta. I truly am so sorry, Marsha. He was a very special young man.’

  Trey Raymond’s mother smiled gratefully through her tears.

  ‘You’re a good man, Dr Defoe. Thank you for coming.’

  ‘No problem.’ Haddon hugged her again. ‘Call me if you need anything.’

  Nikki had no sooner stepped out of the shower than she heard the doorbell. Wrapping her wet hair in a towel, turban style, and slipping on Doug’s over-sized toweling robe that she still wore in moments she needed to feel close to him, she raced downstairs.

  ‘Haddon! What a nice surprise.’

  She was taken aback to see Doug’s old friend and former partner here. Although they kept in touch and met up for coffee every once in a while, Haddon Defoe hadn’t been up to the house since the day of Doug’s funeral. Perhaps it was Nikki’s imagination, but she always sensed a certain tension when she ran into Haddon, as though Doug’s absence made him embarrassed to be around her. Today, though, it was clear from his strained expression that something more than the usual awkwardness was on his mind.

  ‘Hello, Nikki.’ He cleared his throat. ‘Can I come in?’

  ‘Of course.’ She led him through to the kitchen, disturbed by the odd formality of his manner. ‘Is everything all right, Haddon? You don’t look well.’

  ‘I’m afraid I have some pretty terrible news,’ he said grimly. ‘I wanted you to hear it from me before the police contact you, as I suspect they will. Nikki, I’m afraid Trey Raymond is dead.’

  Nikki was silent. Reaching out a hand, she leaned on the kitchen island for support, then eased herself down gently onto a barstool. She felt faint.

  This couldn’t be happening. Not Trey too?

  ‘What happened?’ she asked at last, her voice raspy and dry.

  ‘Well …’ Haddon avoided her gaze, looking down at the floor, out of the windows, anywhere but at Nikki. ‘I don’t know all the details. I literally drove here straight from the hospital. But I’m afraid it appears he was murdered. Stabbed, multiple times, with a fatal wound to the heart.’

  Nikki shook her head. No. There must be some mistake.

  ‘He was found naked, by the side of the freeway. Very close to where—’

  ‘Don’t say it,’ Nikki cut him off, shaking her head as if to dispel the awful truth. ‘Please, I can’t. It can’t be. Not again.’

  Haddon moved towards her. Secretly, he’d always found Doug’s wife powerfully alluring; it was that rare combination of strength and vulnerability that drew him, her ambition combined with a sort of intense neediness. Naturally, it was Doug that Nikki had always needed, not Haddon. Doug, who’d never really realized what a jewel he had. But Doug was gone now and Haddon was here, and so was Nikki, her skin still wet from the shower, her dark eyes welling with tears like two great pools of loss …

  He reached out to touch her arm, to comfort her, but she backed away with a jerk, as if he were a rattlesnake.

  ‘What else do you know?’ she demanded. ‘Tell me everything.’

  Had
don threw his arms wide. ‘You know what I know. Like I say, I came straight from the hospital. He was alive when they found him, and I think they’d hoped …’

  His words trailed off uselessly. Poor Nikki looked white with shock.

  ‘Why?’ she asked him. ‘Why would anyone want to hurt a young boy like that? I don’t understand.’

  ‘None of us do. Yet,’ said Haddon. ‘Marsha Raymond’s asked me to talk to the police for her. I’m going there after this. Hopefully, I’ll know more then. I’m so sorry, Nikki.’

  She turned on him, irrationally angry. ‘Why are you sorry?’

  The transformation was instant and total, like Jekyll and Hyde. Haddon was so stunned it took him a moment to respond. ‘I only meant … you’ve been through so much already,’ he said, blushing. ‘And I know you and Doug both loved Trey like a son. I’m worried about you, that’s all. Is there someone I can call? I hate leaving you alone like this.’

  Nikki blinked, as if waking up from a dream and seeing Haddon for the first time. When she spoke again, she was calm.

  ‘No need to call anyone. I’m fine. It’s just shock. I’ll be fine. It was sweet of you to come. Really.’

  She hugged him and ushered him out, pulling herself together and making small talk as she walked him to his car, standing and waving as he drove away.

  Once he’d gone, Nikki closed the door behind him and leaned against it, breathing heavily.

  So now there were two.

  Lisa Flannagan, who she’d never really liked.

  And Trey Raymond, who she’d loved, if only for Doug’s sake.

  Two young lives, slashed to pieces, brutally cut down in their prime.

  Poor Trey.

  Nikki waited for the pain to hit her, for the appropriate torrent of emotion, but instead she felt strangely numb. Funny how grief did that to you. Turned you off like a light switch.

  Wearily, she walked back upstairs alone.

  Always alone.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Valentina Baden took another sip of her perfectly made espresso and leaned back in her chair contentedly. She adored Cabo San Lucas, adored their villa here, with its private whitewashed balcony off the master bedroom with views over the formal gardens and tennis courts and then out to the clear, azure-blue sea. Before Willie bought the LA Rams, they used to come down to Cabo a lot. But ever since his obsession with that godforsaken football team, getting Willie out of Los Angeles had been like trying to pry a barnacle off the keel of a rusty boat.