The Cradle Will Fall by Mary Higgins Clark Read Free Book Online Page A

come anyhow. You've
    heard about Mrs. Lewis?"

     
    "I have. A terrible situation."

     
    "I'd like to discuss her emotional and physical states with you."

     
    "Fine. Call in the morning to arrange a time."

     
    "Thank you, Doctor," Katie said. As she hung up, she reflected
    that Dr. Highley hadn't really appealed to her at first because of
    his aloof attitude.
    It shows how you can misjudge people, she decided.

CHAPTER FIVE

     
    BILL Kennedy rang the bell of the Lewis house. Tall, prematurely
    white, and scholarly, Bill was an orthopedic surgeon at Lenox
    Hill Hospital. He had not heard about Vangie Lewis' death until
    he returned home.

     
    Briefly Molly had told him about it. "I called and asked Chris
    to come to dinner. He doesn't want to, but you go drag him here."

     
     
    As he walked between the houses, Bill considered what a shock
    it would be to come home and find he had lost Molly. But no one
    in his right mind could think that the Lewises' marriage had been
    anything like his and Molly's. Bill had never told Molly that one
    morning when he was having coffee at a drugstore in Manhattan
    he'd seen Chris with a very pretty girl in her early twenties.

     
    Chris Lewis opened the door, and Bill saw the sadness in his
    eyes. He gripped the younger man's arm. "I'm terribly sorry."

     
    Chris nodded woodenly. The meaning of the day was sinking
    in on him. Vangie was dead. Had their quarrel driven her to kill
    herself? He felt lonely, frightened and guilty. He allowed Bill to
    persuade him to come to dinner. Numbly reaching for a jacket, he
    followed Bill down the street.

     
    Bill poured him a double Scotch. Chris gulped it. Calm down,
    he thought, calm down. Be careful.

     
    The Kennedy kids came into the den to say good night. Nice
    kids, all of them. Well behaved too. Chris had always wanted
    children. But not Vangie's. Now his unborn child had died. Another
    guilt. His child, and he hadn't wanted it. And Vangie had
    known it. What had, who had driven her to kill herself? Who? That
    was the question. Because Vangie hadn't been alone last night.

     
    He hadn't told the police. They would start an investigation.
    And where would that lead? To Joan. To him.

     
    The motel clerk in New York had seen him leave last night. He'd
    gone home to have it out with Vangie. Let me go, please. I can't
    spend any more of my life with you. It's destroying both of us.

     
    He'd arrived at the house sometime after midnight. He'd driven
    in, and the minute he opened the garage door he knew something
    was up. Because she'd parked the Lincoln in his space. No, someone
    else had parked her car in his space. Vangie always used the
    wider side of the garage. And she needed every inch. She was a
    lousy driver. But last night the Lincoln had been expertly parked
    in his spot on the narrower side.

     
    He'd gone in and found the house empty. Vangie's handbag was
    on the chaise in their room. He'd been puzzled but not alarmed.
    Obviously she'd gone off with a girl friend to stay overnight, taking
    a suitcase and leaving her heavy purse behind.

     
     
    The house had depressed Chris. He'd decided to go back to
    the motel. And then this morning he'd found Vangie dead. Somebody
    had parked the car for her before midnight. Somebody had
    driven her home after midnight. And those shoes. The one day
    she'd worn them she'd complained endlessly about how the right
    shoe dug into her ankle.

     
    For weeks now she'd worn nothing but those dirty moccasins.
    Where were they? Chris had searched the house thoroughly. Whoever
    had driven her home might know.

     
    He hadn't told the police any of this. He hadn't wanted to involve
    Joan. Besides, maybe the shoes really weren't that important.
    Vangie might have wanted to be fully dressed when she was found.
    That swollen leg embarrassed her.

     
    But he should have told the cops about his having been here,
    about the way the car was parked.
    "Chris, come into the dining room. You'll feel better if