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

every season.”
    The lead detective who had been probing further into the backgrounds of the people who had flown with Alexandra in the chartered plane—Marcus Ambrose, Grant Wilson and Larry Thompson—appeared at Twaddle’s desk. “We found something, Hubert,” he said.
    Twaddle scanned the reports. “It is exactly what I suspected. As always, it’s about money.”
    He fished in his pocket and found Marcus Ambrose’s business card. He waited as the phone rang twice before it was picked up.
    â€œExecutair Airlines. Good afternoon.”
    Recognizing her voice he said, “Good afternoon, Miss Lansing. This is Detective Twaddle. Am I right that your firm has a helicopter for hire?”
    â€œOh, indeed we have.”
    â€œIs it available right now?”
    â€œI’m so sorry but Mr. Ambrose just took off in it.”
    â€œOh, I am sorry,” Twaddle remarked mildly. “Do you happen to know where he is going?”
    â€œNo, I don’t. He doesn’t tell me his comings and goings.” Miss Lansing giggled. “After all, he’s a bachelor and good-looking and rich. I only wish I was twenty years younger.”
    Twaddle had no interest in responding to inane chatter.
    â€œMiss Lansing, did Executair provide a helicopter to take a party to Windham, New York, last winter?”
    â€œI think so. Let me look.” A minute later she was back on the phone. “In February of 1973 we brought a party to Windham, New York. The client was the Ford Modeling Agency.”
    â€œDo you keep a log of which of your pilots flew on each reservation?”
    â€œOf course we do. On this flight Mr. Ambrose, himself, was the pilot.”
    â€œThank you, Miss Lansing,” Twaddle responded crisply and hung up the phone.
    â€œBen, call the Windham Police Station. Tell them that a potential murderer is on his way to Windham. They must find the name of the grandfather who died and left his cabin to Lisa Markey. I will havea police helicopter waiting for us at the heliport. We have got to get there on time.”
    â€¢Â Â â€¢Â Â â€¢
    In murky darkness, Alexandra got off the bed and reached to turn on the lamp. It didn’t work. She then flipped the wall switch for the overhead light. Again, nothing. She felt her way into the living room. The rain was beating savagely against the windows and roof. She had noticed there was a flashlight on the shelf over the kitchen sink. Her foot hit the ottoman in front of the television and she lost her balance but managed to steady herself before she fell. Disoriented in the unfamiliar surroundings, she made herself stand perfectly still and think. The entrance to the kitchen was on the right side of the living room. The couch was facing the television and was across the room from the ottoman. Extending her arms, she sidestepped until she felt the wall and then went forward, making her way into the kitchen.
    She moved forward until she felt the wooden door frame at the entryway. Steadying herself against it, Alexandra visualized the layout of the kitchen. The refrigerator was on the right. The sink was just past it. Once she had the flashlight, she would be all right. Praying that the batteries would work, she moved slowly until her fingers touched the cold steel of the sink. She reached up and felt the shelf and then groped until she felt the cool plastic frame of the flashlight. Afraid she might drop it, she wrapped both hands around it. Probing the surface, her thumb found a switch that she was able to slide forward. The welcome beam of light brought a huge sigh of relief.
    She knew there was nothing she could do until either the electricity came back on or it was light in the morning. Feeling famished, she opened the refrigerator door and shined the flashlight inside. Taking an apple, she padded to the big chair in the living room. She felt herself shivering and realized how cold the room had become. The