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

policemen. But it was the man who stepped forward to greet her who commanded her immediate attention.
    There was a sympathetic expression on his face and a gentleness in his tone when he said, “I am so sorry about this, Mrs. Cooper. Why don’t you step into the dining room with me? We can sit and talk without interruption. I am Detective Hubert Twaddle.”
    My God, what an awful name, Emma thought, forcing back an inadvertent smile. Beyond her shock and grief she steeled herself to be questioned about Alexandra.
    Before Twaddle’s hand under her arm guided her into the dining room, she absorbed the reality of that fine powder over Alexandra’s favorite chair and the fact that the door to the terrace was open.
    â€œI got a call saying that she was dead,” Emma said, her voice a whisper, still unbelieving. “I saw her body being wheeled out just now.”
    â€œI know,” Twaddle replied as he pulled out a chair for her at the dining room table.
    â€œSomebody killed her, right?”
    â€œMrs. Cooper, wasn’t that your first question when you were called to inform you about Miss Saunders’s death?”
    Emma realized that someone else was entering the room, a boyish-looking younger man with red hair. He was carrying a glass of water and placed it in front of her.
    To her satisfaction, he was carrying a coaster to put under the glass. Nothing bothered her more than when a slob of a guest set a glass down on this table and the ones in the living room. They ought to know better, she thought, when they’re putting stuff down on a valuable antique table.
    Why was she thinking that? she wondered. Oh, Miss Alexandra . . .
    â€œLet me introduce Detective Ben Lyons,” Twaddle was saying. “If you don’t mind, he will be taking notes of our conversation.”
    Emma nodded. “Okay.”
    The questioning began.
    Emma did not know that everything she said was being compared with what she had told Janice and Michael.
    â€œWhen were you expecting Miss Saunders to be home?” Twaddle watched closely as a momentary look of irritation crossed Emma Cooper’s face.
    â€œLast Monday. Now, I know these—shoots, they call them—can take a couple of days or a week. Usually it’s quiet when she gets back from a big job. She was supposed to get back Monday night. But this time the phone never stopped ringing on Tuesday. Everybody who was on the plane with her was looking for her.”
    â€œWeren’t you afraid that something might have happened to her?”
    â€œOnly yesterday I started to worry. It wouldn’t be the first time Miss Alexandra skipped town after she finished a hard job.”
    â€œYou used the word ‘hard,’ ” Twaddle said.
    â€œYes, I did.” Emma’s voice became steely. “That Grant Wilson is a mean one. Alexandra’s his top model but she didn’t want to do that Beauty Mask job. She hated to put that stuff on her face. She said it felt like putting on one of those masks they used to make impressions of dead people’s faces.”
    â€œShe said that?” Twaddle asked calmly.
    â€œYes. I could see why she might want to get out of town, but at first I thought it was rude not to call me. It made it real tough for me what with the painter coming and making me say yes to the color. But when she was a no-show to meet her sister, I thought that don’t sound right.”
    â€œDid you know that she left the airport without her luggage?”
    â€œNo one told me that! Why would she do something like that?” Emma demanded.
    â€œFrom what her sister was told by Mr. Ambrose, he had run up to check his office. Miss Saunders was to wait in the terminal for a few minutes. When he returned, he found the porter with both his luggage and hers. She had tipped the porter generously to wait with it.”
    â€œThat don’t make sense,” Emma said flatly. “She must