Death Fires Danced at Night

PROLOGUE Exactly three months before she was murdered, Carla Barr attended the weekly Wednesday auction at Cushman’s in Center City Philadelphia. She was seen by two people, both of whom she had met on previous occasions, neither of whom she would recognize or even remember. The two persons who saw her bore her no grudges, nor would they later take part in her gruesome demise. For both of them, she was little more than an intriguing actor in different scenes of the same drama, separately witnessed. Upon seeing her, both women pondered the vagaries of life that Carla had come to represent: the raw hatred, acid bitterness, and abject sorrow that had overtaken certain members of the Barr family upon Carla’s marriage to family scion, Michael Barr. Their attendance at the auction that day might best be described as a catalyst for what was to come. They both reported back to separate members of the Barr family what it was they had observed about Carla. Their recitations, in turn, led to a wide range of suspicions and conclusions about Carla by various family members, some of which were uncannily accurate. The first person to see Carla at the auction that morning was Deirdre Corcoran, cousin of Michael Barr. Deirdre, who was a psychiatric nurse, went to auctions for the prospects they gave her of adding to her collection of Toby jugs and Wedgewood porcelain. Like the hospital ward she frequently deserted during her allotted lunch hour, the auction was a place that held for her its own peculiar fascinations. She was attracted by nature to the aberrations of human behavior. Her attendance at auctions gave her the opportunity to watch people undetected for long periods of time without the added distraction of having to administer to their needs. It was, as she so often said, the perfect place to go if one wished to study the so-called deadly sins. The most obvious one, of course, was avarice. One missed it entirely if one looked only at the inscrutably blank faces of the antique dealers as they slyly signaled their bids. Rather, it was their actions that revealed their greed: the avaricious claiming of their prizes, the quick and furtive looks at the pieces they had won in the bidding wars, and the way they had of entering the description and price of each item into their ubiquitous notebooks. Here also was displayed the sin of conspicuous consumption, sometimes know as gluttony. It was evident in the large amount of cash that was flashed about by the dealers as they paid for their purchases, the bills thickening their wallets to the point of bursting. Their proclivity for bulky wads of money was matched only by their voracious appetite for food and drink. The men, almost without exception it seemed, had thick rolls of flesh spilling over their midsections, and the waistless bodies of some of the women attendees were testament to the greasy packets of meat and cheese sandwiches they carried in their Thermos boxes in order to get themselves through the indeterminate day. One dealer who was nearly always present had found another way to flaunt his rapacity in the form of a necklace composed entirely of Liberty Dollars that had been set in circular silver mountings, the coins polished to the point of dazzling brilliance. Once Deirdre had tried to count them but had stopped before she could finish, distracted by yet another curiosity. The gaudier displays of human cupidity tend to make it easy to overlook those who appear more normally attuned to the world, which was why on that particular February day Deirdre failed at first to notice the slender young woman who was sitting in the front row almost directly opposite the auctioneer. The woman was dressed as though for the office, in a brightly colored green wool jacket, fashionably long, and a slender black skirt, fashionably short. A pair of gold earrings flashed through the woman’s tastefully coifed hair. Sensing that the woman looked vaguely familiar, she sauntered closer for a better look. To say that Deirdre was taken back when she discovered that the woman was Carla Barr is an understatement. It seemed to Deirdre that someone like Carla Barr should have little interest in auctions. She had heard that Carla was interested only in the acquisition of those things that could be looked upon as enhancements to her beauty, clothes and jewelry mainly, but it was common knowledge that Carla had a penchant for expensive Italian leather goods. But was it possible, Deirdre wondered, considering the status she had gained by her recent marriage to Michael Barr, that Carla was using the auction for educational purposes? Indeed, the other woman looked the very picture of an enthralled student, as if by placing herself directly in front of the auctioneer she had hoped to learn the difference between French and English porcelain. Deirdre felt almost disloyal to Ann Barr, her former cousin by marriage, as she observed Carla’s flawless beauty. She regarded Carla’s elegant suit, her impeccable gold jewelry, the tasteful leather shoes, and the black cashmere coat draped carelessly over an adjoining chair. She thought Carla had the look of a charming model who had just stepped off the pages of the latest fashion magazine. Deirdre could almost understand why Michael Barr had asked Ann for a divorce so that he could marry Carla. Ann was attractive in her own way, but Carla was stunning. Carla held an auction catalog in her lap in which from time to time, she penned notes with a slim gold pencil. When bids were invited for a small, antique high chair, Carla watched the proceedings so intensely that Deirdre wondered at her interest. The chair was haggled over by two dealers, and she knew that it had been acquired at a price that would allow for its resale at a handsome profit. Deirdre had an odd impression that something about the sale was disappointing to Carla. Perhaps Carla had wished to enter into the bidding herself. Deirdre knew that it was often difficult for the uninitiated to follow the auctioneer’s sing-song babble or to fathom the intricacies of the bidding war. But then another idea crept assiduously into her thoughts, like a worm boring through an apple. Was it possible that Carla was pregnant? Had that been the reason for her interest in the high chair? Perhaps it was also the reason why she and Michael had married so soon after his divorce from Ann had become final. As Ann Barr’s long-time friend and confidant, Deirdre had observed the irrational and brooding melancholy that was the manifestation of Ann’s grief over her dissolved marriage. It was a grief that transmitted itself like a disease to everyone around her, including her two children, Adam and Amanda. Their friendship had developed many years earlier when they had both attended the same nursing school in the city. They soon discovered they had a lot in common, not the least of which was the Barr family. Ann, who was engaged to Michael at the time, had already learned that Deirdre was his first cousin. Deirdre’s mother, Siobhan, was Eleanor Barr’s sister. As the bond between them continued to grow, so too did their commonalities. Both lived in the western suburbs, both had married soon after graduation, their children were the same ages, and both of them were avid collectors of antiques and art. For a time after their respective marriages and before they had children, each of them had chosen to take full-time nursing positions, not because they needed the money, but because they both felt trapped by the inane trivialities of the society in which they found themselves. It was Ann who devised the convoluted schedules they followed so they could attend, at least once a month, any auction that gave them a chance to augment their respective collections. Deirdre had managed to acquire a fine collection of English porcelain that would have been impossibly expensive had she bought the pieces directly from dealers. Ann had amassed an extensive col