Текст книги "Thriller 2: Stories You Just Can't Put Down"
Автор книги: Clive Cussler
сообщить о нарушении
Текущая страница: 7 (всего у книги 26 страниц)
PHILLIP MARGOLIN
“The House on Pine Terrace” shows why every one of Phillip Margolin’s books has hit the New York Times bestseller list. The story is an intricate puzzle—a crime that leads to a romance that triggers another crime that ends with a mystery, which makes you question every event in the story. Phillip’s many interesting jobs over the years—a teacher in the Bronx, Peace Corps volunteer in Liberia, criminal defense attorney—have clearly provided remarkable insight into how ordinary people react to extraordinary circumstances. This is no more evident than in “The House on Pine Terrace,” where every character seems to do the unexpected and yet it all makes perfect sense in the end.
THE HOUSE ON PINE TERRACE
There was an intercom attached to the ice-white wall and I used it to call up to the house on Pine Terrace. The voice that answered was the voice on the phone. He sounded just as pleasant now as he had then. Not uptight like I expected a john to be. While we were talking, I heard an electronic hum and the iron gate swung inward. We broke off and I drove my Ford along a winding drive past stands of palm trees. The house was at the end of the drive.
My father left my mother when I was too young to remember him. From a remark here and a remark there, I’ve figured out that it was no big loss. I do remember that we were always dirt poor. Mama was part of a crew that cleaned houses. You don’t get rich doing that, but you do get to see how the other half lives. A few times, when she couldn’t get anyone to watch me, she risked getting fired by bringing me with her. The only place she brought me that I remember clearly was the house on Pine Terrace.
When I was little, Mama called me princess. She said someday I would marry a prince and live in a castle and be rich. I’ve never been married, I’m working on rich and this is the castle I’d live in if I had my way. I dreamed about this house. Fantasized about it when I was alone and feeling lazy. Wished for it when I was younger and really believed I could do anything.
The house was so white the rays of the sun reflected off it. It was long, low, modern and perched on a cliff with a view of the Pacific that was so breathtaking you’d never get tired of it. There was a Rolls-Royce Silver Cloud parked near the front door. Farther down the drive was a sports car so expensive that someone in my tax bracket couldn’t even identify it. I looked at my Ford, thought about the small, singles apartment I lived in and suddenly felt like a visitor from another planet.
What I saw when the front door opened confused me. Daniel Emery III was one of the handsomest men I’d ever seen. He was six-one or-two, broad-shouldered and tanned a warm, brown color that made you think of tropical beaches. He wore a yellow cashmere V-necked sweater and tight white jeans. There were no gold chains, diamond pinky rings or the other swinger jewelry turnoffs. He was, in other words, the male equivalent of his dream house and I wondered what in the world a guy like this with a place like this wanted with a call girl.
“You’re Tanya?” he asked, using the phony name I’d given when he phoned in response to the ad in Swinger’s Weekly.
“And you must be Dan,” I answered, pitching my voice low and sexy.
He nodded as he gave me the once-over. I was sure he would like what he saw. His smile confirmed my belief.
“You certainly fit your description in the ad.”
“You’re surprised?”
“A little. I figured there’d be a bit of puffing.”
I smiled to show him that I appreciated the compliment.
“Can I get you a drink?” he asked.
“No, thanks,” I said, starting to hate what I was going to do. “And we should get the business part out of the way so it won’t interfere with your pleasure.”
“Sure, the money,” Dan said. “One thousand in cash, you said. I’ve got it here.”
He handed me an envelope and I thumbed through the ten crisp hundred-dollar bills inside it.
“One more thing,” I said. “What do you expect for this?”
He looked puzzled. “Sex.”
“What kind of sex? Do you want straight sex or head? Anything kinky?”
“I thought you said you’d do anything I wanted and would stay the night for a thou.”
He was starting to look worried.
“That’s right. And you understand there’s no rough stuff.”
“That’s not my style. Now, have we got the business out of the way?”
“Unfortunately, no,” I said, flashing my badge. I could hear the trunk of the Ford open as my partner, Jack Gripper, got out. “I’m a policewoman, Mr. Emery, and you’re under arrest for prostitution.”
What a waste, I remember thinking. I meet the guy of my dreams, who lives in the house of my dreams, and instead of balling him, I bust him. Life can sure be cruel. Then, he phoned.
“Officer Esteban?” he asked, sounding just as pleasant as he’d been during the ride to the station house.
“Yes.”
“This is Dan Emery. You arrested me for prostitution three weeks ago.”
“Oh, yes. I remember.”
“I didn’t bother getting a lawyer. You had me dead to rights. I just faced the music and pled guilty about twenty minutes ago.”
“Good for you. I hope the judge wasn’t too tough.”
“The fine wasn’t much, but the process was pretty humiliating.”
“Hopefully, it won’t happen again.”
“That’s for sure. So, the reason I called. Actually, I wanted to call you before, but I thought I should wait until my case was over. Otherwise, I was afraid it would sound like a bribe.”
“What would?”
“My dinner invitation.”
Five years as a cop had taught me how to stay cool in the tensest situations but I was completely flummoxed.
“I don’t know…” I started.
“Look, you’re probably thinking I’m some kind of weirdo, what with answering that kinky ad and all. But, really, I’m not like that. I did it as a lark. Honest. I haven’t been with a prostitute since college and I’ve never had a call girl. I don’t even subscribe to that paper. I picked it up at my barber while I was waiting for a haircut. It just seemed like fun. Really, I’m very embarrassed about the whole thing. And I have been punished. You have no idea what it’s like for a guy to admit he had to pay for sex in a courtroom packed with giggling people.”
I laughed.
“Good,” he said, “I’ve got you laughing. Now, if I can just get you to go out with me I’ll be batting a thousand. What do you say?”
I said yes of course, and dinner was everything I’d hoped it would be even if the restaurant was elegant enough to make me feel a little uncomfortable and I didn’t recognize half the dishes on the menu. Dan turned out to be a perfect gentleman with a sense of humor and none of that macho bullshit that I’m used to from the cops I’ve dated. The only thing that bothered me that first night—and I say bothered, only because I needed a word here, not because I really gave it any thought then—was his reluctance to talk about himself. He was an artist at steering the conversation back to me whenever I’d try to find out a little about him. But I was so used to guys who only wanted to talk about themselves that it was actually a bit of a relief.
I didn’t sleep with Dan after our first date or our second. I didn’t want him thinking I was an easy lay. The third time we dated he invited me to his house instead of going to a restaurant and he cooked a dinner to die for. We ate on the flagstone patio. The air felt like silk, the view was spectacular and not having sex with him seemed downright silly.
The next two months were like a fairy tale. We couldn’t keep our hands off each other and I missed him every minute we were apart. Sergeant Groves couldn’t figure out why I was being so nice to him. He knew how upset I’d been when he took me out of narcotics and put me into the call-girl sting operation. I’d yelled sex discrimination and he asked me who else he could use as a call girl. The whole thing was supposed to be temporary, anyway.
During those two intense months I learned a little bit more about Dan, and everything I learned made me like him more. Dan was an orphan, whose parents had died in a car crash on vacation in the south of France during his sophomore year at USC. He’d been living in an apartment on his own and continued to stay there until he graduated, even though he’d inherited the house on Pine Terrace. Dan told me that he’d been very close to his parents and the house contained too many memories. It had taken a while before he could stay there without being overcome with sadness.
The family lawyer had provided Dan with advice and an allowance until he turned twenty-one and was allowed to control his inheritance. Even though he was rich enough so he didn’t have to work, he was employed as a stockbroker at a small, exclusive brokerage house run by an old college friend. At one point, he confided that he was doing well enough at work to keep up his lifestyle without having to tap into his inheritance.
I didn’t go out of my way to tell anyone about Dan but it’s hard to keep secrets from your partner.
“The john?” Jack Gripper said, unable to keep the surprise out of his voice.
“Yeah,” I answered sheepishly.
“It’s the house, isn’t it?”
We’d passed the house once on the way to interview a witness and I’d told Jack how I’d been in it as a kid and how it was my dream house. After arresting Dan, he’d asked me if the house was the one I’d told him about and I’d said it was.
“Geez, Jack, why don’t you just come right out and call me a gold digger?”
“Hey, I’m not casting any stones.”
Gripper really is nonjudgmental. I guess that comes from being a cop for so many years and seeing as much of life as he has. After our brief discussion about Dan and me, he never brought up the subject again, and I didn’t, either.
We were in bed when Dan first told me he loved me. I hadn’t pushed it. Just being with Dan was enough. I’ve always kept my expectations low. Like I said, I’d grown up poor and I’d fought for everything I had. My apartment was the nicest place I’d ever lived in. Most of the guys I’d dated hadn’t lived much better. I was starting to build a nest egg, but I could have done what I was doing for the rest of my life and never put away enough to live like Dan.
I don’t want you to think his money was everything, but money is always important if you grow up without it. I want to think I was in love, but I’m not sure I know what love is. I never saw it in my mother’s relationship with the occasional man she brought home. Working the streets, I’ve seen enough women with split lips and enough men with stab wounds to know that love isn’t what it’s cracked up to be. I’ve never seen shooting stars or heard bells ring with anyone I dated. Not even with Dan. But, he did feel comfortable and he was sure good in the sack and I guess I felt as close to him as I’ve ever felt to anyone.
When he said, “There’s something we have to talk about,” my first thought was he was going to call it off.
“So talk,” I said, trying to make it sound like a joke.
The full moon hanging over the ocean made seeing in the dark easy enough. Dan rolled over on his side. He looked troubled.
“We’ve been together, what? Two months?”
“Sixty-one days, twenty hours, three minutes and one arrest,” I answered, still trying to keep things light. “But who’s counting.”
Dan smiled, but it was only for a second. Then he looked sad.
“My little flatfoot.” He sighed.
“What’s wrong?”
“I love you, but I don’t know if I can trust you.”
That got my attention and I sat up.
“What do you mean, you can’t trust me?” I snapped, hurt and a little angry.
“How much of a cop are you, Monica? And how much do I mean to you?”
I thought about that. More the second part of the question, than the first. He’d just told me he loved me. What was he leading up to? I thought about living here, driving the Rolls, wearing clothes like the clothes I saw on movie stars.
“I love you, too, Dan. And I’m not so much of a cop that you can’t trust me with anything.”
“That’s what I hoped you’d say. Look, I’ll level with you. Dating a cop was as much a kick at first as dialing a call girl. I’m not sure there wasn’t even a little bit of a revenge motive in it. You know, getting you in bed after you’d arrested and embarrassed me.”
I started to say something, but he held up his hand.
“No. Let me get this out. It’s not easy for me. That’s how it started, but that’s not the way it is now. When I said I love you I meant it, but I’m not sure you’ll want to stay with me when you hear what I have to say.
“You like this house and the cars and my lifestyle, don’t you?”
“That’s not why I’ve been seeing you,” I answered defensively.
“I didn’t say it was. Aren’t you curious about how I can afford to keep them up?”
“You told me that you’re doing well at work, and about your inheritance. Besides, it’s none of my business.”
“You really don’t have any idea of how much it costs to live like I do, do you?”
“Where is this going?” I asked, suddenly growing a little concerned.
“If you learned something bad about me, that I was doing…That I was dishonest. What would happen?”
“To us?” I answered, confused.
“As a cop. Would you turn me in?”
I looked at him and I thought about us. Like I said, I wasn’t sure I loved him, but I liked him enough to know my answer.
“I don’t turn in my friends.”
“Then I’ll say what I have to say and you can decide what you want to do. I haven’t been completely honest with you about my financial situation.” Dan looked embarrassed, a look I had never seen before. Not even when I’d busted him. “I always thought my parents were loaded, and I assumed I’d inherit what they had, so I never really applied myself in school. I’m pretty bright—I’ve got a good IQ—but college was one big party and I graduated without many practical skills.
“Soon after my parents died I had a rude awakening. This house, a vacation home, a trust fund and some stocks were all I got. It wasn’t peanuts but I learned that they weren’t as well-off as I’d thought.
“It never occurred to me that I’d have to pay property taxes, the upkeep on a house like this and all the other expenses parents worry about but don’t discuss with their children. The lawyer who probated the estate taught me the financial facts of life. I held out for a while, but eventually I had to sell the vacation home. Then I used up my trust fund and sold off a lot of my stocks to keep up this lifestyle. Like I said, I have no marketable skills.”
“What about the brokerage?” I asked.
“Oh, that’s real, and I am doing okay, but what I earn just about covers the property taxes and expenses for a place like this.”
“Why don’t you sell it?”
Dan looked me in the eye. “Would you? If you had a house like this, wouldn’t you do whatever you had to do to keep it?”
I didn’t say anything. What could I say? I knew I’d kill to keep this house if it were ever mine. Dan smiled sadly. He reached up and touched my cheek. The heat of his hand felt so good that I missed it when he took it away.
“I knew you’d understand. That’s why I love you. We’re so different, but we’re the same in the ways that count.”
“If you don’t make enough to afford…everything, and you didn’t inherit enough to keep it…?” I asked.
Dan broke eye contact. “There’s no way to sugarcoat this, Monica. I’ve been dealing.”
“Narcotics?” I said, stunned. He nodded.
“Cocaine, mostly. No heroin. I wouldn’t do that. Some marijuana. I’m careful. I sell to select customers, friends mostly, some of my clients. It’s actually the only thing I’ve ever done well on my own.”
I got out of bed and walked to the window. I didn’t know what to say.
“Why are you telling me this?” I asked. “Do you have any idea of the spot you’ve put me in?”
“I do appreciate the moral dilemma I’ve created for you, but it’s not going to be a problem anymore. I love you and I knew I couldn’t keep seeing you if I didn’t come clean about this. I respect what you do, being a cop. I don’t ever want to compromise you.”
I turned back toward the bed. “Well, you have. I should bust you after what you’ve confessed to me.”
“You don’t have to, Monica. I told you so there wouldn’t be any secrets between us, and the reason I’m telling you now is that it’s all going to stop. I had to make a choice between you and dealing, and it wasn’t even close. But I didn’t know how you’d feel about that. If you’d still want to stay with me.”
“Why should I object if you stop selling dope?”
“You don’t understand. If I stop dealing, this,” he said, waving his hand around the room, “is all going to end—the house and the cars and the restaurants and…everything.”
“What do you mean?”
“What I said. Without the cocaine, I can’t afford the lifestyle and there won’t be any more cocaine.”
“Because of me?”
“That’s the biggest part of it, but there’s also a practical reason. If I was religious I’d see the hand of God at work.” Dan smiled. “I knew I loved you soon after we met and I knew I’d have to stop dealing if I wanted to keep you, but I didn’t know how I was going to get out of the life. The people I worked for are very dangerous. I was afraid of what they’d do if I told them I wasn’t going to deal for them anymore and they found out I was dating a cop, and they would have found out. These guys are very connected. I…Well, I worried—really worried—that they might hurt you, or threaten to hurt you if I told them I was going to quit.”
“Jesus, Dan,” I said, really worried because I knew what he said was true. There are dealers that wouldn’t think twice about killing a cop.
“Its okay, Monica. You don’t have to worry.” He laughed. “Talk about your acts of God.” He smiled. “The week before we met, my connection was busted. Then, right after you arrested me, the DEA arrested the head of the cartel he worked for.”
“Who was he?”
“Alberto Perez.” I’d heard about the bust. Perez was big. “They got him in Miami with millions of dollars worth of coke and they got most of his organization, too. It’s finito.”
“Your connection didn’t sell you out?”
“I worried about that a lot. When we started dating, I was waiting for the other shoe to drop. But it didn’t, and I think I know why. I’m small potatoes. The feds aren’t going to waste time on someone who deals at my level. You know that. Besides, I’d sold all my product. I was supposed to get some more from the shipment they confiscated. So, I’m clean. There’d be no hard evidence I was a dealer, even if they wanted me. It’s been two months now. More since my connection was arrested. So, I’m guessing I’m safe.”
I turned back to the ocean but I didn’t see it. I was thinking too hard about how much I trusted Dan and what I was willing to do to keep him.
“So, what will you do?” I asked to stall for time.
“I’ll have to sell most of what I have. I can get a bundle for the house. The cars will have to go. I sat down with my accountant. I’ll be in good shape if I watch my money. But the life you’ve seen me lead, that’s over.”
The house! I couldn’t bear it. To be this close to living the life I’d dreamed of living for so many years, and then to have it snatched away. Dan was talking but I wasn’t listening. I was upset, but there’s this thing about me. I can wall off my emotions when I need to make a serious decision. It comes in handy as a cop and it was coming in handy now. I had a good idea of how I could save the house, but I wanted to think before I said anything to Dan. There was too much at stake. So I got back in bed and I wrapped my arms around him and kissed him.
“I love you, Dan,” I said. “I want to be with you. You’ll be okay. We’ll be okay. We’ll be working stiffs. That’s not so bad. I’ve been one all my life. You’ll see. We’ll be fine.”
Dan rested his head on my shoulder. “You don’t know what this means to me. I was so worried you’d leave me when you found out how big a phony I am.”
“You’re not a phony. You just got hooked on this lifestyle the way your customers got hooked on coke. And it’s not like you’ll have to go cold turkey. We’re going to do fine once you sell this stuff.
“And it is only stuff,” I said, but I didn’t mean that.
I was still working the call-girl sting and busting johns kept me away from Dan for a week. I didn’t like the work. To tell the truth, it made me feel sleazy. Most of the poor bastards we arrested had never been in trouble with the law before. They looked so pathetic when I flashed my badge. I guess it was the futility of it all that got me. We were never going to stamp out prostitution. It was the world’s oldest profession for a reason.
I felt the same way about drugs. People were always going to want something to make them feel better, even if it was only for a little while, and they were going to buy coke or a hooker even if it was illegal. I thought they should legalize drugs and prostitution and let us concentrate on murderers, con men and armed robbers, but no one in the state legislature cared what I thought, so I spent most of the week after Dan told me about his problem dressed like a high-priced tart.
I spent the other part checking up on Dan. I cared for him, but I’m not naive. He’d lied to me about dealing and I wanted to know if he’d lied about anything else. I used the usual Internet sources to find out what was on the Web. He was quite the socialite and the history he’d given me checked out. Then I ran a check on the house, his cars and everything else he had ever owned. Everything he’d told me checked out there, too. Finally, I used my computer to tap in to federal and state law enforcement files that are only available to cops. All I found was a DUI from his sophomore year in college that was resolved when Dan went into a diversion program. All in all, I was satisfied that Dan was being straight with me, so I set up a meeting with some people I know.
I told Dan my idea after dinner at an inexpensive Mexican restaurant in my neighborhood. Dan joked that I was trying to break him into our new life, but I really liked the place and I liked being able to wear jeans to dinner and not having to worry about not knowing what the dishes on the menu were.
I kept the conversation at dinner about police work, telling Dan war stories about some of the weird things cops encounter on the job, and I waited until we were back at the house on Pine Terrace before I told him what I’d been doing.
“How’s everything going?” I asked.
“How’s what going?”
“You know, selling the house, the Rolls?”
He looked sad. “I’ve talked with a few Realtors to get an idea of what it will bring. The Rolls and the Lamborghini will go next week.”
“Maybe not,” I said.
“What do you mean?”
I felt as if I was standing on a ledge about to jump. I had no idea how Dan would react to what I was going to propose or whether we’d still be together after I had my say.
“There may be a way to save the house and everything else.”
“I’m not following you.”
“I might be able to put you in touch with someone.”
“I’m still not following you.”
“You’re not the only one with secrets,” I said nervously. “I’ve been doing a few things I shouldn’t, too.”
Dan stared at me openmouthed. “You don’t mean…?”
“I’m not gonna be a cop all my life. I’ve seen how cops live and what cops make. I want to be someone, Dan. I was working narcotics until we started this call-girl sting. About a year ago I was involved in a big bust. Peter Pride.”
“You were in on that?”
I nodded.
“Pride walked.”
“Yes, he did. Want to know why?”
Dan didn’t say anything.
“Key evidence disappeared and I started a Swiss bank account. Nothing huge, but something for my old age.”
“Didn’t some cop get busted for that? I thought I read…”
I nodded. “That was the one part I didn’t like. Bobby Marino. I had nothing to do with that. Pride hated him and he set him up. It doesn’t matter now and there’s nothing I can do about it. But, I can fix you up with Pride. What do you say?”
Dan’s tongue flicked out and he wet his lips.
“I don’t know. These guys I was dealing with…They were bad but Pride’s a killer.”
“They’re all killers, Dan, but Pride’s a killer who pays well. I’ve been tipping him off for a year now. He likes me. You need this,” I said, waving my hand at the view, “and I need you. What do you say?”
“Let me think. Pride is a whole new ball game.”
Dan called me a week later and we met for lunch. While we waited for the waitress to bring our order he held my hand.
“I’ve been thinking about Pride and I’ll do it.”
“Oh, Dan,” I said, because it’s all I could think to say. He smiled and tightened his grip and I squeezed back. I was that happy.
“One thing, though,” he said.
“What’s that?”
“From now on, you’re out.”
I started to protest, but he cut me off.
“I mean it. I didn’t like getting arrested, even for a misdemeanor like prostitution. I don’t even want to think what would happen if they arrested a cop for what you’re doing.”
“I’m a big girl, Dan.”
“I’ve never doubted that, but I’m sticking to my guns. From now on, I’m the one taking the risks or the house goes on the market, as planned.”
Sergei Kariakin was Russian Mafia, which meant he didn’t just kill babies for fun, he ate them, too. The only place he was called Sergei or Kariakin was on his rap sheet where his name was followed by “aka Peter Pride.” Sergei loved America, which he called “the land of criminal opportunity,” and he had adopted an alias he thought sounded like the name of a movie or rock star. The fact that he was as ugly as his crimes and couldn’t carry a tune didn’t faze him and no one dared point out these problems.
Normally, there were several firewalls between Peter and the narcotics and sex slaves that were his bread and butter, but he’d made a mistake two years ago and had faced certain conviction until the key evidence in his case disappeared from the police evidence locker. I had a gambling problem back then and someone had told Peter’s lawyer about it. One evening, a very polite gentleman who never gave me his name made me a proposition. Within a week, my gambling debt had been retired and Peter’s problem had been solved. I stopped gambling cold turkey, but I stayed on Peter’s payroll, dropping timely tips about raids and snitches when I could get away with it.
My meeting with Pride took place in the dead of night in a deserted industrial park. Neither of us could afford to be seen socializing with the other. At first, Peter was reluctant to bring Dan into his organization. Even if he hadn’t been picked up after Alberto Perez was arrested, Pride worried that Dan was on the DEA’s radar screen. I told him I’d poked around and, as far as I could tell, the DEA didn’t know Dan existed. I pitched Dan’s upper-class clientele and the opportunity it presented to Pride to broaden his market.
A week later, Dan and I met Peter in an abandoned warehouse at three in the morning. The meeting ended with Peter agreeing to front Dan a kilo of cocaine. If everything went well, there was a promise of more to follow. I was so pumped up on the way back to Pine Terrace that I didn’t feel the effects of being up for more than twenty-four hours. As soon as we were inside the house I started ripping off Dan’s clothing. I don’t even remember how we got from the entryway to the bedroom.
The next afternoon, I was so beat I had trouble keeping my eyes open. I staggered into police headquarters and found a note asking me to see Sergeant Groves. Groves was a handsome black man with a trim mustache and a serious demeanor. It was rare for him to lighten up and he looked even more tense than usual when I walked into his office and found him sitting with Jack Gripper and a man and a woman I didn’t recognize.
“Shut the door, Monica,” Groves ordered. I did and he motioned me into the only available seat.
“You’re in deep shit,” he said.
There was a DVD player on Groves’s desk. He hit the play button and I heard myself telling Dan how I’d helped Peter Pride beat his case. My heart seized up. The conversation had taken place in the bedroom of the house on Pine Terrace. I wanted to ask how they’d recorded it, but I was too frightened to speak.
“That confession will send you away,” Groves said.
My throat was as dry as the Sahara. I knew I shouldn’t say anything without a lawyer, but I still asked, “What do you want?”
“Pride,” answered the woman.
I was in shock, but part of my brain was running through my alternatives.
“You can’t use that tape. You’d have to have bugged the house.”
“We can use it if we planted the bug with the permission of the owner,” she said, and I felt myself die a little.
Dan had been arrested the day after his connection was busted. Jack Gripper had been in on the arrest and he remembered what I’d told him about the house. Bobby Marino had gone down for stealing the evidence in Pride’s case, but I became a suspect when a snitch in Pride’s organization told the police that he’d heard a woman took the evidence. One of the tips I’d given Pride had been a setup. Sergeant Groves had given the location and time of the raid only to me. When there was no one at the house that was raided they knew I was guilty, Gripper and I were switched to the call-girl sting and Dan was told to give me a call. Nature took its course after that.
When I found out that Dan had betrayed me I went from shock to anger to bitterness. I saw him once more after my arrest when we were preparing for the setup that eventually put Peter Pride away. He told me he was sorry and really did love me, but he’d had no choice. I don’t believe he loved me, but, even if he did, I knew he’d forget about me when the next woman came along; someone who wasn’t serving the sentence that would keep me in prison for at least seven years.
There is no view from the cell I share with Sheila Crosby, a 42-year-old embezzler, but I can still see the view from Dan’s bedroom when I close my eyes.
Sometimes I imagine that I walk out of prison and Dan is waiting for me in the Rolls. We ride to the house on Pine Terrace and I take a shower to wash away the jailhouse stench. After the shower, we make love. When Dan is asleep, I walk out onto the patio and watch the approach of a storm that’s been brewing in the Pacific. It’s a magnificent storm, and when it passes, I am as untroubled and serene as the Pacific after that storm. And I am married to my prince, and I am rich, and I live in a castle on Pine Terrace.
