Текст книги "Legacy"

Автор книги: Jeanne Stein

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Текущая страница: 14 (всего у книги 18 страниц)

CHAPTER 48

GLORIA DOESN’T REACT TO JAMIE’S WORDS. HER face reflects neither anger at, nor denial of, the accusation. It reflects nothing at all.

Gloria is an actress. Her life is played out in drama. This lack of animation is scary—the deadly calm at the center of a hurricane.

It also gives her away.

David, as always, is oblivious. He’s looking at Jamie, indignation tightening the corners of his mouth. “You don’t really believe Gloria staged a suicide attempt, do you? With the help of a teenager, yet?”

Good old David. Even now he comes to her defense. For me, though, each puzzle piece is falling into place. “Let’s look at it objectively, David. The amateurish choice of drugs, stealing the bellman’s uniform, Gloria could easily have set that up. Jason didn’t need a passkey to get into the suite. Gloria let him in.”

Gloria stares down at her hands, twisting the sheet into knots, lips compressed in a hard line.

“When David and I were talking about what happened,” I continue. “We thought trying to kill Gloria and then calling for help made no sense. It wasn’t a murder attempt; it was a diversionary tactic. Jason didn’t do it because he wanted to hurt her; he did it because he thought he was helping.” I shake my head. “Gloria, you took a chance, like flipping a coin. Heads, being the victim of a murder attempt makes you look innocent to a jury. Tails, if it’s determined you did this to yourself, you come off looking guilty as hell.”

Gloria stirs, opens her mouth, but Jamie shakes her head and puts a finger to her lips in a signal to stay quiet. She releases a long breath and gets to her feet.

“I’m going to leave now. Anything I heard here this evening is protected under the client/attorney privilege. I have to ask Anna and David to respect that. If the police determine Gloria played a part in a staged suicide attempt, they will bring charges. Gloria, I advise you to remain silent.” She picks up her briefcase and turns to David. “Did the doctor tell you when she can go home?”

David hasn’t taken his eyes off Gloria. He drags them away now to look at Jamie. “Tomorrow morning.”

“Will you pick her up?”

He hesitates and for a minute, I’m afraid he’s going to refuse. “Yes,” he says finally. “I’ll be here.”

Jamie closes the door quietly behind her. When I look at David, he’s staring again at Gloria, his face clouded with anger. He sees it now. All of it.

Gloria feels the shift, too. She looks up. “I didn’t kill O’Sullivan,” she says quietly. “You have to believe that.”

David shakes his head slowly and pushes up from the chair. “I don’t haveto believe anything,” he says.

He has a hand on the door. “Anna, I’ll take you to your car. I’ll wait for you outside.”

Gloria watches him go. “He must know I couldn’t have killed anyone. You believe me, don’t you, Anna?” She’s crying, making no attempt to wipe away the tears.

“I do. I think, deep down, David does, too. But Gloria, I don’t think it matters to him anymore.”

I let a heartbeat go by.

“You and Jason. You two have been in contact since the beginning. You wanted us to meet. What would you have done if I hadn’t been able to track him down?”

Gloria is still looking at the door. Her voice is soft, wistful. “I knew you’d find him. I’ve watched you and David in the office. Tracking people down. It’s what you do, isn’t it?”

“And if I hadn’t?”

She shrugs. “He would have called you.”

Of course he would have. I can’t believe I fell into Gloria’s trap.

I feel like a fool. I watch Gloria, still staring at the door, still waiting for David, her David, to rush back in and make everything all right.

I let myself out.

Not happening, Gloria.

DAVID IS WAITING FOR ME AT THE END OF THE HALL, slumped on a bench, his head in his hands.

I was an idiot to think he could get over his obsession with Gloria this fast.

He doesn’t notice my approach and when I place a hand on his shoulder, he jumps.

I sit down beside him. “You can go back to your cabin. I shouldn’t have brought you here. I’m sorry I did.”

He swivels on the bench to look at me. “What? An apology? You must really feel guilty. Good. When this is over, you’ll owe me. Big time.”

He crosses his arms and leans back. “No. I’m glad you brought me back. I needed to see Gloria the way you evidently have since the beginning. She’s so selfish she’ll draw anyone into her web if she thinks it will benefit her—even a fourteen-year-old kid. God, what was she thinking?”

I shrug. “She was desperate and scared. Honestly, I don’t believe she killed O’Sullivan.”

“You sound as if you’re going to keep digging. Are you?”

“I guess I am. She’s paying me two hundred an hour plus expenses. May as well earn a few bucks I don’t have to split with my partner.”

He smiles and stands up. “Let’s get you back to your car. I have a date, and I want to go home and shower first.”

“A date? So soon? Is this a rebound thing?”

“Don’t know yet. It’s our first date.”

We’re walking toward the entrance. A tremor of uneasiness slithers along my spine. “Who is this mystery woman? Have I met her?”

“In fact, you introduced us. This afternoon.”

I stop, grab his arm. “Tamara? You’re going on a date with Tamara?”

He looks down at my hand on his arm, then up at my face. “What’s the matter with you? You look sick. Is there a reason I shouldn’t go out with her?”

A reason? Jesus. I could give him ten, the first and foremost being his new friend Tamara happens to be a fucking werewolf.

CHAPTER 49

THOUGHTS SPIN AROUND MY HEAD. WHAT CAN I say to convince David that a date with Tamara is not just a bad idea, it might be a fatal one?

I panic when I realize I’m not coming up with anything that makes sense. The panic grows when we step outside and the first thing I see is a huge moon rising over the city like a silver balloon.

The second night of the full moon.

What is Tamara planning for tonight? I remember how she looked at David. I remember how few men were with the pack at Culebra’s. Frey’s book said werewolves have the right to take and turn a mate. Does the rule apply to female weres as well? Is that how she sees David?

We’re at the Hummer. I don’t know how we got here and I don’t realize David is standing in front of me holding out his hand for his keys until he clears his throat.

“What is it with you?” he says, taking the keys I hand him. “You’re pale as a ghost.”

He uses the remote to unlock the doors and opens the passenger side for me before crossing to take his place in the driver’s seat. He takes a minute to readjust the seat and steering wheel. While he’s doing that, he says, “Is there something I should know about Tamara? She’s not married, is she? Or divorced with ten kids? Not that I mind kids but I don’t know what kind of father I’d be. I’ve had friends with stepkids and it doesn’t always work out well. ’Course, that—”

“Jesus, David.” My voice is high-pitched and screechy. “This is a fucking first date. You don’t even know the woman. I haven’t known her for long. What if she’s a flake? Don’t you think you should go to lunch maybe or coffee before taking her out at night?”

David looks over with an expression that makes me want to smack him. He’s trying hard not to laugh. “Go to lunch or coffee before taking her out at night? What are we, twelve? You want to come along to chaperone?”

Not a bad idea. Well, not coming along to chaperone exactly, but I could follow them. Make sure Tamara keeps her skin on.

David is eyeballing me again. “Come on, Anna. Spill it. You have something against Tamara? I suppose if you do I should hear it. You certainly had Gloria pegged.”

Now that I’ve decided on a course of action, I relax and smile over at him. “No. Get me to my car and you can go on your date. It’s a block or so from the Four Seasons. I’ll direct you.”

David drives with one eye on the road and one on me. I don’t reverse myself often. It’s amusing to feel his confusion. What wouldn’t be amusing is Tamara turning into a werewolf and attacking him. I’m not sure how I’ll tail them since he knows my car, but I’ll figure something out.

We’re about a block from my car when David slows the Hummer. “Holy shit. Is that the Jag? What the hell happened to it?”

His tone snaps me from my reverie. I follow his gaze.

I can’t believe what I’m seeing.

The Jag is parked where I left it. Under a streetlight, a block from the hotel.

It’s been trashed. The paint is scored with thousands of scratches, every inch of the body scraped and cut. Not even the windows escaped. The ones not shattered outright bear deep nicks and abrasions.

David’s voice is hushed. “It looks like it was attacked by a pack of wild dogs.”

I’m too stunned to respond, words just won’t come, but I know he’s right. It was attacked by animals.

Not dogs, though.

Wolves.

CHAPTER 50

LIGHTNING FAST, SHOCK VEERS TO ANGER. “I’M GO-ING to kill her.”

I didn’t mean to speak the words out loud.

David is no longer looking at the car. He’s staring at me. “Kill her? Kill who?”

I’ve stumbled out of the Hummer and am standing in stunned silence beside my car. I love this car. It was the first really nice car I ever bought—my dream car. Sandra trashed it. The musk of wolf hanging in the air confirms it.

David joins me at the front of the Hummer. “Anna? You know who did this? We’ll call the police. Anybody this twisted should be locked up.”

He’s reaching for his cell phone. I grab his hand. “No police. I’ll take care of this.”

“Are you kidding? What do you mean, no police? I’ve never seen damage like this. I can’t even imagine what was used. A trowel? A knife? A bat? Jesus. You’d think someone would have noticed a car being vandalized like this.”

David’s outrage is escalating. So is my own; my insides are seething with it. Except that I know there’s nothing the cops can do except take a report. It was Sandra and her pack. How they managed in daylight on a busy side street, I can’t even imagine. I do know that if she’s capable of the things I saw and felt last night, she’s capable of creating the kind of glamour that would render her invisible.

David is waiting. What kind of explanation can I give him for not wanting to call the cops? I give voice to the first thing that pops to mind. “It’s been a long day. What happened to my car is bad enough. Standing here for an hour doing paperwork is worse.”

David doesn’t look convinced, but he doesn’t argue. I can tell by his expression that my outburst when I saw the car is replaying in his head. I can also tell that he’s filing it away for a future conversation. He says, “What do you want to do?”

I’m suddenly conscious of tears running down my cheeks. Stupid. Crying over a car. I swipe at them with the back of my hand. “Call a tow truck, I guess.”

David has his cell phone out again. “I can do better than that. I have a friend who owns a body shop. High end. I’ll call him. He’ll come get the car.”

“It’s Sunday night.”

“Doesn’t matter.” David is scrolling through his address book. “He and I played for the Broncos. If he’s not in the hospital or dead, he’ll come.”

I rest my butt against the side of the Jag, running a hand along the damaged door, listening to David’s side of the conversation. In less than two minutes, he snaps shut his phone.

“He’ll be here in twenty minutes.”

Guess the football fraternity runs deep. I glance at my watch. I know in my gut that Tamara had a part in what happened to my car. At least the one good thing that could come out of this would be David canceling his date. I give him a forlorn smile. “What about your date? Aren’t you going to be late?”

David is on the phone again. “Hey, Tamara. David. Listen, I have to cancel tonight. There’s been an accident. No. Nothing serious. Can we postpone until tomorrow night?”

Evidently she agrees because he’s smiling and nodding. “Great. Pick you up at seven.”

He pockets the phone and joins me.

I’ve got a twenty-four-hour reprieve.

“Where does Tamara live?” I ask.

He looks surprised. “You don’t know? She’s staying with a friend at some doctor’s house in La Jolla. Quite a place to hear her tell it.”

Oh, yes. Quite a place. What David doesn’t realize is that he’s been there before. At Avery’s house. That’s where he was taken when Avery kidnapped and almost killed him.

It’s where I’ll go soon.

After I finish doing what I should have done this morning.

Read that damned chapter seventeen in Frey’s book.

CHAPTER 51

I’VE NEVER BEEN ONE FOR SMALL TALK. LUCKILY, neither is David. We stand together beside the Hummer waiting in silence for his friend. I don’t know what he’s thinking about. I’m thinking about the various, creative ways I will kill Sandra should the opportunity present itself.

David’s friend is punctual. He turns out to be another example of that rare and remarkable American breed: the giant pro football player. He’s a good four inches taller than David, outweighs him by seventy-five pounds. He’s dressed in jeans that fit too well to be anything but custom tailored and a tee under a denim jacket. His hands are encased in leather driving gloves and his feet in reptile-skin boots. He walks like the Hulk. Must have been a defensive end.

David introduces him as “Charmer Moss.”

“Charmer?” I say, returning a firm handshake. His hand is the size of a dinner plate. “For real?”

He smiles. His skin is rich dark mahogany and the contrast of perfect, white teeth in the handsome face is dazzling. “My wife says that’s more my mother’s editorial comment on my father than any reflection on me.”

“What do you think?”

He shrugs. “Don’t know. My father died before I was born.”

He looks past me to my car and the smile fades. “Shit. What the hell happened to your car?”

David and I watch as he surveys the damage. He makes a complete circle of the car. “Never seen anything like this. You get caught in a dust storm? Sometimes high wind and sand can scour the paint right off a car.”

I wish it were something as simple as a dust storm. “No. No dust storms. Can you fix it?”

That brings back the smile. “Didn’t David tell you? I can fix anything. If it’s cosmetic, the way it looks, I can repaint and replace the windows. Only take about a week. Do you need a loaner? I’ve got a sweet ’69 Mustang convertible you can have for the duration.”

“Shit,” David says. “I’ll take the Mustang. Anna can drive my Hummer.”

“In your dreams. I spent the afternoon driving that colossus of yours.” I turn to Charmer. “I’ll take the Mustang.”

He returns to the cab of the tow truck and comes back with a clipboard. He asks and I answer insurance questions, give him my personal information, and arrange to be at his shop tomorrow morning to pick up the Mustang. David says he’ll bring me to the shop himself before going to the hospital for Gloria.

“So you’re still seeing her, huh?” Charmer says. He gives David a sideways squint. “Heard she got herself in some trouble.”

David looks down and away. “Yeah. You might say that.”

He doesn’t elaborate, and, living up to his name, Charmer doesn’t push. His mama would be proud.

I get my purse and Gloria’s things out of the trunk. I slip the ignition key off the key chain, and David and I stand aside as Charmer maneuvers the tow truck into position and starts the Jag. I don’t realize I’ve been holding my breath until he drives the Jag up onto the bed. The engine sounds fine. At least that’s something. Charmer secures the car and in another ten minutes, he’s on his way.

“Nice guy.”

David nods. “The best. It’s early yet. Want to get some dinner?”

My automatic response to human offers of food revs up to spout the usual litany of excuses why I can’t. Except for one thing. David is right about it being early. I’m not about to give him a reason to call Tamara back tonight because he’s free sooner than he expected. Especially with no way to keep an eye on them.

“Sure. I ate a late lunch, so I’m not particularly hungry but I could use a beer.”

He smiles. “Good. It’s been a while since I’ve been to Luigi’s. It’s in your neighborhood. How about it?”

Great. I nod and attempt a smile back at him. Now let’s hope I can restrain from projectile vomiting at the smell in the one Mission Beach restaurant whose motto is “If you don’t like garlic, go home.”

My plan is to keep David occupied until it’s too late for him to consider contacting Tamara. I figure until ten or so. Then I’ll read that last chapter in Frey’s book.

When I face Sandra the next time, I’ll be prepared.

To do that, I have David swing by the office on our way to Luigi’s. I tell him I want to pick up the papers Jamie’s office faxed to me yesterday.

Yesterday? Has it only been one day?

He waits for me in the car while I run inside. I do grab the papers along with Frey’s book and stuff them in a briefcase. Then we’re off to a place that used to be my favorite eating joint.

Luigi’s is a block from my cottage. It’s small, dark, cramped and always busy. The owner is not Italian at all, but Greek. He’s a short, middle-aged guy with a penchant for long-sleeved designer shirts and well-pressed jeans. He runs his place like a general commanding troops. But Ted can cook. His meatballs are world renowned—at least to hear him tell it—and I can personally attest that there are none better in San Diego. I’ve eaten my fair share.

Before the vampire thing turned garlic into a weapon, that is.

Ted is behind the bar when David and I walk in. He does a double take and slams a glass down on the counter so hard, it shatters. He snaps his finger to the barkeep to clean up the glass and stomps out to meet us, scowling.

“So. You aren’t dead, after all. Figured you had to be, it’s been so long since you dropped by. So what was it? Amnesia? You forget your friends in the neighborhood now that you have a fancy office downtown? You find another place that feeds you better than Luigi’s?”

He looks like he’s winding up for a long tirade. I can’t speak the smell is so offensive. At the moment I think I’m going to have to run out or puke all over his Gucci loafers. He takes David’s arm in one hand and mine in the other and steers us to a booth by an open window. It’s already occupied, mind you, but that doesn’t stop Ted from shooing the couple out, gathering up their dishes, and plunking them down on a table in the center of the place. They’re too stunned to object. Even if they did, Ted wouldn’t care. He’s a force of nature. His place, his rules.

David and I slide in. Neither of us has spoken a word. Ted’s storm passes as quickly as a cloudburst, and by the time he’s signaled for the busboy to wipe down our table and bring setups, he’s beaming at us.

“How about a nice Chianti?” he says. “For the antipasti. Then I’m going to cook something special for you. You two leave everything to Ted.”

He heads for the kitchen like a robin after a worm. At least here by the window, I can smell fresh air. I scoot as close as possible to it and gulp down the nausea. What I do to protect my friends. This is not going to be fun.

CHAPTER 52

THE CHIANTI IS SMOOTH, FULL-BODIED, GOES down easy. I had planned to drink beer, but Ted sends a bottle over and before we know it, it’s empty and David is calling for a second. By the time the first course arrives, huge plates of pasta with rich, red marinara sauce chunky with tomatoes and meat, David is on the third bottle. He’s nice and relaxed. He’s also famished. Chopping wood and Gloria’s angst have obviously built up a tremendous appetite. Lucky for me, he’s hungry enough to consume both our dinners, hardly noticing that I keep ladling my portions onto his plate. Having a big guy as a partner has its perks. I can sit here sipping wine while he does the heavy lifting.

Keeping my nose pointed to the window, I start in on a third glass of wine. Three glasses out of three bottles. It occurs to me that David is starting to look bleary-eyed. Even with all the food, three bottles of wine take a toll. I don’t think David will be driving home tonight.

We finish up. I pay the bill minus the wine, which was on Ted, and I end up helping David out of the restaurant. Ted tells us not to be strangers. David goes for his keys.

“No way. We’re only a block from the cottage. You can crash at my place tonight.”

David seems to be considering it, though I can’t be sure if the vacant look is a thought being processed or the slide into a wine-and-food-induced stupor. It doesn’t matter. He comes along at my urging, and we’re halfway down the block when he stops. His eyes clear for a minute, and he looks at me with a frown of concentration, like he’s remembering something important. He jabs a thumb back toward Luigi’s.

“Wait. I can’t leave my car out on the street.”

At first, I don’t understand. Then an image of my Jag flashes, and I realize he’s concerned if there’s some crazy out there vandalizing nice cars, his might be the next target.

Like, even if it hadn’t been personal, a Hummer is in the same class as a Jaguar. We’re talking elephant versus, well, jaguar.

“It’s okay. I’ll get you to the cottage and come back for the Hummer. I’ll park it in the garage.”

That appeases him. The frown smoothes back into blankness. We continue down the sidewalk, David under his own swaying steam. I unlock the door to the cottage, lead David to the couch, give him a push. He sits down abruptly.

“I’ll go move the car,” I say. “Then I’ll come back and make up the bed in the guest room. You sit here until I get back, okay?”

His eyes are open and he appears to be listening, but I could swear he’s already fast asleep.

I dig his keys out of the pocket of his jacket along with his wallet and cell phone. He doesn’t stir. There’s a “missed call” message flashing. It’s pure nosiness that makes me hit the “hear now” button and press the phone to my ear.

“Hey, David, it’s Tamara. If you get in before eleven, call me. I’m a night owl. Maybe we can still get together.”

I erase the message and close the phone. My instincts were right. I’m glad David is here with me.

I put the phone on silent mode and place it along with his wallet on the coffee table. The keys I take with me on the run back to the parking lot behind Luigi’s. In five minutes I’m cramming that tank into my garage. Lucky for me I had the garage built higher and longer than average. Otherwise, the Hummer would never fit. As it is, it’s like squeezing paste into a toothpaste tube.

Another five minutes and I’m back in the house. David hasn’t moved. He’s still sitting up, his eyes are still half-open but he’s snoring. I’ve never seen anyone sleep with his eyes open. I stare at him for a minute, trying to decide if I should carry him up the stairs to the guest room. What happens, though, if he awakens in my arms? No, better to lay him out here and cover him up with a blanket.

Which is what I do.

Finally, at eleven thirty, I’m in a pair of sweats and curled up in my bed with Frey’s book open on my lap.

Here we go—chapter seventeen.