Текст книги "Legacy"

Автор книги: Jeanne Stein

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Текущая страница: 5 (всего у книги 18 страниц)

CHAPTER 13

MORNING AT THE COTTAGE IS MY FAVORITE time. Sipping a cup of fresh-brewed coffee on the deck outside my bedroom is my favorite way to pass the morning—even a dark winter’s morning like this one. It helps, too, that I’m blissfully sated from a night of blood and sex. It could be storming outside and I’d still be purring.

I reluctantly sent Culebra’s “distraction,” Lance, on his way a few moments before. Turns out he’s an underwear model for Jockey and has an early morning photo shoot up the coast in Malibu. Seeing him in and out of underwear last night answered one of life’s biggest questions. Are those bulges in the magazine ads real? I’m happy to report that they are—at least Lance’s is. No padded jock straps necessary for that guy.

Turns out, too, that Lance has a last name, Turner, and a brain as agile as that lean, athletic body. He made me laugh, and he made me sweat. I’d like to see him again.

I’ll have to find some appropriate way to thank Culebra.

Glowing from the infusion of healthy vamp blood, second only to a human’s in restorative powers, and feeling comfortable in my skin for the first time since the fiasco with Gloria started, I sink into a deck chair and take in the view.

I live in Mission Beach, steps from the boardwalk. I was a sophomore in college when my grandmother died and left me her fifty-year-old cottage. I’ve lived here ever since, though I had the place rebuilt after the fire Avery set destroyed it a while back.

I love it here. Sometimes, in the summer, it’s a bother to be interrupted by some half-drunk partier, leaning on the doorbell to ask to use the bathroom. When I was human, I’d threaten to call the cops. As a vampire, all I have to do is show my true face and I never have a repeat offender. Never.

In winter, however, it’s different. I think it’s odd that winter in San Diego is considered the off-season. True, there is the overcast and the fog, a blending of shades of gray that often makes it hard to determine where the sky ends and the ocean begins. But the air temperature seldom dips below sixty and while the water isn’t warm, it attracts a better surfing crowd. Not the sun-worshipping, hard-drinking, noisy, young hordes of summer, but a mature, serious, respectful group who honor the ocean rather than attempting to beat it into submission with their boards.

Wow. I hold the warm cup in both hands and press it against my forehead. That was almost poetic. Must be a combination of the fog rolling in picturesque swirls off the water and the calm that comes from a satisfying night of sex.

I know this glow won’t last long. Williams said the were Sandra was coming to see me. Then there’s David and his angst. I don’t want to think about what kind of mood he’s going to be in. Hopefully, if he comes into the office, it won’t be with Gloria in tow.

The telephone rings as I’m about to go back downstairs for a second cup of coffee. It’s my cell phone. I grab it up and keep going, glancing at the caller ID. I expect to see our office number or David’s cell number, but instead it’s one I don’t recognize.

“Hello?”

There’s a moment of silence before it’s broken by a breathy, “Anna?”

Great. Gloria. I resist the urge to disconnect and turn off the phone. “What do you want?”

“I need to see you.”

“I don’t want to see you. We have nothing to talk about. Are you with David? Does he know you’re calling me?”

Another silence. “I haven’t spoken with David since I left you both at the restaurant.”

“What do you mean? Don’t you know how worried he is? I can’t believe you didn’t call him as soon as you were released last night.”

This time, the quiet at the other end of the line stretches on so long, I start to think we’ve been cut off, but then I hear a sharp intake of breath followed by a sob. “Gloria? What’s going on?”

A small, shaky voice whispers, “I wasn’t released. I’ve been arrested.”

I don’t have to ask for what. “Jesus, Gloria. Did you talk with a lawyer yet?”

“Yes. David sent his lawyer last night, and he referred me to a criminal attorney. A Jamie Sutherland. We meet this morning.”

“So, why call me? You should be talking to David. He’s probably crazy with worry.”

There’s a short, brittle bark of mirthless laughter. “No. He won’t want to talk with me. You haven’t seen the morning paper, have you?”

I’m in the kitchen now, and my eyes go to the front door. I hadn’t bothered to pick up the paper yet, but I do now. The rubber band breaks in my haste to get at the paper and flies up to smack my chin.

“Damn it.”

Gloria starts to whimper. “I know. I know. I’ve been such a fool.”

She thinks I’m cursing her. Good. I shake out the front page and hold it up, balancing the phone between my ear and shoulder.

“Oh, fuck.”

This time I am cursing her. The headline blares: “Gloria Estrella Arrested for the Murder of Billionaire Partner.”

In slightly smaller print, the headline continues: “Wife of Rory O’Sullivan Says the Motive Is Love Affair Gone Bad.”

“Love affair, Gloria? I thought you said you slept with him one time.”

This time, when she doesn’t respond, it isn’t such a big surprise.

CHAPTER 14

GLORIA IS SOBBING SOFTLY. I ROLL MY EYES BUT don’t say anything. She sounds scared. For some inexplicable reason, I don’t feel like rubbing it in. I toss the newspaper in the corner and lean against the counter. I’ll give her a minute. Christ. I must be getting soft.

The minute passes. Gloria is still snuffling. Patience has its limits. I don’t intend to spend my morning listening to her spit and sputter into a telephone receiver.

Against all better judgment, I ask, “Why did you want to see me?”

She sucks in a noisy breath. “You need to know what happened between Rory and me. It isn’t what you think.”

“Oh, no? Are you telling me you didn’t have an affair with O’Sullivan?”

She hiccups. “Well, okay, it is what you think, but there were extenuating circumstances.”

This is not getting us anywhere. “You know what? I don’t care. You should be talking to a lawyer. Or a priest.”

“I will talk to the lawyer. First I need to explain it to you. So you can explain it to David.”

“Oh, no. I will not be a go-between. You made this mess, Gloria. You need to clean it up.”

“I’ll hire you.”

“For what?”

“To find out who killed Rory.” She lets a heartbeat go by before blurting, “You can do it. You know things. You have contacts. The police won’t investigate the way you can. They have no reason to. They think I did it. Even Rory’s wife thinks I did it.” She laughs. No mirth in the sound, only bitterness. “She came to see me last night. All Rory’s talk about an open marriage was evidently just that. Talk. As far as Mrs. O’Sullivan was concerned, Rory was an altar boy. She’s going to do all she can to pin this on me. I need someone on my side.”

Boy, she is desperate to think I’d be on her side. “So, let me get this straight, you want me to help David—”

“Not David,” she interjects quickly. “You. David can’t know what you’re doing.”

“And how do you think I can hide this from him? I see him every day, remember?”

Her voice drops. “I don’t think you will.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“David is gone.”

“Gone?”

She makes another gulping sound before exhaling in a noisy rush. “He left town.”

“I thought you said you hadn’t talked to him.”

“I haven’t. He went to police headquarters this morning and left a note for me with a cop he knows. He saw the newspaper. He believes the story. He thinks I called him yesterday because I knew what would happen when the story broke.”

The realization makes my spine stiffen. “You did, didn’t you? You wanted to make it look like you and David were still together. For the press. To refute the affair story.”

She pauses. “Yes.”

That admission is so unexpected, it catches me completely off guard. I don’t know how to respond. This time the silence on the line is my doing, a result of my fevered brain trying to accept that Gloria is actually admitting she fucked up. A brand-new experience.

I feel my resolve start to soften. Not out of sympathy for Gloria, but for David. Poor shmuck. He’s probably off somewhere nursing his wounds. First he thinks he has his girlfriend back, then he finds out she was using him to deflect suspicion if she found herself in this predicament.

Wait a minute.

Why would she think she needed suspicion deflected? Unless . . .

“I asked you this once before, Gloria. Now tell me again. Didyou kill Rory?”

“Of course not.”

No hesitation, no heated objection to my asking. An unequivocal denial. I release a breath. “Why drag David into it?”

This time there is a pause. “I told you. I called him because I knew he’d be on my side. Then, when the story broke, if David and I were together, no one would believe Rory and I had—”

“Had what? Been fucking around?”

My first impulse, to tell her what a bitch I think she is, is interrupted by a second possibility. Another flash of inspiration like the one yesterday that had Gloria promising not to talk trash about me to David. This one is even better. I can use Gloria’s desperation to my advantage. I can get rid of her once and for all.

“Okay, Gloria. I’ll come by the jail and see you this morning. If you want my help, there will be conditions.”

“What are they?” The tone is muted, resigned, as if she already knows or suspects what I’m about to say.

“First, you cut David loose. For good. He deserves better.”

“I know.”

“I mean it. No calling him. No sneak visits. If he calls you, you hang up. You don’t answer his messages. You don’t send him a birthday card. He is out of your life.”

“Okay.” Tiny voice.

“Second, I expect to be paid for my services.” I do some quick, mental arithmetic. How much could I soak her for? May as well make the aggravation worth my while. “Two hundred an hour, plus expenses. Starting now.”

“Agreed.”

So quickly? Shit. I should have asked for more. I shrug it off and continue, “Anybody as rich as O’Sullivan will have made enemies along the way. What can you tell me about him?”

“Nothing.”

“What do you mean nothing? You invested a good chunk of change in that restaurant. You must have checked him out beforehand. Or at least had your lawyer check him out.”

There’s a few seconds of profound silence before that tiny voice comes back. “My lawyer only researched what was pertinent to our deal. I was interested in opening a restaurant, and Rory was there with the funding and the know-how to make it happen.” A bit of a whine creeps into her tone when she adds, “I told you this before.”

“What about when you two were together? What did you talk about?”

“Nothing, really. We’d discuss the restaurant. Furniture. Staff. Business stuff.”

“I mean when you were fucking, Gloria. He ever let anything slip? Ever mention trouble with other business partners or at home?”

The whine morphs into irritation. “We didn’t talk all that much.”

This is getting us nowhere. I glance at my watch. It’s almost eight. “I can be at the jail at ten. When do you see your lawyer?”

“In about fifteen minutes. He’s going to try to set a bail hearing after the arraignment. I’ll either be back here or at home by ten. I’ll let you know.”

We ring off. I place the phone on the kitchen counter and pick up the paper to finish reading the article about O’Sullivan’s death. I need the distraction. My gut is screaming that I’ve made a huge mistake agreeing to help Gloria. At least, whatever the outcome, David will be rid of her once and for all. If I find nothing and Gloria has been lying and she really did kill O’Sullivan, David still comes out ahead. Gloria will be in jail.

I scan the article. O’Sullivan is portrayed as a sterling citizen, reputable businessman and loving husband and father. Gloria, on the other hand, is characterized as a spoiled home wrecker who killed O’Sullivan when he refused to leave his wife. No surprise there. That description is offered by the grieving widow who knew of her husband’s affair—one she had been told was over. According to her, O’Sullivan had come back to the bosom of his family weeks ago only to be hounded by a scheming Gloria who would not leave him alone.

That’s too much for me to swallow. I hate Gloria. I also know Gloria. She’s too vain and self-centered to go begging after any man. Especially when she had a backup. She might have had a dalliance with O’Sullivan, but chase him? No. Not with David waiting in the wings.

David.

I snatch up the phone again and call David’s cell. It goes right to voice mail. Then I try the office number and punch in the code to check messages. There’s one.

From David.

“Left town. Don’t know when I’ll be back. Don’t try to get in touch.”

Ah, how like David. Short, sweet and completely devoid of any useful information.

I don’t give up that easily. I know he has a cabin in the Cuyamaca Mountains. I also know the caretaker’s telephone number.

The guy answers on the first ring. I tell him I’m David’s mother and there is a family emergency. David has turned off his cell and would he be so kind as to walk over to the cabin so I could talk with him?

I’ve never met the person behind the gravelly voice but I thank him profusely when he agrees. There’s about two minutes of silence while I picture the guy walking the hundred yards or so from the caretaker’s house to David’s cabin. No small talk. I like that.

Then I hear the knock on the door, his explanation of why he disturbed David, and in another few seconds, David is on the line.

“Mom? What’s wrong?”

“Uh, sorry, David. It’s me.”

Silence.

“I wanted to be sure you were all right. Not like you to disappear.”

“No, that’s more your style.”

His tone is clipped, hard. He’s more upset than I thought. “Okay. I deserve that. I admit, I’ve disappeared off the radar a few times—”

“A few times? I’ve always respected your privacy. I thought you’d show me the same courtesy.”

His voice is tremulous. With anger? With sadness? I wish I could see his face.

I wait a beat, then say, “I’m sorry about Gloria.”

The bark that comes across the line holds more disbelief than humor. “Right. You’re sorry about Gloria because she’s such a good friend of yours.”

Okay. Now his attitude is beginning to piss me off. “It’s hardly my fault that you didn’t see before this what a conniving bitch Gloria is.”

“Now that’s the Anna I know and love. You should be happy. I dosee Gloria for what she is. I’ve always seen Gloria for what she is. What you don’t seem to understand is that it didn’t matter. I love her.”

He stops.

“I loved her. Past tense. It’s over now.”

“Then why did you leave?”

He doesn’t answer for so long, I start to think he isn’t going to. I’m about to ask if he’s still on the line, when he says quietly, “Because I can’t be around you right now.”

“Around me? What the fuck does that mean?”

This time, there’s no hesitation. “It means I don’t want to see your smug face every time something about Gloria is on the news.” He’s biting off each word and spitting it at me. “You won’t miss a chance to rub in what an idiot I’ve been. I can’t take that right now.”

His outburst stuns me into silence. Not that what he says isn’t true. I have hated every minute he and Gloria have been together. I’ve also let him know that I’ve hated every minute of it. This is the first time he’s acknowledged my antipathy. Always before he’s ignored how I felt about Gloria or made excuses for her. I’d begun to think the stars in his eyes made him deaf, dumb and blind to any criticism of his egocentric girlfriend.

“Do you know,” he says after a moment, “that I’ve asked her to move in with me a dozen times? She always had an excuse why she couldn’t. A long-term modeling assignment. A new film. The restaurant. For the first time, I realize it was something quite different. She didn’t want to be tied down to me. She wanted to be free to pursue other interests. Explains why she wasn’t around when I was in the hospital, why she didn’t come to see me when I was released. She was too busy with Rory.”

He’s probably right about that. At least the timing is right.

I don’t know what to say to David to make the truth less painful. I’m almost sorry I tracked him down. For the first time in our association, I’m unsure how to proceed. I don’t want to make him feel any worse than he already does and I don’t want to antagonize him further. I’m sure as hell not going to tell him what I’ll be doing for the next few days.

I clear my throat. “Um, David? I’m going to let you go. You take as much time as you need. Don’t worry about the business. We don’t have anything lined up. If a job comes up, I’ll handle it. You do what you need to do.”

The laugh that comes across the line this time is harsh with sarcasm. “What do you know?” he says. “Anna Strong, tongue-tied. Don’t believe that’s ever happened before. Well, I’m glad you’ve given me permission to take a leave of absence. Now, if you don’t mind, I’m going to hang up. I’d appreciate it if you don’t call here again. I don’t want to talk to you. I don’t want to see you. Is that clear enough?”

It’s obviously a rhetorical question because before I can respond one way or the other, the line goes dead.

CHAPTER 15

WELL. I STARE AT THE PHONE IN MY HAND. I guess he’s serious. There’s a gnawing in the pit of my stomach that is as surprising as it is unexpected. That David would be angry and hurt at Gloria’s manipulation is understandable. That he would be so pissed at me is unacceptable. I’d march myself right up to that damned cabin if I didn’t have Gloria to take care of first. After that, regardless of what he said about not wanting to see me, he and I are going to have a talk.

The phone rings again. Once more, it’s a number I don’t recognize. When I open the connection a voice asks “Anna Strong?” before I have a chance to say hello.

The voice is a purr, soft, seductive. A tingle of excitement races up my spine. “Sandra?”

Her laugh is as melodious and sexually charged as the voice. “I’m flattered. You have been looking forward to my call.”

My heart is pounding and my palms start to sweat. She doesn’t say expecting my call, she says, “looking forward to.” Truth is, I waslooking forward to it. A thing that makes no sense and one I’m certainly not going to admit.

“Culebra said you’d be in touch.” I hope my tone conveys nothing but casual indifference. Jesus, what kind of power does she possess to cast a spell over a telephone line? It has to be a spell. Nothing else can explain the wild physical reactions I’m experiencing. Heat rippling under my skin, a body aching to be touched.

“And you know why?”

Her words bring sanity rushing back. “Yes, you’re Avery’s widow. Listen, we have no quarrel. I am willing to relinquish his holdings. I don’t want anything to do with his estate. If you’ve talked with Culebra, you know I’ve not set foot in his house nor have I made any attempt to claim his property. If you need me to sign something, I will. Have your lawyer send it over.”

My words tumble out like debris on a flood-swollen river.

She laughs and says, “Please, Anna. Slow down. You are right. Wehave no quarrel. Still, we must meet. Are you free tonight?”

My thoughts flash on Gloria. I don’t know where my investigation will take me, but surely I should be free for a few hours this evening.

A few hours? What am I thinking is going to happen when I meet Sandra? Will we need a few hours? To do what?

Get a damned grip. Once more, I slip into brusque mode. “I have work today. I can make some time tonight. Where shall we meet?” An echo of last night. Your place or mine?

“At Avery’s.”

It’s not a suggestion. Immediately, my hackles go up. “No. Not there.”

The laugh again, infectious, bright, but this time with a sharp edge. “I’m afraid it must be Avery’s, Anna. Shall we say nine o’clock?”

My heart is doing that wild tattoo thing against my ribs. Memories of what happened in Avery’s house turn into a black serpent of despair that slithers up my spine. Still, I find myself saying, “All right. Nine o’clock.”

“That’s a good girl.” The purr is back. “Have a good day, Anna.”

She cuts the connection.

“That’s a good girl”? I wouldn’t take that condescending crap from a friend, let alone a stranger. I don’t know what kind of magic this were-woman is working, but before we meet face-to-face, I’m damned sure going to find out.

I stare at the telephone, feeling like a boat loosed from its mooring. What did I agree to? And why in the hell did I? For six months I’ve resisted every effort on Williams’ part to get me back into Avery’s house and in two seconds, Sandra got me to agree to meet her there.

Shit. I have to go see Gloria. First, I have to see someone else. I’m pretty sure I’ll catch him at home. He’s a teacher and he doesn’t drive. Where else would Daniel Frey be this early on a Saturday morning?