Текст книги "Lovers and Reprisals"

Автор книги: Lori Turner

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Текущая страница: 3 (всего у книги 20 страниц)

As a young boy, Bolden had learned not to ask his mother questions concerning his father.  When he’d been old enough to understand, his mother had summed up their relationship using two words; brief and stormy.

Morpheus cleared his throat when he said...

“I just asked because...well, I was surprised to see her.” He edged furthering asking....

“Is she dating...? I only asked because...there’s a guy hovering by her side.”

Bolden frowned, when he said...

“She has been seeing someone regularly, but he didn’t ride with us.  I can only guess that mom extended your open invitation to include him.  Of course, I’m just speculating, because I really don’t have an answer.”

Bo was rambling, mainly because it felt strange discussing his mother with the man who’d once been her lover.   Morpheus could see that talking about Mikita had struck a cord with his son and the note had not been a harmonious one.

They were talking and he wanted to keep the conversation on an even keel.  He said...

“Bo...if you’d prefer it, we don’t have to talk about your mother.  Mikita and I have a past and most of those memories don’t involve you.”

He pointed to a chair nearest him, then he said...

“Please...sit. Don’t be so formal.”

Bolden couldn’t understand his nervousness, given that this man was his father.  Even so, he’d grown up learning about his father’s darker side, listening to the rumors of others.  He’d learned that his father was the kind of man that most people would never consider saying no to.  He supposed with a history like that, what child wouldn’t be afraid of him.  And to date, that portrait of his father hadn’t changed.

“Have a seat son.”  Morpheus said, using a gentle voice.  Bolden chose the seat to his left.  Only a few seconds passed when his father said....

“You graduated at the top of your class, and you passed the Bar on your first try.  That’s cause for celebration.”

“Just another test.  No cause for celebration.”

Bo inclined his head, and his father didn’t question his modesty.  Bolden had always been an ‘A’ student, and he’d assumed that he’d approached that test, as if it were no different from any other exam he’d ever studied for.  Morpheus decided to make light of the accomplishment, mirroring Bolden.  He directed his concerns towards the future.

“So...I understand that you’ve accepted a position at a law firm in Denver.”

“Yes–that’s right.”

The room went silent, and it didn’t pass his notice that his father had not mentioned the name of the firm.  This could mean one of two things; Morpheus already knew the name of the law firm–or he didn’t care.  Of these two options, neither was good.

His musing was interrupted by his father, when he said...

“Son...I don’t mean to pry but...well...have you considered other choices?”

His father was a crude man and he felt the beginnings of his interference.

Morpheus continued when he said...

“Son...I’d like you to consider something.  Actually...I’d like you to consider a job opportunity.”

Bo was shaking his head, when he said...

“I already have a job.  My first day starts in one month.”

Morpheus stared at his son, and it didn’t take an ignoramus to understand the reason that spawn his objections.  Fawn.  His blabbermouth, bullheaded, speak her mind, daughter.  If there had been a chance; she’d sunk it with her vileness.  Morpheus knew this as sure as there had once been a man on the moon.  If his offer stood a hare’s tail of a chance, he would have to coax his son with platitudes.

“Bo...son; I only want what’s best for you.”

Bolden recalled every rumor concerning his father and when he spoke, the rumors fueled his objection.

“Dad...I appreciate your concern, and I’m sure that you believe this offer might appeal to me...but you really needn’t bother.  You’ve played your part by ensuring that I had the best home and education.  I couldn’t have asked for more.  And as far as my employment is concerned...I’ve got that front covered.”

“But Bo...that firm isn’t up to snuff.  Son...you’re a Yale undergraduate, and you attended Harvard Law.  You successfully completed an Oxford Fellowship.  For you, the sky is the limits.”  Morpheus leveled his gaze when he added...  “You can do better than an entry level position at a mediocre law firm.”

Bolden stared at his father, when he said...

“Come on dad–let’s be honest with each other.“

Bo stabbed his chest with his finger when he said...

“What makes me so special?  Why is the sky my limit, instead of a mediocre law firm?  And let’s dispense with the obvious father son line–because on that note, I didn’t get a vote.  I’m a Gustafson–but I didn’t get to choose my parents.”

Bolden lowered his eyes, choosing to stare at his hands when he said...

“In spite of that...there are aspects of my life that I can choose; and my employment just so happens to be one of those things.”

His father said...

“Okay...I get it and it’s obvious to me that over time you’ve allowed your opinions concerning me to be clouded by lies intended to keep us apart.”

“Clouded by lies.”  Bo mocked.  “If you’re referring to Fawn–then on that point, you’d be correct because my current objections have little to do with information rooted in my past.  In fact...before you joined us, my sister laid out her case; and I can’t argue against her points.  She made it clear to me that I’m a problem for her.  Maybe you should talk a little less about me.  Better yet; why not just give her the whole enchilada.  She deserves it.”

There it was in a nutshell.  Morpheus could play this game, or he could do what he does best.  As an arms dealer and a security expert; he knew when to hide, dodge the bullets or duck and take cover.  This was a duck and take cover kind of moment.  He locked eyes with his son when he said...

“Fawn is an enigma...and she isn’t your puzzle to solve.  That’s my job son.”  Morpheus abruptly stood, then commenced to pat his firm belly.  He sparked a conversation as if, nothing had come before or preceded his words.

“Are you thirsty....or have you eaten yet?”

Bo looked confused because from one moment to the next, his father had changed the conversation, sending him off balanced.  Bo’s brow rose when he said...

“I...I haven’t eaten today.  I thought there would be food, so I...”

Morpheus cut him off saying...

“And there is food.  Food...drinks...hell, it’s a party son.”

Morpheus startled Bo when he slapped his large hand dead center on his back.

“Come on son...let’s go find your mother.  It’s been a while since I’ve danced with Mikita.”

“Six years.”  Bo supplied.  His parents had danced at his   boarding school graduation ceremony.  He recalled the way their bodies swayed, then separated when the music stopped.  He’d noticed a sadness in their eyes; the same pain that his father was currently expressing.  Bolden thought about this, then he considered the present.  Some parts of him wanted to know his father, apart from the gossip and embellished rumors.  He considered this at the same time he’d decided that he would stay for a while.

Morpheus caught a glimpse of his son out the side of his eye and he wished that Mikita would have given him more than one child.  He’d been a fool, allowing her to leave him and out of all his women, her’s was the only name he’d tattooed on his chest; directly over his broken heart.  Of course–he didn’t blame her for leaving after she’d found him in bed screwing around with her cousin.

Morpheus dismissed the thought when he said...

“Your sister has taken up with an artist.  Some kind of hippy I think.  Judd Marko–”

“Marko–yes–he’s a well known artist.  If I’m not mistaken, I think he’s a sculptor.”

Morpheus groaned.

“Fawn will be the death of me.  If she has children by this man–I hope she’s prepared to deal with the backlash.  She’s angry at me because he isn’t one of us and I forbade her from inviting him to my party.”

Bo didn’t know what his father meant when he commented that Judd wasn’t one of them.  His father’s voice broke through his mental clamor.

“Fawn gets mixed up with the weirdest people.  She is my daughter, and I try to indulge her, but I won’t tolerate people offloading every bullshit idea that enters their brain–and I won’t listen to liberal nonsensical rhetoric meant to change the world.  Most times–people are clueless to the way this world truly works”

Bo smirked, because on that point, he agreed with his father.

Morpheus opened the door.  The outer hall was filled with a mix of sounds.  People moving about–music, laughter and countless mingled voices.

Morpheus said...

“I won’t be pleased if she pursues a relationship with this Judd person.”

“Maybe you should talk to her.”

They were standing near the balcony, and from this position they could see many of the guest flowing from one room to the other.  Most of his family was here.  Morpheus sighed, because his brother Raal had come and he’d brought his latest conquest; Kyle, a man he’d met two years ago while passing through Belize.  When they were young men Raal had been the ladies man, getting two and three women pregnant at the same time.  His brother was a merciless flirt but after meeting Kyle, his brother had seemed to settle down.  Raal had not looked at another woman and he’d even tattooed his lovers name across his knuckles.  Morpheus counted his nieces and nephews–Raal’s children; seeing them made him accept that wonders never ceased.  After seeing his brother’s apparent happiness, Morpheus thought about himself, then he scanned the crowd, looking for Bo’s mother.  He noticed Fawn in a corner and she was talking to a group of her friends.  The girl Cynthia was among them. Morpheus swore, then he said...

“Your sister is a sly one.  You need to watch her Bo.”

“You aren’t telling me anything that I don’t already know.”

Bo couldn’t wait to leave.  He had a life in Denver waiting for him but he paused for a moment.  He took a few seconds to look at his sister.  He didn’t know why but he’d been transfixed by her actions.  Fawn had wrapped her arm around the shoulder of Cynthia; pulling her in close to console her.  Morpheus chuckled, then he said...

“I wonder if Cynthia knows not to trust her.”

Bo said...

“Is she the friend that you talked about?  The one whose upset over her boyfriend?”

Bo didn’t understand the specifics so he looked at his father waiting for him to respond.

“Yes.”  Was all his father said.  An overwhelming question rattled in his brain, and he couldn’t silence the noise.  He couldn’t shake the feeling that there was more to say about Fawn, Cynthia and the boyfriend, but his father was choosing to remain silent on the point.

Bo said...

“Does Fawn know something about Cynthia’s boyfriend...”

He couldn’t bring himself to finish the sentence and now he wished that he’d never broached the topic.  Morpheus sighed, then he reached in his inner coat pocket.  He pulled out a gold case, then flipped it open.  He lifted a tightly rolled cigar, then at that moment, his hand stalled.  A crowd of people emerged from one of the large rooms. That’s when Morpheus caught sight of Mikita–and that’s all it took.  A rush of memories flooded his brain.  In stunning detail he clearly recalled the caressing warmth of her brown skin.  She was more beautiful than he remembered–and she’d loved him for himself, and not the superficial trappings of his wealth.  No–she wasn’t like his other women and it galled him that Mikita still possessed his heart.  For years he’d tried to hate her–to forget her–but this had been time wasted, because his efforts only strengthened his love for her.  He hitched his belt because after seeing her, he was determined to win her back.  He didn’t care that his pregnant girlfriend was in the room; being with her had been an error in judgment–a mistake he planned to rectify.

Morpheus recalled every day and night spent with Bo’s mother, then he said...

“Son–look...”

Morpheus didn’t gesture using his hand or any other part of his body.  He simply scanned the crowd of people when he said...

“Some of the most powerful people in the world are here.  Do you see that gorgeous lady over there–the one wearing the red dress.”

Bo noticed the woman.  His father said...

“She’s someone I’d like you to meet.  She holds a very important position working for Governor Wilcox.”

Morpheus noticed Bo’s subtle nod, then he added...

“Eliza Pendleton is a classy woman.  She’s smart, but not in a stodgy way.  She’s damn attractive but a little too young for my taste...of course, I’m not currently looking for a woman.  But you on the other hand; you might find her interesting.”

“Dad...”  Bo felt a rush of embarrassment causing Morpheus to quickly say...

“She’s a few years older than you–but if her age is a problem....”

Her age wasn’t the problem and Bo corrected his father.

“Dad...I appreciate your interest in my personal life–but I’ve decided not to date until I’ve figured out my life.  For now...I just want to focus on me...and work.”

Morpheus smiled, then he said...

“I get it son.  I just want you to understand that I can open doors for you.  I know people son; important powerful people.  Just say the word and you can have whatever you want–and I can help you get it.  This is the legacy that I have to offer.  You have so much promise–and it pains me to think that you might sell yourself short all due to disagreements that occurred in our past.”  He stared at his son when he said...

“Bo–the world isn’t what it seems to be–and it’s about time that you realized this.  I’m in the position to make your life have real meaning.  Will you at least talk to Eliza?”

Bolden stared into the crowd, and when he spotted the beauty in the red dress, he felt a quickening in his pants.  Even from this distance, it was obvious to him, that she possessed an unusual lure that attracted men.  Her  irresistible nature explained the men circling her like honeybees yearning for their next sugar fix.  Fool that he was, he wanted to join the swarm.  He wasn’t sure why his father had suggested that he meet her, because as far as he was concerned, he was sticking to his guns, as it concerned Denver.  That much, he was sure of...on the other hand...there was something about this woman that defied reason and when it came to her, he disregarded suspicions that typically clanged like warning bells.  He had tested his limits, attempting to avert his gaze, but ignoring Eliza Pendleton was beyond him.  Dammit all to hell; now he knew that he couldn’t leave until they’d been formally introduced.

Without warning, like a flip of a switch, Bo witnessed the abrupt change.  His father’s entire demeanor morphed into something other than what he’d been only seconds earlier.  His father said...

“Bo–I’m glad that you’re here son. We’ll have plenty of time to catch up on everything.  As a matter of fact, I don’t want to talk about Fawn or her antics–not now–maybe later.  For now, let’s go join your mother.  I’m in the mood to dance.”

When Morpheus slid his cigar between moistened lips, it was at that moment Mikita noticed him.  They shared a friendly exchange, and she held his gaze.  He grinned, flashing her with one of his roguish smiles, and his length stiffened when she didn’t turn away.  He was shameless–wicked even; an unprincipled man.  And the beauty in this situation was that Mikita knew this about him–she knew, yet once upon a time, she’d passionately, and unflinchingly loved him.  He felt the pull of her eyes as well as the abrupt disconnect.  Her attention broke, latching hold to someone else.  Jealousy overtook him, and in that instant he’d been slain.  Morpheus wanted her back–and he was determined to do whatever it took to make that happen.  Even if it meant killing the man standing beside her–the man pawing the woman he wanted and loved.  The woman he would reclaim for himself and just maybe, take as his first wife.

**********

Chapter 3

11:58 AM

The Delors New Year’s Day

White Ball

“It’s not good for a man to be alone.”

Marisela stood in the archway holding a flute half filled with sparkling wine.  She lifted the glass, seductively positioning the rim against her lower lip.  Lucien had stepped away from the houseguest in search of a particular vintage of champagne, when he’d been startled.

Marisela was a friend to his sister–and hopelessly infatuated with him.  He smiled, masking his desire to be anywhere except alone in the wine cellar with Marisela.

“I’m not alone.”  He said cleverly.  “The spirit of my family is here–this wine cellar contains a part of my lineage because every one of these bottles came from one of my families vineyards in France.”

Marisela giggled, then she wobbled, before gracefully regaining her balance.  She’d obviously had too much to drink.  The cellar had been built specifically to store wine, and not to entertain guest.  Each room was lined with wooden shelfs, and the space in between these shelfs was limited.  Marisela strolled over to where Lucien stood, crowding his personal space.

She lifted up on tiptoes whispering in his ear...

“That’s not what I meant–and you know it.”

Lucien lifted a bottle, then blew dust off the label to read it.  Marisela sneezed.  She shook her head wildly, rubbing her nose free of the dust.  When she gathered herself, she closed the distance, pressing firmly against his side.  She gave his arm a feel of her breast.  Lucien was a patient man but he didn’t come down here for this.  If he wanted to steal away, finding a cozy place to cuddle–it wouldn’t be here and it wouldn’t be with Marisela.

He remained focused on the task at hand, while she slurred saying...

“So...what’s so special about this champagne that you’d much rather be in this dusty old dark cellar–instead of partying upstairs with me–and your other guest?”

Lucien placed the bottle back in its slot.  He didn’t waste time looking at her.  He wasn’t interested in her, or how she looked.  Plus...the space had gotten overly cramped, so he abandoned his task.  He placed one hand at the base of Marisela’s back, keeping his eyes on the passageway. While guiding her with gentle nudges, Lucien would urge her to move whenever she slowed and he feared she might stop.

When they were at the tasting table and the stairs were within sight, Lucien said...

“I was looking for a special champagne–a vintage bottled by my grand-poppa.  It’s a New Year’s Day tradition.  My family–we have reason to celebrate.”

“Yes–I can see how that would be a special reason to be down here.  Family...”

She said and he heard a sadness in her voice.  Unexpectedly, she twirled unsteadily on high heels to face him.  Lifting up to his height, she slanted her head at an angle, attempting to line up their mouths.  She aimed her lips to kiss him but her body swayed, giving Lucien time to bob, then dodge her efforts.  She said...

“I wish I was one of you–a Delors.  I’d do anything to make that happen.”

Her breath smelled like a bouquet of all the wine and mixed cocktails she’d drank–and the combination didn’t smell like flowers.

They were out in the open, but her stare cornered him; and this feeling was worst than being trapped.  He had to get out of this cellar.  More to the point, Lucien needed to get away from this woman.

“We’d better get back upstairs.”  He suggested.  “They’ll be looking for us–and we wouldn’t want to make them worry.”

“No...we wouldn’t want that” she said, as if the notion was an afterthought.

Marisela followed his lead, staggering when they got to the stairs.  She blurted out...

“I love you Lucien–I always have.”

Oh God–Lucien thought to himself; what in the world had he done to deserve this.  He ignored her drunken remark, directing her focus on her feet and moving up the narrow staircase.

“Maris...” he used the shortened version of her name. “...lift your head and keep your hand on the railing.”

With each step, Lucien had to encourage her to lift her leg, then to plant her foot on the next step.  He guided her every step of the way.  Considering her unsteadiness, Lucien surmised that he’d underestimated her drunkenness.  His sister, Chantel had told him about Marisela’s brother and that no one had heard from him since yesterday–and he supposed, this explained her overindulgence in wine and alcohol.  Lucien had not seen Tollin in months, and last he’d heard, due to his hair-trigger temper, most of his friends had written him off.  But not everyone had thrown in the towel and he wasn’t sure how long their devotion would last.  This morning when his guest arrived at his penthouse, according to the rumors, the doorman had rang his bell, and when there’d been no answer, the doorman had told them that Tollin Pettier more than likely wasn’t at home.  Since then, speculations of every sort churned the gossip wheels.  He’d heard a few hushed comments in passing but the careless remarks weren’t worth sharing with Marisela.  By her current state, he imagined that she’d heard an earful and by the look of her the whispers and scandalous hearsay had been discouraging.  Since arriving at the Delors’ New Year’s Day White Ball, his sister’s friend had been liberally drinking.

They were at the top of the stairs, entering the main kitchen.  The servants were moving around stoves and granite countertops; filling trays with finger foods and busy making certain this party would be talked about for weeks to come.  Weaving through this cast of characters, Lucien used this opportunity to comfort Marisela.

“Maris...” he said,

“Have you contacted your parents?  By now–they may have heard something.”

Marisela shook her head, causing the room to spin.  She said...

“Shouldn’t have done that.”

At first, Lucien didn’t understand what she’d meant–that is, he didn’t understand until she began leaning like a snapped branch on a tree.  He steadied her, leveling her until she stood upright. He placed one hand on either side of her shoulders, guiding her to a chair.  When he helped her down, he looked into her eyes.  The sclera was bloodshot and he imagined that tomorrow, the events of this day would be a blur.  If he was right, not remembering would be a blessing in disguise.

Lucien lowered his mouth near her ear, then he said...

“Relax–I’ll get someone to take care of you.”

The Delors celebration was a wildly popular party and attendance required that the guest wear white.  The house was packed with the who’s who of societies rich and powerful people, and they were all dressed in white on white.  The room looked like a sea of clouds, dripping jewels like raindrops, and that made spotting his sister all the more difficult.  When he thought he might have to search the entire house, across the room, Lucien spotted his sister and her husband Clive.  He gestured, causing Chantel to crane her head.  After a few seconds, she noticed that her brother was pointing at Marisela.

The Delors Uptown home, was one of the families larger inner city brownstones.  The place was so large that it took up half of a city block; with a helipad on the roof. Shortly after midnight, the doors had opened, and their New Year’s Day White Ball celebration had begun.  As one of the wealthier families in the city, the Delors family were somewhat like royalty.  Lucien watched as his sister tried her best to cross the room all the while being respectful whenever she was stopped to talk to a group of people.  She would smile, then say a pleasant remark, while wishing them well, and telling them to enjoy the Ball.  One after the other, Chantel chitchatted, then excused herself until finally she was standing alongside Lucien.

Her brother wasted no time, saying...

“Chantel–could you please see to your friend.  I have an errand to run.”

Chantel looked at her brother after considering her friend.

Mildly shocked, Chantel said...

“Oh my lord–she looks a mess.  What happened to her?”

“What always happens on a day like this–the story never changes.  Overindulgence.  Liqueur can be a powerful remedy for weak-minded people”

“Lucien!  Don’t be mean.”

“She’s drunk.”

Lucien had never cared much for Marisela, but he’d always been respectful whenever they shared the same space.  In spite of his right to have his own opinion, his sister chided him.

“And for good reason–I’m only sad that I didn’t noticed the signs.  I could have prevented this from happening.”

Chantel understood her friends heartache but she had other things to consider.  Her family was hosting this Ball and she saw no need to dampen the spirits of their other guest.  On a day like today, no one wanted to witness pouting and they surely didn’t want to see a grown woman using liquor to drown her woes.  No–that just wouldn’t do.  Appearances were important, and too easily stained.

Chantel faced her brother, with her back to the crowd.  She couldn’t chance being overheard.

“Don’t worry–I’ll take care of this.  I’ll instruct someone to assist her to one of the guest bedrooms.  She’ll be out of the way–and she’ll have time to sober up–or sleep it off.”

Lucien nodded, then he walked away while thinking; problem solved.  Chantel snapped her fingers, gaining the attention of the person nearest her.  She instructed the maid to take Marisela to one of the guest bedrooms, and to remain with her, making sure that her friend rested comfortably.  With that done, Chantel hurried to catch her brother.  She hooked their arms, then joined him as he weaved through a crowd of people.

“It’s a shame Lucien.  I think Marisela’s brother has finally lost his marbles.  Who invites friends to a New Year’s Day party–then snubs them, by not even being at home.  Who does that?”

Lucien nodded and smiled at some of the guest, while creating a path wide enough for him and his sister.

He said...

“Don’t be a part of the problem Chantel.”

“And what do you mean by that?”

“Practically every person in this house has an opinion about Tollin and the fact that he brushed off his remaining friends.  The guy had a bad year and maybe he needed some time to himself.  Did you consider that?  Maybe solitude is what he wants...and can you blame him?”

She drew in close, not to be overheard when she said...

“His parents arrived at his home in Santa Barbara–but, they didn’t find anything indicating that he’d spent the night there.”

“Chantel...don’t feed into the gossip.  All of this hullaballoo floating around this house...don’t believe any of it because I don’t think any of it is true.  Can you imagine the thoughts that haunt Tollin?  Think about the images that form his dreams.  I don’t know about you, but if our places were switched, by now, I’d be a basket-case.   For goodness sake, the man was responsible for a little girl loosing her life.”

He’d not meant to sound crass because he mirrored his sisters concern.  He shared this sentiment when he asked...

“Doesn’t he moor his yacht at the marina?”

“Yes.  According to my sources, the Pettier’s are flying back to the city and one of their first stops will be at the marina.”

In the distance Lucien eyed his parents.  They were talking to the mayor and seeing them had sparked a concern.  He wondered if Marisela’s parents had notified the local police or if they’d enlisted help from some of their insider connections.

“Lucien...”

His thoughts were drawn to his sister, when he said...

“Make it quick Chantel.  If I leave now–I’ll be back in no time.”

“Where are you going in such a hurry?  Clive said that you’d gone down to the cellar, looking for a bottle of champagne.”

When he’d slipped away from the party, Lucien had thought his absence had gone unnoticed–but after running into Marisela, then hearing about his brother-in-law; he wondered who had been keeping tabs on him.

Lucien said...

“I was looking for grand-poppa's special vintage.  I didn’t see it in the cellar but I know where there is at least three bottles.”

“Where?”

“At my place.”

Chantel huffed, giving him her version of a pout.

“Lucien–what about the Ball.  You can’t leave–not yet.”

“I’m not leaving the city.  I’m just going across town.  I’ll be back so fast, no one will ever know that I’d left.”

“I’ll know...and what am I to tell momma and poppa?”

“Tell them that I’ll be back.”

“And Marisela...?”

He frowned...

“What about Marisela–she’s your guest–your friend, your problem and not mine.”

“Lucien, don’t pretend that you don’t know that she’s interested in you.  She’s worried about her brother and if something awful has happened to him, she’ll need to be consoled–and who better than you.”

“Chantel stop jumping to conclusions.  When it comes to Marisela’s brother–just say as little as possible, especially if the information isn’t substantiated.  Besides–I am not interested in her–and I think she knows this.”

“Lucien–she likes you–a lot.”

“Your friend is interested in me even though she knows that I am not interested in her.  What kind of relationship would that be?”

“Those are the best kinds of relationships.  It’s absolutely wonderful when the other person wants you more than you want them.”

Lucien laughed.  She was one to talk because he knew that Clive had practically begged his sister to marry him; but he also knew that his sister had been madly in love with Clive–and that’s what he wanted.  Lucien wouldn’t sacrifice romance, to be with a woman who loved him and the sentiment only went one way.  When he married, he would marry for love and for life–not because some woman had a oneway crush on him.

When he was a few feet from the front door, he pulled his sister to his side.  In this part of the house the crowd of people was the thickest, and he wanted to be heard over their noisy voices.

“I’ll be back in less than an hour.  If you can–pull poppa aside, and ask if he can request a favor from the police department.”

Chantel frowned, appearing confused.  Lucien said...

“Chantel–Horatio Bloom is the head of missing persons.  If Tollin doesn’t show up, he might be able to help.  Talk to poppa–get him to ask Horatio to wave the forty-eight hour wait as a favor to him.”

He smiled, then he said...

“For all we know, Tollin is probably playing the hermit, held up in his penthouse.  Maybe he decided that there wasn’t anything worth celebrating today.  Hell, can you blame him.  He’s dealing with the memory of killing that little girl, and losing Eliza.  With that kind of weight on a person’s shoulder, who could blame them if they chose to shy away from the world.”