Blind Faith (28 page)

He nodded. "Call me as soon as you get there, okay? I had the car checked from one end to the other. You shouldn't have any problem with it, but I'll feel better once I know you've arrived safely."

There were more hugs, more tears. A few neighbors had come to say goodbye, which delayed departure for several more minutes, then they were gone. Nick's chest felt tight as he walked to his car. God, he'd miss them, especially the girls.

By the time he had reached the end of the street, he had already made plans to drive to
Dayton
for the Easter break.

"All right, all right!"
Kelly put down a book of fabric swatches and marched down the hallway. "Don't knock the house down, I'm coming." She didn't have to look into the peephole or ask who was on the other side of her front door. That loud, persistent knock could only belong to Super Cop.

"Why don't you just move in?" she said as she opened the door.

"Why,
Robolo
." Nick planted a kiss on her lips. "Is that your way of saying you can't live without me.
" ?
"

"It was just a figure of speech." In the living room, she pushed more sample books aside and sat down.

Nick did the same, a sudden concerned expression on his face. "Okay, what is it now? And don't tell me
nothing
. I'm starting to know you pretty well."

"You think." She stared at one of the books, trying to find a way to tell him what had happened last night after he left
San
Remo
. The aftermath of the ordeal had hit her shortly after she'd returned from brunch, and she was afraid that if she let herself, she'd break down completely. "Someone tried to kill me last night."

Hugging a throw pillow against her chest, Kelly told him everything, including finding the book of nursery rhymes at Cecily's house. There was no way of avoiding that. He had to know or he would comb the earth trying to find the culprit.

"And you didn't call the police?"

"She's not the one who tried to kill me."

"The woman is a psycho. She sent you threatening notes."

"She had no intention of carrying them through. You said so yourself.

Less than two days ago you stood right here, in this living room, and told me killers didn't bother sending threatening
notes
... they ...
 
just ..."

She began to tremble. Still determined not to cry, she tried desperately to hold herself together and couldn't do it. The tears rushed out like a torrent, with no warning. Then arms hard as steel wrapped around her and she collapsed against Nick's chest, sobbing and heaving.

After an eternity, she realized his jacket was soaked. "I'm sorry ..."

She spoke between sobs. "Your jacket ..."

"Don't worry about it." His voice was soft and gentle and came out a little muffled because his mouth was in her hair.

She relaxed then, went limp against him. He felt good. Steady, safe.

So safe.

After a while, her sobs stopped and her head came up. Her eyes, wet and blurry, met his. He pushed a damp strand of hair away from her cheek and tucked it behind her ear.

Later she would wonder what had gone through her mind at that very instant.
Where the boldness had come from.
For the moment she just let her instincts take over. "Not yet." She cupped his face between her hands and kissed him passionately.

To her surprise, he held her back.
"Kelly, darling.
Now may not be a good time."

"Now is a perfect time." She kissed him again.

"You're upset." His voice had turned husky. "Vulnerable. It wouldn't be right."

An honorable man, through and through, she thought.
But a man just the same.
"Do you want me, Nick?"

He closed his eyes briefly.
"God, yes."

"Good, because I want you."
She bit his lower lip, gently, teasingly.

And heard him groan.
"I need you."
Another nip.
"You're not going to deny a woman in need, are
you.
Nick
Mcbride
?"

"You're not playing fair," he said against her mouth.

"I know." Her hands moved down his chest, to his waistband. "Make love to me. Nick. Make love to me right now."

A ray of sunshine found its way through the bare trees outside Kelly's window and came to rest on their naked bodies. They lay on the throw rug, in front of the fireplace, warm from the flames, hot and sweaty from their lovemaking.

Exhausted, sated and not quite ready to look into his eyes, Kelly buried her face in Nick's shoulder. She had been all over him, hands and mouth, a woman possessed, shameless,
greedy
. She hadn't even given him time to take her upstairs. Instead, she had dragged him to the floor and practically torn his clothes off.

As the fire roared, he had kissed her gently, deeply, and when his lips had stopped on her scar, on then- way to her breasts, the softness of his touch had brought fresh tears to her eyes. Driven by a need they could no longer control, they had made love at a hasty, almost furious pace. The second time was different, slow and delicious as they discovered each other's pleasures.

"Any regrets?" His hand slid up her thigh and came to rest on her hip.

"One."
She snuggled closer. "That you didn't seduce me sooner."

"I seduced you?" He laughed. "You've got it a little backward, don't you think?"

His hand slid between her thighs, caressed her gently. "Do I look like a man who has something to complain about?"

A low, husky laugh rolled out of her throat.
"No, not at all."

They showered together, turning each other on again and finding a new way of making love. Later, dressed and with the fire roaring, they ordered a pizza--half pepperoni, half anchovies--and sat at the breakfast counter, eating and talking about the events of the previous night. Nick was surprised to find out about Cecily's affair with
Syd
but not shocked to hear of the casino owner's plan to control
Pennsylvania
's politics.

"Men like him never have enough," he said. "And trying to rig an election is right up his alley. The trick is to make sure he doesn't get away with his dirty little scheme and is put away for good.

Unfortunately, the latter won't be easy. The man is slick as a snake."

"Cecily said she'd go public with her announcement."

He shook his head. "That won't do it. It's her word against his."

"Then what do we do?"

He looked up. "Did he know you and I were going to be at
San
Remo
last night?"

"I don't see how. I mentioned it to
Victoria
at lunch, but that's it."

"I suppose so, but Cecily would never discuss something like that with
Syd
. She hardly speaks to him anymore."

"They've only met socially, a couple of times."

Nick selected another slice of pizza loaded with anchovies. "In that case, we'll have to proceed with 'the plan."" He spoke the two last words very distinctly.

He took a healthy bite and spoke with his mouth full. "How good are you at pretending to be someone you're not?"

Kelly laughed. "Are you kidding? I'm an investigative reporter. Make believe is my game."

"That's what I hoped you'd say."

He looked like the proverbial cat
who
swallowed the canary. "What are you up to now?"

"I was talking to Sergeant Andy Harrison of the
Las Vegas
police earlier. He was the detective in charge of the murder of Steve
Marquant
."

"Enrique's lover."

He nodded. "
Harrison
sent that police report Quinn had requested, along with a videotape of Enrique's Vegas act."

He nodded at a thick manila envelope he had brought in earlier and put on the counter. "Go ahead, open it. I know you've been dying to."

Kelly opened the clasp and took out the contents of the envelope.

Besides a thick report, there were photographs of someone she presumed was Enrique and a video. The color shots showed the entertainer in various costumes and looking enough like the stars he impersonated to fool even the most discerning eye.

"At twenty-three.
And this one--" he pointed his pizza to another photograph "--is Enrique ten years ago."

She studied the more recent picture. The man's face had matured and his hair was shorter, but he had the same dark, smoldering eyes and fine
jawline
.

"Look like anyone you know?" Nick asked.

"
Magdalena
," she said under her breath. "With a little work he could look exactly like her." She looked up. "My God, you don't think ..."

"I thought about it, too." He shook his head. "Unfortunately, the fingerprints don't match. Enrique and
Magdalena
are definitely two different people." He dropped the rest of his pizza onto his plate, took the video and walked over to the VCR. "Come over and watch this."

For the next hour and a half, Kelly sat, totally mesmerized by the man on the screen. His resemblance to the divas he impersonated was uncanny, and so was his voice, rich and mellow one moment, high and powerful the next.

"He's incredible."

"Now watch this." He froze a shot. The last number was over and Enrique stood looking at the cheering audience. "Look at the expression on his face, his eyes,
his
posture as he takes his bows."

"He obviously loves what he does."

"It's more than that.
Much more."
He fast forwarded the tape then stilled another shot. "This is curtain call number three. Look at the way he opens his arms, as if to embrace the audience. Look at the way his eyes shine as they roam over the crowded room."

"I don't understand. Where are you going with this?"

"The man lives for the applause, the adulation, the fame."

"You can tell all this from one tape?"

"The interpretation of body language is basic cop training."

"Okay, so Enrique thrives on fame. I still don't see--"

"Must have been tough," he mused, staring at the frozen shot, "leaving it all behind."

"He didn't have much choice, did he? It was either that or
face
life in prison, maybe even death."

Nick turned to look at her. "Do you suppose he'd ever consider returning to showbiz?"

"And risk being arrested the moment he stepped on stage?" Kelly shook her head. "I don't think so."

Nick leaned back in the chair and stretched his long legs in front of him. "Not even for the gig of a lifetime?"

"One single, lavish, live performance that would be broadcast all over the world to millions of viewers."

"But that would be suicide. If he was as famous as the police report claims, he'd be recognized right away."

"It wouldn't matter, because by the time the show aired, several weeks later, Enrique would be far, far away."

Enrique's swan song.
How clever. "One last brilliant performance," Kelly murmured.
"One that will last him the rest of his life."

"Precisely."

"It's good," she admitted. "There's just one hitch."

He leaned over to steal a kiss. "You're such a pessimist, darling. But I'll humor you. What's the hitch?"

He grinned and spread his arms wide. "Meet Richard Trumbull, executive producer of Trumbull Productions, a small, very hip London-based production company with an office in
New York City
. Among our most ambitious plans for this millennium year is a huge, glittering. Las Vegas-style extravaganza that will feature today's hottest celebrity impersonators."

Kelly gaped. "You're going to pretend to be a TV producer?"

"Not me alone. You're in this, too, as my assistant."

"Assistant," she said with a sniff.
"As in gofer?"

"My partner, then."

Kelly was silent for a moment. The plan was creative but full of flaws.

"I don't know. Nick. Enrique is no dummy. In fact, he had to be pretty smart to have eluded a nationwide search all these years."

"That, too, has been taken care of. First thing tomorrow morning, my friend Alan will have another phone line installed in his office. When and if Enrique calls to check on us, Alan will fill in the blanks, explaining this will be
Trumbull
's first
U.S.
production and that we want to capture the market in a big way. That's why we're only looking for the very best. He'll also tell each caller that our stay in the
U.S.
 
will
be short--twenty-four hours. Unless Enrique moves fast, he'll miss his golden opportunity."

Kelly was still skeptical. "Won't he be suspicious to hear that we're looking for him?"

"We won't. We'll be going from club to club, auditioning performers."

Once again, Kelly found herself wishing she had thought of this plan herself. "You want Enrique to come to you rather than the other way around."

"By George, she's got it!" Nick exclaimed in his best British accent, which wasn't bad. Not bad at all.