Dark Paradise (31 page)

"Mmmm."

His mind drifted a bit, down the hall, to the beauty who couldn't see

past her own sense of inadequacy.

"Have you touched her?" Sharon asked, trying to keep her voice neutral.

She rose on her knees on the bed and moved toward him, the long tail of

the belt hanging down across her patch of carefully trimmed dark pubic

hair.

"Of course not."

Laughing, she closed the distance between them. Her hand shot forward

and she grabbed him by the balls through his jeans, squeezing. Her wide

painted mouth twisted up at the corners and her eyes sparkled with

mischief. "Swear it," she demanded, teasing him, taunting him.

Bryce groaned, letting the pain throb through him. He snatched a handful

of her blond hair and jerked her head back, his eyes locked on the

almost masculine features of her face, and lust burned through him. "I

swear. Why would I want a girl when I can have you?"

She smiled darkly and released him, her fingers turning to the task of

unfastening his belt and unzipping his fly.

"Why wouldn't you?
 
She's beautiful. Innocent. I know I would enjoy

her."

"I'm sure you would," Bryce whispered, stroking her head as she took his

swelling penis into her mouth. "But you can't have her, cuz. Not until I

get what I want."

Marilee climbed out of her Honda, making one final check of her

appearance. She wouldn't knock anybody off their feet with her fashion

statement, but then, she hadn't come here to attract attention to

herself. Out of the limited clothes she had left, she had selected a

purple silk blouse with a square-cut bottom that she let fall over a

short slim black skirt. Having thrown out all her heels before leaving

Sacramento, she wore simple black flats.

Having burned all her panty hose, she had made a quick stop at the Gas

N' Go for a pair of Leggs that some diabolical man had designed so that

one leg was perpetually twisted. She scowled now as she glanced aroundd

for witnesses and tried to adjust the stupid thing with a discreet tug.

The paved parking area of Bryce's little homestead was lined with an

incongruous assortment of European imports and American four-wheel

muscle. A bass rhythm thumped on the early evening air, carrying out

from somewhere behind the enormous lodge-style log house.

"God, he must have felled half of Oregon to build that," she whispered,

staring in awe at the sheer mass of the place. It looked big enough to

house Congress. A turret rose on one end like a rocket pointing to the

big Montana sky. The roof was slate, the foundation massive fieldstones.

The overall impression was of one thing: power.

A shiver skittered down Marilee's back. She called it a chill and strode

around the side of the house in search of the source of the music and in

search of some answers.

Bryce met her at the edge of the terrace as if he had been waiting

especially for her. Dressed in loose-fitting navy raw silk trousers and

a billowing white silk shirt worn open down the front, he was the

picture of elegant hip. His hair was swept back into a neat queue,

emphasizing his towering forehead. He beamed a smile at her that was

almost iridescent in his tanned face.

"Marilee, I'm so glad you've come," he said, taking both her hands in

his. "I was afraid your friend Mr. Rafferty might have talked you out of

it."

"Rafferty doesn't tell me what to do," she replied, dodging the kiss he

tried to brush across her cheek. She ducked around him, making a show of

taking in the terrace and pool area that was cluttered with major and

minor celebrities. "Quite a spread you've got here, Mr. Bryce."

"Well, it's home," he said, chuckling with false modesty.

A waiter appeared beside him, and Bryce took two flutes of champagne

from the tray, handing one to Marilee. "Call me Bryce. All my friends

do."

"Did Lucy?" she asked baldly, glancing at him from beneath her lashes as

she raised the glass to her lips.

"Of course. Lucy was a regular here." He made a mournful face, shaking

his head, clucking his tongue.

"Such a spirit. God, it's a pity we had to lose her so young."

"Yes. I'm beginning to feel I hardly knew her."

He sipped his champagne and watched her, his pale eyes keen. "You

weren't close?
 
She spoke of you. I'm surprised she didn't tell you

everything about her life here."

"We shared a profession once. We were friends. But we weren't very good

about staying in touch after she moved here. As I said, I almost feel as

if I didn't know her at all anymore."

Her gaze drifted across the small sea of faces, the thirty or so chosen

elite who mingled on the flagstone terrace, talking, drinking, looking

gorgeous. She recognized the redhead who had been in Bryce's company at

the Stars and Bars - Uma Kimball, Hollywood's latest find who had been

described as a cross between Tinker Bell and Madonna. She stood along

the low stone wall that edged the terrace, wearing what looked to be a

burlap sack with a belt of twine. A fortune in diamonds hung from her

earlobes. She was stuffing her skinny face with canapes while a male

model bimbo with a flowing golden mane tried to impress her with the

size of his naked pecs.

Near the pool, the Rhine maiden stood in a stark black knit tank dress

that hugged her body and dispelled any thoughts that she may actually

have been a guy. Her eyes locked on Marilee like a pair of lasers,

beaming cool amusement.

"For instance," Marilee said, turning back to Bryce, "the sheriff told

me Lucy was off riding by herself when she was - when she had her

accident. I never knew Lucy to be the solitary type. I honestly can't

picture her communing with nature."

"Yes, well, Lucy was full of surprises. Let me introduce you to some

people," Bryce offered, steering her by the elbow straight for the

towering blonde at poolside. Even in his high-heeled boots, the woman

was able to look down her nose at Bryce, something that brought a nasty

gleam of satisfaction to her eyes. "Marilee, this is my cousin, Sharon

Russell. Sharon, this is Lucy's friend, Marilee Jennings."

Sharon's gaze raked down Marilee from her unruly mane to the tips of her

cheap flat shoes and back again. "Oh, yes," she said, her wide mouth

twisting sardonically, "the little singer."

A razor-sharp smile cut across Marilee's face. "How nice to meet you,"

she said sweetly. "You're Bryce's cousin? My, the two of you look so much

alike, I thought you were brothers - I mean, brother and sister."

The look Sharon Russell gave her could have melted granite.

"You didn't bring your guitar?" Bryce said, his mouth curving in

disappointment.

"Were you going to make me sing for my supper?"

"Not at all. There are some people here from Columbia Records. I thought

this might be an opportunity for you. You have a rare talent, Marilee."

Which he had heard exactly once across a crowded room. Marilee met his

cool blue gaze for a moment, trying to figure out his game. Was he

really so benevolent?
 
Or was it a matter of playing God, manipulating

people, bestowing blessings, then basking in the afterglow of their

gratitude?

"Some other time, maybe," she said as a glimpse of dark hair and

handsome features flashed in her peripheral vision. Ben Lucas. "I'm

still too shaken over everything that's happened with Lucy and all to

even think about my future. I just came to mingle, you know, meet some

new people, eat some free food."

"By all means." Bryce flashed his teeth and gestured to the crowd around

him. "Enjoy yourself."

She nodded to him, ignored Sharon, and strolled away, tagging a stuffed

mushroom off the tray of a passing waiter as she went.

Lucas was busy charming the black-haired girl from the riding party.

They stood at the end of the pool, the underwater lights shimmering up

on them in rippling waves. He was a good-looking man, a fact that had

not escaped his own notice. Like most of the high-powered trial lawyers

Marilee had known, he was vain and arrogant to the point of megalomania.

He had chosen his audience tonight unerringly. The young woman was

hanging on his every word. She looked all of twenty, too fresh scrubbed

and innocent to be running with this crowd.

Fresh meat. And Lucas was sniffing after her like a hungry wolf.

"The press had Lana Broderick tried, convicted, and executed," Lucas

announced. "They were stunned by the acquittal."

"But was she really innocent?"

He gave the girl a finely honed look of combined wisdom and compassion

that had swayed many a juror, letting it soak in just right before

dropping the dramatic finish line. "She should have been."

Marilee rolled her eyes and tried to keep from gagging on her mushroom.

"I'm sure the unfortunate late Mrs. Dale Robards wished your client had

been innocent," she said dryly as she made a trio of their little duo.

"If Lana Broderick had stuck with the baton-twirling squad instead of

opting for extracurricular activities with Mr. Robards, Mrs. Robards

might be alive today."

The muscles in Lucas's jaw tightened and his eyes narrowed slightly, but

he took her counter and parried smoothly, expertly. "My point exactly.

If Dale Robards hadn't seduced an innocent sixteen-year-old girl, the

entire tragedy could have been avoided. Robards should have been the one

on trial for crimes of moral corruption.

Marilee polished off her mushroom and flashed him a smile, enjoying the

sparring match, enjoying the idea that she could mouth off to an

attorney and no longer have to worry about him ruining her career for

it. "Dale's moral corruption didn't pull the trigger. Sweet little Lana

did that all by herself."

"I guess I should be glad you weren't on the jury, Miss-?"

"Jennings. Marilee Jennings. We've met, actually. A couple years ago. I

used to be a court reporter in Sacramento. I did some work for one of

your partners once. State of California versus Armand Uscavaro. He claimed

voices from hell compelled him to murder his parents in their sleep, then

make it look like a robbery so he could inherit two million dollars. Poor

kid. Turned out they wouldn't let him listen to heavy metal. I suppose they

deserved to die."

Lucas ignored the bite of her words. Her sarcasm slid off him like oil

on Teflon. "Small world." He flashed her a bright smile. "I'm ashamed to

say I don't remember our meeting. I like to think I never forget a

pretty face."

"You probably remember my friend better. She used to do quite a bit of

work with your firm. Lucy MacAdam?"

He blinked at the mention of Lucy's name, as if some invisible hand had

slapped his face. Marilee catalogued the reaction and turned to the

young woman with an apologetic smile. "In the midst of all that

weirdness and macho stuff going on this afternoon, I didn't get your

name."

Samantha looked down on the little blonde with the husky voice and curvy

body and felt like a giant wooden totem, oversize with exaggerated

features, big and clumsy. The beautiful teal silk blouse and slacks she

had chosen from the wardrobe suddenly felt garish and huge on her, the

makeup she had so carefully applied, clownish. She wished fervently she

could become invisible or wake up and discover this had all been a

dream, that she was really in bed beside her husband and not standing at

a posh party chatting with one of his mistresses. But she didn't become

invisible and she didn't wake up, and Marilee Jennings and Ben Lucas

were staring at her, waiting.

"Samantha," she mumbled, clutching the stem of her wineglass as if she

expected it to snap and fall with a shattering ring
 
to the blue tile

that edged the pool. "Samantha Rafferty."

It was Marilee's turn to blink in shock. "Rafferty?
 
Are you Will

Rafferty's wife?"

"Yes." The answer came complete with a stony look Marilee didn't

immediately interpret. She was too busy putting together the pieces of

the afternoon's little drama. Suddenly Will's reaction made some kind of

sense. J.D.'s remark to his brother played over in her mind - We got a big

problem here, little brother. Will's estranged wife in the company of

Evan Bryce, the man who would be king of the Eden Valley. Oh, boy.

She cut a glance across the pool at Bryce. He was laughing, pinching the

bimbob's pecs as Uma Kimball shoveled another cheese puff into her

mouth. In her mind's eye she imagined him suddenly levitating above the

crowd, shooting lightning bolts down from the tips of his fingers. He

had that air about him, that he was a warlock who had taken human form

just for sport. Was it really all a game to him - playing with people's

lives?

Was that why he had brought his little retinue to the Stars and Bars - to

watch the drama of human life unfold before his eyes?
 
The thought gave

her a chill.

The feeling of Samantha's petulant gaze on her brought Marilee's

attention back to the matter at hand. The source of that look booted her

mentally. Jealousy. God, the poor kid probably thought she was one of

Will's many conquests. She called him half a dozen slanderous names in

her head. He'd gotten her into enough trouble already, the jerk.

"J.D. invited me to watch the branding," she lied.

"He's been helping me out with Lucy's animals. My animals, now, I guess.

I can't quite get used to that idea." She turned back to Ben Lucas, who

seemed as well composed as a Mozart quintet. "I suppose you heard about

Lucy's accident?"

"Yes. It was a terrible tragedy for all concerned. Graf - Dr.

Sheffield - was beside himself with grief."

"Too bad he wasn't beside himself while he was out hunting. One of him

might have seen it was a woman he was shooting at." The words came out

as sharp as knives, as sharp as her resentment. Marilee knew she should

have tempered them, but the feelings weren't dulling with time. Just the

opposite. The shock was burning off like fog in the face of a strong

morning sun. Every day the irony and the stupidity came a little clearer

into focus, a little brighter, a little more painful.

Lucas was frowning at her.

"You know Dr. Sharpshooter?" She took a swallow of champagne, hoping in

vain to cool her hot tongue a little.

She wished fervently for a cigarette.

"I'm his attorney."

Oh, God, what have you stuck your foot in is time, Marilee?

All around her she could hear the noise of the party like the distant

sound of bees swarming. The music boomed out of hidden speakers, all

thumping and discordant static. The light from the pool flickered and

rippled across Ben Lucas's handsome features in bars of bright and dark

like moonglow through a venetian blind. His mouth was moving. Marilee

could barely hear him above the pounding in her temples. Something about

having a second home across the valley and belonging to the Montana bar.

"How convenient," she said tightly. Lucy had worked for Lucas. Lucas had

been her lover at one time. Lucas worked for Sheffield. All of them knew

Bryce, the puppet master. Wasn't that nice and cozy?
 
All the bits and

fragments of information swirled around inside her head like colored

glass in a kaleidoscope. "You must be proud of yourself, pleading the

value of a human life down to a misdemeanor and pocket change."

His dark eyes took on a flat quality. Like a shark's, she thought. How

apropos. "It was an accident, Ms. Jennings."

"Yeah, I know the drill," she said bitterly. "No malice, no

premeditation. If he wasn't innocent, he should have been."

She glared up at him
 
hating him, hating his kind. He is the breed of

lawyer who made a mockery of the justice system. He played the courts

like an elaborate game of Let's Make a Deal. The only thing that

mattered was his record of acquittals. Not the law. Not justice. Not

innocence or guilt.

"Pardon me, but I've had it up to here with lawyers," she said, slashing

a hand across her throat.

She flung her glass into the pool and strode for the house, ignoring the

curious looks that turned her way.

A pair of French doors stood open, leading into a huge room in the

center section of the house. Marilee waded across a sea of

champagne-colored carpet, taking in only peripherally the white leather

sofas and earthtone pillows, the Georgia O'Keeffe prints on the walls,

the Native American artifacts displayed in tall lighted glass cases.

Stepping up into a foyer area of glazed Mexican tile, she took a left

and headed down a wide hall, looking for a bathroom. She needed a few

minutes alone and she had the most overwhelming need to wash after her

conversation with Lucas. Beneath the male-model looks, inside the $1,500

suit and the Cole-Hann loafers, he was an eel, a slimy, ugly, beady-eyed

eel. He was the kind of man who billed his clients $300 an hour for

thirty-hour days and refused to pay his court reporter until the final

gavel had fallen on a litigation that had taken eighteen months to

complete.

A door swung open in front of her, nearly smacking her in the face, and

Uma Kimball staggered out, giggling and glassy-eyed, a demented pixie in

sackcloth. Her skin had a translucent quality, as if it were stretched

very thin and very tight over her small, fine bones. Her red hair was

short and ragged, looking as if rodents had chewed it off while she

slept. She wiped her collagen-plumped mouth on the back of her hand,

smearing her lipstick.

"Hi!" she gushed, as excited as a cheerleader at a pep fest. "Hey, great

party, huh?
 
Have you met Fabian yet? God, he's got like the biggest tits

I've ever seen and they're really his!
 
Isn't that wild!"

"Is this the bathroom?"

Uma giggled, setting the cascades of diamonds swinging on her earlobes.

"It better be.
 
I just hurled about a pound of hors d'oeuvres. Eat till

you puke - that's my motto." She nearly fell over laughing, grabbing on to

Marilee's shoulder to keep herself upright. Her breath reeked of Binaca.

"Oh, yeah, that's catchy," Marilee said, her sarcasm lost on the

actress, who had suddenly become fixated on Marilee's hair.

"This is so radical!" She reached up to rub a strand between her

fingers. "Where did you get this color?

"DNA."

"Where's that?"

"In my genes. It's the real thing. I was born with it."

Uma looked confused for a few seconds, then amused again. "People still

do that?"

"Call me old-fashioned," Marilee said with a sigh. Her temples were

throbbing like a pair of hammer-struck thumbs. "You wouldn't happen to

have a cigarette, would you?"

"God, no." Uma's overinflated lips bent into a huge sad-clown frown.

"Smoking's like bad for you. But ask Bryce if you really need one.

Brycie can get you anything you want."

"Yeah, I'll bet he can."

"No shit. Like he's got the best blow I've ever had. Want some?"

Marilee started to tell her newfound friend she preferred to stay on

planet earth, but she bit her tongue at the last second. She wanted to

know more about Bryce. She wanted to know more about the crowd Lucy had

run with before she died. Somewhere along the line, the answers were

going to start making some kind of sense instead of leading her deeper

and deeper down the rabbit hole.

"Come on!" Uma grabbed her arm and led her down the hall, her pale, thin

face polished by excitement and the burn off of cocaine. They turned a

corner and came to a set of tall carved double doors. She gave Marilee a

look of conspiracy. "You have to know the secret knock."

She pounded out a beat that sounded vaguely like "The Rain in Spain,"

and fell against the door in a fit of giggles. Marilee watched her,

thinking that if Uma got any more wired than she already was, something

was going to short-circuit. She didn't wait for anyone to answer her

secret code, but turned the knob and stumbled into the room with the

swing of the door.

"Trick or treat!
 
Got any nose candy?"

Uma righted herself and made a beeline for a huge billiard table with

carved mahogany legs. The only light in the room came from the hanging

brass fixture above the table. The light shone down in three perfect

cones on a long mirror that had been situated on top of the slate,

illuminating a dozen neat white lines of cocaine just waiting for some

itchy noses.

Marilee came to a dead halt three feet into the room as she recognized

the man bent over the table with a rolled hundred-dollar bill poised

under one nostril. Her heart slammed into her breasthone and bounced

back and forth between her ribs. '

MacDonald Townsend. U.S. District Court judge MacDonald Townsend.

He glanced up and their gazes collided with all the force of a pair of

trains.