Deadly Sanctuary (8 page)

“Yeah. You know. In Mexico.”

“Oh. So he and his girlfriend went to Mexico?”

“Not hardly. She’s still here so I figure he must’ve had him another hot little number down south,” he said jerking his thumb to the right. “John was, how shall I say, real popular with the ladies, if you get my drift?” He gave me a suggestive wink.

I got his drift. “His girlfriend is still here?”

“Yeah.”

“What’s her name?”

At that, his eyes narrowed suspiciously. “Say, you ask an awful lot of questions. Why do you want to know?” Uh oh. I’d asked one too many. “I…just thought she’d know where he is.”

“I might know her name.” The wily smile revealed a row of tobacco stained teeth. “How about you and me go have a drink? We can talk some more.”

That was it for me. I looked at my watch. “Oops. I’m terribly late for my appointment. Thanks anyway.” Before he could move, I jumped up and got the hell out.

Halfway down the street, a thought stopped me. When he said the girlfriend was still here did he mean still here in Castle Valley or still here at Ocotillo Village?

On a hunch, I doubled back to a row of mailboxes I’d seen near the entrance gate. I ran my finger along the names and when I came to number seven I whispered, “Bingo.”

Fortunately, it was on the end, out of sight of the office. I knocked softly and when a pretty dark-haired girl of perhaps nineteen or twenty answered I asked, “Yolanda Reyes?”

“Yes?”

“I was wondering if I could talk to you for a few minutes about John Dexter?”

A look of sheer hatred blazed in her eyes. She screamed something in Spanish and for the second time that week I had a door slammed in my face.

A brilliant sunrise lit the eastern sky as Ginger and I headed toward Phoenix for our day of shopping. It was sheer delight to see a few thin wisps of clouds stretching outward from the horizon like long, white fingers.

As I drove, I tried to concentrate as Ginger jumped from subject to subject, conferring upon me bits and pieces of information about the residents of Castle Valley.

Every now and then I’d interject a word, but my mind was on something else. I wasn’t accustomed to having doors slammed in my face and my first instinct had been to knock again and keep on knocking until the girl answered. Yet I had no desire to attract the attention of the sleazy apartment manager.

I felt discouraged on the one hand and hopeful on the other. She couldn’t elude me forever. And her violent reaction convinced me that she might be a valuable link to information concerning John Dexter.

As far as Claudia went, I didn’t know what her problem was. She’d seemed more than a little edgy.

Too bad for her, but I was going to show up again like a stray cat on her doorstep. It was curious indeed that my questions appeared to have caused her such agitation.

“Sugar? Did y’all hear what I said?” Ginger’s demand interrupted my thoughts.

“Uh…I’m sorry. I was thinking about something else.”

“Bet you a dollar to a doughnut you’re daydreaming about tonight. Now listen up, if y’all play your cards right, I’d say you got yourself a mighty fine chance of snagging Eric Heisler. Here’s some of his vital statistics.”

“Ginger, I’m going to smack you in about one minute.”

“Oh piddle. You mean to set there and tell me y’all ain’t even the teensiest bit curious about him?”

“No.”

“You lie!”

“Okay, maybe a little.” I learned a lot in the space of two minutes. He was gorgeous, forty-one, and divorced.

“How long has he been single?” I asked braking the car to avoid a jackrabbit streaking across the highway.

“Hmmmm. Five years, six maybe.”

“What happened?”

“Well, from what I heard, it was a real messy business. Seems one of the gals working at his office was his mistress, so his wife really stuck it to him in the divorce settlement.”

I glanced at her. “This sounds like a good plan. You want me to get involved with a man who cheated on his wife?”

“That was never proved, and besides she wasn’t no saint herself. Seems she was real friendly with one of the tennis pros at their country club. So don’t be too quick to point a finger. Anyhow,” she said with a defensive sniff, “Doug says Eric’s a real fine man. Generous to a fault. Bonnie said so too. She told me yesterday he’s not even going to charge them his regular fee.”

What a pill she was. Bent on matchmaking, Ginger wasn’t going to be satisfied until she carried out her plans. It would be useless to argue with her, so I just laughed. Secretly, I was curious to find out if he could live up to all the rave reviews.

As we neared the outskirts of town, I pushed my thoughts aside and concentrated on the swell of traffic and unfamiliar streets.

Phoenix was a kick. Like Philadelphia, it was big and bustling, but all similarity ended there. Instead of soot blackened, ivy covered monuments and crumbling ghettos, this crisp looking desert city boasted wide thoroughfares studded with waving palms. The skyline shimmered with modern glass highrises and the enclosed, air-conditioned shopping malls were simply delicious. Following her appointment with the doctor, Ginger and I had a ball exploring the stores and then lunching at an elegant restaurant.

By late afternoon, we’d visited at least ten different shops and couldn’t agree on what type of outfit I should buy.

After some good-natured arguing, I finally settled on a sleek, knee-length emerald green cocktail dress.

“If you ask me,” Ginger remarked following the purchase, “I liked that itty-bitty black one better.”

“Please. I don’t want to look like a hooker. I’m there on assignment, remember? Anyway, the green one is more practical. Boy, I miss my old salary. I can’t eat for a month now because of this.”

It was time to head home but Ginger insisted we stop at the cosmetics counter before leaving. She purchased a bottle of her favorite cologne and spritzed us with two different scents, exclaiming, “Oh, looky here. A sample of Shalimar.” She inhaled the fragrance and blew out a blissful sigh. “What do you think, should we live dangerously and buy some?”

I looked at the price and made a face. “At two hundred an ounce? I don’t think so.”

Pretending to pout, she sprayed a liberal amount on my wrist and returned the bottle. I sniffed it appreciatively and then started in surprise. I had smelled this sweet scent recently. But where?

It bugged me for a half an hour before the answer came to me. Claudia Phillips had been wearing it. “Tell me,” I asked Ginger while maneuvering the car into the flow of freeway traffic, “what do you know about Claudia Phillips?”

She giggled. “You mean other than the fact that she looks like Olive Oyl?”

“Yeah. Other than that.”

“Well, let’s see.” She hesitated while chewing her thumb nail. “I see her here and there around town. I don’t know if she’s got a boyfriend…” After another short pause she said in a surprised tone, “Come to think of it, I don’t really know much about her at all. Why?”

“I can’t put my finger on it. There’s something about her that strikes me wrong. She supposedly earns a mere pittance at the shelter and yet, when I interviewed her the other day, she had on what looked like a designer suit and she was wearing Shalimar.”

“Beats me.” Ginger yawned in obvious disinterest.

An accident a few miles from Castle Valley stalled us in traffic almost forty minutes, so I was running way behind schedule by the time I dropped her off and eased the car into the carport. The hall clock chimed six-fifteen as I stepped inside. There was no way I could be ready in fifteen minutes. Bradley would just have to wait.

In the bedroom, I threw off my clothes and then, clad only in bra and panties, padded towards the bathroom where I stopped in confusion. The door was closed. Funny, I didn’t remember shutting it when I’d left this morning?

I edged it open and stepped cautiously in. A split second before I pulled the shower curtain aside, I had a premonition something was wrong.

Rational thought deserted me at the sight of what was in my tub. The scream that rose to my throat almost choked me. There must have been a dozen huge spiders crawling and tumbling about, some halfway up the side.

Led by the cold hand of panic, I careened off the doorjamb and bolted, unthinking, into the hall and straight out the front door.

“Jesus Christ!” I shrieked to no one as I stood on the walkway shivering with fear and revulsion. The thought of one of those horrid creatures touching me turned my stomach cold. How the hell had all those spiders gotten into my tub? How was I going to get them out of the house? I thought wildly. A broom? Yes! A broom. No wait. A shovel? Think. Of course! The only logical solution was the vacuum cleaner.

It took me about five minutes to quit shaking as I rationalized the situation. Calm down, I urged myself. You’re out here and they’re in there, so you’re safe.

My breath wheezed in my throat. I needed the inhaler but had no intention of going back inside. A few more shallow breaths had just begun to reinstate a semblance of self-control when the sound of a vehicle approaching sent me into a second fit of panic. I wasn’t dressed! Instinctively, I dove behind the fountain in the courtyard as Bradley’s truck braked to a halt.

How was I going to explain this? I looked around hastily to find something to cover myself with, but, of course, there was nothing. I could find only one thing to be thankful for at that moment. At least I hadn’t stripped naked.

A split-second fantasy had me running down the walkway and into his arms for aid and comfort. But even though I was terribly relieved to see him, I steeled myself against it. What would that do to my self-esteem? Was I to appear once again as the damsel in distress?

Clad in a black western suit and looking taller and leaner than ever, he stopped in his tracks when he saw me crouching beside the fountain. His face registered disbelief.

Stupidly, I said the first thing that popped into my head. “You’re early.”

Hat in hand, he cocked his head to the side and stared at me. “So it would appear.”

Why had I said that? Subconsciously I knew, and I hated it. As he’d done with the javelinas, there was little doubt he was going to have to rescue me again.

“I may be wrong,” he said, moving closer, “but don’t you think you’re slightly underdressed for this dinner party?”

“No. I always go to black tie affairs in my underwear.”

He gave me a thin smile. “Well, whatever smokes your shorts.” I said nothing and he added, “Okay, so do you want to tell me what the hell you’re doing out here? Somehow I find it hard to believe, even though you are a greenhorn, that you’d make it a practice to prance around barefoot among the cactus?”

I groaned and closed my eyes for a moment. Why was I behaving like such a coward? “I need help. I can’t go back in the house.”

“Why not?”

“Because there’s a herd of spiders the size of softballs in my bathtub.” Thinking of it gave me the creepy-crawlies all over again.

He looked quizzical. “A herd?”

“Yeah. Go see for yourself.” I stood up on one foot and winced as I plucked several cactus thorns from the other.

He started toward the house and then unexpectedly turned in my direction. Startled, I crossed my arms over my chest. It didn’t hide much.

In silence, he removed his jacket and draped it gently around my shoulders. A warm, masculine scent wafted from the fabric. He made a great show of trying not to look at my mostly naked body. He failed.

I suppressed a gasp as his touch sent a fiery tingle through me. “Thank you,” I mumbled, clutching the coat around me.

He returned in a moment. His inquisitive gaze bored into mine. “Someone’s played a rather spectacular joke on you. I don’t think I’ve ever seen that many tarantulas all together in one spot before.”

A thought struck me. “How come they haven’t crawled out?”

“That’s curious. By the smell, I’d say somebody sprayed WD-40 on the porcelain. They can’t get enough traction to climb up.”

The idea that someone had deliberately planned this sent another chill of horror through me. It had to be someone who knew about my spider phobia. Ginger? But no, Ginger couldn’t do something so despicable.

Something else occurred to me. “I wonder how whoever it was got in?”

“I checked already. The arcadia door in your bedroom was unlocked.”

“That’s impossible. I remember very clearly locking it before I left this morning.”

Bradley sighed. “Are you the only one with a key?”

“Well, no. I’m sure Mary Tuggs has one. But she’s an unlikely candidate.” Who, I wondered, was a good candidate for this prank?

“Then you must have left it unlocked,” he concluded with manly logic.

“I didn’t.” My annoyance increased when I noticed he wasn’t really paying attention to what I said but was instead studying my bare thighs. “Could you…could you just get rid of them for me? Please?”

He nodded slowly. “I’ll do it, but it’s going to cost you,” he said with mock seriousness.

God, the man was exasperating. I gave him the evil eye and said, “Taking advantage of a woman in distress certainly would never occur to you. Right?”

“Never.”

“So what do you want?”

“Dinner.”

“Dinner?”

“That’s it.”

“Okay. You’ve got a deal.” I gestured toward the house. “Now would you please…”

Smug-faced, he left and I wondered if there was some kind of therapy that would address my phobia? One thing did please me, however. Two months earlier, this much stress would have caused a major asthma attack. This time I’d handled one without the inhaler.

He came out carrying one of my new pink pillowcases. There was a wriggling lump at the bottom. I shivered again and said ungraciously, “Why did you use my new pillowcase?”