Domino (19 page)

"Seems I'm always forgetting things lately,"
Marco said disgustedly as he closed the knife blade and slipped it
into his jacket pocket. Then he held up Virginia’s cell phone.
“Didn’t forget this though” "Damn bitch."

Hugo rolled the embossed silver wall paper
back onto the roll and held it up on the wall in the reception area
of the beauty salon.

"Sammy, dear, do we have enough of this to do
the short wall in here?" he asked the decorator. "I want to carry
the theme out to this area if we can. It'll hit them as soon as
they walk in."

"There's two more rolls in the store room,"
the tall thin blond man answered a bit arrogantly. "Really, Hugo,
trust me in this. I know exactly what you want."

"I'd trust you with my life, Sammy," Hugo
strutted into the main salon and slumped into one of the brand new
pink chairs. The protective plastic cover on it crunched and hissed
as he swiveled back and forth pensively. "This is looking so good.
We should be ready for the opening on Monday. I hope it stops
raining by then. I'm so nervous I won't be able to eat all
weekend."

"It will," Sammy assured him. "Weather
forecast says the worst of the storm should hit us tomorrow, with a
just a chance of thunder showers on Monday. Don't worry about the
weather. They'll come, Hugo. They'll come to see you, no matter
what the weather is like. Try to relax. You're a jumpy nervous
wreck. I mean really, you'd think you were opening the Taj
Mahal."

"I have to make this work, Sammy," Hugo said
as he ran his hand lovingly over the plastic covered chair. "This
partner I got is a tough one to impress. It's just gotta be
perfect. Everything has to be so right."

"What did you decide to do about the dressing
rooms?" Sammy inquired as he slipped into a white
raincoat.

"The pink stripped wall paper," Hugo told him.
"Don't you think, Sammy? Or maybe the silver in there. No, too much
silver. I need more of the pink. Not flowery, though. Let's go with
the stripes."

"I'll bring it on Monday," Sammy assured him.
"The light fixtures for the colorist room should be in then too.
Don't worry, Hugo. It's beautiful. Look, why don't you come up to
Palm Springs with me tonight. There's a new club that just opened.
I want to cruise it. Come with me. It'll make Wayne jealous and he
needs that."

"You go," Hugo said. "I want to make sure I
haven't forgotten anything here. I want to go over every detail
again. Besides, I just like looking at this place. It's
gorgeous."

"You sure you won't come?" Sammy asked,
cocking his head in a kind of pout. "It'll get your mind off this
for a while."

"Another time," Hugo smiled.

Sammy left and Hugo sat alone in the salon. He
looked around at all he had accomplished and he felt proud. He had
made it to the top of Beverly Hills beauticians as a hair colorist
by the age of twenty three. He was doing film stars and top models,
television personalities, and the wives of Hollywood's business
moguls. He was making over a quarter of a million a year by the
time he was twenty-five. He bought out his partner and turned that
failing Rodeo Drive salon into a modern showplace for the wealthy
young nouveau riche. This La Jolla salon was his finest coup yet.
This was his, an expression of just who Hugo Montego really
was.

He had pulled himself up from the barrio of
East Los Angeles, away from an alcoholic mother and violent
stepfather. He had used his looks, his wits, and his uncanny
business savvy to get to the top. He had become somewhat of a
television celebrity himself with his famous glamorous make-overs
of average housewives on morning talk shows, and promoting two of
his beauty books on every show that would have him.

He had two more salons to open under the Wild
Rose Hair Salon banner and a line of hair and beauty products under
his own name in development. He was thirty-three with a house on
the palisades, a BMW in the garage, and a young handsome
lover.

His long-time friendship with Clarissa Hayden
had paid off handsomely when she was late for a hair appointment
one afternoon and he had to wait by the pool up at the Wolfe Estate
where she had just moved in. Morgan Wolfe introduced himself and by
the time Clarissa arrived, Hugo had himself a financial backer for
four new salons and the product lines. All he had to do was make
sure that Clarissa was happy, and if she happened to be in need of
anything he was to immediately let Wolfe know. Wolfe seemed to
genuinely care for every aspect of Clarissa's welfare with all of
the questions he was always asking Hugo about her. Clarissa had
always been a bit shy and withdrawn. Hugo was glad to tell Wolfe
anything that Clarissa told him. She was lucky to have found a man
who wanted to satisfy her every whim.

Hugo could not suppress the rush of energy. He
had to keep busy. There was so much yet to be done. He picked up
the clipboard and pad, scratching down notes with a felt-tip pen as
he walked around the salon. He checked the list of supplies that
had yet to be ordered and thumbed through the employment
applications received, making notes on which ones to interview next
week. There had been a blond that reminded him of Clarissa when she
first came to work for him in Beverly Hills. This girl was probably
underage as Clarissa had been, but the look was there. She would be
a knockout as a receptionist. Hugo barely felt the gust of cool,
humid air as the back door of the salon quietly opened and
closed.

He felt the swelling emanation of satisfaction
as he gazed in loving awe at his creation. There was something
magical in taking on a great challenge and making it all come
together. He ran his hand over the backs of each of the chairs and
stood in the middle of the large pink wild rose motif set in tile
in the center of the floor. The mirrors had been put up only this
afternoon and the place already looked close to completion. He
began to peel away one of the manufacturer's stickers on the bottom
of one of the mirrors when a flicker of movement caught his
eye.

Hugo looked up to see the image of Alex Rogers
standing just inside the main salon near the row of shampoo basins.
There was always that moment of apprehension whenever Hugo
encountered any of Morgan's Wolfe's staff. He was terrified of
Morgan Wolfe, although the man was polite and gracious every time
they had met. The one that made Hugo's flesh crawl was the one
Wolfe called Marco. There was one man that Hugo never wanted to run
into again in his lifetime.

"Welcome, Alex," Hugo put on all the charm he
could despite the sudden nervousness. "How do you like it? It's
almost finished. We open Monday morning in a private "invitation
only" brunch, then to the general public on Friday. You can tell
Mister Wolfe that we're right on budget. Not a penny over. Did you
want to see the receipts or something?"

"I'm not here about finances, Hugo," Alex said
as he opened his gray sport coat revealing the butt of a .357
magnum in a shoulder holster. Hugo drew back against one of the
chairs and nearly lost his balance. Alex did not smile. His
chiseled features remained stony and cold. "Have you heard from
Clarissa Hayden in the last twenty-four hours?"

"Clary?" Hugo stammered. "No. Why?"

"You wouldn't lie to me, Hugo, would you?"
Alex said as he took a couple of slow steps toward Hugo. "Mister
Wolfe doesn't like liars."

"I haven't heard from her since Friday evening
when I did her hair," said Hugo haltingly. "I drove right down here
to La Jolla from Wolfe's house. I haven't been home and the phones
were just installed before I got here last night. Clarissa doesn't
have the number yet."

Hugo could not tell if Alex believed him.
There was no hint of any reaction in the small blue eyes. Had
Clarissa done something stupid to get Wolfe pissed at her? Hugo
hoped not and didn't want to get involved if she had. He did not
want anything to screw up what he had worked for since he was a
teenager. It was coming together perfectly and he had to stay on
the good side of Morgan Wolfe.

"Clarissa did not come down here to see you?"
Alex asked. "She hasn't contacted you in any way?"

"She couldn't have," Hugo insisted. "Is
something wrong? Is she alright?"

"Clarissa's left Morgan," said Alex. "He wants
her back."

"She'll come back," Hugo tried to force a
smile. "She loves him. She'll come back."

"Clarissa trusts you, Hugo," Alex said as he
inspected the wall coverings and mirrors along one wall. You're the
only one she would come to. The only friend from her past that
Morgan allows her to see."

Alex paused and picked up a bottle of hair
rinse, examined it, then let it drop and shatter on the floor. Hugo
started but held his temper. He watched Alex walk down the row of
chairs pulling the plastic covers off of them. He picked up another
bottle of dark hair dye and unscrewed the cap.

"Where are you hiding her, Hugo?"

"Mister Rogers, I don't know what you're
talking about. I haven't talked to Clarissa. She's not here. I
swear it."

Alex pulled the gun from his holster and
smashed one of the mirrors with the butt of the gun. Hugo let out a
strangled cry.

"That might put you over budget," Alex smiled.
"Mister Wolfe isn't going to like that. Where is she?"

"I don't know!" Hugo cried.

"Then where would she go, Hugo?" Alex shouted
angrily. "Where the hell would Clarissa Hayden go if she wanted to
run away?"

Hugo's eyes were wild with fear and his
pathetic "I don’t know" was drowned by the shattering of the second
mirror.

"Think, Hugo," Alex ordered. "Where would she
go? Where would she hide?"

"I....she's from the east Hollywood area,"
Hugo's voice was tight and barely audible. "She grew up there. She
may have friends. I don't know. She has a brother in the middle
east somewhere."

"That's not good enough," Alex cut him off.
"Where in the Middle East?"

"Damn, I can't remember," Hugo seemed near
tears. "Small country."

"Israel?"

"Kuwait," Hugo blurted. "I think Kuwait. No,
Cairo. Cairo, Egypt. Dubai! That’s it. She told me he was now in
Dubai."

"What his name?"

"Oh my God, I can't think," Hugo slumped into
one of the chairs and buried his head in his hands. Alex crossed to
him and pulled his head up by the hair. Hugo let out a pitiful
wail. "I don't know."

"Then you're coming back up to the Wolfe
Estate with me," Alex threatened as he yanked Hugo out of the
chair. Hugo's knees collapsed under him and he went down onto the
floor.

"Andrew," Hugo hissed. "She called him Andy.
Andrew Hayden. He works for Mercury Oil Company or ah...American
Oil."

Alex pulled out the magnum and held it against
Hugo's forehead with one hand, grasping his hair and tugging his
forehead back with the other. "We have to find her, Hugo. She's
dead if we don't."

Hugo looked pleadingly at Alex, trying to
comprehend the man's meaning. "She's in trouble?"

"You're not as dumb as you look," Alex smiled
down at him as he holstered the gun and drew a small white card
from his pocket. On it was neatly typed a single phone number with
a downtown Los Angeles prefix. Alex shoved the card between Hugo's
teeth.

"You call around. You find her. When you do,
call this number. Tell whoever answers, Clarissa's location." Alex
jerked Hugo's hair hard. "You do it." Hugo tried to nod his
agreement. "Good boy."

Alex went out through the back door of the
beauty salon and got behind the wheel of the black Cadillac. As he
pulled onto the San Diego freeway heading back toward Los Angeles
he was unsure of how he had come across to Hugo Montego. He wanted
to be tough enough to be believable. It was a long shot filled with
pitfalls and unforeseen snags, but he was running out of time. If
he had played Hugo right, it would work. If not, Clarissa would
have no chance of staying alive and Alex would have a price on his
own head. He was counting on Hugo's acute fear of Morgan Wolfe to
save Clarissa Hayden's life.

CHAPTER 8

The flaps on the blue and white sun umbrellas
cracked noisily in the wind. Most of the tables on the terrace were
empty this early on a cloudy Monday morning but a few commuters, on
their way into downtown Los Angeles, stopped at the ocean front
cafe for croissants and orange juice before tackling the maddening,
congested freeways.

Alex Rogers sat alone, nursing his second cup
of strong black coffee at a table next to the railing. Beyond, the
beach was deserted and storm driven breakers crashed on the black
jagged rocks. His nerves felt like those rocks, raw and broken,
endlessly pounded upon by a merciless surf, wearing down with each
new wave.

He had hoped that Hugo would have been able to
find Clarissa by Sunday night. As of this morning there had been no
word, no phone call. He had to give her credit. She had buried
herself good and deep. The only thing that bothered Alex was the
fact that Marco had not been around at all on Sunday and Morgan had
postponed his flight to Washington until late Tuesday night. No one
seemed to know where Marco had spent his Sunday, or they were being
real quiet about it. The entire Wolfe Estate had been all too
quiet.