Lethal Seduction (19 page)

A black limousine waited in the driveway to take them to the nearby church. Madison got in and sat next to Michael. He didn't say a word.

The funeral was a small affair, not more than two dozen people, gathered in clusters. To show his respect, Victor had driven up from New York in a chauffeured car. Embracing Madison, he murmured words of comfort. She thanked him and looked around, realizing that she knew hardly anyone; most of the people there were friends Michael and Stella had made in Connecticut. The only New Yorker she recognized was Stella's best friend, Warner Carlysle, a jewelry designer. Madison had known Warner since she was a kid, not intimately, but enough to
be able to go over and exchange condolences. She wondered if Warner knew the truth, that Stella had not been Madison's mother, and suspected that she did.

Warner was a tall, attractive woman, with short auburn hair and huge tinted shades. She seemed visibly distressed. “I can't understand how this happened,” she said, obviously ill at ease. “Why would anybody want to kill them?”

“It's all so crazy,” Madison agreed.

“Crazy is right,” Warner answered bitterly. “Did they take her jewelry?”

“I have no idea,” Madison said, remembering Stella's magnificent collection of art deco treasures, and wondering why Warner would be worrying about that at a time like this. “Stella was very security conscious. I think she kept most of her good stuff in the bank.”

“Smart,” Warner said, adjusting her gold-and-emerald necklace.

“Uh . . . did you know the man she was living with?” Madison asked. “Who was he?”

“Lucien Martin, an artist in his twenties,” Warner said, nervously fidgeting with her shades. “The moment they met it was instant attraction, then a few weeks later she moved in with him.” Warner shook her head in disbelief. “Now they're both gone.”

After the church service, everyone trooped out to the burial ground, where there was another short service. Then after that was finished, there was a catered reception back at the house.

Warner was loading up her plate at the buffet table when Madison approached her again. “Was she
that
unhappy with Michael?” she asked.

“Your father never gave her the attention she craved,” Warner explained, piling more food onto her plate. “Stella required constant assurance that she was the most beautiful creature on earth. After a time, Michael got tired of telling her. Then she met Lucien, and he was there to tell her a thousand times a day.”

“What was he like?”

“A younger version of Michael,” Warner said shortly. “And
he adored her.” She walked over to the couch in the living room and sat down with her plate of food. Madison followed.

“Whatever you do, do
not
mention Lucien to Michael,” Warner said. “Michael was very angry and bitter about Stella running off. In fact,” she paused for a long moment, nervously looking around, “he even threatened her.”

“Threatened
her?” Madison said, her heart beating fast.

“Yes, Stella was so scared that she and Lucien moved from his house into a high-security apartment. She shut herself off from Michael—didn't want anything from him, not his money, nothing. She was planning on moving to New York with Lucien to get away from him. Then Michael found out, and he was furious.”

Madison took a long, deep breath before speaking. “You're . . . you're not saying he could have had anything to do with their deaths, are you?”

Warner stared at her with an impassive expression. “We'll get together next week,” she said. “I can't discuss it now.”

The woman's upset,
Madison thought.
She doesn't know what she's talking about.

“I found out the truth about Stella and me,” Madison blurted out, waiting for a reaction.

“The truth?” Warner said carefully, putting her plate down on the coffee table.

“Michael told me.”

“Oh God, I never thought he would.”

“I guess you knew all along.”

“Yes,” Warner said, nodding. “Stella and I were friends for over thirty years. I introduced her to Michael.”

“You did?”

“He was a friend of the man I was seeing then.”

“I had no idea they met through you.”

“Guilty, I'm afraid.”

“Here's my big regret.”

“What?”

“That I wasn't able to talk to Stella before this happened.”

“I'm sure it must be very difficult for you.”

“It is—especially as we were never really close. Stella was always kind of . . . I was about to say cold, but it was more like distanced, you know?”

“Yes, I do know, and that was because you weren't hers, and you never could be,” Warner explained.
“You
were the constant reminder that Michael had a great love before her. Stella needed to be number one in his life, and she never felt that she was.”

“How could she think that?” Madison said. “Michael worshiped her.”

Warner nodded again. “We have to talk, but this is not the place. I'll call you next week.”

“Please,” Madison said. “I have so many questions I was hoping Stella could answer. Maybe you can answer some of them for me.”

“I'll try,” Warner said.

Somehow Madison got through the rest of the day. Then later, when most people had left, she asked Michael if he'd like her to stay the night. He shook his head and said no. She didn't push it; instead she said good-bye and got in the car to return to New York with Jamie and Peter.

“Jesus!” Peter said, as they headed for the city. “What a day.”

“Not one I'd want to repeat,” Madison said with a weary sigh.

“How are you holding up?” Jamie asked.

“All I can say is thank God you both came with me,” she replied. “I'm forever grateful.”

“We wouldn't've let you go by yourself,” Jamie said.

“No way,” Peter added.

“It's so damn ironic,” Madison said, shaking her head. “Today I buried a mother I never had. Isn't that something?”

Jamie nodded understandingly. “You handled it well, as only you could.”

“Here's the thing,” Madison said softly. “I love Michael very much, only right now I'm completely confused about everything. I have no clue who he is anymore.”

“Come stay with us for a few days,” Jamie suggested. “We're not crazy about leaving you alone in your apartment.”

“I'm
not
alone,” she said. “I have a dog. And a doorman. Oh yes, and David on the phone every day.”

“Scratch
him.”

“And then of course there's Jake, who's somewhere in Paris and I have no idea where.”

“I hate to be mean,” Jamie said. “But Jake sounds like a one-nighter.”

“Don't you mean a one-weeker?” Madison said wryly.

“I'm not saying he doesn't
like
you,” Jamie said quickly. “Only that he
does
seem to be Mister Unreliable.”

“Why would you think that?”

“Well, wasn't he living with a call girl in L.A.?”

“He wasn't
living
with her, it was a quick affair.”

“Listen, girls,” Peter interrupted, the voice of experience. “Any man who's sleeping with a call girl is not exactly a winner in the love stakes. Because . . . if you have to pay for it—”

“He didn't
pay
for it,” Madison interrupted irritably. “He wasn't aware that she was a working girl.”

“Oh,
please,”
Peter said with a short, dry laugh. “A man knows immediately.”

“How?” Jamie said, fixing him with a suspicious look.

“Those women have a certain technique,” Peter explained. “It's all very professional.”

“How would
you
know?” Jamie persisted.

“I'm a man, aren't I?”

“A
married
man, Peter. And when did
you
ever pay for it?”

“Never did, darling.”

“Then how do you know all these things?” she asked accusingly.

“Bachelor parties,” he said with a slight smirk.

“Bachelor parties!” Jamie and Madison exclaimed in unison. “Didn't they go out in 1965?”

Peter laughed uncomfortably. “You women,” he said. “You'll never accept there's a double standard.”

“Bullshit!” Madison said.

“Crap!” Jamie said.

Later, when Peter pulled his BMW up outside Madison's apartment, Jamie was still worrying.

“I'll be fine,” Madison assured them. “All I need is time and space to think things out.”

“Okay,” Jamie said. “But don't forget, we're only a phone call away.”

“Thanks,” Madison said, getting out of the car. “It's pretty special to have friends I can rely on.”

“Love you,” Jamie said.

Calvin was delighted to welcome her back. “Hope everything went all right, miss,” he said, escorting her up to her apartment. “I walked the dog about an hour ago, so he won't be needing to go out again.”

“Thanks, Calvin,” she said, letting herself in.

Slammer, out of the kindness of his heart, decided not to punish her, instead he jumped all over her, thoroughly licking every inch of bare flesh he could find. She petted him for a minute, then went into the kitchen and threw him a treat. After that she did the usual ritual of checking out her answering machine.

No Jake.

Plenty of David.

Damn! Where was Jake?

“Can we meet?” David's voice said. “I think you owe me that.”

I owe you nothing, David, and I never will. Get over it!

The third call was from Kimm Florian. A cryptic, “Call me back immediately.”

So she did.

Kimm picked up on the first ring. “I need to see you as soon as possible,” she said. “I can come over now.”

Madison glanced at her watch, it was almost midnight. “It'll have to be tomorrow,” she said. “I just got back from a funeral and I'm out of it.”

“A funeral,” Kimm said slowly. “Whose?”

“The woman who wasn't my mother.”

“Stella
died?”

“I'm afraid so.”

“How did it happen?”

“The police said it was a home invasion. She and her boyfriend were shot.”

“Execution style?”

“What does
that
mean?”

“Was it execution style?” Kimm repeated.

“I don't know the details,” Madison replied. “I only know they were both shot.”

“How early can you see me tomorrow?” Kimm asked, urgency in her tone.

“Do you have news for me?”

“Yes, I do. And it's information you should hear at once.” A beat. “I found out about Gloria.”

“What?” she said, her heart jumping.
“What
did you find out?”

“Can't tell you over the phone. I have to see you in person.”

“Come for breakfast.”

“I'll be there,” Kimm said. “And Madison—prepare yourself. You're not going to like what you hear.”

D
EXTER WAS CONSUMED WITH GUILT
, so much so that he could barely look at Rosarita. He was sitting at the table, pushing his fork around his plate without actually eating anything.

“What's the matter with you?” Rosarita finally said, irritated by his lackluster attitude.

“Yes, dear,” Martha chimed in. “You're awfully quiet tonight. Birdie got your tongue?”

“I uh . . . heard something today,” he said, reluctant to share the news, but unable to keep it to himself any longer.

“What was that, son?” asked Matt, chewing on a piece of steak.

“There's this rumor going around that they may be canceling my show,” Dexter said glumly.

“Oh, my God!” Martha exclaimed in horror, her hand rushing to her mouth. “They can't do that.”

“They can do whatever they want,” Dexter said, wishing his mother was right for once.

“Who told you?” Rosarita said, not revealing that she'd been hearing the same rumor for the last couple of months.

“Silver Anderson.”

“Now
there's
a fine woman,” Matt interjected, becoming quite starry eyed. “Hasn't aged a bit.”

“Of course she has,” snapped Martha, uncharacteristically bitchy. “It's simply that your eyes have faded. You need glasses to see anything.”

Good for you,
Rosarita thought.
You actually have a bit of spunk after all.

“What will you do if the show's canceled?” Matt asked, ignoring his wife's outburst.

“There're other opportunities,” Dexter said, moodily shoving his plate away. “I have an agent. I'll talk to him.”

“Don't you think he should've talked to you first?” Rosarita said. “If there's this rumor, why didn't
he
tell
you?”

“I'm surprised he didn't,” Dexter admitted. “It's not as if I'm unimportant at the agency. I have a lot of fans, you know. I receive hundreds of letters a week.”

“I'd love to read them, dear,” Martha said. “What kind of things do people write?”

“They tell him all their sex fantasies,” Rosarita teased, a wicked glint in her eyes.

Dexter silenced her with a frown, then quickly looked away. Sex was a powerful weapon that women used, and Silver Anderson had used it on him. He couldn't stop thinking about what she'd done to him. God! He was a married man, and marriage was sacred. With all her faults, Rosarita would
never
dream of screwing around on him, and yet he'd allowed himself to be used by Silver, had done nothing to stop her. It was humiliating and demeaning.