Madam of Maple Court (35 page)

Present

Pam stared at the retreating car, shading her eyes from the setting midsummer sun, barely noticing the streaks of gold and orange in the sky. HOBART3. It had to have been Chase's wife. Although she'd known him for almost a year, she'd only been with him about half a dozen times, most recently the previous weekend to hash out the details of the party and, of course, have sex. Prior to that? Maybe three months before. Not so many times that his wife should be suspicious.
Unless he has other, real girlfriends? Is that why his wife is doing her own detective work? How often, other than with me, does he cheat on his wife
?

Shit. Her lovely life was ruined. What should she do? Maybe she could get married again, leave this life she'd learned to love, start again. Maybe she could even have children. Well, not
have
, but adopt.

Of course there was Gary. His daughters were such wonderful girls. If she married him they'd be hers, sort of, and he might even be enticed to adopt another. Okay, she was getting a little long in the tooth. Would an agency allow her to adopt at thirty-five or older? She huffed out a breath. They'd probably find out about her background and that would be that. Maybe she and Gary could adopt a needy child from another country. It was costly, but between them they would have the money to do whatever they wanted. How would Gary feel about that?
Pam, you're getting way, way ahead of yourself
.

She would have to tell him about this part of her life. What then? Shit, he'd probably toss her out on her ass.

All these thoughts flashed through her mind as the black SUV disappeared around the bend of Maple Row. She reread the note in her hand.

You will be punished again and again for what you're doing.

Things slid into place. One of the landscapers who'd been doing the spring cleanup had mentioned that several of her rose bushes had been pulled up. A long scratch down the side of her car had appeared out of nowhere while it had been parked in her driveway. She remembered thinking that it looked like it had been done with a key. She parked in so many garages that she didn't think much of it at the time, but now all the pieces fit. HOBART3.

With trembling hands she started to crumple the note, then thought,
I should save this for the police in case there are any clues
. Police. Right. The Madam of Maple Court reporting a threatening note. Right. Prostitute Enlists Police Help, the headline would read.

Her shoulders slumped as she walked slowly back up the driveway. She was ruined. Of course, she and Marcy had lists of prominent people who wouldn't want their names associated with their business. That would help.
Marcy must know lots of high-priced, talented, high-profile lawyers
.

Her mind whirled. Money. If the shit really hit the fan, she'd need lots of it. Sure. It all came down to money. That's where it had begun and that's the way it would end. Of course.

Rob might help. He had more money than God. So did Chase, for that matter, and therefore so did his wife. Could the woman sue? Where would Chase come out if push came to shove? Would he side with his wife or threaten to leave her if she made any of his activities public? Pam's mind was flooded with questions for which she had no answers yet.

She felt anger rise and displace some of the depression. What right did anyone have to judge? Why should she take the heat for Chase's foibles?
Smash him if you must, HOBART3, but keep your hands off me
!

She needed a shower, a hot shower to clean away the fears, the anger, the dread. When Vin was killed she hadn't had the wherewithal to handle things herself. Now she was a different person, stronger, more self-reliant. She remembered a comment one of her teachers in elementary school had made on a report card. "Unable to deal with difficult situations." As she walked up the thickly carpeted stairs she realized that she hadn't thought about that comment in many years. Ms. McNeil. That was the teacher's name. Fifth grade.

Her mind jumped from one fragmentary thought to another. She remembered what had engendered that comment. The brother of one of her classmates had been killed by a hit-and-run driver, and all the ten-year-olds had made sympathy cards and welcomed the little girl back after the funeral. Pam had hung back, unable to figure out what to say. She couldn't just dish out platitudes. "So sorry."

"Too bad." It was so much more than that. What could she say to make it better? Nothing. It would get better in its own due course.

"Unable to deal with difficult situations." She hadn't been able to think of anything that would make it all go away for Ruth. That was her name. Ruth Livingstone. Funny, that scene when Ruth returned to class that morning was so clear in her mind. Ms. McNeil standing, watching, judging everyone's reactions. Tears pouring down Pam's face as she hung back. She knew that nothing was going to be the same for
Ruth. Pam had lost her own father when she was four and her beloved grandmother when she was seven. They never came back, and life never returned to the way it had been.
Fuck you, Ms. McNeil.

"Unable to deal with difficult situations." Now she had to deal with a difficult situation and she was going to do the best she could. As she turned on the hot water in the shower and dropped her clothing in the hamper, she considered. Should she call Marcy? She'd have information about Chase, where he lived, the name of his wife. Not yet. She needed to think it all through. "You'll be punished again and again for what you're doing."

Whatever the outcome of this little drama, she was getting out of the business. That was for sure. She wasn't going to go through this again. It was all too risky. But so much fun. Great sex. Well, admittedly not always. Sometimes it was tedious and sometimes the effort to be charming made her smile muscles hurt. Some men were ham-handed and insisted on entering her long before she was ready. Thank God for lubricated condoms. That was part of the job, however. She wasn't there to give herself pleasure but to please the customer, and she did that well and it pleased her to be able to do that.

Most of her clients, as Marcy called them, became regulars, like Chase. They came for sex and returned for sex and companionship, for someone to talk to without repercussions. And always for hot, sweaty sex and good fun in bed, or out of it.

She climbed out of the shower and toweled her hair almost dry, then sat at her vanity and, on autopilot, used the blow-dryer to style and straighten. What should her first step be? Rob? He had tremendous business savvy and he'd be able to help her organize her thoughts. No. She wanted to think it through on her own first.

Shit, she thought. She had Chase's party the following afternoon and there were still things that needed to be done. This was a business affair. Would his wife be there? Shit. She hadn't thought of that. He'd hosted a few parties before and his wife hadn't attended. At least Pam didn't think she'd ever laid eyes on the woman. He must keep his business and personal life separate.

A scene played behind Pam's eyes. Anna—that was her name—Anna standing in the middle of her living room, screaming that she ran a brothel, that several of the women in the room were hookers. The police storming in at some prearranged signal and hauling Chase, his friends, and several of Marcy's employees into a Black Maria. Pam being led out in handcuffs, flashbulbs going off in her face. Pam hands began to tremble so badly that she had to put the dryer down.

Stop it
! she told herself. This was getting her nowhere. She took a deep, cleansing breath. She wanted to call Chase and find out whether Anna would be at the gathering the following day, but as she reached for her cell phone she hesitated. Her question would come out of the blue. She'd never cared before, so how would she explain her interest now? She put the phone down.

She suddenly remembered that she had plans with Gary and his girls to go to the Bronx Zoo on Sunday. Where would she be by Sunday? In jail? Should she cancel? Gary knew nothing of her life as the Madam of Maple Court. He'd introduced her to Marcy all those months ago, but he had no idea they were still friends and business associates. Maybe it was time to come clean. Would that be burning bridges she didn't have to burn? Once he found out about her other life, he wouldn't let her within a mile of his precious children.

She had to stop the merry-go-round in her brain, so she dressed and headed downstairs to pour herself a drink. She seldom indulged and she almost never did so alone, but that would at least calm some of her thoughts. As she poured rum into a tall glass and reached into the refrigerator beneath the bar for ice, her private cell phone rang. She glanced at the screen. Linc. Someone else to confuse things.

"Hi," she said.

"I'm around the corner. If you're alone I thought I'd get a pizza and stop by."

"I'm alone," she said, her voice flat.

"Something's wrong," he said. "I'll be right over."

Five minutes later Linc sat with Pam in her living room, his arm around her shoulders, the crumpled note in his hand. She'd told him the basics of what was going on. "Anna Hobart. Are you sure?"

"The license tag was HOBART3. What more do I need?"

She could feel his long sigh. "I don't know what I can do for you."

"You're doing what I need. Letting me disgorge everything is important for me right now. It's helping me organize my thoughts and sort everything out."

"You have to talk to Marcy. She'll know what to do."

"In good time," Pam said, leaning on Linc's shoulder, her legs curled beneath her. "In good time."

"You can't go to the local police. A woman who used to be one of Marcy's ladies is married to a cop on the New York City force. Maybe he can help."

"Nope. No cops. I can't take the risk, for me or for Marcy."

He thought a moment. "Okay. You're right. No cops. Maybe the best thing would be to scout her out. Find out what you can about Anna Hobart. Isn't that what your friend Gary does?"

"Gary. Right." She hesitated. "I would have to tell him everything."

"Don't you have to anyway?"

Her sigh was long and painful. "I guess I do. He'll hate me." Linc knew all about her relationship with Gary and always seemed to want only the best for her. She talked to him at length about Gary's children and how fond she'd become of them.

"Maybe he will and maybe he won't. You won't know until you tell him, and I don't think you have any choice about that, whether you use his sleuthing services or not. If he's a good guy maybe he'll understand that it was all just sex. No strings. He and his kids are what's real."

"That's true," she said.

"And if you're ever going to make a life with him, he has to be told. After all, you want a family and he's got one."

Pam was startled at how perceptive Linc was. "That's not all Gary has. I do care for his daughters and I think they like me, but I care for Gary, too. We might make a great family together."

"I didn't hear you say you love him. Don't you need that to make a future with someone?"

"Of course I love him."
Don't I?

"Okay. What about Rob? How do you feel about him? You'd have to give him up, and the business, too, if you married Gary. He doesn't sound like the kind of man who shares."

Linc hadn't said she'd have to give him up as well. How would he feel about that? "I'd have to give you up, too," she said, holding his hand against her shoulder. Had she felt him stiffen slightly?

"That wouldn't be too difficult. We have great sex, but not much else. Right?"

She thought about the times he'd helped her through sticky situations, given her advice about how to handle difficult customers, let her talk when others would have given her gratuitous advice. There was more to him than met the eye, and if she gave him up she'd miss him more than she'd realized. "There's more to us than sex," she said softly. "You're such a good friend. I care a lot about you."

"I care about you, too," he whispered.

She smiled. "I know you do." She squeezed his hand.

"We could run away," he said lightly, speaking quickly. "I've always wanted to live in Europe or South America. Between us we could earn enough to keep going. We could even get married."

Pam gasped and her stomach fluttered. "Whoa. Down, boy." Now wasn't the time for any such pledges. "You're not serious and we both know it. At least not about marriage. Anyway, I can't run out and leave Marcy to clean up after my problems and face whatever consequences there are and we both know it, and this mess certainly isn't a reason to make lifelong commitments."

"I suppose you're right," he said sadly. "It would have been such fun."

They talked late into the evening about Pam's difficulties. "I'd like to stay tonight, just to keep you company," Linc said at about midnight.

Pam seldom let anyone stay overnight in her house. This was her private space and, as such, very important for her sanity. She wanted no one to assume they had any more significance in her life than just dates. Not Gary, not Linc, not Rob, not any of the other men who inhabited her active social life. No one. But tonight she needed a haven, somewhere she could be and not think. Linc's arms might just be that place, at least for this one night.

"I think I'd like that. Just for tonight."

"I understand you better than you think, Pam, and I'm not going to make any assumptions. I merely want to be here in case you need someone to talk to at four a.m."

They climbed the stairs and walked slowly into Pam's bedroom. "I've got no pajamas for you," she said, "and I don't wear anything to sleep in."

"That's fine. I sleep raw myself, but don't worry. I won't pounce on your gorgeous naked body. Unless you want me to, of course."

Later, in bed, she cuddled against him until she fell into much-needed sleep.

The following morning, after Linc showered, dressed, and left, while the caterers worked throughout the house, Pam confronted the problem of where to go from here.

Finally she realized that she had to be sure that the car did indeed belong to Chase's wife's and, assuming it did, she had to know what the woman was like. She needed ammunition, and Gary was the one to find out everything there was to know. Her next problem was what to tell him, and how.