Miami Midnight (21 page)

When the telephone rang she jumped. For a moment her heart fluttered fearfully up in her throat. She felt as though she couldn’t bring herself to talk to Dodd, to listen to his happy plans for their engagement party one more time.

It was only Crissette down in photographic. “Have you got the memo on the Costume Ball?” The photographer’s voice was incredulous. “Can you believe this? Everybody that covers festival night in Vizcaya has to go in costume. It’s the pits! The city desk says we go to Robarts Rentals to order them.”

The memo about staff being in costume was somewhere on her desk. Gaby was looking under papers for it when Crissette added, “I’ve got the assignment that night with you, Gabrielle. Jack just sent down the order. Man, don’t they know it’s bad enough carrying camera equipment without being Cleopatra or a pirate or something?”

“A Night in Venice,” Gaby said, finding the gala costume ball brochure. A color picture of Vizcaya’s magnificent lawn and Renaissance mansion was on the front. “No pirates. I think more like farthingales and powdered wigs.”

Crissette groaned. “You know how big Vizcaya is? Ten acres! And listen—how’re we gonna take anybody’s picture if they come
masked
?”

Jack’s instructions hadn’t been clear on that, Gaby realized. Photographic coverage, as Crissette was pointing out, did present problems. “Why don’t I go as a gondola,” she teased, “and you be a gondolier?”

“Cute, very cute. You pick weird times to be funny, Gabrielle. At two hundred and fifty dollars a head I’m betting nobody’ll come.”

“
We’re
coming.”

“Really, I can’t talk to you when you’re like this. I like you better when you’re depressed.”

After hanging up, Gaby returned to the committee list. Jack had told her to call the socialite members to ask what costumes they were going to wear. When her telephone rang again she lifted it absently and said, “Fashion desk.”

Perhaps it was the second of dead air on the other end of the line that warned her. Whatever it was, Gaby was suddenly tense, her heart pounding, frozen to her chair.

A husky voice said rapidly, “I’m calling you on the advice of my lawyers. Actually, I’ll be out of town for some time. It’s better that you know—”

Gaby was having trouble breathing, the same problem as always, compounded now by the unrelieved iciness of that wildly familiar voice. She couldn’t even follow what he was saying. His voice faded in and out of her consciousness like a badly tuned radio. Harsh words. Something about lawyers.

Oh, God
.

“—take responsibility for it ... because I didn’t use any protection...” Gaby realized her irrational terror was blocking full understanding of what he was saying, but she couldn’t seem to do anything about it. She was shaking so, she could hardly hold the telephone receiver to her ear. “In fact,” he went on guardedly, “I’ve been advised to discuss this with you, because you ... ah, you might be pregnant.”

Gaby couldn’t move. She saw the newsroom tilt, go out of focus for a split second. It was as though everything stopped, suspended by her fright.

He seemed to be struggling with conflicting emotions as he added, “Gabrielle? I—we did something crazy. God, how can I say this? I want you to know that I won’t duck any responsibil—”

She slammed the receiver down violently. The noise carried. Heads on the rewrite desk looked up.

The words rang in her head. She stared at the telephone as though it would emit the sounds of James Santo Marin’s voice again at any moment. Just the idea sent a rush of panic through her whole body. The mere sound of his voice unnerved her. What had he said? He was worried she might be
pregnant
?

Gaby grabbed the edge of the desk with both hands. Oh, God, she thought wildly, what was she going to do? How could she make this go away?

She realized Jack Carty was standing by her desk. “How about a cup of coffee?” he asked. His tone was too casual.

“I’m all right,” Gaby said. She got her purse out of the desk drawer and stood up. He’d said coffee, hadn’t he? She was still shaking.

On the way up to the snack bar Jack didn’t ask her what was the matter and Gaby was grateful. He brought her hot coffee in a Styrofoam cup and sat down beside her.

“I meant what I said, about lunch.”

He was treating her like a shock victim, she thought. She looked around the room numbly, knowing she probably looked like one. She was in the newspaper canteen. Having coffee with Jack Carty; her boss. Close up, he was really much younger than one expected. Freckles. Blue eyes. She knew she was staring, and looked down at her cup.

“The fashion expense account looks very good,” he told her.

Gaby was wearing a new sleeveless denim sundress, the swimsuit she’d worn during lunch still underneath. She hadn’t pulled her hair back after her swim and it floated around her face in disorder. She felt disheveled, off balance with shock, not as attractive as his eyes were telling her.

She knew he had overheard her telephone call in the newsroom. She was carrying around such a burden of emotion since that afternoon with James, she sometimes felt as though she would burst. But not Jack Carty, she decided unhappily. He was her boss. She’d sworn off confidences. Besides, he’d think she was totally crazy.

She opened her mouth, then closed it. There was nothing she could say. Not even about James Santo Marin calling her at work, now, to threaten her.

There must be something they could talk about. Something safe. Casting about, she thought of one thing that had been bothering her for some time. She asked him about it.

He spooned powdered creamer into his coffee, taking his time before answering. “Is that what’s been bothering you? You’ve been looking as though somebody was on your case, Gabrielle. It had me worried.”

“I’ve—I’ve had a better grip on the fashion job lately.” She glanced uncertainly at him. “Haven’t I?”

“Yes, you’ve been doing okay, stop worrying about it.” He didn’t look up. “Are you trying to do investigative reporting? Everybody, when they start out, wants to latch onto a big story. But fashion, believe me, is no place—”

“No, not a story,” she interrupted quickly. “This is personal.”

He fastened his bright blue gaze on her. “You’re really going to get married?”

Good heavens, not Jack Carty, Gaby thought with a start. He really hadn’t been joking about lunch. She didn’t know what to do. The realization that he truly was interested in her took her off guard. Now she was the one who mumbled something inaudible in reply.

His gaze lingered on her face. After a while he said, “The state of Florida has a commission on corporations, a sort of overseer committee. But the easiest way is to go to the Dade County Courthouse and start looking in the land books. All owners are listed in alphabetical order, and by tract number and name, as city and county building licensees.”

Gaby’s eyes widened. “So if you were buying up some Palm Island property...”

He nodded. “Your corporation would be there.”

Chapter 14

The engagement party for Gaby and Dodd at the exclusive Everglades Club in Palm Beach had to be canceled when Dodd’s mother fell into a sand trap on the golf course at the Bal Harbour links and broke her leg.

“I’ve never seen anything like it,” Dodd fumed. They were having dinner at Regine’s, the chic international club at the top of the Grand Bay Hotel in Coconut Grove, one of Dodd’s favorite spots. It was the first time Gaby had ever seen him so out of sorts. He’d sent back two bottles of wine and the maître d’ had finally brought a vintage bottle of Moët & Chandon as a peace offering. “It’s just incredible to have so many damned things screw up at one time,” he went on. “First the engagement announcement, then the jeweler gets that damned yellowish diamond on your engagement ring by mistake, and now mother’s accident.”

Gaby couldn’t understand it, either. “I saw the proofs on the announcement. I checked them myself on Thursday and everything was all right then. I don’t know what could have happened.”

“What happened,” he said grimly, “is that the population of greater Miami has been informed that you’re engaged to marry someone named
shrdlu qwertyiuop
. On every goddamned line where my name was supposed to be.”

Gaby’s lips quivered, but she held back her laughter. Dodd had found it anything but funny. “It’s a printer’s error,” she said soothingly. “They tell me it’s not supposed to happen in electronic typesetting, but every once in a while it does. I’m really sorry about your mother, Dodd,” she added. “I called her at the hospital today, and she seemed to be in good spirits.”

He signaled for the waiter to refill his glass with the Moët. “That’s the goddamndest thing too,” he grumbled. “Mother’s not clumsy, but the thing took her by surprise. Damned dog came bolting out of a clump of palm trees on the sixth tee by the sand trap and nearly bowled her over. Mother lost her balance and went right down into the hole.”

Gaby put down her fork and stared at him. “You didn’t say it was a dog. You just said she fell into a sand trap.”

“Didn’t I?” he said absently. “Big black one. Mother said it looked like a Labrador. Now, Mouse,” he said, seeing the look on her face, “we’ve been having some crazy run of bad luck, that’s all. Don’t start making any sort of connection.”

“I wasn’t making any sort of connection. I haven’t said a word!”

“Well, I knew if I mentioned a Labrador, it would dredge up all that business at the house and upset you.” He reached across the table and took her hand in his. “C’mon, honey, you can’t grieve forever for an old dog that was, after all, in pretty bad shape. In another year or so you would have had to put Jupiter to sleep.”

Gaby managed to smile. Actually, the postponement of the engagement party until Dodd’s mother could walk again was a relief. For some perverse reason she was glad for the delay, when before she couldn’t move things fast enough. And it was one less thing she had to do in the next few weeks. Jack had assigned her to cover all the top retail stores in the greater metropolitan area as shops and boutiques began featuring fall fashions. She had been traveling from one end of Miami to the other in late summer thundershowers and killing heat, trying to do it all. Jack’s reasoning was that in the past the
Times-Journal
hadn’t adequately covered what were, after all, lucrative advertisers with fashion features. Now that Gaby was getting better at what she was doing, he wanted her to hit each one.

To add to it, just as she had grown to depend on the help and friendship of Crissette Washington, Crissette had been transferred to the paper’s metropolitan news desk. The photographer assigned to fashion now was Harry Holstead, a veteran of the police beat. His fashion shots, unfortunately, showed that Harry hadn’t quite mastered the switch. Jack’s scathing observation after seeing some of Harry’s shots of Burdine’s was that Harry had an unhappy talent for making a fashion show look a lot like a police lineup.

Gaby studied Dodd as he cut into his veal marengo with a dissatisfied air. How times have changed, she couldn’t help thinking. These days Dodd never asked her about her job, just when she was getting much better at it. He seemed to have forgotten about it with the upsets of the past week, especially the mix-up with a flawed stone for her engagement diamond. He was convinced fate was conspiring against them.

“Mother’s compound fracture is pretty painful,” he said. “I think she’d appreciate a visit, Mouse. She’s at Palm Beach-Mount Sinai.” He paused, then added as an afterthought, “Where your mother is.”

“Of course.” Inwardly, she groaned. Both her mother and Dodd’s were in the hospital at the same time. The past week had been bizarre.

Dinner was strained, and Gaby was tired. Dodd took her home early. Then, at the front door, she clung to him, impulsively, overcome with a need for his comfort and reassurance. Dodd Brickell was the only man she’d ever loved,
needed
to love. She suddenly wanted to hear that everything was going to be all right. She needed to hear that he loved her, too.

He seemed relieved at her unexpected display of affection. “Of course I love you, Mouse.” He put his arms around her and lowered his head to kiss her. But at the last moment Gaby turned her head away.

As though nothing had happened, Dodd took the key from her hand and unlocked the door for her. “Things will be better in a few weeks, honey,” he said evenly. “Just hang in there. God knows I’m looking forward to getting you out of this damned house.” As he held the door open he said almost pleadingly, “Gaby, darling...”

She knew what was on his mind. “I’m tired, Dodd,” she murmured, “but it’s been a wonderful evening.”

Gaby knew she was acting badly, but she didn’t want to be alone with Dodd, even for a few minutes’ sexy kissing. At dinner he’d again brought up the matter of her staying in the house, and she didn’t want to argue any more about it. Nor the other subject, getting Jeannette’s power of attorney so the house could be sold.

“Have I told you,” she said brightly, “I think I’ve got somebody to live in the garage apartment?”

He looked glum. “Not a long-term arrangement, I hope.”

“No, only temporary.” Dodd followed her into the hall while she turned on the lights. A steamy sprinkling of rain had been falling all evening and the shoulders of his yacht club blazer were damp, his thick fair hair beaded with moisture. He had never, she thought, looked more ruggedly handsome. And she couldn’t miss the silent appeal in his eyes.