Missing Marlene (8 page)

“Why, we need an agent, of course. One of our people has left, and we have a spot to fill. So can you come in?”

Feeling like a complete traitor, he made an appointment for the following Tuesday morning. He’d have to make up some story to tell Jane.

“Very good, then, Mr. Willoughby. I look forward to meeting you. I’ve heard such wonderful things.”

He was about to ask from whom, but she had already hung up.

Jane took the nine-hundred-page manuscript of
In the Name of the Mother
in both hands and held it high above her head. “CONTEMPTIBLE PIECE OF GARBAGE!” she shrieked, and hurled it across her office. In midair the rubber band snapped and it was as if the manuscript exploded, pages flying everywhere like a paper blizzard.

That felt great. She cast about for more and on the credenza behind her desk found the copy of
A Better Place
that Roger had inscribed to her. She opened the book, savagely tore out the autographed page, and threw the book across the room with all her might just as the door opened and Daniel poked his head in. He ducked, the book missing him by a fraction of an inch.

He surveyed the office floor, a sea of paper. “Jane! What are you doing?”

For a moment she just stood there, staring at him belligerently. Then her shoulders slumped, and she dropped into her chair, thoroughly defeated.

“He’s gone.”

Daniel came into the room. He was carrying the mail. He bent down to examine the carpet of manuscript pages and held one up. “Roger?”

She nodded.

“Just a minute.” He went out to the reception room; through the open door she could see him switching on the answering machine. Then he came back in, closed the door, and sat down in her visitor’s chair. “What happened?”

Slowly, calmly, trying not to cry, she told him everything that had happened Saturday night at Audrey’s party.

“‘I’ll be giving my new book to an agent who believes in it,’ ” she finished, mimicking Roger in a pompous tone. “The coward. And to do it in a
letter.
”

Daniel looked down at the stack of letters in his hands and began leafing through them. He pulled one out and offered it to her.

“Read it to me,” she said.

With a sickened expression he opened the envelope, unfolded the sheet of Roger’s heavy cream-colored stationery, and read:

Jane shook her head. “An ego run amok. Completely out of control.”

“As always.”

She looked at Daniel searchingly. “He always was an egomaniacal asshole, wasn’t he?”

“Yes.”

“And I didn’t see it.”

“No.”

“I was fond of him. I really was. I thought our relationship was actually going somewhere. How could I have been such a fool?”

He smiled sadly. “You’re lonely, Jane.”

She looked down at her desk for a moment, then heaved a great sigh. “A terrible fool.”

“Jane,” he said gently.

She looked up.

“There’s something I think I should tell you now. Something I . . . something I just couldn’t tell you before. I didn’t want to hurt you.”

She shrugged, gave him a dopey smile. “Hurt me, what the hell.”

“I don’t think it matters now, as far as Roger goes, but it’s also about Marlene.”

“Marlene? What has she got to do with this?”

“Monday, when I went to your house to get Roger’s manuscript . . .”

Jane was sitting up now, frowning in bewilderment. “Yeah?”

“Well, I got out of my car and walked up the driveway, but as I was about to go into the house I heard voices. One was a woman’s—I recognized it right away as Marlene’s. The other was a man’s voice. It was familiar, but I couldn’t place it.”

“Where were these voices coming from?”

“From behind the house. I’m not sure why, but I crept around the side of the house and peeked through the bushes to the back to see if I could see them. I did. Marlene was with Roger.”

“Roger! What was
he
doing there?”

“They were arguing. Roger had his arms around Marlene. He was trying to pull her toward him and kiss her, but she pulled away. He said, ‘Come on, you little bitch, you owe me,’ and yanked her toward him again, but she broke free and slapped his face. Hard. She was crying. There was hair in front of her face and her eye makeup was all smudged. She screamed at him, told him if he didn’t leave her alone, she’d tell you everything.”

“Tell me everything? What’s everything?”

Daniel shook his head. “I have no idea.”

For a moment Jane just stared, at a loss for words. Roger, who had made love to her so tenderly that day in his apartment . . . who had kissed and touched her countless times since . . . How could he have betrayed her like this, led her on all this time? Her eyes filled with tears. “What did Roger do then?” she managed to ask.

“For a minute he just stood there. I’ve never seen him look so angry. His face was dark red, almost purple. He muttered something I couldn’t quite make out, something like, ‘You’re going to pay for this.’ Then he turned and stormed off. I pulled back into the bushes. He walked right past me.”

“Where was he going? Was his car there?”

“That’s what I was wondering. Because when I arrived at your house, there was no car. But when he got to the street he walked up the hill, and a moment later he drove past, going down the hill really fast. So he must have parked up the road.”

Jane seethed, her eyes slits. “That bastard! Hitting on my nanny! What did she do?”

“She must have gone into the house by the back door. I still had to get Roger’s manuscript. I decided that if I ran into her in the house, I would pretend I hadn’t seen anything. But when I went inside, she wasn’t around. I figured she’d gone upstairs to her room. So I went into your office, grabbed the manuscript, and left.”

Jane nodded thoughtfully. “No wonder he’d been drinking when he got here. He always has a few drinks when he’s upset. To think he had the nerve to come here and see me after trying to put the moves on Marlene.”

Daniel held up Roger’s letter. “Does anything he does surprise you now?”

“No, and that’s what worries me.” She got up and grabbed her bag.

“Where are you going?”

“To talk to Roger.”

“Why?”

“Believe me, it’s not that I want to see him again. But Marlene’s gone, and Roger knows something.” Raising her chin determinedly, she tossed her bag over her shoulder and headed for the door. “I owe it to Marlene and Ivy to find out what it is.”

Roger’s bungalow was in the hills, not two minutes from Jane’s house. She’d wanted him close, idiot that she was.

She parked at the gate, walked up the path to the vine-covered cottage, and rang the bell. She waited for several moments and was about to knock hard when she heard the bolt turn and the door opened. Roger looked shocked and unhappy to see her.

“Jane. Hello.”

“I want to talk to you,” she said coldly.

“I’m writing now. This really isn’t a good time. Is it some—old business?”

“You bet your ass it is.” She pushed past him into the dark living room and sat in one of the overstuffed armchairs. “Sit down.”

Eyes wide, he obediently complied, choosing the chair farthest from Jane’s, directly opposite her. Then he seemed to make a decision to take charge, made his face angry. “Jane, what is it that couldn’t be dealt with on the phone?”

“A lot.” She looked him up and down, full of loathing. “You really are the lowest life-form.”

“Jane! How dare you come into my home and—”

“How dare
you
lead me on, make me think there’s something between us,
manipulate
me—for your career! Is that what life is to you, one big manipulation? Say something, damn it! Deny it.”

He sat very quietly, gave her a level gaze. “I don’t deny it, Jane. I’m sorry I hurt you—I truly am. But you have to understand something. My career . . . I’m in trouble, Jane. My publisher doesn’t want me anymore; my new book stinks . . . I was desperate.”

“And you had so little faith in my abilities as an agent that you felt the only way you could get me to work effectively for you was to romance me?”

He looked down. “I never had any doubts about your abilities, Jane. You are a good agent. I mean that. It’s just that I needed to be your top priority. I couldn’t take any chances. And I did feel for you—”

“Stuff that shit. If you have such faith in my abilities, why didn’t you take my advice and rewrite your manuscript?”

He threw out his hands. “It would have done no good. Jane, you don’t understand. I’ve lost it. The young genius your Kenneth discovered all those years ago is an old has-been. It’s gone. I’m yesterday’s news. Publishing has changed, and I’m no longer the fashion. And this is no recent development. When I came to you after Kenneth died and you’d taken over the agency, and I told you I’d left my previous agent—that was a lie.
She
dropped
me
. She said my work had lost its magic—I’ll never forget those words. That’s when I started to panic. I knew you were hungry. I believed your aggressiveness would make up for the weaknesses in my work.”

She shook her head. “No agent can sell bad work. And I don’t buy that nonsense about your talent. It’s still in there somewhere. But when it’s not drowning in Bloody Marys, it’s trying to get past what a shit you are.”

“I’m not a shit, Jane. I did what I did out of desperation.”

“No. Sorry. None of that ‘desperation drove me to it.’ You’re a shit. It’s as simple as that.”

“If you’ve come here to insult me—well, you’ve done it, and you can go now.”

“No, I can’t, because that’s not even the real reason I’m here—though I have enjoyed insulting you. I’m here about Marlene.”

He swallowed. “Marlene? You mean that girl—your baby-sitter?”

“Oh, come on, Roger! Don’t even try it. I mean that ‘girl’ you were putting the moves on.”

“What?” He sat up, outraged. “I did nothing of the kind. Did she say—?”

“Daniel saw you.”

“How? When?”

She repeated what Daniel had told her.

“Oh,” he said, defeated again.

“How
could
you, Roger? My son’s nanny! A girl young enough to be your daughter. Your granddaughter.”

He winced. “She’s no girl. She’s one-hundred-percent woman, believe me.

“I met her at the party you gave for me. I thought she was the most exquisitely beautiful creature I’d ever seen. That face, that body . . .”

“Spare me the inventory.”

“She looked like a living angel.” He laughed at the irony of that. “I couldn’t help myself. I made a pass at her. And to my complete amazement, she took me up on it. She was interested. I couldn’t believe my good fortune. We went into your pantry and—and we kissed, touched each other. She was as hot for me as I was for her. It was a miracle.

“The day after the party I called her at your house and invited her here. She came right over. We—we made love all afternoon. I tell you”—he shook his head in wonder—“it was like a dream.”

“All right!” Jane interrupted, her face growing hot. “I got that part.”

Roger’s expression grew dark. “But I soon found out it wasn’t me she was interested in. She was interested in my money. Or in the money she thought I had.” He laughed. “She said a big best-selling writer like me must be rich. I didn’t correct her.”

“What did she want money for?” To get as far from Shady Hills as she could?

“I asked her that. She wouldn’t say. She just said it was very important and couldn’t I just help her out.”

“How much did she want?”

“Five thousand dollars.”

“Five thousand dollars!”

He nodded.

“And you gave it to her?”

“Yes,” he said, his eyes pleading with her to understand. “I couldn’t lose her.”

“You
had
five thousand dollars?”

“Just barely. She said it was just a loan; she would pay it back within a few weeks. She was
extremely
grateful.”

Jane looked down, embarrassed.

Roger went on. “But the next day when I called her, she was like a different person. She was so cold. She sounded annoyed, as if I was
bothering
her. She said we couldn’t get together. I thought she meant that day and asked her when I could see her again. She said she didn’t know. She made some excuse, said she had cleaning to do, and hung up. I called her back and she said maybe we could meet the following week. I called her the next day, and she got mad and said I was hounding her and that she would call me when she was ready.”

He took a deep breath and blew it out. “Three days passed and I never heard from her, so I called her again. This time she screamed at me to stop bothering her. Well, I’d already figured out what had happened, though I didn’t want to believe it. I called her a conniving bitch and said I wanted my money back. She said not to worry, that she’d pay it back, that she’d call me when she had it.”

He laughed ruefully. “Well, I don’t have to tell you, Jane, that to me—these days—five thousand dollars is a lot of money. I didn’t even have the next month’s rent on this place! I knew if I called her again, she would just scream at me and hang up, so I drove over to your house.”

“That was this past Monday?” Jane asked.

“Yes. I parked up the hill. I didn’t want anyone to know I was there. And also in case you came home,” he admitted sheepishly. “I rang the bell, but there was no answer. So I just stood there on your front steps like a complete idiot for what must have been fifteen minutes, hoping she’d appear. I was that furious.”

He shook his head. “Finally I gave up and started to leave, but as I started down the path, I saw her come out of the Fairchilds’ house across the street. That in itself surprised me—I couldn’t imagine what she’d be doing visiting Audrey or Elliott. Then it occurred to me that maybe she had something going with Elliott, too. She was clearly upset. She was crying, and one side of her face was bright red.

“When she came through the space in the hedge I stepped out and surprised her. I started hollering at her, and she looked terrified that we’d be heard or seen and pulled me around to the back of the house. I told her I knew she’d used me and that I wanted my money back right then. She refused, said she didn’t have it. I asked her when she would have it, and she just shook her head and said she didn’t know. Then she said, ‘So you’d better leave, old man.’ ”

His face grew furious as he relived the moment. “That really made my blood boil. I grabbed her, and said I’d be happy to take it out in trade. Not that I was attracted to her anymore. I just wanted to hurt the little whore, show her I knew I’d paid dearly for her favors. I told her she owed me. We struggled. I tried to kiss her. She hit me, hard. She said she would tell you everything if I didn’t leave her alone.”

He threw out his hands in defeat. “That’s when I gave up. I knew it was over, I’d been a complete fool, used. I was never going to see that money again. And there was no one I could go to. I’d done it to myself.”

“Yes,” Jane said quietly, “you had.” And to us....

“I was more agitated than I can ever remember being,” he said. “I needed a drink, badly. I needed several drinks. I drove over here, fortified myself, pulled myself together as best I could, and drove down to the village for my meeting with you. Daniel gave me a strange look when I came in. Now I know why.”

Jane nodded. “On Wednesday, at Whipped Cream, when I told you Marlene had left, what did you think? Where did you think she’d gone?”

“I didn’t know what to think! Of course I was glad she wouldn’t be around anymore, that there would be no danger of her talking about us. Later I thought her leaving must have had something to do with whatever she’d needed the money for. We still don’t know why she wanted it, what she did with it.”

“No,” Jane said with a sigh, “we don’t.” She rose to leave.

“What do you think?” he asked.

“What do I think?” She shook her head sadly, looking at Roger and seeing him as she had never seen him before—as a pathetic middle-aged man terrified to face what he really was.

“I think,” she said at last, “that we’ve both been terrible fools.”