The Arrangement (23 page)

A
ndrew stepped out of the shower onto the marble floor, his body pink and steaming from the vigorous scrub he’d given himself. The first thing he did was check out the light slanting through the bathroom window. The rays were pale, the color of eggwash, but the angle told him it was late afternoon, probably around four o’clock.

The second thing he did was grab a towel from the cabinet. He knotted it around his hips and took another one for his dripping hair. Earlier, he’d dozed off in an overstuffed chair in the bedroom, waiting for Marnie to get back from shopping, but unfortunately, it wasn’t her that had jolted him awake, queasy and sweating. A lurid dream of Bret and Alison had sent him straight to the shower, where he’d cranked up the water as hot as he could get it. Everything about that perverted scenario made him feel unclean.

He wanted to believe there was some explanation, but he wasn’t optimistic. Bret was clearly a demented little fiend, and Andrew didn’t know what to think about Alison. He’d suspected her of many things, but incest and porn weren’t among them. Worse, as far as he could tell, the discovery meant nothing to his investigation, which put it in the category of more information than Andrew wanted to know. He couldn’t completely dismiss it, though. He couldn’t dismiss anything right now.

Andrew finished shaving and was patting on some cologne when he heard someone enter the bedroom. He pulled on a terry robe and went to the partially open bathroom door. It was Marnie, loaded down with shopping bags. She and Julia must have had a productive day.

He watched as she dropped the bags on the bed, rolled her shoulders and clasped her hands in the air, stretching like a dancer after a hard practice session. Tension sharpened her breathing. She wasn’t relaxing for the fun of it. She was much too on edge for that. She looked different, too, dramatically different. Andrew’s gut clenched as he noticed the ultra short, sleek hair.

It was another long moment before he saw what she’d actually done. The long dark waves were gathered in a knot at the nape of her neck. She’d pulled her hair back and off her face.

He let out the breath he’d been holding. Fuck.

She was changing before his eyes, he realized. She didn’t look so young anymore, so impossibly young. Her cropped aquamarine jacket and matching pants were sexy and sophisticated, and her feet were encased in sky-high, pointy heels made of soft, silvery leather. It was an outfit a woman with style and money would have worn. Lots of style and money. He didn’t know if that was good or bad.

Good,
he told himself. To think anything else would be as stupid as it was selfish.

The dark circles under her eyes told him she wasn’t sleeping well, either. Hell, why should he be the only one? On her, dark circles looked sullen and sultry. Even drunkenness and dissipation would have looked good on her, he feared. She wore no jewelry at all except for the gold bangles on her arms.

Still, it was quite a transformation.

And it worked, too. His chest was wire tight.

She discarded her jacket on the bed and began to unbutton her blouse, a delicate white, sleeveless thing with tucks that gave it the look of an old-fashioned slip. The neckline dipped low enough to reveal the swell of her breasts. She seemed to glow there, and he couldn’t take his eyes off the soft flesh shimmering in the low light.

For Christ’s sake, Villard. Stop her. Now. You let her undo one more button and you’re going to be tearing that blouse off her, kissing her wild, hungry mouth and violating her body again. You have things to tell her, and there may not be another chance.

He tried to speak and couldn’t. Instead, he cleared his throat.

Her head shot up, and she saw him. “Andrew? Why didn’t you tell me you were here?”

They needed to talk, but something in her expression stopped him. It was elemental, a glint of fear and suspicion that caught him totally off guard.

“I hate it when you do that,” Marnie said. Her fingers whipped at the buttons of her blouse, doing them up.

Andrew seemed genuinely confused. “When I do what?”

“Sneak up on me like that, watch me. You know what I mean.”

Apparently he didn’t. He continued to watch her, silent and intent, as if he was dealing with a temperamental animal. The buttons were tiny and infuriating. She couldn’t get them done up. Her breath escaped with a low hiss.

Finally, he went to the liquor cabinet and poured a glass of red wine. Marnie couldn’t help but notice. She’d still never seen him drink.

“Are you going to tell me what’s going on?” he asked.

She stood by the bed, only half done up and painfully aware of her gaping blouse. Why the hell didn’t he turn away and let her finish? The question burned to be asked, but her unbuttoned blouse wasn’t the real problem, and clearly he sensed that. He knew something was wrong, and as much as she wanted to confront him with her damning evidence, she wasn’t sure it was safe.

Would she be a threat to him now that she knew the truth?

He held up the glass, and she realized he’d poured it for her.

“No, thanks,” she said sharply. “I’ve been drinking all day.”

“Really?”

“Mm,
really,
it’s an important part of the shopping ritual.” She pointed to the bags on the bed, wondering if she might still be a little drunk. Maybe that would get her through this. “And it does ease the pain.”

He was already filling a second goblet with fruit juice. It was a deep vibrant red, the color of pomegranates, and it made Marnie thirsty.

“If I know Julia, she paid for everything,” he said, stopping long enough to sample the juice. “I hope it eased
her
pain.”

It was meant to be a quip, but Marnie had come too close to Julia’s pain to appreciate the humor. How odd that Andrew was suddenly the enemy and Julia her ally. Life could turn on you in a second, as casually as a storm blew in. And so could people.

Andrew savored his drink. It might as well have been wine the way he handled it. He bent his head to the rim of the glass, breathing in the fruity notes. He even swirled the ambrosia in his mouth before swallowing. Marnie was reluctantly aware of the sensuality of the ritual. He held the bowl with long, strong, beautiful fingers that could make a woman want to drown.

How well she knew. As did
two other women,
it seemed.

She clutched her blouse, covering herself. It didn’t feel safe confronting him here in this room, alone. Crazy as it sounded, she wanted to be where someone would hear her if she screamed. Where she could run.

Marnie’s reaction told Andrew what he needed to know. Her concern for her grandmother outweighed anything else that might be bothering her. She’d even forgotten the buttons on her blouse. He hoped that meant she would be open to his idea, or at least to listen. There was only one way to track down a patient with no family who was probably ill and lost in the medical system. Hire an investigator.

“I wish I had better news,” he said. “I didn’t find her, and it’s going to take more time and skill than I have. I’d like to hire someone, but I want to talk to you about it first.”

“Hire someone?”

“We need a professional, Marnie. I can’t ask the questions I need to without drawing attention to myself, and to you. That’s dangerous for both of us. A real investigator wouldn’t be hampered by any of that. Plus, he’ll have contacts and access to data banks.”

“Do you know someone?”

“In the music business, you have to know someone,” he assured her. “Rock stars are often in need of discreet assistance, and they want only the best.”

She seemed to be struggling with the idea. “No one at the flea market could tell you anything about Gramma Jo?”

“She may not have wanted them to know where she was going. I’m sure we’ll find her with the right help.”

“You think it’s safe to hire someone? It won’t get back to Julia or Bret or, God forbid, Tony Bogart?”

“A good P.I. doesn’t care about anything but his case, Marnie. He has no interest in juicy details about the Fairmonts. That would be a distraction.”

“All right then,” she said, releasing what sounded like a sigh of relief. “Is that what you wanted to talk to me about?”

“That’s part of it.” He was still concerned about her state of mind. She’d been upset about something, but there was no more time to feel her out. He’d run out of options for his own investigation. He was down to the fallback plan, and that’s what made this so hard. The plan involved Alison’s disappearance, but it was imperative that he keep those details to himself, even from Marnie. He could tell her nothing, and yet he needed her complete cooperation.

“I’m worried about your safety,” he said. “I have been ever since that planter nearly hit you.” He came over to sit beside her on the bed. “Bogart has me concerned, too. I thought it was just jealousy. Now I’m not so sure. Marnie, the guy is dangerous, and if he finds out I’m gone, he may come after you. I want you to stay away from him. I want you
here
at the house.”

“You’re telling me not to leave the house? Ever?”

“Just promise me you won’t go looking for your grandmother. It’s not safe.”

“You think I’m in actual physical danger?”

“I don’t know. I just want to be sure you’re all right while I’m gone.”

“Gone?”

“I have to go to Mexico. There’s a problem with a concert down there, and my assistant can’t handle it.” He could see the suspicion rising in her eyes. Damn, this was going to get brutal. He could feel it.

“What kind of problem?”

“There’s been some rioting. The lead singer of the opening act is in the hospital, and I may have to cancel the South American leg of the tour. I’m booked on a red-eye tonight.”

“You’re flying to Mexico
tonight?
”

“It won’t take me long. I could even be back tomorrow.”
A white lie,
he told himself.

She was already off the bed, pacing around in her bare feet. He assumed she was worried about the possibility of someone making another attempt on her. But he could not have been more wrong. He realized that the moment she stopped pacing. Her accusing glare could only mean this was about him.

Marnie went to her purse and pulled out what amounted to the smoking gun. She then strode past Andrew to the liquor cart, grabbed the open bottle of wine and took a slug.

“Listen to me,” she said, her voice raspy with rising frustration. “Before you go anywhere we have business to take care of.”

“What business?”

She opened her hand to show him the pink diamond studs. “These were
her
earrings. Regine’s. I don’t want them, thank you.”

The diamonds hit the cart’s glass top with a soft
plink,
followed by the
clack
of the open wine bottle.

“Those earrings belonged to my mother,” Andrew said. “They’re all I have of hers that has any real meaning.”

“But you gave them to Regine. How could you have given them to
me,
knowing the situation?”

“What situation?”

“How she died.” Marnie crossed the room and handed him the rest of her evidence, the police report. “Explain this to me.”

His expression turned icy as he saw what she’d given him. “Where did you get this?”

Marnie shook her head. He was the one who’d lied. She wouldn’t let him put her on the defensive. “You said Regine’s death was an accident. This file says you were charged with her murder.”

“The charges were dismissed as soon as my alibi was substantiated. Where did you get this report? No, don’t tell me. Julia, right?”

He threw down the papers and walked over to the fireplace, where a small blaze crackled in the hearth. “She didn’t want me anywhere near her precious daughter. Obviously, she still doesn’t. Do you think it was an accident that she left out the part about the charges being dismissed?”

“What do you mean by
alibi?
You weren’t there when Regine drowned?”

“No, I was there, passed out cold in a lounge chair by the pool. Alison had dropped by that evening to have drinks with Regine, and I knocked down one too many, as I often did in those days.”

“What was Alison doing in New York?”

“She was staying at the family’s apartment and taking classes at Julliard. When she first moved to the city she called and asked to meet Regine, said she was a big fan. I was reluctant at first, but Alison was persistent and eventually I ran out of reasons not to introduce them. They bonded instantly, partly I’m sure because Alison didn’t stop raving about Regine’s latest CD.”

She caught the cynicism about Alison’s motives, but wanted to keep the focus on him. “You said you drank too much that night?”

He nodded. “Regine wanted to swim. She asked me to join her, but I wasn’t in any shape. Alison had some phone calls to make, so she went in the house for privacy, and I stretched out on one of the chaise lounges by the pool. The next thing I knew Alison was shaking me. She said she’d found Regine floating facedown in the water.”