Broken Serenade (17 page)

   
The man accepted without delay.    

   
“It’s a deal,” he said and walked toward the small bar in his office.”Please sit down, Miss LaFontain,” he invited her politely, while preparing two glasses of whiskey and ice. “I’ve never asked you directly, but probably you guessed that I have done it in my mind many times. What was the reason Miss Hopkins’ grandmother fired you?”   

   
Miss LaFontain almost jumped on her chair, and Timothy registered his unintentional lack of tact a couple of seconds too late.

   
“She didn’t fire me! I quit,” she corrected him harshly. “Everything started fifteen years ago, the week following your wedding. I discovered a check of $70,000 written by Mrs. Carol Hopkins to your ex-fiancée, Miss Nadine. I didn’t dare to say a word, I feared that I could lose my job. I wasn’t handling her financial problems, and I certainly wasn’t snooping through her things. I just happened upon that check by chance. Soon after that, the old woman became more and more involved in a mysterious feminist organization. All I know about it is that they encouraged women not to marry and become slaves of men, their husbands. Ah, and another thing – you had to dye your hair blonde in order to be accepted in this organization.”        

   
Instinctively, Timothy’s eyes fixed on his secretary’s thin hair. 

   
“No! Please, don’t even think about it,” the woman exculpated herself right off the bat. “I dye my hair blonde because I have so much white, and darker colors make me look old and saturnine,” she said, touching her hair self-consciously.

   
I pray
God will forgive me, Miss LaFontain ! But you still look old and saturnine to me, and I doubt any hair color could have the power to change that,
Timothy thought amused. 

    “Mother?” he
asked curiously.

   
“Oh, yeah!” Miss LaFontain exclaimed, nodding repeatedly. “Late Mrs. Leigh was one of them.” She took a couple of sips from her whiskey.   

   
“Now that you’ve mentioned that story, I remember that, right before my wedding, mother dyed her hair blonde for the first time. I found that it didn’t go well with her features and her skin tone. After all, she was a beautiful brunette naturally. I’ve never got used to her as a blonde, God rest her soul in peace! I’ve never voiced my opinion vis-à-vis her new hairstyle. I just didn’t have the heart to ruin her pleasure.”    

   
“Well, it wasn’t a pleasure for many of them, I can tell you that much. It was a request closed to debate,” Miss LaFontain claimed, grimacing like a chimpanzee and batting her short and discolored eyelashes.        

    Timothy
raised the glass to his mouth and smiled melancholically, as poignant memories crowded his mind. The alcohol barely touched his lips.

   
“But you continued to work for Mrs. Hopkins,” he pointed out.     

   
“For seven more years,” the secretary finished his sentence. She directed her gaze into her glass. “I tried not to get involved in her personal affairs. I was well paid, and I was somehow pretty happy with the job.” She took another mouthful of whiskey. She drank like a pro.  

   
“Then… what was the last straw, the motive of your resignation?”

   
Miss LaFontain crossed her legs and adopted a more comfortable position. The alcohol seemed to improve her attitude considerably. Timothy Leigh had never seen her so relaxed and voluble. She removed invisible lint from her pants before answering.  

    “One evening, Carol
invited me to a very expensive restaurant. I suspected she had something of a delicate nature to discuss; otherwise, she wouldn’t have done it. She didn’t mingle with middle class, and on top of all, she was pretty tight with her money.”    

   
Timothy didn’t quite like the remark. It was not much he knew about the old Mrs. Hopkins, but he remembered Vee being very fond of her.

   
“Yes, I heard that she wasn’t extremely close to the people who worked for her, but she was fair, not at all abusing, and she paid extremely well, as you said earlier,” he stated. “I incline to believe that she had so many friends and relatives, she didn’t have time for any more close relationships in her life,” he added, trying subtly to defend Vee’s grandmother. “If I recall correctly, a distorted story about your last dinner with her has reached my ears long time ago. That’s why I assumed – wrongly, of course – that she had fired you,” he finished, studying the reaction of his secretary.

   
“No way!” Miss LaFontain objected.

   
In an instant, unrestrained anger diminished her lips to a thin line once again.

   
“She asked me to recruit young men who were willing to have sexual relations with unknown women without protection. Not any common-type young men, mind you! Tall, handsome, fair skin, blonde hair if possible, intelligent men… You would’ve fit the profile perfectly,” she remarked with a forced smile and finished her whiskey.      

   
Timothy grew thoughtful for a few seconds. The conversation had taken an unexpected turn. He had had other intentions when he had invited Miss LaFontain into his office for chatting, and now he was happy that he had not rushed into things. Something in his secretary’s behavior seemed false, dubious. It raised a few red flags. He wanted to believe her, but he had troubles giving her all the credit. Still, he had a vivid memory-flashback of an incident with one of his ex-girlfriends - a superb blonde - with whom he had had a lengthy and heated argument. All the fuss, just because he had not agreed to have sex with her without a condom. They had broken up shortly after that. Timothy didn’t want to be forced into marriage, and the prospect of fathering children outside wedlock was not appealing to him. He wanted to get married when his heart would tell him to do so. And then, of course, he wanted children.
Lots of them
, he thought, aching for his lovely Vee again.       

   
“Is Vivien involved with this feminist organization?”

   
“I don’t think so,” Miss LaFontain expressed her opinion. “I saw her in town a couple of days ago. She looks to be the opposite of women from that organization rather.” She shrugged her shoulders. “But, who knows? Appearances could be deceiving.”

    
One can never be sure
, Timothy reflected. But he was willing to risk anything with Vivien. His heart told him that she was worth it.  

     With the precious help of another glass o
f whiskey, Miss LaFontain gave him important information about Vivien. She told him about her ex-boyfriend, a forensic specialist in Southern California, and about lots of other things, that Vivien had left aside or only mentioned briefly. He wondered whether it was because they had not spent sufficient time together yet, whether she was not comfortable talking about it, or she did not trust him enough to reveal everything about her past and present problems. The thing was that every little secret he learned about her only made him want her more. Vivien was conquering his soul more and more each day since their first encounter. An invisible force pulled him toward her, and he had no intention whatsoever to fight the temptation. He wanted to take her in his arms and shield her from any pain that life would throw her way.

    The phone rang
, and Miss LaFontain answered in a professional manner. She hung up shortly.   

   
“Your rented car has arrived, Mr. Leigh.”

    “Oh, yes! The today
unprecedented event! I can’t wait to get my hands on Clark.” Timothy could hardly contain his outburst. “I can’t even begin to fathom how he managed to achieve the performance of hitting my Mercedes! I’ve been using this car every day for two years now, and it didn’t have as much as a scratch on it. He takes it for one hour, and he successfully destroys it! The guy is incorrigible. Sometimes, I have a hard time believing that he’s my own flesh and blood.”     

   
“Mr. Leigh, your brother has left already,” Miss LaFontain informed. “The car keys are downstairs with the doorman.”  

   
“Of course, he’s avoiding me now! On top of all, he has the attitude of a genuine coward! Totally à la Clark!”   

*                                        *                                        *

    Vivien turned on the lights in her living room and closed the blinds. The darkness was falling fast, and she didn’t want to allure the inquisitive, surreptitious glances of passersby or neighbors. Sadness had invaded every corner of her being today. She was in such low spirits that she could not even play the piano. The only good news was that she had actually found two real piano students. She had just met with them and their wonderful mother that early evening. Now she was waiting for Tee to discuss his schedule. She hoped he would be reasonable and accept to change their daily meeting to a later hour.

   
Vivien checked her watch and wondered if Miss LaFontain had communicated the right hour to Tee. He was a few minutes late for the first time, and she felt anxious and worried.

    As she mentally pictured
the horrible traffic in the city at that hour, she heard an engine and ran to the window. A strange car parked right behind her Lexus, and Tee climbed out of it. An ominous thought clouded her soul again.
Oh,
God, please tell me I’m wrong
, she prayed silently as she speculated about what could have happened to Tee’s silver Mercedes.  

   
Vivien opened the door and walked to the driveway to welcome him. She saw his face beaming with joy, and her heart missed a beat.

   
“What happened to your car?”

   
“Please Vee, don’t adulterate the sheer bliss of seeing you again.”

  
His warm brown eyes wrapped her in an intense gaze, as if the world were on the verge of starting with her all over again that very moment. “My Mercedes is in the repair shop for the first time in its existence,” he told her.   

   
Vivien didn’t dare to ask him any more questions. As they entered the house, she gave him the news about Igor’s accident and watched the shock and indignation altering his features. He lapsed into a pensive state and let her prepare her piano scores for that evening. Her heart urged her to fling her arms around him and kiss him senseless. Her mind repeated cruelly:
He did it. He did it. He hit Igor with his silver Mercedes
.     

   
She played Chopin, a few nocturnes and her favorite waltz, No 7. She told him about her new little students, and Tee accepted gladly to come two hours later every day. When the moment arrived for him to leave, Vivien couldn’t look him in the eye. Timothy spoke softly, and unequivocal love and obvious concern pulsed in every word.

   
“I would’ve accompanied you to Arlene’s memorial service and to the hospital to see Igor today. You should’ve told me, Vee. Before anything else, I’m your friend, and I want to be by your side when you need someone. Call me anytime, in the middle of the night if you need me. Well… especially in the middle of the night! That would be the best time to need me,” he tried a little joke, hopping to dispel some of her melancholy.

    She d
idn’t answer and didn’t reward his effort with the faintest smile. As his eyes caught the blue of her dancing irises briefly, he discovered something strange in there. It was a frustratingly indecipherable reflection of her feelings.

   
“Don’t fence me out, Vee! Just call me anytime you need me,” he insisted. “Nothing could stop me from coming to you, and nothing makes me happier than being around you.”  

   
Vivien nodded silently and stepped back inside. She thought about how much she wanted him and how much he wanted her. It would’ve been so easy to call him back and tell him the words she really burned to tell him. To forget her prejudices and sleep with a man she’d spent only a few hours with so far, it would’ve been a piece of cake now, when she knew how much they craved for each other’s touch. To ignore the suspicion that poisoned her happiness, it was the hardest thing. She locked the door behind him. Her gaze followed him through the kitchen blinds as he got into the rented car and left. He seemed downcast, and her heart ached for him. Warm tears filled her eyes.
I’m doomed
, she thought terrified.
I could be in love with a murderer. So crazily in love with him…

CHAPTER 13

     
 
H
is front door left cracked opened didn’t scare Timothy in the least. He pushed it angrily, stepped inside, and turned on the lights. Clark welcomed him unctuously.

    “Wow, wow, I can see my bottle in the dark,
” he protested. “I don’t need the lights on!”

    “But I do,” Timothy snapped.

    Clark appeared to be quite intoxicated. His speech was suffering from it, but that didn’t keep him from talking.