Dark Water (14 page)

“Yes.”

Maury looked at Tony. “Don't let this one get away, Silk. Even if she loses her looks and figure, you'll always have the food to make up for it.”

Sarah's mouth dropped. For a moment she didn't know what to say—until she looked at Tony. He appeared to be alternating between the urge to throttle Maury and laugh. Enjoying his discomfort, she couldn't help adding, “Yeah, Silk…even if I go to hell physically, I'll make sure you always get fed real good.”

Tony glared at them both as his cheeks turned bright red.

“Shut up. Both of you.”

Sarah grinned. Maury took another bite of muffin and rolled his eyes in ecstasy.

“Ask the damn question,” Tony said.

Maury dusted the cinnamon sugar from his fingers and picked up his pen.

“Yeah, right. Okay…uh…so we're assuming the trouble started when your old man's bones was found in the lake?”

Sarah flinched. It was the truth, no matter how crudely put.

“Yes, that and the fact that I said I wasn't leaving until the person who killed my father was found.”

Maury's eyes widened with new appreciation.

“Damn, Silk…she's more like you than I—”

“Maury, so help me God…if you don't stuff the commentary, you're going to find yourself working this blind.”

Maury nodded quickly. He hated working a cold case worse than anything, and Tony knew.

“Didn't mean nothing by it,” he said, and polished off the muffin, washing it down with a big gulp of coffee, then rechecked his notes.

“So, you were ten when the money disappeared from the bank, right?”

Sarah nodded.

“Your mother…what did she say to you about it? What did she do when your old man didn't come home?”

Sarah stiffened noticeably. This was no longer fun.

“She said Daddy was innocent, then, about two months later, she cut her wrists, crawled into bed and bled to death.”

Tony flinched at the cold, expressionless tone in her voice. Even Maury was affected as he tried to imagine a ten-year-old kid finding something like that. He made a couple of notes and quickly moved on without comment.

“About this calendar,” he said, and picked up the calendar the deputy had returned that morning. “What can you tell me about your father's whereabouts during this time?”

“Nothing,” she said. “I was ten. He was my daddy. He went to work at the bank. He came home around five. My world was home and school and the block where I lived. I was unaware of any meetings he might or might not have had during the day. However, I do know that his meetings at the Moose Lodge were always at night, so the references to Moose at 1:00 p.m. make no sense to me.”

“No prob,” he said. “I'll find out what it means.”

Sarah stared at him. “Just like that? Twenty years and no earthly idea as to where to start first, and you think you can find out?”

Maury shrugged. “It's what I do.”

“Now you see why he works for me,” Tony said.

Maury nodded, while eyeing the last muffin. “Anybody gonna eat that last muffin?”

“Help yourself,” Tony said.

And the interview proceeded.

About an hour later, Maury left, but not before he'd tried making one last pass at Sarah. Maury was out the door and heading down the driveway before Sarah found her voice.

“My God, Tony! Where did you find him?”

“Jail.”

She stared at him for a moment, then held up her hands.

“Information overload,” she muttered.

“You asked.”

“Sorry. Next time, remind me to curb my curiosity.”

“And when I do, remember it was at your request.”

Sarah grinned, then punched Tony on the arm. He grabbed her before she could move, swung her off her feet and kissed her soundly.

“Remember that, too,” Tony said, then put her down. “I know this is exhausting for you, baby, but let me help. Don't shut me out.”

Sarah stood for a moment, trying to find the right words. Finally she just blurted out what she was thinking.

“We've done this all so fast,” she said.

“Are you sorry?”

She hesitated briefly. “No. How could I be sorry for the most beautiful, passionate night of my life?”

“It wasn't about sex,” Tony said. “Not for me.”

“That's just it,” Sarah said. “How could it be anything else? No one falls in love in less than a week.”

“Who said?” Tony asked. “Besides, I think I've been falling in love with you forever. You were quite a knockout at ten, remember?”

She grinned. “You are so full of it. I remember looking in the mirror and thinking that my eyes were too big, and my hair was too straight.”

“I've always been partial to owls.”

She laughed aloud and wrapped her arms around his neck.

“Lord help me, how can I resist such a sweet-talking man?”

“Don't try,” Tony said. “And don't think about how long we've been together. Think about how many years we have left.”

Sarah shook her head. “I'm going to pretend I didn't hear that, and trust me, when this is all over, you'll thank me, scurry back to Chicago and forget you ever knew me.”

The smile died in Tony's eyes. “That's never going to happen.”

Before she could respond, the phone rang. Tony brushed the back of his hand against her cheek and went to answer it, leaving her with both the touch and the taste of him on her skin.

Moments later, he was calling her name,

“Sarah, it's your aunt for you.”

Sarah raced to the phone. “Aunt Lorett! Where are you? Are you already here?”

“No,
ma chère,
I will not be coming until tomorrow.”

Sarah tried not to let the disappointment show in her voice, but it was hard.

“Is everything all right?” she asked.

“No. Michelle was in a car accident. She was bruised only slightly, but she's very shaken. I am with her until Francois arrives.”

“Oh no! I am so sorry,” Sarah said. “Please give her my love and tell her I'll pray for her swift recovery.”

“
Oui,
I will tell her that,” Lorett said. She added, “You are okay?”

“Oh yes, I'm fine, Aunt Lorett. Don't worry about me. Tony has hired bodyguards and extra security for the grounds, as well as put a private investigator on the case. Actually, I'm sorry I asked you to come. You should stay there and be with your daughter.”

“You, too, are my daughter, Sarah Jane. I will be there tomorrow. Know that.”

Sarah's eyes filled, but with joy, not sadness.

“Thank you, Aunt Lorett. You are so precious to me.”

“As precious as that pretty man who stands beside you?”

Sarah blinked. Even though she was used to her aunt's unusual skills, she was still surprised from time to time.

“How do you know what he looks like?”

Lorett laughed abruptly. “I looked him up on the Internet. There was an article on him and his nightclub in some fancy magazine. I suspect the picture did not do him justice.”

Sarah laughed. “You are such a wretch.”

“I have been called worse. Now stay beside that man and do not venture out alone.”

“Yes, ma'am.”

“I will see you tomorrow.”

“Yes, ma'am.”

“Do not mock me, Sarah Jane. You are never too old to scold.”

Sarah smiled. “I would never mock you, Aunt Lorett. You might turn me into a toad.”

Lorett Boudreaux's laugh came through the phone line loud and clear, and then she hung up.

“Something wrong?” Tony asked.

“Aunt Lorett's youngest daughter, Michelle, was in an accident. She's not hurt seriously, but pretty shaken up. Aunt Lorett is staying with Michelle until her husband, Francois returns.”

“Where is he?”

“Probably on a plane somewhere between New York and Los Angeles.”

“What does he do?”

“Plays professional football for the New Orleans Saints. But he's supposed to be home sometime today. As soon as he gets there, Aunt Lorett will leave to come here.”

“Are you disappointed?”

Sarah was a little surprised by his perception.

“I thought I was going to be, until she told me why she couldn't come. Tragedy always puts everything into perspective.” Then she added, “Besides, Aunt Lorett says to stay close to you.”

Interest spread quickly across his face. “What else did she say about me?”

“Well…she called you a pretty boy.”

He almost blushed. “Damn. Can she tell what someone looks like just from listening to their voice?”

“No. She did a little investigating on her own. Looked you up on the Internet.”

“The hell you say,” Tony muttered. “I didn't even know I was there.”

“Something about some article on you and your nightclub.”

“I'll be damned,” Tony said, and grinned. “She's a pistol, isn't she?”

“Oh, you have no idea…but you're going to find out.”

“Should I be worried?”

Sarah looked up at him, studying the face that was coming to mean so much to her.

“I don't know. Should you?”

Tony touched her face, then her hair. “As long as she doesn't get between me and what I feel for you, we'll get along fine.”

Even as Sarah was lifting her face for his kiss, she knew she should be keeping an emotional distance, at least until the drama of her life settled down. She'd been taught from an early age to say no to drugs and smoking, to drinking and driving. But no one had ever taught her how to say no to a man like Silk.

T
he bodyguards and the men who would be in charge of security on the property arrived around four. Sarah got a quick introduction to two very large, beefy bodyguards with big chests and no necks who went by the names of Dunn and Farley. Privately she thought their names sounded like a law office and realized that, unlike Maury Overstreet, they saw her as nothing but a job to be done. The security guards spoke briefly to Tony and then disappeared into the woods as Tony showed Dunn and Farley to a room downstairs. It had a sitting area, a television that they probably wouldn't be watching, and a couple of beds. From the way they settled in, Sarah suspected they'd done this countless times before. She also found out that nothing was expected of her except to go about her business as if they were invisible. It seemed an impossible task, considering the fact that they weighed a good five hundred pounds plus between them, but she was willing to give it a try.

When Tony and Sarah started over to Moira Blake's for dinner that night, she got the giggles, picturing the expressions on the guests' faces when they arrived with Frick and Frack in tow.

Tony let her joke about the men behind them in a second car, because he would rather she see the humor in the situation than the danger that really existed.

 

“I can't imagine what she's going to say,” Sarah said, as they pulled up in front of Moira's house.

“Probably nothing. She's quite a lady. I'd expect her to welcome them in without a hitch, although I'd give a lot to know what she's thinking as she does.”

Sarah smiled. “Yes, imagine trying to fill up two men their size.”

“They're on duty. They won't be eating,” Tony said.

“That seems mean,” Sarah said.

“Trust me. They probably wouldn't eat what she's serving, anyway.”

“Why?”

“Because except for the steroids I'm pretty sure they're on, they're both health-food fanatics.”

“Really?” Sarah said, intrigued in spite of herself, as Dunn opened the car door for her, while Farley stood watch, searching the tree line beyond the Blake yard.

When they turned around, Moira was in the doorway. Although she was a bit taken aback by the presence of two human behemoths, she welcomed them graciously.

“I'm sorry your aunt was delayed. However, I'm so glad you could come. As you can tell by the array of vehicles outside, everyone else is here, anxiously awaiting your arrival.”

“These gentlemen will not be dining with us,” Tony said, and stifled a grin when a very relieved expression spread across Moira's face.

“I hope we're not late,” Sarah said, as Dunn and Farley made themselves scarce. “You did say eight?”

Moira put her arm around Sarah's shoulders as she led her to the living room, where the guests were having cocktails.

“You're right on time,” she said. “The others are regulars at my dinner parties, and I secretly suspect they like my appetizers better than my entrées.”

Sarah rolled her eyes in appreciation. “I can't wait to taste.”

“Sarah owns her own restaurant,” Tony added. “So be prepared for some serious judging.”

“Tony, stop it,” Sarah said. “I've promised him a special dessert, but if he doesn't behave, I'm reneging.”

“I'll be good,” Tony said. “Just don't stop feeding me.”

Moira looked at Sarah. “You must be quite skilled as a cook.”

“Why?” Sarah asked.

“Because at Tony's level in Chicago society, the good life is taken for granted. If he says your cooking is good, it must be outstanding.”

“She's an amazing chef,” he said. “As for me living the good life, any way besides the way I grew up would be an improvement.”

“You're just being modest,” Moira said. “I remember you when you were just a young man.”

“Yes, so do I,” Sarah said, and smiled at Tony, who gave her a wink.

Moira saw the looks and the wink that passed between them and sighed. Oh, to be young again. As soon as they entered the living room, introductions began.

“Tony, I think you know everyone here. Everyone, this is our own little Sarah Whitman, all grown-up. Sarah…Tony…these are some of my dearest friends. Tiny Bartlett and her husband, Charles. He's a very successful C.P.A. Marcia Farrell is the redhead on the sofa. She's one of our most prominent citizens, active in all sorts of charity works. The gentleman beside her is Paul Sorenson, president of Marmet National Bank. Annabeth Harold is by the fireplace. She works for a law firm, and the man to her left is Harmon Weatherly, retired from the bank.”

Sarah's gaze went straight to Harmon Weatherly. She smiled warmly.

“Mr. Weatherly and I have already met.”

“Really?” Moira said.

Harmon volunteered the information. “I met Sarah yesterday outside the supermarket.”

Sarah added. “He's being modest,” she said. “He actually came seeking me out. It seems he'd been saving some of my father's memorabilia all these years, and he made a point of giving them to me.” Then she glanced over the chair where Harmon was sitting and pointed to a picture on the wall. “There was one just like that in Daddy's things.”

Moira nodded sadly. “Everyone in the picture received a copy. It was taken, I believe, for the bank's seventy-fifth anniversary. I remember being the one designated to serve punch to the customers that day, and Emma Toller's miniature poodle jumped out of her arms and into the bowl.”

Everyone laughed at the story, including Moira's footnote about the fact that it took months for the red color of the punch to wash out of the dog's white fur.

Marcia Farrell moved closer to the picture, then pointed to a young, fair-haired man standing to the right of a much younger Harmon Weatherly.

“Look, there's poor Sonny Romfield. I haven't thought of him in years.”

“What happened to him?” Sarah asked.

“He was killed in a car accident only days after your father's…uh…disappearance.”

“It was a sad time for the bank,” Harmon said.

“He had a wife and two young children,” Tiny said. “I wonder what ever happened to them?”

“They moved right after the funeral,” Moira said.

“Rather quick, don't you think?” Annabeth noted.

“They were in the midst of getting a divorce,” Moira added.

“I didn't know that!” Tiny squealed. “You never told us!”

Moira frowned, then shrugged. “Goodness me, it was so long ago. Why would I even think about the Romfields one way or the other?”

Sarah listened intently, although she couldn't help noticing that Paul Sorenson had not contributed to the conversation at all. Curious, she turned, fixing him with a pointed stare.

“Are you in this picture?” she asked.

Sorenson pointed. “That's me to the right of your father.”

“That's when you still had all your hair,” Annabeth said, and patted his nearly bald pate affectionately.

Sorenson scowled as the others chuckled.

“There are worse things than losing your hair,” Sarah said.

The laughter trickled to a few nervous giggles. It seemed that no matter what Sarah said, they all took it as judgment against their belief in Franklin Whitman's guilt.

Sorenson's heart felt as if it would leap out of his chest. Every time Sarah Whitman looked at him, he feared she would denounce him for the fraud that he was. God, after all this time, to be afraid for someone to find out he was nothing but an aging queen. He'd heard the rumors that she harbored great hate. If that was so, he was a prime target for her venom, even though his secret had nothing to do with her father's death.

Tony offered Sarah a canapé. When she opened her mouth, he obligingly popped it in, then pointedly licked his own fingers. Again, the intimacy was not lost on the guests.

When Sarah turned around, she surprised herself, as well as Harmon, when she hugged him.

“Mr. Weatherly, I can't tell you how much I treasure the contents of that box. I don't know why you decided to hold on to them all this time, but I'm profoundly glad you did.”

“It's nothing,” Harmon said, but his smile was proof of his pleasure.

Tiny Bartlett fidgeted in the chair where she was seated and, when there was a break in the conversation, quickly piped up. “How nice for you to have some keepsakes.”

Judging from her expression, Sarah obviously wanted the topic to change, so Tony took it upon himself to do so.

“Among other things,” he said cryptically, and then picked up a second canapé from a tray on the sideboard, put it on a napkin and offered it to Sarah. “May I pour you a glass of wine?”

She took the canapé and nodded. “Whatever you're having is fine with me.”

“What other things are you talking about?” Annabeth asked.

For the first time Sarah really looked at the people around her, separating them from the whole that she'd taken in upon her arrival. She remembered Annabeth Harold. She'd been holding her mother's hand when Annabeth had asked her to resign as chairman of the Fall Festival.

“I remember you,” Sarah said.

Annabeth smiled.

“You fired my mother as chairman of the Fall Festival after Daddy disappeared.” Then she looked at Moira. “This canapé is delicious. What is it?”

Tony stifled a grin. Good for Sarah. She'd agreed to dine with these people, but she didn't have to be polite.

“Uh…I believe that one is smoked salmon on a rusk of rye, with a bit of dilled yogurt on top.”

“It's very good,” Sarah announced. “I can't wait to try your entrée.”

“Sarah owns and runs her own restaurant in New Orleans,” Moira said, desperately searching for a new topic of conversation.

“Indeed?” Paul Sorenson asked.

Sarah looked at the aging man over the rim of her wineglass and nodded. “Indeed.”

He flushed. She remembered! He could tell by the way she was looking. He wondered how rude it would appear if he pretended to take ill and just up and left. The moment he thought it, he discarded the thought. What if she talked about him after he left? He would have no way of knowing that he'd been outed until the gossip began to spread. Before he could make a decision, the doorbell rang.

“That would be the last guest,” Moira said. “Excuse me for a moment.”

“Who else has she invited?” Marcia asked. “I thought we were all here. Now we'll be uneven.”

“We can always get Dunn or Farley to sit in to even things up,” Sarah said, and then chuckled at her own wit when the others looked properly horrified.

“Oh, do hush all the fussing,” Sorenson said. “We'll find out soon enough.”

Within seconds, Moira was back with a tall, elegant woman of indeterminate age at her side. The woman was dressed in black silk to match her obviously dyed hair, and the glitter at her neck appeared to Sarah to be real diamonds.

“Everyone, you know Laura.” Then she turned to Tony and Sarah. “This is Laura Hilliard. Sarah, you might remember her as Laura King.”

The woman ignored Sarah and extended an elegant, manicured hand toward Tony, smiling seductively.

“Silk, darling, it's been a while.”

Tony smiled. “Laura, I didn't know you'd moved back to Marmet.”

“Oh yes…I have a house just across the lake. In fact, I can see the lights of your house from my bedroom. Surely you've noticed my place?”

Sarah stared. “The house with the red roof.”

Laura turned, eyeing Sarah slowly, then nodded and smiled.

“Yes. I see you're quite an observant woman.”

“Never doubt it,” Sarah said. “I'm sorry, but I don't remember you at all.”

“It's not surprising,” Laura drawled. “I used to work out of town.”

Tony offered to pour Laura a glass of wine. Someone across the room muttered the word
hooker,
but it was said so softly, Sarah couldn't tell who'd said it. She stifled a grin. It seemed Moira Blake had invited quite an eclectic mix of guests for her dinner party.

“Who brought the two bookends standing guard outside?” Laura asked.

“They're with me,” Tony said.

Laura eyed him curiously; her glance slid to Sarah.

“I see,” she said, and took a sip of her wine, then lifted her glass to Sarah. “I heard about your troubles. Please accept my condolences.”

Sarah eyed her coolly. The sympathy didn't sound sincere, and she wasn't in the mood to pretend.

“Dinner is ready,” Moira said. “Please follow me.”

“Sarah, you'll be sitting between Paul and Tiny,” Moira announced.