Guilty Pleasures (26 page)

Polly tucked back escaped wisps of hair. She avoided looking at Nasty as if she wanted Belinda to ignore him as much as he did.

“He’s a convicted sex offender.”

“Oh,” was all Polly said, and her lips remained parted.

“He was framed of course. And it’s affected everything else we’ve done. He didn’t do anything to any of those girls.” She gulped brandy. “Just because he was kind to people, young people, they said he assaulted them. Those sluts were looking for a way to make some easy money. Every one of them. They gravitated toward him because they felt his kindness—his goodness. He’d try to counsel them, to help them. Then they’d trump up some story about him forcing them to have sex.”

Nasty struggled against a desire to grab Polly and put her behind him. She was a big girl, and, at the moment, she was exactly where she needed to be—creating a focus for Belinda’s fascinating diatribe.

“The things they said.” A downward twist of Belinda’s full lips accentuated the strength of her features, and the power of her personality. “Filthy things. Where would young girls like that learn such filth?”

“How old were they?” Polly’s hoarse croak testified to how dry her mouth must be.

Belinda waved a hand and drank some more. “Old enough to know right from wrong. At least fifteen.”

Acid rose in Nasty’s throat.

“Because of what they said, Festus went to jail. But even
that didn’t make him free. He wasn’t free of crimes he didn’t commit even after he’d been to jail.”

“Is there someone I could call for you?” Polly asked. “Do you have family somewhere?”

Belinda’s narrow green eyes shifted from their space study to home in on Polly. “I don’t want family. I want Festus. He’s the only family I’ve got.” Her face crumpled. “We had to get out of New York because the police kept sniffing around. They were despicable. Adele probably got out of New York. Or she took up with some man who could show her a good time. Girls can be like that
.
Ungrateful. We did so much for her. She was almost like a daughter to us. Then she took off, and we were blamed.”

“Belinda—”

“Festus had nothing to do with whatever happened to her. She’s probably living somewhere now, and laughing at what fools we were. She took money from us, you know.”

“She did?”

“Oh, yes, yes
…
yes.” She sank to sit on an ottoman and buried her face in one hand. The all-but-empty glass dangled in the other. “I’m frightened for him. And I’m frightened for you, Polly.”

Nasty gave up even the essential movement. Real men didn’t need to breathe. He could feel the thud of his heart and the gathering of energy in his muscles and nerves.

“I’m sorry, Polly. I’m so used to trying to convince myself it was all a lie that I spew it out. I’ve practiced it over and over until I can recite it word for word.”

“Recite what word for word?” Polly whispered. The brandy in her glass trembled.

“What I just told you about Festus. I don’t know if he was guilty of sexual assault with those little girls. He may have been, but he kept insisting I owed it to him to help him make a new life. And if he was going to do that, we had to make what had happened a lie.”

Polly raised her eyes to Nasty’s. He nodded slightly, and she gave him a wobbly smile.

“I don’t know what happened to Adele. But I always suspected.” Belinda shuddered. She sobbed and rubbed her face. “He was good to me. That’s the true part. Festus kept me safe. I’ve never been completely stable. I fought mental illness when I was a child and a teenager. Festus looked after me.”

What a crock. Nasty sucked in a breath. This was an act, it had to be. What he couldn’t figure out was the reason.

Belinda got up. She sniffed and wiped her nose with the back of a hand. She swallowed the remainder of her brandy and poured more. “He probably killed Adele,” she said brokenly. “I’ve never said that before. Not to anyone. But I’ve got to warn you.”

The woman wandered erratically to a door and flung it open. “I’ve got to show you everything. The dome. Everything.” With a glance at Nasty, Polly went after Belinda.

Nasty was right behind her. He reached for her hand and squeezed it. When she looked at him over her shoulder he kissed her cheek quickly and said into her ear, “Hang in with me, sweetheart. We’ve got to go through with this. Nothing bad will happen to you.” The old rush hit, the pump of adrenaline in the face of potential danger.

Belinda led them up a short flight of stairs to a circular room with a glass dome ceiling. She flipped a switch and hooded lamps cast small pools of blue light at intervals around the area. In the center, a ladder rose to a wide seat that ran on tracks around an impressive elevated telescope.

“Crumb,” Polly mumbled.

“He could revolve in any direction,” Belinda said. “But he didn’t bother.”

Nasty frowned at her.

She climbed the ladder slowly. “Please try to forgive Festus,” she said to Polly. “You’ll understand when I show you.” Hesitating at each rung, Polly trod in Belinda’s footsteps.

When she reached the top, she sat beside the other woman on the green velvet seat and stared nervously down at Nasty.

He shut the door, turned the key that remained in the lock, then put it in his pocket before going after Belinda and Polly. He didn’t attempt to sit, but remained with one foot on the ladder and one on the platform. His Sauer was within easy reach.

“Look through here,” Belinda told Polly, then, “Don’t try to move it. It’s fixed in his favorite spot.”

Polly put her eye to the scope and gasped. She drew back and sat stiffly, her hands pressed together between her knees.

He eased her along the seat and took a look. What he saw was no surprise. Good old, kind old Festus had made a habit of staring into Polly’s condo. Through the skylight above her shower to be exact. “I couldn’t figure out why he
’
d set up a telescope in this location,” Nasty muttered. “Astronomers avoid civilization.”

“The best way to get over it is to think that he’s a bit sick,” Belinda said. “And he didn’t hurt you, did he?”

“Not yet,” Nasty said, “And he’s not going to.”

“No.” Belinda sounded subdued “No, he won’t. That’s why I knew I had to tell you everything once he left. I don’t know where he is. I think he’s probably gone away from the area altogether. He’s like that. He’ll just pick up and go if something troubles him. I think he loved you, Polly.”

Nasty felt Polly stiffen even more.

“If I show you the other things, you’ll understand. Festus only wants to surround himself with beauty. He loves beautiful things.”

She stood up and waited for Nasty to climb down with Polly behind him before following herself. Her movements were jerky now. And she smiled, a ghastly smile, first at Nasty, then at Polly.

Polly’s pale face had set in rigid lines of control, but she no longer seemed afraid.

“Here,” Belinda said sliding open panels that concealed a compartment big enough for them all to go inside.

When she started to close the panels again, Nasty stopped her. “That shouldn’t be necessary. We aren’t going to develop any film, are we?” The compartment was a darkroom.

Belinda didn’t answer him. She opened a file cabinet and pulled out a sheaf of large photographs. These she pegged one by one, to a line.

“Xavier,” Polly said. She backed into him. “It’s horrible. Oh, no, no!”

Each shot was of Polly in her shower.

“You see?” Belinda said. She sounded excited. “You understand now, don’t you? He loved beautiful things. So he watched you. He photographed you so he could look at you when you weren’t there for him to watch.”

“Sick,” Nasty said succinctly. He averted his eyes. “Let’s get out of here. The police will have to know.”

“I don’t want them to have pictures like that,” Polly said. She stumbled past him, pushed him aside in her rush to get out of the darkroom.

Nasty didn’t want the police to have them either, but there was no choice. “It’s just work to them,” he lied.

He wasn’t surprised when she turned on him and said “
Don’t
keep talking down to me. I’ve told you I detest it.”

“I showed you so you’d understand
,
” Belinda said sounding bewildered. “I thought you’d understand and forgive him. He didn’t mean any harm.”

“So she’d understand what?” Nasty said finally giving the woman his full attention. He’d like to shake her. “What exactly did you set out to accomplish here tonight? If you really believe your husband has left for good.”

“I don’t know that,” she wailed. “But I wanted Polly to know, so she’d stop worrying about things.”

“You’ll have to be plainer than that,” he told her.

“How plain can I be?” Belinda turned back and brought her fist down on a telephone. “Don’t you understand now?
Festus made the calls. He called Polly’s answering machine and left those messages. He must have. But he’s gone now, so it won’t happen anymore.”

“That could be a big jump,” Nasty said. “From telescopes and photos to telephone calls.”

Belinda stumbled back into the room. “No,” she cried. “It’s true, I tell you. He’s done it before
. Always the same pattern. And I
heard him!”

“You heard him making calls to Polly?”

Her head bobbed frantically up and down.

“A woman called Venus and asked questions.”

Misery clouded Belinda’s green eyes. “Me,” she whispered. “He made me do it. But he’s gone. You don’t have to worry anymore. And you don’t have to tell the police because it’s over.”

He saw Polly’s wild expression, watched her prepare to spill all the reasons why she did still have to worry.

“That’s right,” he said soothingly to Belinda while he kept contact with Polly’s eyes, willed her to silence. “What a relief.”

“Yes,” Belinda said. “Polly can get on with her life again.”

When he’d finally managed to pry Polly loose from Belinda’s babblings and get back outside, they stood beside his car and he took her in his arms.

She hugged him and pushed her face into his chest where his shirt lay open.

He smiled faintly. “You do have a thing for chests, don’t you?”

“Your chest,” she mumbled, kissing him there.

His thighs tightened of their own accord. “Sweetheart, I’ve got some pressing reasons to want this—this whatever it is—to be over.”

He hadn’t intended to make a joke.

Polly didn’t laugh.

“Do you understand what I’m telling you?”

“We still need to get out of town.”

“You’ve got it.” He wouldn’t tell her what he now knew for
sure. “We’ve got to make sure you’re where I can control the situation. You’re too much in the open here.”

“Because Festus is gone from Another Reality, but he’s out there. Nasty, the fact that he’s made a major move probably means he’s more dangerous than he was before, doesn’t it?”

“Maybe.” Definitely. “Or it could be that Belinda threatened him, said he had to stop. That could have made him mad enough to run.”

“He could have decided to go away for good couldn’t he?”

“Sure he could. But we’ll take a little vacation anyway. Rose is looking forward to meeting you and Bobby.”

Polly got into the Porsche.

He fiddled with his keys while he studied the dark facade of Another Reality. Why did he get the feeling they’d just been fed a load of crap? If he had to guess, he’d say Belinda was still fronting for Festus. This had been an elaborate effort to get Polly back where she was vulnerable. In the condo, alone. Sick.

The police would have to be brought up-to-date.

Too bad there was no point in mentioning to the police that what Belinda didn’t know had made a suspicion a fact.

Not one, but two sets of maniacs were on Polly’s tail. And at least two of the players had murder in mind—Nasty’s as well as Polly’s.

N
ineteen

“
I
don’t like this,” Art said. “We had a deal.”

Mary scrunched down in the seat beside him and let her head loll back. “We’ve still got a deal. That’s why we’re here. To make sure you understand what the deal is.”

Early-morning wind whipped through the open windows of Jack’s Mercedes. Mary hadn’t asked if she could borrow the car. She’d insisted on Art driving because the thought of how mad it would make Jack was too sweet to miss. When the day warmed up, they’d put the top down. That’s how they’d drive back to the studio—and make sure Jack saw them.

“Jack would be pissed if he knew I was driving his beloved car.”

Mary laughed and turned her head to let the wind blow her hair. “I know. That’s why you’re in that seat. Keep going north. It’s early enough to be no problem. By the time we get to Everett we’ll still be ahead of most of the rush.”

Art changed gears, put his foot down harder. “Let’s get whatever needs to be said said okay? We’ve got a show to put on.”

“We’ve got bits of a show to fill in around the edges of the hole where Polly belongs.”

She had only slightly longer than expected to wait for Art’s response. “What the blazes does that mean? The hole where Polly belongs. She sick, or something?”

“Or something. We’ve got to find out what it is—the reason
she’s ducking out for a few days. Jack knows, but he’s not talking.”

“What makes you think Jack knows?”

“He got a call about three this morning.”

“Interrupted your beauty sleep, yeah?”

She drew up her knees and squirreled around toward him. “We were in bed,” she said. “We weren’t sleeping.”

“Too bad.”

“You can say that again. The timing was lousy, but we managed to pick up where we left off.”

“I’ll just bet you did
.
” Art glanced at her, and down at the short skirt that had ridden up to her hips. He patted her thigh and let his hand stray between her legs. “You could catch a cold like that, gal. And put underwear manufacturers out of business if the trend catches on.”

Mary giggled and trapped his hand. “I must have forgotten my panties. Just shows how much I’ve got on my mind these days.”

“So what was the call?” He took his hand away.

She made no attempt to cover herself. Art’s insatiable libido had been the first ally she’d identified since discovering that Jack’s loyalty was unpredictable.

Art slanted her a scowl. “Who called?”

“Our sexy diver.”

“Ferrito?”

“How many sexy divers do we know?”

“Personally, none. What did he want?”

“To tell Jack he was leaving town with our illustrious star.” Art braked so hard Mary thumped her wrists into the dash and waited to be smothered by an air bag. “Shit,” she yelled when it didn’t happen. “Get your foot off the brake before we get rear-ended.”

“You’ve got to be joking.” Blinking rapidly, breathing through his mouth, Art accelerated slowly. “That’s not funny
.
”

She looked at him with fresh interest. “I didn't know you loved Polly Crow so much.”

“
I
don’t give a damn about her one way or the other.”

“So you always say. It didn’t look like that back there.”

He shifted quickly through the gears and took off with enough velocity to jerk Mary against the seat this time. “You shocked me. Who wouldn’t be shocked? It isn’t as if we’ve got a ruddy stand-in.”

“We could manage if we had to.”

“Oh, yeah? D’you want to tell me how?”

Mary began unbuttoning her blouse.

“Cut it out,” Art snapped. “What’s with you, anyway? We could have had this conversation in Kirkland.”

“We could. I’m bored and ho
rn
y, and I want some fun. It’s too hard back there. I’ve got us a place to go. You’ll see, you’ll like it. I also want to get a few things straight with you, Art.” He ignored her and overtook a truck.
“She’s only gone with him to make Jack jealous.”

“How do you figure?” Art cut in front of the truck again.

“D’you think for one moment that brainless stud of hers would take the time to call Jack at three in the morning if she hadn’t put him up to it?”

“Where have they gone?”

It was exactly what she’d thought—Art wanted the little tease, too. Men always fell for the innocent act. “
I
don’t know where they went.”

“Jack would tell you. You can get anything out of him if you want to.”

The thought that Art believed that pleased Mary. “He said Ferrito clammed up about where they were going. Just told him he and Polly were going away together for a few days.” Art fell into a silence.

She had to give him time to think his way through this. Then she’d go for what she wanted

Grass in the wide verges beside the freeway was early-fall dusty, and brown. Dense evergreens made sure the state’s name continued to fit. Night mist still clung to the valleys and blurred mountain vistas. God she wanted to get back to Califo
rn
ia. And she wanted to take Jack, and a whopping success of a show, with her.

“I’m getting off at the next exit,” Art announced. “We’re going home. With any luck, Jacko won’t even notice we took his ruddy car.”

“We’re not getting off.”

“The hell we’re not, gal.”

“If you do, I’ll tell Jack.”

He started to brake again.

“Get your foot off it,” she told him calmly. “And quit panicking. We’re going to pull this off. By the time we’ve finished we’ll have everything we want.”

The corner of his eye twitched. “I think we should get back to Kirkland. The shit’s going to hit the fan over this. We need to be there to protect our interests.”

“My interests are just fine,” she told him, wishing she could believe it. “And if you stick with me, yours will be fine, too.”

“Spit it out, Mary. I’m not a game player. You know that.” She pulled her blouse free of her skirt and opened one side. Concentrating on what she did she tucked the soft fabric back,
Art looked at her, then back at the road. His throat jerked. “Cover that up,” he said but his voice broke. “Any ruddy trucker’d get an eyeful.”

She stroked her naked breast. “Those poor men must get so bored. I’m just doing a little charity work.”

Art’s hands tightened on the wheel until his knuckles turned white. “What do you want?”

“I want you to do exactly what I tell you. Whatever I tell you.”

He glanced at her breast again and shifted in his seat. He checked the rearview mirror. “Button up, Mary. For God’s sake.”

Her response was to push the other side of her blouse away. She tilted her head back again and rested her right arm along the window rim.

“This guy’s going to overtake us.”

“Not if you speed up, lover.”

Promptly, Art swerved into the fast lane. “Damn it, you’re giving me a hard-on that won’t quit.”

“I’ve already done that.” She grinned, and cupped him. “Ooh, maybe we won’t make it to that place I told you about.”

“Do up your blouse.”

“Make me.”

“I’m driving the damn car.”

“The fuckmobile,” Mary said, and laughed aloud. She sobered just as quickly. Business first, then on with the good times. “Jack and I have done it plenty in this car, I’ll show you how in a minute.”

On a downhill grade, the truck drew level, and Mary looked up at the driver. He stared straight ahead.

“You are sick,” Art said with feeling. “You can’t stop yourself can you?”

“And you’re a little choirboy,” she said sweetly. “A choirboy who enjoys target practice, among other things.”

The trucker glanced down. Mary smiled and waved. As if it were on tracks, his head moved back and forth between his view of the road and her breasts. He held his tongue between his teeth.

“Christ!” Art said. “He’s going to wrap that ruddy great thing around a pole. Is that what you want? Will that satisfy your ego?”

She sniggered. “Right now he’s got a pole of his own to deal with.” Deftly, she slipped a hand under Art’s arm and unzipped his pants. Her hand was inside before he could try to stop her. “Drive, baby, and be glad you’re the one in this car, not him.”

“Stop it. I can’t drive like this.”

“Remember what we talked about the last time we were together—other than targets?”

He groaned and his hips came off the seat.

The trucker kept dead level and Mary didn’t need to see in the cab to know what he was doing with the hand that wasn’t
on the wheel. Sexual power thrilled her. She relished the way she’d learned to use it, and how immortal it made her feel.

She slowed down on Art. No point ending a perfect early-morning drive in a ditch. “I asked you a question,” she reminded him.

His hips moved again.

“Patience,” she told him. “I’m going to make you very happy, but we’ve got to clear a few things up first. I told you something had to be done.”

“Yeah.” He actually leered at the trucker, who showed no sign of missing any chance to eat Mary’s breasts with his eyes. His tongue made repeated trips around his lips. “Look at that sucker. He’d climb right in here with us if we invited him.”

Mary leaned out of the window and shouted “Hi! Hey, you!”

“Knock it off.” There was a threat in Art’s voice this time, and she remembered how mean he could be.

The truck window rolled down, and the man inside shifted his baseball cap to the back of his head.

“Want to join us?” Mary yelled.

He laughed.

She abandoned Art’s crotch in favor of lifting her breasts for the neighbor’s greater benefit.

“You’re going too far,” Art told her. “You’ve
gone
too far. If we get a cop on our tail, he’ll throw us away.”

“Not if I get him to join our little party, too.”

“This is all part of it for you, isn’t it? This exhibitionism?”

“What was your first clue?” She jiggled her flesh and watched the trucker turn pale. She could almost see him sweat. “That’s what made it so easy for us to work as a team. Art. We’re both into alternative sex.”

“I haven’t forgotten what you want me to do,” he said making a grab for her blouse and missing.
Instead
his
fingers
closed on a breast. He let go immediately.
“I haven’t
forgotten
one detail. And you’ve succeeded in turning me so far on, I hurt. That means you’ll get everything you want before I drive
us back. Everything, and more. Can we stop this madness
now?”

“Soon. I just want to make sure you don’t back out, though.” And she closed her fingers on his pulsing penis.

“Mary! We’re going to have an accident, I tell you.”

“I want you to forget what I said about Jennifer. It’s not a problem. I talked to Jack about it, and he says she’s so ugly, he has to screw her in the dark.”

“The
guy in the truck’s beating off
.”

“Really?”

“How can he do that and drive that thing?”

“Talented, I
guess. Or desperate. Don’t think about what I’m doing. I’m only making sure we don’t have to waste any time when we get where we’re going.”

“You don’t have any proof Jack’s sleeping with Jen.”

“I
have proof. I told you I did weeks ago. It mattered then, it doesn’t now.”

“
I
thought you were afraid it could get in the way of the show.”

“No way. I was wrong about that. I wasn’t wrong to worry about his infatuation with Polly. She’s the real threat. He’s trying to squeeze me out because of her. He’s sleeping with her, too, but he’s not admitting it. You should have seen him after that call. He was a madman.”

“You’ve finished the trucker. He’s pulling off.”

Mary waved to the man again and blew him a kiss. “My good deed for the day. You should have seen the way Jack performed after that call this morning. Like a rabbit. I don’t want any of that wasted on that colorless little nothing. And I don’t want her working on him to get me off the show.”

“Why would she do that?”

“Because she wants him all to herself. And he’s told her he doesn’t need me, that he’s the brain and the talent—as well as the money—behind the whole production.”

“This show means everything to me, too,” Art said. He covered her hand and squeezed it, and shuddered. “Jen and me need
Polly’
s Place.
We never had it so good before.”

“You mean you never had it so good before you had me,” she told him, doing her own
squeezing. “When I told you to
send Jennifer away, you said you would.”

The Mercedes slowed gradually. Art let the vehicle float into the slow lane. The truck was way b
ack now, on the wide shoulder.
“I agreed because you threatened to tell Jack about us if I didn’t.”