Heather Graham (29 page)

“How do you know that anyone would have looked under my mat? What would make anyone want to break into my apartment? Nothing was touched, nothing was stolen.”

“How can you be sure? Someone did try to break in the night before last.”

Ann sighed with exasperation.

“Maybe no one looked because it is so incredibly stupid and ridiculously obvious to leave a key under the mat.”

“Incredibly stupid?”

“Well?”

Ann started to slam her way out of the car. He reached over and caught her arm.

“Well? Isn’t it?”

“You really do have a way with words, LaCrosse,” she told him.

“Check the closets and everywhere else, Ann. I mean it.”

“All right!”

Ann went on up. She dutifully checked all the rooms and closets, then came out on the balcony and waved to him. He waved back, and swerved his car out onto the road.

Ann started to step back into the house, then noted a man leaning against one of the columns of the cafe across the street, reading a newspaper. He had a baseball hat pulled low over his forehead.

But she recognized him. Mark’s partner. Jimmy Deveaux. Had Mark asked him to watch her place? Why hadn’t he told her? Or was Deveaux there all on his own—for his own reasons.

Ann shivered, stepped back inside, and locked the balcony doors. She hurried to the phone and put a call into the I.C.U. at the hospital, planning to have one of the nurses bring the phone to Jon in his room.

She found out he’d been transferred late during the night into a regular room. She finally got put through to the right room.

“It’s Ann, Jon. Mark LaCrosse is on his way over there to take a deposition from you—do you want me there? Should I come down quickly and—”

“And guard me?” Jon asked. “No, I’m okay on this, Annie. Do me a favor, sit tight right where you are until you hear from me again, will you?”

“All right. If you’re sure you don’t need me—”

“Not for this. I intend to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth. I want to cooperate with the police in every conceivable way. Ann, you were so right. I’ve got to prove the truth on this for everyone. For Gina, for Katie. For you—for me. I’ll be okay. But things here may be changing a little. Hang tight like I asked you, okay?”

“Sure.”

She hung up the phone, changed clothes, and began prowling around her apartment. She turned to an easel, starting to work on her sketch of Cindy again.

She set it aside. She hadn’t had the chance to take any pictures yet. She wasn’t ready for the way that she wanted to work on Cindy.

She set up a new sketch pad, then set it aside as well, going for a canvas. She started to sketch directly on the canvas. Her mind and fingers worked with astonishing ease. The time began to pass quickly. Hours slipped by; she didn’t even pause for a coffee, soda, sip of water, or bathroom break.

When the phone began to ring, she was stunned to realize that it was late afternoon. She’d barely noticed how she had been losing the sun in her skylight.

“Annie.”

It was Jon.

“Hey! How did things go?”

“Great. Listen, I’m on my way over. I’ve been released.”

“What?” she gasped, stunned. “Jon, they did surgery on you! You can’t—”

“Ann,” he said with a sigh of impatience, “you’re not thinking of the modern world, HMOs, sky-rocketing health costs. I’ve been sewed up good enough, I’ve got my instructions, and I’ve been released.”

“You just came out of a coma!”

“Right—I came out of it.”

“I don’t believe this—”

“Ann, I’m on my way. I’ve got to see you, we’ve got to talk, we’ve got to figure this out.”

Jimmy Deveaux was probably still watching her from below. Her bedroom door was still broken; Mark could show up here at any time.

And she’d nearly forgotten that April had told her that she had something to say to her.

“Jon, don’t come here.”

“Why not?”

“I can’t explain now. Meet me at the club.”

“Annabella’s?” he said, puzzled.

“Yes. Meet me there in thirty minutes.”

“All right. I’ll be there.”

Ann hung up. She noticed that her message light was blinking, and she realized only then that she hadn’t bothered to check on her calls since she’d left for the hospital when the call had come regarding Jon.

She pressed the play button. Message number one was nothing more than some breathing.

Message number two was louder breathing.

Someone playing games. Someone trying to frighten her, she thought, when message number three turned out to be very heavy breathing.

She was about to turn the machine off without even listening to the fourth message. She hesitated just long enough to hear her daughter’s voice.

“Mom? It’s Katie? I got a message to call home, are you there?” There was some fumbling with the phone and a mumbled swear. “Mom? Okay, Mom, they said you said it wasn’t an emergency, but to please call as quickly as possible. Mom—I’m back out at the camp tonight, please, please, please, pick up the phone. Are you okay? Is Dad okay? Mom? All right, Mom, I’ll try back tomorrow night, ten o’clock your time. Please be home; you’re making me frantic. Love you. Tell Dad I send my love, too. Be there, Mom, please? It’s just terrible when you don’t know where your parents are!”

Ann sank into the chair by the phone. “Oh, Katie!” she murmured out loud. She checked the date and time by the message; Katie had called this morning about ten minutes before she’d come back into the house. Well, the good thing was that it had taken Katie long enough to reach her that she would no longer have to tell Katie that her father was in the hospital.

Now she’d only have to tell Katie that if something wasn’t discovered soon, Jon would probably eventually be charged with murder.

Ann groaned aloud, then remembered that she had to meet Jon. She stood, then remembered that basset hound Jimmy was watching her from the street below.

She hesitated, working on a way to slip out of her house without Jimmy Deveaux seeing her go.

Cindy thought that she had danced exceptionally well that afternoon.

She’d added a dimension to her costume—a delicate little white purse that attached to a slender white string that dipped very low around her waist. With the right sways, dips, and gyrations, thrown kisses, pouts, and smiles, she’d managed to get the purse very nicely filled.

Leaving the stage, she congratulated herself as she headed toward the dressing room. Halfway there, she was stopped by one of the bouncers, a big, burly redhead called One-Eye-Jack—his name was Jack, and he’d lost an eye in a rumble when he’d still been in high school. He was actually a nice enough guy, which made him a good bouncer. He liked people until they got rowdy or out of line. Then he was sorry about it, but he was really capable of kicking them out of the place by the seat of their pants.

“Cindy!”

“Yeah?”

“The boss wants to see you.”

“What?”

“He sent you this.” Jack lifted his hand; two crisp hundred dollar bills stood between his fingers.

She snatched the money from him.

“Are you that good or is he that desperate?” Jack asked, grinning.

“Why don’t you ask him that question?” Cindy said.

“’Cause I like my job,” Jack said.

Cindy shook her head and walked past him. “It would serve you right if I told him what you said!”

“You won’t do that,” Jack said, “’cause you’re a good kid, Cindy.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Cindy muttered. She started for the stairs that led up to the office, feeling sick inside.

She didn’t want to see Duval. Her own fault. She’d gotten greedy today. He’d been watching her from up there while she’d done her number with the purse. Something new...it had given him the hots for her all over again.

He paid well, she reminded herself.

Still, her palms felt clammy. She didn’t want to go up to him.

She tapped on the door to the office.

“Who is it?”

“Cindy.”

“Come in; I’m waiting.”

He was waiting. When she opened the door, he was standing in front of the window, naked, staring down now at April, who was dancing with Marty. He was tall, powerfully built. Her eyes skirted over him.

Well hung.

Her stomach crawled.

He turned. Saw her face. Smiled slowly, then started to laugh.

“Cindy...Cindy, you just looked so damned good down there today...well, it’s not going to be quite the same, is it? Gina’s gone, and the real thing’s all for you.”

“Yeah, Gina’s gone,” Cindy repeated. It was hard to swallow. He’d sent her two hundred dollars. She wasn’t giving back the money.

No matter what he wanted.

“Well, come on, sweet thing. You’ve been paid. Get on over here.” He paused and looked her over, his gaze lingering on her. “And do it right, babe. Do it with enthusiasm. With or without Gina, I want it good. In fact, I want it better.”

The guy with the patch was on the door. He grinned when he saw Ann—he’d gotten used to seeing her come to the club.

When she stepped inside, she saw that April and Marty were on the stage together. She’d have to wait a few minutes to get to talk to April.

She started for the bar, then realized that Jon was already there.

Surrounded.

Jennifer was there, along with several of the girls Ann hadn’t really had a chance to meet. They were fawning over Jon, delighted to see him, supporting him.

“Sugar, we know you’re an innocent man,” Jennifer assured him.

“I’m going to prove it, but ladies, I’m grateful for the votes of confidence you’re giving me. If you all trust me, then the police will have to see the light.”

“Yeah, just so long as no one else turns up dead now that you’re out of the hospital!” a tall, leggy, blond girl said.

Ann cleared her throat.

“Ann, you’re here!” It was Jennifer who spoke. “Look, it’s Jon!”

“Yes, it’s Jon,” Ann said, smiling her amusement as she met her ex’s eyes. He flushed. She shook her head, still smiling.

“Annie!” Jon said, standing, giving her a long, tight hug. She felt him flinch as she returned the gesture, and quickly let him loose.

“I think they need to talk,” Jennifer murmured.

“If you don’t mind?” Jon said.

The girls moved away.

“Sorry,” Jon said, flushing again.

“Hey, you can’t help the fatal charm, huh, kid?”

“They’re just friends.”

“I know. You really were in love with Gina—but those were the lovelies you painted.”

He nodded.

“When I came here, and watched them, I understood.”

“How many times have you been here?” Jon demanded sternly.

“A few.”

“You shouldn’t have been here.”

She arched a brow. “You came here. Besides, I thought you were going to give me this marvelous thank-you for saving your life by whispering my name when you came out of surgery. But you weren’t whispering my name—you said ‘Annabella’s.’”

“Did I really?”

“Yes, you did.”

“I had to have meant something by it.”

“So I assumed.”

“But you haven’t learned anything here?”

“You already heard—the Jane Doe who was strangled had come here before she was killed.”

“Yes, I heard. We both know that. But, I mean, you didn’t learn anything that would help find the murderer?”

She shook her head.

“There’s something I should remember,” Jon said, irritated with himself, “something I had, something I saw, something that should be in my hands right now...but I lost it! I can’t see beyond the shadows. I’m so damned frustrated.”

“Jon, it may just come to you.”

“But when?”

“I don’t know. I—” Ann broke off. Harry Duval was approaching them. He was handsomely decked out in a silk shirt and chinos. Smiling broadly, he offered a hand to Jon. “Marcel! It’s great to see you. Last I heard, you were out like a light, a damned veggie. At the best, they’d be hauling you in to the clink. You’re looking fine, alive and well—and free as a bird.”

“Yeah, well, luck was with me.”

Duval slid onto the bar stool by Jon’s, flashing Ann a smile as he did so. “It’s been a tough time for us here, Jon. Without Gina. A lot of people hurting. The police crawling all over. That’s kind of bad for business. But a lot of people here believe in you. And we’re glad to have you here.”

“Thanks,” Jon told him. “I’m pretty sure I gave the police the slip when I came.”

“Someone was following you?” Ann asked.

He nodded gravely. “I’m sure of it.”

“Mark?”

He shook his head. “LaCrosse got called out right after the deposition. I managed to get myself released about an hour after that—and I sort of managed to depart by way of a back cafeteria door.”

“You know,” Duval said, “we’re glad to have you back; the girls are all crazy about you. But—you know, you’re not half as pretty as your ex-wife.”

“You watch it with Annie,” Jon warned. “She’s...she’s the mother of a college student, you know.”

Jon was so indignant. Ann didn’t know whether to feel flattered by his determination to be protective—or indignant in return that he might think it so impossible that she could be found attractive here among so many other women.

“I’ve been trying to give her a job,” Duval said. He winked at Ann.

She was startled as she felt a tinge of warm unease. Duval aroused strange sensations. He made her very uncomfortable. At the same time, he definitely had a sensuality about him.

“Ann doesn’t need a job. She’s an artist!” Jon said. “She’s—she’s...”

“She’d be perfect in my book,” Duval said.

Jon was staring at her strangely, Ann thought. “Well, she’s perfect in her way, yes...,” Jon was saying. “She’s my ex-
wife
, Duval. Not a dancer.”

“Ex-wife, and very, very sexy!” Duval teased.

“Now—” Jon began.

Ann jumped up suddenly. April was off stage. She’d been standing in the darkened area to the left of it, beckoning to Ann, and Ann had just now finally seen her.

“Excuse me,” she told the men. She smiled as they both stared at her. “Got to hug a friend,” she explained, slipping away from the men.

April had already disappeared. Ann made her way through the tables in the darkened area, around to the side of the stage. She was sure that April had gone back to the dressing room. Ann moved along the corridor backstage, and hurried on to the dressing room where she’d talked to Cindy, Jennifer and April the other day.