Mistress of Magic (20 page)

She didn’t answer him. Her fingers were trembling.

She suddenly realized who the voice of the woman on the phone belonged to.

It was Daphne’s voice.

Chapter 13

I
t was almost impossible for Reggie to calm down enough to handle the rest of the day, and yet, with the awful story out in the press, she had to wade her way through it with a level head.

Her first difficulty was in trying to get Rick Player out of her office.

“So you’ll go to dinner with Blake and not with me?” Rick persisted.

“Rick, I’ll go to dinner with you—sometime.”

He sat on the edge of her desk, leaning closer. “Why not tonight?”

“I have a lot of work to do.”

“I just want dinner first. I’m sure Blake wanted a whole lot more. And from the looks of things, he got what he wanted.”

Anger washed over her in great waves. She clenched her teeth, cast her head back at a controlled angle and managed to refrain from hitting him. “If you aren’t out of here in two seconds, I’ll call my brother.”

Player smiled. “And what’s he going to do—kill me?”

“Get out. I wouldn’t go to dinner with you in a thousand years after the things you just said, Rick. Now, go, please.”

He wagged a finger at her. “You’ll be sorry. I promise, you’ll be sorry for this.”

When he was gone, she groaned and leaned her head on the desk.

What had she done to deserve this?

Rick Player had been after her for years. He had never bothered her. He had been after anyone young, halfway attractive and female for those same years.

Wesley. Wesley with Daphne. That bothered her.

First things first.

She swallowed her anger and pride and began to call the major papers. As always she started with Fran Rainier. She tried to make light of the entire thing at first, but then she heard Fran sigh deeply.

“So just what is going on down there?”

“Someone is playing tricks in the shops,” Reggie admitted after a moment. “Fran, honestly, there is no ghost running around the park.” She hesitated. “Fran, why don’t you come down here? A working vacation. We’ll put you up at—” She hesitated. The park owned three lodging facilities. Which would Fran like the best? “I know! You could bring your grandsons. We’ll give you a little suite at the Plesiosaur Pad. The kids will love it. I don’t know if you’ve seen it or not, but it has one of those theme pools. There’s a water slide that resembles the Loch Ness monster, and all kinds of wonderful things—”

“And you’re bribing me,” Fran told her firmly.

“Yes, of course. Fran, I’ve never asked you not to print anything that was true. And if you’re here, you’ll know what is happening firsthand. And—and anything I get that I can give you, I’ll make exclusive until the other papers pick it up from you.”

“I’ll be there just as soon as I can round up the boys. The place has a golf course, I assume? If you’re bribing me, I want it first class all the way.”

“Aye, there’ll be a wee golf course!” Reggie promised. “We’ll have you in the concierge tower and you’ll just love it, I promise.”

“And I get an exclusive, right?”

“Right,” Reggie promised.

“I’ll be there tonight.”

Reggie pushed the disconnect button, then started to dial the hotel to make the arrangements. She pushed the button again. She’d run over to the hotel herself. She started dialing again, this time gritting her teeth when she heard the voice on the other end.

“Ozzie Daniels here.”

Reggie could picture him. He was of medium height and medium build. He couldn’t have been more than thirty-five or forty, and he might even have been an attractive man, but his face was hard and unfriendly. He reminded her of a wolverine. Vicious and dangerous, in his way.

“Mr. Daniels,” she said coolly. “This is Regina Delaney. I’m ever so curious about where you came up with this absurd story about ghosts in our park.”

She heard a soft chuckle at the other end. “It was a good story, huh?”

“I thought that newspaper reporters were supposed to deal with facts,” Reggie said.

“I give ’em like I see ’em,” he told her.

“And if you don’t give them straight,” Reggie warned him softly, “you’re going to wind up with a lawsuit on your hands.”

“Oh, come on, now, Reggie, there are a lot of people who would love to come to a park with ghosts!”

She hated him to call her Reggie. The only person Ozzie Daniels began to compare with in the slime factor was Rick Player.

“You’ve maligned my brother with no proof,” she said bluntly. “You’ve tried to destroy a place that has been a haven for children. You’ve—”

“You’ve never made the least effort to give me a quarter-inch column, Miss Delaney. You think that you and your high-and-mighty brother are better than I—”

“We’re better than the trash you sling in that paper!” Reggie said furiously.

She heard his soft chuckle again and bit her lip. He was so pleased to have disturbed her. “Why, honey, you and your brother are making the trash for me to print! Wait until you see tomorrow’s paper!”

“Wait a minute! What are you—”

“How’d you like the picture display, Reggie? After all, you are picking up where Daphne left off.”

“What the hell—”

“Ooh! She’s perfect, she’s beautiful, she’s talented, she’s the darling of a nation. And she swears like a truck driver!” Ozzie crooned over the phone.

She wanted to swear like a truck driver. She wanted to call him every name in the book. She fought for control and told him in a voice that dripped frozen venom, “I swear, Mr. Daniels, I will see you in court.”

“Court! You can only sue if you prove that what I’ve printed is libel. And I’m watching what I say! I’m watching it very carefully. But I’ll tell you what. Let’s have dinner. We’ll talk.”

“Dinner!”

“Yes, it’s a meal—”

“Daniels, I can’t begin to see stomaching a meal in your presence.” She bit her lip. What was this with dinner? Couldn’t someone be original and suggest breakfast? Or was dinner just the best meal because people usually went home after it, and because it could last forever?

“Then maybe you shouldn’t eat,” Ozzie said bitterly. “Cut me some slack. Maybe I could print better things if I got something from you now and then.”

“Mr. Daniels—”

“I know. You’re too good for this paper. But let me remind you—people love this kind of thing. They lap it up. And my circulation is in the millions, Miss Delaney.”

Reggie hesitated. She hated him. Absolutely hated him.

Then again, he was the one who had discovered that Daphne was missing.

Except that now she was certain Daphne wasn’t missing, after all.

And Wes knew it. And Wes had dated Daphne. And he had probably had quite an affair with her.…

And no one had bothered to tell Reggie.

“I’ll meet you at eight o’clock tonight,” she heard herself promise.

“Where? Someone dark and romantic—”

“Harry’s Hot Dog Stand, on the highway.”

A sigh. A very deep sigh. “I’ll be there.”

She set the phone down as if the receiver might bite her.

Harry’s Hot Dog Stand was hardly a den of iniquity, but still …

She felt a little slimy.

It didn’t matter. Ozzie wanted information from her.

She wanted information from Ozzie.

Reggie spent most of the morning torn between an awful chill and a red hot fury.

She’d been falling in love.

No.

She was in love. And everything about him had seemed wonderful. That was why it was so terrible to feel betrayed to the core. She had loved him, did love him, hated him …

There could be an explanation, she tried to tell herself. What explanation could there be? Pictures could tell stories more vividly than words. And there he was in that picture, handsome—and apparently even charming!—with Daphne on his arm.

Argh!

Making it through the day was pure torture.

Being a dinosaur was pure torture.

She tried to tell herself that there was a very positive side to this whole affair. Daphne was alive, she was certain. That was positive. It was wonderful. Max couldn’t be guilty of murder.

But Wes was guilty of—something!

After her stint as a dinosaur Reggie hurried over to the hotel to make the arrangements for Fran Rainier. Dierdre’s DinoLand owned the property and fifty percent interest in the hotel while a large chain held the other half interest as a silent partner. She and Max had always liked the arrangement because they were good at the creative part of management, while the hotel people really knew their stuff. She’d learned a bit about the hotel and restaurant business because of their association. One of the things she had learned was that graciousness was a must—and that it was true, even when a customer was wrong, or way out of line at the very least, the customer had to be considered right.

At the hotel, they bent over backward for the comfort of the guests.

Reggie took a minute to admire the pool. She and Max had done the preliminary sketches—then the pool people had taken over. It was really a watery wonderland. There was a sand pool with tropical fish, and there was the theme pool where little dinosaurs with caps like those on the Loch Ness monster arose from the watery depths to shoot sprays of water at frolicking children.

There was a quieter lap pool, and there was the sports pool, a large rectangular creation with volleyball nets and basketball hoops and all kinds of sports-oriented enticements.

She made a mental note that when things were all over, when Max was in the clear and when Wes Blake was in a plane heading for San Francisco—and when she’d had a chance to dump a gallon of ice water on Daphne’s head—she’d spend a week here herself.

In the concierge tower she made the arrangements for Fran. Jeannie Talmadge, the manager of the concierge level, promised her that Fran would want for nothing. “Come and see the guest lounge,” she encouraged Reggie. Then, her high black heels making a soft clicking sound on marble flooring, she led Reggie to double French doors that opened into a large room with cozy groups of handsome Victorian furniture. Huge windows opened to the pools far below and the boat arenas on Lake Plesiosaur. It was a spectacular sight.

“We’re getting ready for cocktail hour. Coconut shrimp, conch fritters, cheese, crab-stuffed mushrooms, and that’s just tonight. The buffet breakfast has all kinds of eggs, bacon, sausage, salmon … you name it. And the desserts later in the evenings! If I were to weaken here just one night, I could be rolled home!”

Reggie doubted it. Jeannie was a lean, attractive brunette, a business major, and a no-nonsense woman but still a very warm one.

“So, you’re going to feed her into submission!” Reggie said.

Jeannie grinned. “Hey, why not? It’s worth a try. Besides, it’s not bribery—it’s the way we treat all our guests. And I don’t think we need to bribe Fran. Fran believes in the magic, and she knows what you and Max have done.”

“Thanks!” Reggie told her. “She’s coming in tonight sometime. I’ll call her early in the morning to see her.”

“Why don’t you just come here?”

“That’s not a bad idea. Tell her I’ll meet her here in the morning. About eight, if that’s not too early for her. If it is, she can call me at home—er, no.” She had a dinner date at eight. At Harry’s Hot Dog Stand. She might not be home until late.

And then there was the matter of Wes Blake.…

Just thinking of him brought a trembling to her fingers and a downward plunge to her heart. How could he betray her so? And Max?

Just what was going on?

She closed her eyes, remembering his words. Love was what mattered. Love was what mattered.…

Children mattered. She knew, because she knew how badly she wanted her own. She knew how badly she had wanted them with Caleb. Children were wonderful. They were the real magic of the world.

But Wes hadn’t seemed to care. He’d sounded as if he doubted anyone could love an adopted child any the less.

The love was what mattered.…

As if love really existed.

And if she dared to think of the days and nights gone past between them, she would make herself crazy.

“Reggie?”

Jeannie was looking at her with a concerned frown. “Sorry! There’s so much to think about these days.”

“I guess so. It must be just awful for you and Max. All that horrible press. But Reggie, remember, anyone who knows you and Max—or even knows anything about you and Max—knows that this is all just a big mistake. If Daphne did come to harm, it wasn’t through Max!”

“Thanks. But you know what? I have this feeling that Daphne is really all right.”

“You do?”

Yes, because I’m positive I heard her voice, Reggie thought. Because she called the man living with me, my lover …

A man who may still be her lover!

“Yes, I think she’s all right,” she said. “Daphne is certainly capable of a stunt like this. Well, I’d best get going. I have a show this afternoon.”

And I have to tell a conniving, two-timing, devious blackguard exactly where to go! she reminded herself.

After she told him she knew Daphne was alive …

And demand that he produce her.

Wes was seated by one of the saloon beams when the show started.

He didn’t want her to see him at first.

Joseph was seated to his left.

The little boy was eight years old, nearly nine. He was a beautiful child. His eyes were blue, a clear blue like the color of the sky. His hair was yellow blond, a little long, a little shaggy.

And he was tough. Life had made him that way. But despite the toughness, there was also something innately courteous, warm and gentle about him. When Wes had told him they were going to spend the day in the park, his eyes had widened. He still believed in magic. No matter what life had done, he still believed in magic.

For Wes, that was the clincher.

He really didn’t have the time to be doing things on a personal level at the moment—there was Daphne, and whatever the hell was going on with her, to be reckoned with. But Daphne had steadfastly refused to say anything other than when she would meet him. She had sworn vociferously that her life was in danger, that he was the only one she could really trust.