Night Hunter (25 page)

“
Dobos’ will be honored to have the company of one so noble.”

“
Not a pickup?”

“
I was referring to myself. I’m practically family to them.”

She laughed then, one of those deep, throaty laughs that sound sexy, yet genuine.

She took the lead.

As they walked through the main lobby, John noticed a tall, slim man, good looking in that sculptured, impeccable way of a model, standing at the main door. The man openly stared at Regina as she stopped to exchange words with the receptionist. An ex-lover, John wondered? Such intense glaring could only come from a jealous ex-lover or a misogynist.

The man opened the door for them, and as she passed him, he said, “We need to talk.”

Her response was a quick nod.

Out on the sidewalk John asked, “Who was that?”

“
Nolan Lake.”

Donna’s husband. Curious.

They crossed Van Ness and began walking north.

The heat wave had broken the day before and everything was back to normal, a cool sixty-one degrees with clear skies.

“
I’ve often thought about walking to work,” she said. “Especially when the weather’s this great. It’s only six blocks, but somehow I never allow myself enough time. Where do you tend bar?”

“
Across the street from where we’ll be having lunch.”

She was silent and he sensed some of the mysteries were coming together for her, such as his being in the station the day of the acid attack, and the cops at his door—simple enough to explain. It was the other coincidence that would be tougher to swallow. How would he explain his being a suspect in Corinne’s assault? All in good time.

“
We have a mutual friend,” he said.

“
Oh?”

“
Wilma Axelrod.”

“
Wilma ...
of course. It’s Greenwood now. She’s the one who told me about the apartment. Have you heard from her?”

“
No. Have you?”

She shook her head.

They walked a ways in silence.

Stepping in close behind her to walk single file between two cars waiting at the light, John noticed that the sun on her hair made it shine like semiprecious metals—copper and bronze. He marveled at how the intricate braid seemed to alternate between plaits of brown, red, and gold. He was reminded of Black Hills gold.

She stopped suddenly and John nearly ran into her.

She looked perplexed. “Isn’t this it?” She tipped her head at the black metal door on the corner.

Somewhat flustered he said, “This is it.” He went ahead to open the door. “Prepare to be fussed over. Louie fancies himself a ladies’ man, and any friend of mine is a friend of the Dobos family.”

The interior was cool and dim. The pungent aroma of cabbage, and unknown aromas—rich, spicy, hearty, and sweet—permeated heavily in the air.

Louie came bounding out of the kitchen, a broad smile on his round face, his arms open. The smile diminished with each advancing step, until, reaching them at last, his face was somber and his arms hung at his sides.

“
John, so good to see you,” Louie said formally, his eyes darting to Regina.

“
How’s it going, Louie? I brought a friend, Regina Van Raven.”

Louie nodded. “You want lunch?”

“
Lunch would be good.”

Although there were several empty booths, Louie took
them to a table in the middle of the room.

“
May we have a booth, Louie?”

Louie pointed at one. “There. Sit wherever you like.” He left them and moved behind the bar.

John waited until Regina was seated before excusing himself and going to the bar.

“
Lou, what’s going on? You’re acting like I brought in the food and health inspector.” Louie stared over John’s shoulder. John turned, following his gaze. Suddenly it all made sense. Ilona stood in the archway that led to the restrooms. Ilona, the pretty, young refugee who wanted to be an American wife.

How far was this crap going to go? Twice this week, Mrs. Dobos had brought Ilona to his aunt’s for a visit. Good manners had dictated that he join them for a cup of coffee, at which time Ilona’s knee repeatedly had found his under the dining room table. So far he’d been able to put off his aunt’s suggestion that he take Ilona out. But he knew it was only a matter of time before they would be pushed together.

It was obvious he wasn’t going to make any points here today. But then points had not been on his agenda. He had serious business to talk over with Regina Van Raven, and old friends gushing over him would only be a distraction.

“
I’ll take the lady and go,” John said to Louie.

Louie grabbed John’s sleeve, looked appropriately shamed. His grin was anything but happy. “My manners are unforgivable. You sit down with the pretty
hölgy.”
He tapped a finger at John’s chest. “You are like family, my Johnnie.”

“
That’s what I told the lady. Right now she’s thinking I’m either a liar or a black sheep.”

“
Go on, sit down. I take care of you myself.”

John slid into the booth. “A little misunderstanding.”

Regina smiled weakly and went back to the menu as though totally engrossed in it. She was as uncomfortable as he was, John told himself. That would teach him to be such a freaking blowhard.

“
How’s the lip?” she asked.

“
Lip? Oh, that,” he said, touching the corner of his mouth. It was still slightly swollen.

“
Does it hurt?”

“
No.” Lie number one.

True to his word, Louie came offering drinks, appetizers. However, the corner booth to Ilona and the rest of the family nearly ceased to exist.

Between the soup and the entree, Louie presented them with a bottle of white wine. Although Regina declined, saying she had work to do, Louie poured the wine nonetheless.

“
Just take a sip,” John said under his breath. “He won’t leave you alone unless you do.”

“
Really, I--”

John held up his glass, waiting. Regina reluctantly lifted hers. Louie smiled and backed away.

“
There’s an old Hungarian toast that goes: ‘Bort, buzát, békességet, szép asszony feleséget!’—Wine, wheat, peace, and a beautiful woman for a wife.”

She lifted an eyebrow. “In that order?”

“
Here’s mud in your eye.” He drank, and after a moment so did she.

“
It’s very good.” She lifted the bottle from the ice bucket. “Leanyka?”

“
Little Girl.”

“
You’re Hungarian?”

“
Half. The other half is English. My body and mind are at constant odds with each other. And you?”

“
A little of this and a little of that. A sixth-generation American. I even have a drop or two of Cherokee.”

“
I see it ... here.” He touched the side of her face. “In the cheekbones.”

Sounds of soft violin music came from the bar, gypsy love songs. Louie brought their food. Paprika veal cutlets in sour cream sauce for Regina. A hearty peasant stew for John. She dug right in, seeming to enjoy it. She sipped the wine absently, and when her glass was empty he refilled it.

Well into the meal Regina lifted the wine glass and stared somberly into it. “What do you think is happening?”

He knew she wasn’t talking about the wine or the violins.

“
What I think is that someone is out to get you and the other finalists. What I don’t know is why. Twenty years ago I thought I knew. But that’s another story.”

“
Twenty years ago?”

“
The pageant.”

“
What do you know about the pageant?” Regina asked.

“
I was a journalist.” Lie number two. “I covered the contest.”

“
I see.”

“
It was my assumption that Corinne Odett was attacked because she had something that someone else wanted.”

“
The title?”

“
Yes.”

Regina stared at him, then dropped her gaze to the table. “Then I had the most to gain. The title would have been mine.”

“
But you declined it. Why?”

She laughed, that low, throaty laugh that made him want to hear it again. “You’re the second person in two days to ask me that.”

“
Did someone persuade you to give it up?”

“
I’ll tell you what I told Tammy, which is the truth. I didn’t have time for it. And frankly, I didn’t want it. I entered the contest on false pretenses and I’m not proud of it. By being a finalist I deprived another girl of that honor. It’s funny, but until yesterday I never thought of it that way. I hadn’t realized how important being a finalist in the Miss Classic Pageant had been to the others.” She had a faraway look in her eyes. “Even now, twenty years later, it’s still important to them.”

He stared at her, waiting.

“
I entered the contest because Donna asked me to. I never in a million years thought I’d get that far. I felt like a heel having to turn it down. But I just couldn’t fulfill that commitment.” When he failed to comment, she asked, “What’s your interest in this now?”

“
I hate unfinished business. I don’t want anyone else hurt.” Not a lie, but not the whole truth either. He wasn’t ready to tell her that he wanted to clear his own name and avenge a woman he once loved.

“
All right,” she said thoughtfully. “What do you have in mind?”

“
I think if we find Corinne’s assailant, we’ll find Donna’s.”

“
That’s for the police to do.”

“
To a certain extent, yes. But I don’t think they’re looking beyond this one incident. Call the police and tell them you think you’re next, then let me know what they say.”

He saw something flicker in her eyes. Disbelief? Fear?

She glanced at her watch. “I have to get back to work.”

John asked for the check. Louie refused, insisting lunch was on him.

As they slid from the booth, Regina said quietly, “There’s a very pretty girl standing at the hostess station who hasn’t been able to keep her eyes off you throughout most of the lunch. Am I in danger?”

Without looking at Ilona, John said, “Yes. But not from her.”

The scene was the same. A surge of optimism rushed through her. Deja vu? No, Donna told herself. That had been a dream, this was the real thing.

Her father and the doctor stood on her left. Nolan and a nurse were on her right. The boys were at camp. There was no mirror in her hand.

Donna took Nolan’s hand, it was icy cold. “You don’t have to see this if you’d rather not,” she said to him.

“
Of course he does,” her father said. “He’s your husband. He can’t bury his head in the sand until the wounds heal and the surgery is completed. Your tragedy affects each of us. We all must bear the pain and unpleasantness.”