The Last to Die (44 page)

She flew off the desk, rus-hed to-ward him, and slap-ped him so-undly. "What was it? Did you want ever-y-t-hing Jamie had-in-c-lu-ding me? Was get-ting me in the sack so-me sort of pri-ze?"

"Stop tal-king li-ke that." Ca-leb ig-no-red the stin-ging pa-in throb-bing thro-ugh the left si-de of his fa-ce. I wan-ted you the mi-nu-te we met. Be-fo-re I knew an-y-t-hing abo-ut yo-ur re-la-ti-on-s-hip with Jamie."

Jazzy ze-ro-ed in on Big Jim. "How long ha-ve you known?" ‘’This is all my fa-ult. I didn't know that you and Ca-leb had an-y-t-hing se-ri-o-us go-ing on." He lo-oked to Ca-leb. "I didn't me-an to-"

"How long?" Jaz-zy de-man-ded.

"Caleb told me yes-ter-day," Jim sa-id. "But I didn't be-li-eve him. Not at first’' "Appa-rently you be-li-eve him now." Jaz-zy kept her ga-ze fi-xed on Jim. "Got yo-ur-self so-me sort of pro-of, didn't you? You wo-uldn't ha-ve co-me he-re to cla-im the new he-ir to the Up-ton for-tu-ne if you we-ren't pretty damn su-re he was yo-ur blo-od kin."

Jim glan-ced at Ca-leb. "I hi-red the best PI firm in Ten-nes-see, Po-well In-ves-ti-ga-ti-ons, to do a tho-ro-ugh check on you, boy. Every in-di-ca-ti-on is that you're de-fi-ni-tely our Me-la-nie's son. My gran-d-son."

"Well, isn't this ni-ce?" Jaz-zy cros-sed her arms over her chest as she smi-led sar-cas-ti-cal-ly. "A warm and fuzzy re-uni-on in my of-fi-ce. Aren't I lucky to be wit-nes-sing such a he-ar-t-war-ming event?" Jaz-zy gas-ped moc-kingly. "My God, I'll bet Miss Re-ba is thril-led. Lo-se one gran-d-son, ga-in anot-her." Nar-ro-wing her eyes to me-re slits, she fi-xed her ga-ze on Ca-leb.

"And on-ce she finds out abo-ut me-"J-az-zy la-ug-hed. "She'll be fit to be ti-ed. You see, I'm not go-od eno-ugh for an Up-ton. Jamie wo-uld ha-ve mar-ri-ed me ye-ars ago if it hadn't be-en for his gran-d-mot-her."

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"Jazzy, don't do this," Ca-leb sa-id.

She tap-ped him in the cen-ter of his chest, each punch a lit-tle har-der than the one be-fo-re. "It do-esn't even mat-ter if you re-al-ly do ca-re abo-ut me. Hell, it do-esn't mat-ter if you lo-ve me. And you know why? Be-ca-use you're the Up-ton he-ir now. You're Miss Re-ba's gran-d-son and she'll mo-ve he-aven and earth to ke-ep us apart."

"It won't be li-ke that." He lo-oked to his gran-d-fat-her, tell her. Tell her that Miss Re-ba do-esn't even know that, when she do-es-" ‘’Miss Re-ba do-esn't know yet?" Jaz-zy sho-uted the qu-es-ti-on.

"No, Re-ba do-esn't know," Jim sa-id. "I had ho-ped Ca-leb wo-uld me-et me at the hos-pi-tal in the mor-ning so we co-uld tell her to-get-her."

"Ah… how swe-et." Jaz-zy mar-c-hed ac-ross the of-fi-ce, swung ope-ned the do-or, tur-ned and aimed her ga-ze on Ca-leb. "Ta-ke yo-ur gran-d-fat-her and get out of my of-fi-ce. And whi-le you're at it, get out of my bar. You're fi-red." 'Jaz-zy, we can work thro-ugh this. It's not as bad as you think."

Ca-leb held out one hand to her.

"Get out. Now! Out of my of-fi-ce. Out of my bar. Out of my li-fe!"

''Jaz-zy…"

She sto-od the-re trem-b-ling, her che-eks flus-hed, an-ger bo-iling over in-si-de her. He knew when to ac-cept de-fe-at . But this was only one bat-tle, the first skir-mish. This bat-de might be lost, but, by God, he in-ten-ded to win the war.

"Let's go." Ca-leb la-id his hand on his gran-d-fat-her's sho-ul-der. "I think the lady has ma-de her fe-elings per-fectly cle-ar."

Without sa-ying anot-her word, Jim exi-ted the of-fi-ce and Ca-leb fol-lo-wed. The very se-cond they en-te-red the hall, Jaz-zy slam-med the do-or shut.

''Jazzy's al-ways be-en high-st-rung and tem-pe-ra-men-tal," Jim sa-id. "The girl's got grit."

"You so-und as if you al-most ad-mi-re her."

"I do, in away."

''Then why-"

"Miss Re-ba ha-tes Jaz-zy," Jim ad-mit-ted. "If you've got se-ri-o-us in-ten-ti-ons whe-re she's con-cer-ned, you might as well know yo-ur gran-d-mot-her isn't go-ing to li-ke it one lit-tle bit."

"Meaning no dis-res-pect to Miss Re-ba, but my re-la-ti-on-s-hip with Jaz-zy-or any ot-her wo-man-is no-ne of her bu-si-ness."

Jim slap-ped his hand down on Ca-leb's back and la-ug-hed. "Damn, boy, you so-und just li-ke me."

"Is that go-od or bad?" Ca-leb as-ked.

"Neither. It's just a fact." Still chuc-k-ling, Jim wal-ked down the hall be-si-de Ca-leb.

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Once they re-ac-hed the smo-ke-fil-led hub of Jaz-zy's Jo-int, Ca-leb sa-id, "Wa-it for me out-si-de, will you? I ne-ed to talk to Lacy, the bar-ten-der, be-fo-re I le-ave."

Jim nod-ded, and as so-on as he he-aded for the do-or, Ca-leb wal-ked over to the bar.

"What's up?" Lacy as-ked when he le-aned over the co-un-ter.

"Jazzy and I just had a ma-j-or fal-ling out," he sa-id. "She fi-red me. And she kic-ked me out of her li-fe. For the ti-me be-ing."

"All be-ca-use of Big Jim Up-ton? What's that abo-ut an-y-way?"

"Big Jim is my gran-d-fat-her," Ca-leb told her.

Her eyes ro-und and wi-de, Lacy whis-t-led lo-udly. "And you didn't bot-her men-ti-oning that fact to Jaz-zy? Go-od God, man, you must ha-ve a de-ath wish."

"Listen, this ti-ling isn't over bet-we-en us by a long shot, but un-til she co-ols off… you un-der-s-tand. She sho-uldn't be alo-ne to-night. Gi-ve Sally a call and tell her what's hap-pe-ned. Tell her to co-me on over to Jaz-zy's apar-t-ment and spend the night. On-ce Jaz-zy's had a chan-ce to co-ol off and think things thro-ugh, I'll talk to her aga-in."

"That co-uld ta-ke a whi-le."

''I'll gi-ve her un-til no-on to-mor-row."

Lacy rol-led her eyes to-ward the ce-iling.

He le-aned over and kis-sed her on the che-ek. "Ke-ep an eye on her, will you?"

''You re-al-ly do lo-ve her, don't you?"

"Yeah, I'm af-ra-id so," Ca-leb ad-mit-ted.

* * *

Jazzy swept ever-y-t-hing off the top of her desk in one angry pass, let-ting things hit hap-ha-zardly aga-inst the wall and scat-ter over the flo-or. Lif-ting her fo-ot, she kic-ked the swi-vel cha-ir and sent it sa-iling hal-f-way ac-ross the ro-om and in-to a fi-le ca-bi-net.

"Damn him! Damn him to hell and back!" she sho-uted.

Once a fo-ol, al-ways a fo-ol!

How co-uld she ha-ve be-en so stu-pid? Why did she think she co-uld ac-tu-al-ly be happy? You
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we-re born un-der a damn un-lucky star, she told her-self. Hell, a witch must ha-ve pla-ced an evil spell on you the day you ca-me in-to this world.

The last ti-me she'd be-en this angry, she had thre-ate-ned to blow off Jamie's balls. She hadn't tho-ught any man co-uld ever hurt her the way Jamie had. Boy, had she be-en wrong. Put-ting so many ho-pes and dre-ams for the fu-tu-re in-to her re-la-ti-on-s-hip with Ca-leb had be-en a hu-ge mis-ta-ke.

She sho-uld ha-ve known bet-ter.

When will you ever le-arn that hap-pily ever af-ter isn’t for you?

Of all the men on earth to ha-ve fal-len for-anot-her god-damn Up-ton! Oh, his last na-me might be McCord, but he had Up-ton blo-od flo-wing thro-ugh his ve-ins. High so-ci-ety, Miss Re-ba blue blo-od. Rich, po-wer-ful Big Jim blo-od. Just li-ke Jamie! She'd go-ne and tra-ded in one Up-ton gran-d-son for anot-her.

He sho-uld ha-ve told her. She'd had a right to know. Why had it ta-ken him all the-se months to ap-pro-ach Big Jim? Why had he wa-ited aro-und, wor-king as a bo-un-cer at Jaz-zy's Jo-int, when he was the he-ir to a vast for-tu-ne?

Maybe she sho-uld gi-ve him a chan-ce to ex-p-la-in. Su-rely it hadn't all be-en an act. If he'd be-en pre-ten-ding to ca-re abo-ut her, then he de-ser-ved an Aca-demy Award. Just thin-king abo-ut the way things had be-en bet-we-en them-all hot and wild-up-ped her body he-at a few deg-re-es and mo-is-te-ned her in-si-de as if his big hands we-re stro-king her na-ked flesh.

No, no, no! You aren’t go-ing to gi-ve in to him, al-low him to ¦we-ave so-me be-li-evab-le ta-le to ex-p-la-in away his be-ha-vi-or. You can't trust him. Even if he swe-ars on a stack of Bib-les that he lo-ves you, you can-not be-li-eve him.

Okay, Jaz-zy, stop and think abo-ut what you're tel-ling yo-ur-self. Just who are you tal-king abo-ut an-y-way? Ca-leb or Jamie?

Caleb might be Big Jim's gran-d-son, but he was not Jamie. Ca-leb and Jamie had very lit-tle in com-mon. Ca-leb was to-tal-ly dif-fe-rent. Ever-y-t-hing Jamie hadn't be-en.

But he'd chan-ge now that Big Jim had dec-la-red him an Up-ton. All that mo-ney and po-wer wo-uld get to him so-oner or la-ter. Gi-ve him a few months and you won't re-cog-ni-ze him.

Hey, girl, what ma-kes you think that in a few months he'll even want you? Add we-alth and so-ci-al stan-ding to all of Ca-leb's ot-her fan-tas-tic qu-ali-ti-es, and the-re wasn't a wo-man an-y-w-he-re who wo-uldn't jump at the chan-ce to be-long to him.

Jazzy po-ured her-self a drink and dow-ned it in one long swal-low. The whis-key bur-ned a siz-zling stre-ak down her thro-at and set her belly on fi-re. She co-ug-hed and splut-te-red a few ti-mes, then po-ured her-self a se-cond drink. As she lif-ted the glass to her lips, she tho-ught abo-ut now she'd be-en so su-re she co-uld co-unt on Ca-leb, how she'd be-li-eved he wo-uld see her thro-ugh the nig-h-t-ma-re her li-fe had be-co-me la-tely.

"What are you go-ing to do now?" she as-ked her-self. Now that Ca-leb isn't go-ing to be lo-oking out for you?" She dow-ned the se-cond shot of eighty pro-of and won-de-red just how much li-qu-or it wo-uld ta-ke to get rip-ro-aring drunk.

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Chapter 28

Cecil had wan-de-red out in-to the gar-den se-eking so-li-tu-de from not only his wi-fe, but from ever-y-t-hing in-com-p-re-hen-sib-le that his li-fe had be-co-me re-cently. How h he re-ac-hed this po-int? What had he do-ne to de-ser-ve such mi-sery? Wasn't every man en-tit-led to a few mis-ta-kes?

All the old nig-h-t-ma-res had re-tur-ned. He'd dre-am abo-ut Mar-ga-ret last night. Vi-vid, ugly dre-ams. It ha ta-ken him ye-ars to put the past be-hind him, to li-ve wi' out fe-ar that so-me-day the truth abo-ut La-ura's bi-olo cal mot-her wo-uld be re-ve-aled to the world. His swee pre-ci-o-us La-ura. Ex-cept for the pa-le blond ha-ir, she a tu-al-ly re-sem-b-led him much mo-re than she did h mot-her. That alo-ne had be-en a bles-sing. If every tim he'd lo-oked at his el-der da-ug-h-ter he'd se-en the ma wo-man who had al-most des-t-ro-yed his li-fe ne-arly twen fi-ve ye-ars ago, he wasn't su-re he co-uld ha-ve lo-ved he But he did lo-ve La-ura. And oddly eno-ugh, so did Andr Oh, he knew she didn't lo-ve La-ura the way she did She dan, but the fact that she lo-ved his child at all ne-ve ce-ased to ama-ze him. It had be-en An-d-rea who had de fen-ded La-ura ti-me and aga-in. It had be-en An-d-rea who had in-sis-ted La-ura re-ce-ive the psychi-at-ric help she'd ne-eded as a yo-ung girl. And it had be-en An-d-rea who had ca-red for and pro-tec-ted La-ura du-ring the-se black days fol-lo-wing Jamie's bru-tal mur-der.

Cecil fi-nis-hed off his tea, then set the chi-na cup and sa-ucer on the glass and me-tal pa-tio tab-le.

Her-bal tea of-ten so-ot-hed his ner-ves, but he sus-pec-ted that to-night he wo-uld ha-ve to ta-ke anot-her sle-eping pill if he wan-ted to rest.

He wis-hed he co-uld stop dhnking abo-ut so-medhng that had be-en tor-men-ting him sin-ce Jamie's de-ath. If he didn't know for a fact that Mar-ga-ret was de-ad, that she had di-ed in the fi-re that swept thro-ugh the pri-va-te men-tal hos-pi-tal whe-re she'd li-ved, he wo-uld won-der if she had be-en the one who'd kil-led Jamie. Mar-ga-ret had tor-tu-red his fa-ther, had al-most kil-led him. And at her tri-al, a gru-eso-me truth had be-en re-ve-aled. Mar-ga-ret's own fat-her had be-en fo-und bru-ta-li-zed-cas-t-ra-ted-when Mar-ga-ret was only fif-te-en. Al-t-ho-ugh the-re had be-en no pro-of that Mar-ga-ret had kil-led her own fat-her-and the jud-ge co-uldn't con-si-der that cri-me evi-den-ce aga-inst her-ever-yo-ne in-vol-ved, from the po-li-ce of-fi-cers to the dis-t-rict at-tor-ney, had be-en con-vin-ced that Mar-ga-ret was a psycho-padhc kil-ler.

Laura. His po-or La-ura. She must ne-ver know abo-ut Mar-ga-ret. Al-t-ho-ugh La-ura had al-ways be-en emo-ti-onal-ly fra-gi-le, Ce-cil had ne-ver se-en any evi-den-ce that she had in-he-ri-ted her mot-her's evil sic-k-ness. Not un-til that Ro-berts boy had ac-cu-sed her of trying to run him down with her car.

But that was only one in-ci-dent,
he re-min-ded him-self.

Until Jamie's mur-der
.

No. Ab-so-lu-tely, une-qu-ivo-cal-ly no! La-ura is in-ca-pab-le of uch cru-elty. You can't al-low
yo-ur-self to think, even for one mi-nu-te, that she has kil-led two men.

"Daddy?"

Jumping at the so-und of her vo-ice, Ce-cil gas-ped and tur-ned to fa-ce his el-der da-ug-h-ter.

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"Yes, La-ura, what is it?"

"Are you all right?"

He of-fe-red her a smi-le as he wal-ked to-ward her. 'Just con-cer-ned abo-ut you. You've be-en thro-ugh so much la-tely. Jamie's de-ath. Lo-sing the baby. And now this asi-ni-ne at-tempt to bla-me you for Jamie's de-ath."

"Do you think I kil-led him?"

She lo-oked at him, her he-art in her eyes, and Ce-cil wan-ted to pick her up and set her on his lap as he had do-ne when she'd be-en a lit-tle girl.

"Of co-ur-se not. I know you didn't-"

"I don't re-mem-ber whe-re I was the night Jamie was kil-led."

"What?"

"Mother told me that I mustn't say an-y-t-hing to an-yo-ne abo-ut it. But I had one of tho-se odd spells, li-ke the one I had when-"

Cecil gras-ped La-ura's sho-ul-ders. "Yo-ur mot-her is right. Don't ever re-pe-at to an-yo-ne el-se what you just told me. If the she-riff we-re to find out…" Ce-cil sho-ok his he-ad. "No, no, that mustn't hap-pen. He wo-uldn't un-der-s-tand. He co-uld use that fact as evi-den-ce aga-inst you."