Where Love Has Gone (25 page)

I had purposely waited until the hearing was over, hoping that my staying might prove unnecessary. But there was no purpose in waiting any longer. I knew I was going to stay. I’d have to call Elizabeth that afternoon and tell her I wasn’t returning as planned.

“I’ll be here, Miss Spicer,” I said. “You pick the time.”

“Thank you, Colonel Carey. Four o’ clock Friday afternoon at your motel?” “Good.”

“Then we can leave now?” Nora asked. “Just one thing more, Miss Hayden.” “Yes?”

“The judge asked me to get your permission to obtain a transcript of the divorce proceedings between you and Colonel Carey.”

Nora exploded. “This is utterly ridiculous! I can’t see any reason for prying into my past. Why, Dani was just a baby when the divorce was granted.”

“The court is entitled to any information that is relevant to the welfare of your daughter. I think you should make it available. They have the right to subpoena such court records, you know. Wouldn’t it be easier to cooperate?”

“Are you threatening that you’ll keep my daughter until you obtain those records?” Nora asked in a freezing tone.

Miss Spicer wasn’t in the least intimidated. She looked at Nora calmly. “I’m not making any threats at all, Miss Hayden,” she said quietly. “I’m just informing you of the powers of this court. If you have any concern for the welfare of your daughter you’ll do everything you can to cooperate. Am I stating it correctly, Mr. Gordon?”

“You are, Miss Spicer.” Harris Gordon turned to Nora. “Dani has been made a temporary ward of the court. That means their power over her is absolute. I suggest that you grant your permission.”

“I thought you were supposed to be
my
attorney!” Nora said angrily. “But all you did in court was agree with the judge. Now you’re agreeing with this—this woman! Must I stand here and be humiliated like this? Do we have to remain in this idiotic court? What do they know about dealing with our kind of people, after dealing with the sort they normally have here? Can’t we appeal to a higher court or something?”

“Dani is a minor. This is the only court in which she can legally appear.”

Nora glared at him, her eyes flashing anger. “In that case, what the hell do I need you for?”

“I didn’t call you, Miss Hayden,” Gordon said in a quietly dignified manner. “You called me.

I’ll withdraw anytime you want me to.”

Nora looked at him for a moment more, then turned away. “Oh, the hell with it! Do whatever you like. I don’t give a damn!”

She stormed out of the office, slamming the door behind her.

Gordon turned to the probation office. “I apologize for my client. This whole wretched business has made her overwrought.”

“I understand, Mr. Gordon.”

“I have a transcript of the divorce proceedings in my office. If you’d care to stop by anytime I’ll have it ready for you.”

“Thank you, Mr. Gordon.” Marian Spicer got to her feet. “I guess that will be all for now.”

We turned and started out the door. The old lady went first, Gordon followed, then I. The probation officer’s voice called me back. “Colonel Cary, may I trouble you for just a moment?”

I turned and walked back to her. “Yes, Miss Spicer?”

She gave me a slight smile. “I’m glad you’re staying, Colonel. And I’m sure Dani will be very happy, too. She was very concerned that you might not be able to.”

“It’s the least I could do. Even a complete stranger would find it hard to walk out on a child at a time like this.”

She looked at me peculiarly for a moment, then her eyes fell. “I guess so, Colonel.”

My former mother-in-law was waiting in the backseat of the Rolls when I came out. She beckoned to me and I walked over. “Where’s Nora?” I asked.

“Gone,” the old lady said. “She’d left even before I came out.” She glanced down the road. “Where are you parked?”

“A few blocks down.”

“Get in. We’ll drop you there.”

I got in and the big car rolled majestically out into the traffic. “Did you call Sam Corwin?” “No. I thought I’d call him this afternoon.” I looked glumly out of the window.

“You seem depressed,” she observed shrewdly. “Is there anything Miss Spicer told you that she didn’t tell us?”

I glanced to her. “No. What reason would she have for doing that? She merely said that Dani would be pleased to learn that I’m staying on.”

“So that’s it. You haven’t told your wife yet?” “No.”

“You think she might be upset?” the old lady asked. She didn’t wait for my reply. “I’m an old fool. Of course she’d be upset. I would. Expecting a baby any day and being home alone.”

The big Rolls pulled over to the curb. It was a lot more than that, I thought. Like whether we had enough money for me to stay on.

“Is there anything I can do to help? Perhaps I could talk to her and tell her how important it is that you do stay.”

I shook my head. “No, thanks. I’m sure Elizabeth will understand.”

I opened the door and got out. The old lady leaned toward the door. “Call me this evening. Let me know if you’ve learned anything.”

“I will.” I watched her car move on and then I got into mine and drove back to the motel.

It was just about noon when I put the call through. “Hi,” I said. “Had your lunch yet?” “Of course,” Elizabeth replied. “How did it go?”

I started to tell her about the coroner’s inquest but she stopped me. “I just finished reading about that in the papers. What did they decide about Dani?”

I kept it as brief as I could. Then I told her about the letter. When I finished there was a silence. “Elizabeth,” I said, “did you hear me?”

“I heard you,” she said. Her voice was very low. “Are you all right?” I asked.

“I’m all right,” she said. “I never felt better in my life. I enjoy being by myself. I suppose you want to stay out there until next week?”

I took a deep breath. “I would like to if it’s all right with you.” “What more could you expect to accomplish?” she asked.

“If I leave now, Dani will think I’m running out on her again.”

“But you didn’t run out on her before!” Elizabeth said. “Didn’t you explain that to her?”

“I did,” I said. “But she’s still a child. I don’t think she half understood.” I reached for a cigarette. “She’s depending on me.”

“So am I,” Elizabeth said. “How do you think I feel? With all the neighbors looking at me and asking how you are? They read the papers the same as I do. They know that you’re seeing her every day!”

I knew who she meant. “That’s stupid.”

“Is it?” she asked. “Are you sure that Dani is the only reason you’re staying?” “Of course, I’m sure,” I shouted. “What the hell other reason would I have?”

“You wouldn’t be worried about those letters just on account of Dani,” she retorted. “You’ve already told me there was nothing more they could do to her. The law protects her. It’s Nora you’re trying to protect. You’d see that if you only took the time to be honest with yourself!”

I heard the connection break at the other end of the line. I flashed the operator and told her that I’d been cut off, then I heard the telephone ringing.

“Hello.” She sounded as if she’d been crying.

“Elizabeth,” I said. “I’m sorry. I’ll make arrangements to come home.”

“No, you won’t,” she sniffed. “You’re going to stay there until the while damn business is settled.”

“But—” I protested.

She interrupted. “No. No, you’re going to stay there and get it out of your system. When you come home I don’t want anything haunting you. I want a whole husband back, not the guilt-ridden ghost of the man you were in La Jolla.”

“But what about the money?” I asked.

“Don’t worry,” she said. “Your V.A. check just came in. That’s a hundred and forty bucks, enough to keep us a week. And I can always get a couple of hundred for my ring if I have to.”

“Elizabeth,” I said in a wondering voice. I heard her sniff. “What?”

“Elizabeth,” I said. “I love you.”

4

__________________________________________

The Scaasi-Corwin Galleries had their own building on Post Street, not far from Gump’s. It was a narrow old-fashioned building sandwiched in between two larger ones, with a brand-new front of Mediterranean brick. The entrance was through a heavy glass-paneled door, just to the side of a small showcase set in the brick like a picture frame. In it, like a jewel on blue velvet, was a small abstract sculpture in welded bronze, glowing red and gold in an amber spotlight. The artist’s name was in small black letters on a white card, the lettering on the door was respectable gold leaf.

SCAASI-CORWIN

TOKYO, SAN FRANCISCO, NEW YORK, LONDON, PARIS.

I opened the door and went in. A young man with a neatly trimmed Vandyke stepped forward and in an accent matching his English-cut clothes, inquired, “May I be of service, sir?”

“I have an appointment with Mr. Corwin.”

“That’s the lift on your left, sir. The offices are on the fourth floor.” “Thank you,” I said and walked over to the elevator.

The door opened as if by magic as I approached. “Fourth floor, please.” “Fourth floor,” the operator repeated, closing the door. “Thank you, sir.”

I glanced at the operator and almost immediately began to feel ashamed of my sixty-dollar, three-button threads. Even the elevator boy wore an English-cut suit.

I stepped out into a lushly appointed reception room. Behind the desk was another Vandyke. “I have an appointment with Mr. Corwin.”

“Your name, please?” “Luke Carey.”

He nodded. “Thank you. If you’ll take a seat I’ll see if Mr. Corwin is free.”

I sat down and picked up a copy of a magazine from the free-form table in front of the couch. It was
Réalités
. That figured. But in French. So I could look at the pictures.

I turned the pages. There was a picture of Brigitte on a boat in St. Tropez. I studied it. Any magazine that had a picture of Brigitte in a bikini couldn’t be all bad. A shadow fell across the page. I

looked up.

“Colonel Carey?” the attractive young blonde asked. I nodded.

“Mr. Corwin will see you now. Please follow me.”

I got to my feet. This girl knew what she looked like going away and she made the most of it. It was the first pleasant thing that had happened to me all day. It was even better than the magazine.

“Thank you,” I said as I went through the door she held open for me.

Sam’s office was like outside, only more so. Fruitwood paneling. Two Matisses with lots of color; one sloe-eyed Modigliani with a wonderful almondy tone; a Picasso that I thought had been hung upside down. And Nora’s bronze casting—
Woman in the Net
—that had won her the Eliofheim Award, standing on a small pedestal in the corner with a single bright spot shining down on it.

Sam entered from another door on the far wall. He came toward me, his hand outstretched. “Luke.”

I took his hand. I liked the way he shook hands. Firm, but effusive or overfriendly. I appreciated it. “How are you, Sam?”

“Fair enough. Losing a little hair but that’s about all.” He looked at me. “You look well.” “The good life,” I said. “That and the right woman.”

“I’m glad.” He walked around behind his desk. “Sit down, Luke.” I slipped into the chair opposite him.

“I was shocked to hear about Dani.”

I didn’t say anything but I thought he meant it.

“I liked the kid,” he said. “She was a sweet child. I’m sorry this had to happen to her. It was almost as if it were bound to happen though.”

“What makes you say that?”

He shrugged his shoulders. “Nora.” “Did you know Riccio?” I asked.

“Yes.” He smiled but it was a twisted sort of smile. “I was the one who introduced them.” “How did that happen?”

He laughed. “You saw my boys?” “The Vandykes and the coats?” He nodded.

“I sure did. I can’t tell you how relieved I was to see your secretary.”

He laughed again. “It’s Scaasi’s idea. Out here it’s mostly women who buy art. It works pretty good.”

“How does that lead to Riccio?”

“When I opened this place five years ago, he was number-one boy. He was very good too.

Women adored him.” “Vandyke and all?”

“It goes with the all-arty look,” he said. “Sort of well-groomed beatnik.” “I see.”

“So did Nora,” Sam said wryly. “He wore Italian style trousers—tight around the crotch, like a ballet dancer’s. Nora couldn’t keep her eyes off him.” He opened a cigarette box on his desk and pushed it toward me. “And you know how that is. It’s like the song. What Nora wants, Nora gets.” His eyes met mine candidly. “Only this time I think Nora got more than she bargained for.”

“Brighten my day,” I said, taking a cigarette. “What do you mean?”

“He was as bad as she was. He’d bang anything that walked. A couple of times he almost got into trouble with customers but he always managed to weasel his way out.”

“Why did you keep him?”

“He was good. The best salesman we ever had. And he knew his stuff.” “How did you meet him?”

Sam peered at me. “Why all the questions about Riccio?”

“I want to know something about him,” I said. “Nobody else seems to. I thought if I did, maybe I could convince the court it wasn’t such a bad thing after all.”

“I see,” he nodded slowly. “It’s reaching. But it might help.”

“That’s what I think. What do you know about him? Did he have any special friends you might remember?”

He thought for a moment, then picked up the telephone on his desk. “Bring in the personnel file on Tony Riccio.”

A moment later the door opened and Sam’s secretary came in. She placed the file in front of him, looked at me and then walked out. I noticed Sam’s eyes following her.

“Healthy,” I said. “Very healthy. I don’t think I could have taken the shock if you’d turned fruit.”

He laughed and opened the file. “Tony worked for Arlene Gately before he worked for me. He came over here when she did.”

“Does she still work for you?”

“She died two years ago. In a plane crash.” “Oh,” I said. “What about his friends?”

“I can’t remember any. He concentrated on dames. I never heard of his being real buddy with any man.”

“How about his family then?”