Kevin threw himself up along the bed, in order to rest his head against hers on the pillow. He murmured, ‘Did I please you?’
‘You always do. And you always have, from the very first time. There’s never been anyone like you.’ She sat up, adopted a kneeling position, stared down into his dark eyes, smoothing one finger over his black eyebrows, and then his lips, and with a small smile of pleasure she lowered her mouth to his, kissing him tenderly.
Wanting her so much he could hardly stand it, Kevin pulled her on top of him almost roughly, continuing to kiss her and fondle her breasts. As always, she met his kisses with equal fervour, but suddenly she leaned back on her haunches, bent over him, began to kiss his chest and his belly, running the tip of her tongue over his body until he thought he was going to explode.
Swiftly he drew her up to rest beside him, lay on top of her and, bracing his hands on either side of her, he entered her with some force, moving against her, wanting to satisfy her. Wrapping her legs around his back, she clung to him, moving in rhythm with him, but he was aware she was holding back.
‘Come to me,’ he breathed against her face.
‘No,’ she whispered back, ‘I’m waiting for you.’ Yet as she was speaking a deep trembling seized her, the heat flowed out of her, enveloping him, and she cried, ‘Kevin!’
Her reaction to him never failed to excite him, and as she continued to move against him he could no longer control himself. ‘Oh God, Nell, I’m coming,’ he gasped. ‘Oh, Nell! Oh, Nell!’
***
She lay within the circle of his arms, her head resting on his chest, her eyes closed, her breathing light and even.
Kevin glanced down at her, half smiling to himself. With her he enjoyed the aftermath of lovemaking as much as the sexual act itself. He was as relaxed as she was, and at ease with her, and with himself, was always comfortable in her presence. Perhaps this was because he had known her since she was seventeen. Like his sister Rosie, her best friend, she was thirty-one now, but at this particular moment she looked much younger, more like a woman in her early twenties, her figure girlish, her skin youthful, her face without a line.
Nell Jeffrey had become very special to him, and whenever he was with her he felt renewed. Every day the city claimed a little bit more of him, but when he was with Nell she somehow managed to claim part of him back, or so it seemed to him, and without even knowing she was doing so. She was restoring him to himself, in a way.
To a certain extent, Kevin was able to lose himself in Nell, and when he did some of the pain went away, and his heartache and sadness about Sunny dimmed. In any case, it was as if Sunny was dead, considering her terrible condition, and life was for the living, wasn’t it? Certainly he had come to understand this very well during the past year, especially since Nell had become such an essential part of his life.
These days he found himself thinking less and less about Sunny; six years was a long time, after all. And anyway, about nine months ago he had started to cut back on his visits, although this was her sister Elena’s idea, not his. It would be easier on Sunny if he didn’t come quite so frequently, Elena had said to him one Sunday afternoon at the mental home, since she appeared to grow more agitated whenever he was present. It was as if vaguely, somewhere in her demented and damaged brain, Sunny recalled that they had had something together once, and that this knowledge disturbed her. At least, so Elena had said to him that day.
Finally, three months ago, he had stopped going to New Haven altogether. Her family seemed to be relieved that he had made this decision; he discovered that he was, too.
But occasionally he wondered if he was being a moral coward, shirking his duty. When he had voiced this thought to Nell she had been vociferous in her insistence that he was not only doing the right thing, but the only thing he could do.
‘You can’t help her,’ Nell had said. ‘All you’re doing is rubbing salt into your wounds. Not only that, she’s an albatross around your neck, weighing you down. You’ve got to let Sunny go—for your own sake. You’ve got a life to live, for God’s sake.’ Her strong words had helped him, and lately he had come to realize that a burden had been lifted. Nell was right, Sunny was a part of his past, and he had to let go of certain parts of his past in order to move forward.
Now his memories of Sunny were of the early years when they were kids. He supposed it was easier to remember her before she had become a junkie craving dope, willing to do anything to get it. And he had begun to admit to himself that he felt better than he had in years. Thanks again, in no small measure, to his friend Nell.
Kevin buried his face in her hair. It was soft and silky, fragrant with the scent of lemon verbena, just as every part of her was sweet-smelling and fresh. Deeply, he breathed in the perfume of her; it helped to kill the stench of the city that forever filled his nostrils.
Nell was such a part of his life now he couldn’t imagine what it would be like without her. But it was odd how they had become lovers so suddenly, a year ago, and after knowing each other for fourteen years.
Gavin had come to New York last October to see Nell on business. He was en route to London for meetings about Kingmaker, which at last he had managed to get under way. His old friend had phoned him, had invited him to join the two of them for dinner, and since he was taking a few days of R&R he was able to accept. He had not seen either of them for well over a year, and it had been a marvellous evening, full of good humour and laughter, shared reminiscences and lots of genuine affection.
They had eaten in Gavin’s suite at the Carlyle Hotel, and when he and Nell left, long after midnight, he had insisted on taking her home. Even though it had been a cold night, they had walked to her apartment, and when they reached the building on Park Avenue where she lived she had invited him in for a nightcap.
While she had filled two brandy balloons with Remy Martin, he had set a match to the logs and paper in the grate, and then they had sat on the sofa together, savouring the aged cognac, chatting about their present lives as well as old times.
As long as he lived, he would never know how it had happened. All of a sudden, she was in his arms and he was kissing her, and she was responding ardently. And they ended up making passionate love on the rug in front of the blazing fire.
It had been a Friday night, and because he was off duty he had been able to spend the weekend with her. Cosseted in the warmth and comfort of her beautiful apartment, and smitten with each other, they had forgotten the everyday world they lived in, their pain and their worries for the next forty-eight hours.
At one point, during the weekend, they had talked about Mikey, who had vanished the year before. Everyone was troubled by his mysterious disappearance, and most especially Nell. After their youthful romance had ended, they had remained good friends, drawing even closer over the ensuing years, sharing confidences as old pals so frequently do.
That night when she and Kevin had first made love, Nell had told him that this was one of the reasons she was so concerned about Mikey; it was simply inconceivable to her that he had chosen to leave New York without telling her he was going away. Or where he was heading.
What Kevin had thought but not said that night was that perhaps Mikey hadn’t had a chance to tell her. No one really knew what had happened to him, not even his room mate. He had simply vanished.
Kevin had often thought that Mikey might easily have been the victim of foul play. Being a cop, he was only too well aware of the frightening statistics—every year hundreds of thousands of Americans disappeared without a trace. Few were ever found, or showed up again to pick up their lives. The Missing Persons List at his own precinct was dismaying, miles long.
Nell stirred in his arms.
Kevin glanced down at her.
She opened her eyes and looked up at him, returning his steady gaze. ‘That’s a mighty serious face you’re wearing, Kevin mine. Is something troubling you?’
Although there was no subterfuge between them, only honesty and straightforwar
dness, he chose not to mention Mikey at this moment. It was inappropriate. And so he said, ‘I was thinking about us, Nell, how we’ve been seeing each other for a year now. Yet nobody knows about us.’
‘Neil O’Connor certainly does,’ she said, and laughed.
‘I was talking about our nearest and dearest.’
‘You mean you haven’t mentioned it to Gavin?’
‘I’ve not seen him this year, except for those few days when I came to London during filming. Besides, you should know I’m not the sort of guy to kiss and tell. And I know you haven’t confided in Rosie, or she would have mentioned it.’
‘I don’t know why I’ve never told her, Kev, or why we’ve kept it a secret, and we have done that, you know.’ Nell moved closer to him, put her arms around him, held him tightly. After a moment, she added, ‘I suppose I should say something to her. We are best friends.’
‘It’ll please her… that we’re seeing each other, I mean.’
‘Oh, yes, she’ll be approving!’ Nell exclaimed, leaning her head back, looking up at him, eyeing him a bit coquettishly. ‘Of that I can assure you, my darling. Oh yes, she’ll give us her blessing all right.’
‘When is she coming back from LA?’
‘Good God, Kevin, she only left last night. But I expect she’ll return with me.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘I’m going to the West Coast myself—’
‘When?’ he cut in somewhat sharply, staring down at her in surprise.
‘On Tuesday or Wednesday.’
‘And I was just about to take a week off, before transferring over to the Crime Intelligence Division. I was hoping to spend a bit of time with you, honey.’
Nell bit her lip, looking chagrined. ‘I wish I’d known, Kevin, it would have been great. But I’ve made all the arrangements now, and it’d be really difficult to change my plans. I have a meeting scheduled with Gavin, who’s flying in to LA from London on Monday for a week. And I also have meetings set with other clients.’
‘I see.’
‘I’m sorry, really sorry. Look, I’ve got a great idea! Why don’t you come out to the coast? That’d be fabulous, like old home week, me and you and Rosie and Gavin.’ Her face lit up at the thought of this, and she exclaimed excitedly, ‘Oh come on, say yes, Kev! Please say yes.’
He hesitated. ‘I just don’t know…’ He let his sentence trail off, not sure what to do, wondering whether to commit himself or not.
Nell sat up, kissed him playfully on the nose and slipped off the bed, heading in the direction of the bathroom. From the doorway she said, ‘Well, at least think about it.’
‘I have. It’s better I don’t come.’
‘But why?’
‘I’d be at a loose end, since you’d all be busy during the day. And I’ve got a lot of things to attend to here, Nellie. You know, personal stuff that always gets neglected because of my job.’
She nodded, and went into the bathroom.
When she came out a moment later she was wrapped in a terry robe and carrying another one. ‘Here, put this on, and let’s go and eat something. Dinner’s cooking in the kitchen.’
‘I was planning on taking you out, lady.’
She grinned at him. ‘Allow me to have my moment of domesticity, please. I made a chicken casserole earlier. Mind you, it’s been in the oven for ages, and I just hope it’s not ruined. Otherwise, you may well be taking me to the local hamburger joint, or eating scrambled eggs here.’
He followed her out of the bedroom, pulling on the robe as he did, and laughing with her. ‘I’m not all that hungry, Nellie,’ he said. ‘But I wouldn’t mind a glass of wine.’
***
The casserole was delicious, and they ate it at the kitchen table, sipping a good Beaujolais Villages, which Kevin had opened earlier.
At one moment he touched his glass of red wine to hers. ‘Who’d have thought that our Little Nell would become such a high-powered businesswoman with a brilliant career… travelling the world and running her own international company.’
‘Me,’ she answered, and winked at him, her eyes twinkling with amusement.
He gave her the benefit of an admiring smile. ‘I’m proud of you, you know, and of Rosie, too.’
‘You should be proud of your sister,’ Nell murmured, her voice growing serious. ‘Her costumes for Kingmaker are quite extraordinary. They’ll knock your socks off—wait until you see the film. She’ll be winning another Oscar in the not too distant future.’
‘No kidding! That’s great! She said something to me about Gavin’s next movie. Is she going to do it?’
‘I don’t know.’ Nell lifted her shoulders in a small shrug, shook her head. ‘He hasn’t told her, or me, what it is. Perhaps he doesn’t know himself yet. Mind you, whatever he decides to make, it’s bound to be a humdinger.’
‘I must’ve misunderstood her. I thought that was why she went to Los Angeles.’
‘Not really. She went to see Garry Marshall. To discuss his next picture. It’s a contemporary romantic comedy. He’s a big fan of hers.’
‘I don’t blame him,’ Kevin said. ‘And listen, a guy who directs such great pictures as Beaches and Pretty Woman is certainly worth being associated with, so I hope Rosie takes it. She’d be a fool not to, I think.’ He took a sip of the wine, and asked, ‘And how long are you both planning to stay out there?’
‘A few days, a week at the most. It depends on Johnny Fortune.’
‘Oh.’ Kevin threw her a quizzical look.
‘He and I have meetings about his New York concert for next spring or summer. It’s going to be at Madison Square Garden again. We’ve a lot of ground to cover.’
‘You’ve made him into a big star, Nellie.’
She shook her head. ‘Not true, Kev. He did that himself. With his voice. And his looks and his charm and the way he makes women swoon.’
Kevin looked amused, and after a moment he remarked, ‘You and Rosie are so alike. Neither of you ever want to take credit for anything great that you do. Believe me, you certainly helped to make him a star.’
‘You’re just prejudiced, my darling.’
‘He’s a bit of a mystery man, isn’t he?’
‘Who? Johnny? Not at all.’ She frowned. ‘What do you mean by mystery?’
‘He comes out of nowhere, makes a couple of records, takes women by storm, and boom, he’s on his way. Then you come along, take over his public relations, and almost overnight turn him into this giant superstar. No, megastar.’
‘If only it were so easy. It’s a bit more complicated than that. Johnny worked the small rooms in Vegas and Atlantic City for years, not to mention the nightclub circuit. Until he was blue in the face. He did Los Angeles, Chicago, Boston, New Jersey, Philadelphia, New York, year after year… you name the club, however obscure, and I’ll bet you Johnny’s sung there.’
‘Whatever you say, you have made him into America’s answer to Julio.’
Nell burst out laughing and shook her head again. ‘No way. There will only ever be one Julio Iglesias. Now there’s a real megastar. He’s also one of the nicest guys I’ve ever met. As for Johnny Fortune, I think there’s a little bit of everybody in him… Perry Como, Vic Damone, Little Ole Blue Eyes himself, and Julio. That’s why everybody loves Johnny—he reminds them all of their favourite crooner.’
Kevin chuckled. ‘There’s nobody like you, Nell. You call it exactly the way it is every time, but I’m not too sure that Johnny would like to hear those words… you’re suggesting he’s derivative.’
‘Well, he is. But he’s special in his own way, of course, and he is the bel canto balladeer of the nineties.’
‘To coin a phrase.’
‘Which I did,’ she shot back, leaned forward and kissed him on the cheek. ‘At least I’ll admit to that, Kev.’
NINE
The house stood on a high, densely-wooded hillside in Benedict Canyon, overlooking Bel-Air.
It was an old house, dating
back to the 1930s and Hollywood in its heyday. Although Spanish Colonial in style, the interiors had been considerably remodelled in the 1950s by a legendary producer and his movie-star wife. To this sprawling, comfortable dwelling they had brought their unique taste, adding fine wood panelling, handsome fireplaces and vast floor-to-ceiling windows that drew the lovely surroundings into the house to become part of the decor.
Shaded terraces, flower-filled gardens with fountains and statuary, and an unusual pool house were the other elements that helped to underscore the beauty of the bucolic setting.
To Johnny Fortune, the house on the hill, as he always referred to it, was a magical place, and he loved it in a way he had not loved any other material thing, except for the guitar his uncle had given him when he was a boy. The house had great distinction and elegance, and not one ounce of pretension whatsoever. The spacious rooms were beautifully proportioned, airy and filled with light, and almost all of them boasted a fireplace—even the pool house had one.
One of the most important things about the house was that it had not been tampered with since its remodelling in the fifties. It had therefore retained the purity of design imposed on it by the producer and his wife. Everything they had done had been in impeccable taste, and subsequent owners had had the good sense not to touch the beautiful interiors and exteriors.
Whenever he was in the house on the hill, Johnny experienced a great sense of well being; it was the nearest he ever came to feeling happy. Many things contributed to this emotion—the obvious beauty of the place, its intrinsic comfort and luxury, its grand history, the fame and importance of its past owners, including, at one point, Greta Garbo. And, not the least by any means, just the prestige of owning the house gave him a great deal of satisfaction.
Johnny had never thought he would live in a house like this, not even in his wildest dreams; it was as far removed from his beginnings as anything could ever be.
Johnny Fortune, born Gianni Fortunato in 1953, had grown up on the crowded streets of Lower Manhattan, and his home had been a cramped and dismal apartment on Mulberry Street, where he had lived with his uncle and aunt, Vito and Angelina Carmello.
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