by Norma Lehr
Above the door leading to a hall, a polished redwood frame held his picture and a diploma:
UNIVERSITY OF KANSAS SCHOOL OF DENTISTRY, 1965
Maybe that’s how Trish knew Preston. Same state, perhaps same high school. These two probably could have known each other from way back. She made a mental note to ask Ginny about him.
On the way back to the GEM, her phone vibrated in her purse. Her aunt called to say Blade was trying to get in touch. Apparently he’d tried her cell. “Thanks, Ginny, I’ll call him. I must have been in a dead zone. Did he say anything else?”
“Not exactly. He had to leave Palm Springs for the day. Had work to do elsewhere.”
“Where?”
“I didn’t ask. I felt it wasn’t any of my business.” A long pause. “Are you still there?”
“Yes. I was thinking. Any chance you know a dentist, Preston Reynolds?”
“I’ve heard of him. Does good work. At least he has a good reputation among some of the performers. Why?”
“His diploma reads he graduated from dental college in Kansas.”
“And?”
“I think that’s how Trish knows him. You said she was meeting with old friends Friday. Maybe some of the poker guys were old lovers. What do you think?”
“I didn’t know your mother’s beaus. Your aunt Dorie and I were a bit older and had our own fellas. Some good, others, well ….” Another pause. “Come to think of it, I do remember one guy your mother ate her heart out over. Met him in Miami.”
“Do you recall his name?”
“Not offhand, but give me some time and it might come to me. Senior moments, you know. One thing you should know, however, the police called looking for Trish. Said I’d get back to them if I heard from her. Wish I would. Wherever she is, she could make a quick call. Damn! Inconsiderate is what I call it. Don’t know why I’m surprised. With her, it’s always me, me, me ….”
Abby held the phone away from her ear and shook it before she listened again. The line had gone dead. She dialed Ginny’s home phone but reached the machine. Ginny must have gone outside. After leaving a brief message explaining what happened, she gave her phone a shake. Great. A new phone and it still had problems. No point in trying to reach Blade now. He’d left town.
When she reached the curb, she saw a tall, handsome man with thick, expensively razor-cut blond hair standing next to the GEM with his hand on the fender.
“Excuse me? Can I help you?”
“I think maybe you can. Are you Abby? Trish Malone’s daughter?”
Abby slipped her dark glasses on then peered over the rims. “Who’s asking?”
“Logan Stamm.” The handsome man held out his hand. “I left my card with your aunt.”
“Yes, yes. You were one of the players at the poker party Friday, right?”
He nodded. “I wouldn’t exactly call it a party. A bit disturbing, to say the least.”
Abby nodded. “To say the least. A person dying in front of you must have been devastating. For my mother too.” She looked at the sidewalk as sadness and childhood memories of Thomas Levine washed over her. “Would you happen to know where Trish went after she left the villa?”
“No. I came here to talk to Reynolds and find out if he’s heard from her. Is that why you’re here?”
“Exactly. He’s not in, though. The office is closed until Wednesday. He’s off playing in the PGA.” This studly fella was closer to her age than Trish’s. She tapped her chin. Was he listed in her mother’s little black book of former boyfriends? Or not. He could be a prospective real estate client shopping around Palm Springs, looking to buy another radio station. “How did you know to look for me at my aunt’s house?” She narrowed her eyes. “Did you follow me here?”
“Hardly.” He laughed, and when he did, his face lit up. “I’m not a stalker. Your mom told me where she was staying. I didn’t follow you here. I waited outside the office until you came back to this little red car.” He gave it a pat. “I recognized it from in front of your aunt’s house. The straw hat in the backseat gave it away.”
“Okay. So what now? Apparently we’re both looking for my mother. Do you have business with her?”
Stamm nodded then halfway shook his head. “Business, yeah, right … and personal business. A family thing.” Abby waited while Stamm folded his arms against his pricey, short-sleeved pink and white checked shirt. “Your mother may not approve, but I’m going to take a chance here. There’s a possibility you might be my half-sister.”
CHAPTER 5
“Whoa!” Abby took two steps back and raised her palms. “Half-sister? Are you saying you think Trish is your mother?”
Logan let out a deep breath and rubbed his forehead. “I didn’t say that.” He turned his back. “I’m really sorry. I should have waited for Trish before I said anything.” He started to walk away.
“Oh no, you don’t.” Abby grabbed his arm. His well-muscled arm. The guy must really work out. Her voice raised a pitch. “You can’t lay a bomb like that on me without some kind of explanation.”
An older couple passing by hesitated before moving on. Then they kept turning around.
“Okay. Don’t make a scene. Come on, there’s a deli down the street. We can walk there. I need coffee. Maybe a double. Then I’ll tell you what I’ve heard.”
“I don’t drink coffee. Buy me a chai and we’re on.”
She grabbed her aunt’s wide-brimmed straw hat from the backseat of the GEM, picked up the pace, and suppressed a bitter laugh at this whole scene. Abby strode down the street next to the tall stranger. Wow, Trish! Another one of your secrets. Which one of your old loves did this handsome dude come from?
At the Simply Delectable Deli, they sat outside at a table with red spring chairs under a lime canvas awning. Logan went inside to place their order while Abby waited eagerly to hear more of what he had to say. She drummed her fingers on the glass-top table and checked out the area. Early midday, and the deli was crowded. Aromas of grilled barbecue wafted from inside. At a table directly across from her, four women her age and younger chatted and laughed while they picked at their pastries. Watching them, she suddenly missed Renee and their lunch chats back at the mall. Abby felt she needed to call her but had decided not to upset her friend until she had pertinent info about Trish.
Trish! A feeling of despair fell over her like a dark cloak. Perhaps she’d have some positive news after talking to the police.
While waiting for Logan, she continued to glance around at the other tables. Older women, who looked to be in their sixties, twirled their forks in high piled salads while their male partners heartily munched on delicious looking thick sandwiches. This colorful eatery was just Trish’s style. One of the clerks inside might be able to place her if she showed a picture.
Trish might even have stopped here earlier for a snack or coffee.
She searched through her bag for her wallet. There were snapshots of her kids and former dance mates. After the holidays, she’d cleaned out photos she’d carried around for years. Put them in an album, keeping only the most recent. No recent ones of Trish.
Logan returned to the table and set a cup of chai with steamed soymilk in front of her. He relaxed back into his chair across from her while he carefully removed the lid from his coffee. “Okay, now. Do you want to go first with the questions or should I tell you what I know?”
Abby sipped at her hot tea. “Both. What you know and what you’ve heard.”
He set his cup down and thoughtfully wiped his oh-so-perfect lips. “Two years ago my dad passed away here in Palm Springs. I came back to sell his home and tidy up any loose ends regarding his estate. When I heard Trish was in town, I contacted her to list his place. That’s when she invited me to the poker game to take my dad’s seat. Apparently he and the other three players have been friends on and off through the years. I say three players, because Trish was more to him than a friend.” He paused and took a gulp of his coffee. “She was the love of his l
ife.” He studied Abby’s face. “What’s more, he always felt you were his biological daughter. You want me to go on?”
Abby nodded. “He told you all this. When?”
“After my mother divorced him.”
Abby raised an eyebrow and scoffed. “So. Your dad was married when this great love affair went on?” Unable to hide her feelings about unfaithful married men, she recalled with rising anger how she rid her home of a cheating husband.
Logan nodded. “Yes. He was married but had no children. At the time he met Trish, there was no chance of a divorce because my mother was raised Roman Catholic. He carried on their love affair without telling Trish the whole story. Afraid he would lose her. When she found out the truth, your mother took off and never looked back … until the last few years. My parents stayed together and five years later had me. When I was a teenager, my mother mellowed out about the rigid rules of the church. She grew tired of the loneliness of living with a man who could never really love her and left. She’s remarried now and seems very happy.”
Abby sniffed and stirred her chai. “That’s quite a tale.” She impatiently uncrossed one leg before crossing the other. “Did my mother verify your dad’s story? About you—and me—being siblings?”
“I haven’t spoken to her about this. We were to meet after the poker game and make plans to list my dad’s house. I wanted to work up to the half-sibling bit. Not get her upset.”
“Upset?” Abby laughed. “My mother’s always on the edge—that’s her nature—but she’s liable to freak out when you tell her all this. How do you know she even remembers what went on back then? Perhaps she thinks my father was someone else. Maybe he was.”
Logan was silent for a moment before saying, “Oh, she remembers. She knows how my dad felt about her. You may not know this, but they’ve been in touch since his divorce. She was at his side the last six months before he died. I’m wondering now if he ever mentioned that he thought you were his.”
Abby glanced around. Most of the outside customers had left, and a hush fell over their table. Abby quietly waited for him to continue.
“As for you, my maybe-half-sister,” he looked off in the distance, “I figure only Trish knows the truth. Or suspects it, anyway. I’d like to know. Wouldn’t you?”
Do I want to know? After all, she knew very little about her mother’s sketchy past. “Before I ask Trish anything, I need to discuss some of this with my aunt Ginny. She’s my only family member available right now.” Pushing back her chair she grabbed her bag and stood. “I appreciate you confiding in me like you have, Logan. Really, I do. I can certainly sympathize with your dilemma, but I don’t have the energy to deal with this today. As far as I’m concerned, this is your and Trish’s problem to work out.” She checked her watch. “Since I can’t talk to the dentist until later, I’m headed to the police station now to find out what Trish’s call Friday night was all about.” She looked to Logan. “Unless you know why she called the police. Do you?”
Logan shook his head. “I wasn’t aware she did. I do know that after the surgeon collapsed, she was extremely upset. She pointed a finger and screamed accusations. I think she thought one of us killed him.”
Abby looked thoughtful. “I wonder why she’d think that? What’s your take on what happened? You think he had a heart attack?”
“Maybe.” Logan made a face and raised an eyebrow. “Or a stroke.”
Abby studied the handsome man claiming to be a close relative. “Apparently my mother didn’t believe it was either of those things or she wouldn’t have called the police.”
Logan agreed. “Are you done with your chai? If you want company, I’d be interested in hearing what the police have to say.”
Abby thought a moment. “Yes, I’m done here. Who followed Trish out of the villa? Was it you?”
“Yes. First the dentist then me and the other players. We were all concerned whether she was in any condition to drive. I tried to catch up with her, but she whipped out of there in her white Camry so fast we didn’t have a chance to reason with her.”
“You said condition. Had she been drinking?”
“Nope. Not even a beer. She was just totally in shock.”
Easy for Abby to summon a mental picture. She’d been a passenger in her mother’s car when Trish was upset, drunk or both and had luckily lived to tell about it. Did she really want Logan to go with her to the police station? On the plus side, she might get more information if she brought someone from the poker party. “Okay, you’re on. Let’s go talk to the cops.” She rearranged the brim of the straw hat and adjusted her shades. “You didn’t mention your father’s name.”
“You’re right.” He slid a good-sized tip under a cup. “Sterling Stamm. Your aunt might remember him as ‘Quicksilver, Your Top Forty Man,’ one of the well-known personality rock ‘n roll deejays from the late fifties and early sixties. Downtown, there’s a star on the Walk of Fame in his memory. He’s also got a star in Hollywood on the sidewalk across from Pantages.” Logan’s eyes filled with pride. “He was one hell of a talent and a fantastic radio salesman.”
“A deejay, huh?” Sounded about right. Young Trish involved with someone in the music business. Why not? Music was the Malone Sisters’ business. “Next stop: the police station. Shall I drive?”
“Let me. My wreck’s a little bigger than yours.” His eyes twinkled. “Plus, it’s closer.” He pointed at an older model shiny silver Corvette parked across the street.
“Well, all right.” Abby smiled. “You do drive nice.”
“It belonged to my dad. Sterling—Quicksilver. Get the connection?”
“I do. I do.” She briskly stepped off the curb.
“Abby,” Logan hollered. “Watch out!”
A dark sedan with darkened windows swerved down the street, crossed the center white line, and nearly clipped her.
Abby jumped back and fell to the side, breaking her fall with her hands.
Stunned bystanders stopped in their tracks. Someone let out a high scream as Logan ran to Abby. He lifted her from the blacktop, pulled her back to the curb and held her firmly.
“Good God! What was that all about?”
Abby wriggled free from his grasp and clutched her chest. “Wow! That was close.”
Two women in colored headbands and white tennis skirts hurried to her side. One very blonde woman asked, “Are you okay? That crazy driver should be arrested.” She looked at the other, darker blonde, who nodded and opened her palm with writing on it.
“I got the first three numbers of the maniac’s license plate.” She looked around. “Anyone have paper to jot this down? Did anyone see who was driving?”
Logan copied the numbers from the woman’s palm.
Abby reassured everyone she was fine and appreciated their concern, but explained she had an important appointment and had to rush off.
An older, white-haired man in a gold-striped shirt came forward. “Your foot is bleeding.” He ventured into the street and retrieved Abby’s shoe.
So it was. Abby looked at her bare foot and her bloody scraped ankle. She was shaken and a bit dizzy, but this too would pass.
While Logan thanked the older gentleman for retrieving her shoe, the shorter blonde tennis player squatted on her heels and dabbed Abby’s ankle with a hanky dampened from her water bottle.
Abby was touched by her concern. She smiled gratefully at the three people who had helped, thanked them all, pulled Logan away and headed for the silver Corvette. She ventured out into the street, this time carefully, looking both ways. In the car, she turned to Logan. “I need to stop at a store to get a bandage before we go to the police station.”
“Right. When we get to the station, I’m giving them this partial license number. The bastard needs to be stopped.”
Abby waved him off. “Okay, but let’s not make a big deal out of this. I’m partially to blame for not looking both ways before I started across.”
Logan revved the engine and snapped h
is seat belt. “Abby, there was no traffic. That black bomb swerved lanes and purposely tried to hit you.”
“That’s some accusation. Why would anyone try to hurt me?”
“I don’t know, but I’m giving the cops a description of the car. We’ll let them figure it out.”
CHAPTER 6
Logan pulled away from the curb and started north on South Palm Canyon Drive. “Where are we going exactly? Where’s the police station?”
Abby searched through her purse for the address Ginny had provided before she left for the dentist’s office. “It’s off of Taquitz Canyon Way. Keep going straight a few blocks then turn right on Civic Drive.”
“What about your foot?” Logan gave a concerned glance. “Still bleeding?”
“Yes, a little. It’s a wide scrape.” Her fingers shook as she pressed a hanky to the wound.
After driving a couple of blocks north and making a sharp right turn, Logan pointed. “Over there.” He cruised the Corvette through to the half-empty strip mall parking area. “There’s a pharmacy.”
Abby’s hand still trembled from her fall. “Great!” She opened the car door and put one foot on the pavement. “Is that Trish’s Camry parked two rows back?”
Logan looked over his shoulder. “Where?” He slid from the driver’s seat and went around to the back of his car, inspecting the area before crossing to Abby’s side. “Come on. Let’s check it out. Could be your mom’s car. It’s the right color.”
The white vehicle gleamed in the noonday sun like a marble boulder. All that was needed to turn the white Hybrid green was an attached bronze plaque proclaiming “Save the Planet.”
Logan reached for her hand. “Bet she’s shopping.”
Abby’s anger was building. If Trish was inside the mall when she found her, she’d let her know exactly what she’d put everyone through the last couple of days. Abby wouldn’t let on she’d been worried, but Trish needed to know she had a responsibility to Ginny and the Follies.