by Norma Lehr
“Heath’s not a mobster. Sure, he grew up in Philly, but that was years ago.”
“So, why was he here playing poker with Trish?”
“Didn’t Logan tell you about him?”
“He’s your mother’s agent? Yeah. But don’t you think it’s kind of a coincidence they crossed paths after all these years?”
Abby shook her head. “They didn’t just cross paths. According to Heath, they’ve been in touch all along.”
“Why?”
“Because Heath was in love with my mother when they were both young. And I have a feeling he still is.”
Renee took a huge bite of her taco and thoughtfully chewed before she washed it down with her cola. “Boy that Trish. She must have been something. Sterling Stamm, Heath, and who knows who else fell for her.”
Abby nodded. “After a quick meet with the dentist yesterday, I have a feeling he still has a thing for her too.” She lifted her wrist to check the time. “Speaking of the dentist, I’ve got a dinner engagement with him. I’m eager to hear his side of things.” She stood, left a tip on the table, and brushed off her tan pants.
“Speaking of love, romance, and all that good stuff, where’s Blade? You think he’s the Love Karma?”
“I’ve seen him. Been with him the last couple of days. We’ve had our discussions. But now I need to be on my own to dig up more info about last Friday night. I need to keep my focus. Hopefully Reynolds will have something new to offer.” She glanced across at the boutique. “I’m going to run over to Shari’s and get one of her pretty tops. I didn’t bring many things with me, and I want to look nice for the old guy.”
Renee touched her arm. “I told Ginny I’d have you drop me by her place after we shopped. Will that work?”
“Fine. I’ll drop you in front. I don’t want to deal with my aunts right now. When you’re ready to leave, can you ask Logan to pick you up? I need to get back to his house and change clothes. While you visit, you could ask the sisters if they have any idea where they think the old wooden place with trees might be.” Abby dug in her purse. “Sharita gave me these tea packets: rose petals, yarrow, and cinnamon. Her instructions were to brew them together and sip the tea. The tea is supposed to open a psychic eye.” She shook the packets and passed them to Renee. “Give them to Dorie.” With a barely stifled smile, she added, “She’ll know what to do with them.”
CHAPTER 16
At five minutes to seven, Abby pulled into the parking area of Copley’s Restaurant. She adjusted the loose elastic waist in her new top. A soft, delicate fabric with fuchsia flowers and loose, flowing sleeves. She adjusted the visor mirror, touched up her lips and gave herself a nod of approval. The shade of pink lipstick coordinated well with the flower pattern. Why she felt she had to make a good impression on the dentist, she didn’t know. Like most of the men around the Palms, he’d probably be wearing golf clothes.
Abby’s speculation blew out the car window when she spotted him at a table on the patio, sipping wine. Against the background of a stunning mountain view, sans his visor cap and golf shirt, he looked tailored and senior handsome. His light-blue jacket and open-collar white shirt set off his full head of silver hair.
He spotted her and lifted his glass in a welcoming salute.
Abby nodded and started out across a walkway of large flat cobblestones set in the bright green grass. She stumbled once in the high heels and adjusted the shoulder strap on her black bag. Embarrassed at her clumsiness, she regretted not leaving the heavy purse in the locked Lexus. With the cat’s eye necklace inside, the purse was a heavy burden.
As she approached, Reynolds rose to his feet and waited. She heard him gasp for breath as if overwhelmed by the very sight of her. “Sit, my dear.” He set his glass down. “My, my.” He slowly shook his head. “You look lovely. A flowery vision. Trish must be very proud.”
Abby had never heard Trish say she was proud of her. She worked at returning a smile. “Well, we can ask how she feels when we finally find her.”
Reynolds rubbed his hands. “Still no word?”
“Nothing. You?”
“No, my dear. If I had, believe me, you would have been the first one I would have called. And I’m hoping you would reciprocate. I’ve always loved your mother, you know. All these years. Even during my marriage and despite having children of my own.” He glanced up and smiled. “I’m a widower now. Did I mention I have twins?”
Abby nodded, recalling the picture of two small girls side by side on his fireplace mantle. “Something we have in common. Girls or boys?”
“Pardon me?”
“The twins. I have fraternal twins. Boy and girl. Both in college now.”
“My daughters are identical.” He looked away, his eyes wistful. “Or they were. Time changes everyone. They’re grown women now and mothers themselves. They live in Florida. Don’t see much of them. My, how time flies.”
The waiter came with their salads. Baby iceberg and tiny tomatoes.
“I’ve taken the liberty of ordering.” Reynolds raised his brows and leaned across. “Hope you don’t mind. I’m a regular here and I wanted tonight to be special. Your mother and I came here often for a late dinner when she was in town.” He heaved a deep, nostalgic sigh. “Not often enough, I must say. She always seemed so busy. However, one memorable evening, I believe it was in the late seventies, we visited Cary Grant at this estate. He was an ardent admirer of the Malones. Your mother was invited to sing at one of his cocktail parties and I went along as her escort.” He slipped a small leaf of lettuce onto his fork. “Shall we?”
Abby nodded. “Have you reopened your office? I dropped by earlier this week and your receptionist said she expected you back yesterday.”
Reynolds didn’t look up, but he did reply, “I have returned. My patients were awaiting me. But I’m not taking on any new ones. I have plans to retire.”
“Nice. Then what? Will you stay here?”
“Oh my, no. I have a place in Kauai.” He lowered his voice. “When your mother returns, I plan to ask her to go there with me.” He looked up, his eyes filled with questions. “If I propose marriage, do you think she will accept?”
Abby shook her head. “I’m not the one to ask. You might run it by her sisters.”
“Her sisters. Our paths haven’t crossed for ages. I’ll give it some thought.” A long pause. “If by chance Trish accepts, you can visit anytime. Stay as long as you like. And do bring the twins.”
He was jumping ahead a bit here, so Abby changed the subject. “Looks like our waiter is on his way with the entrée.”
“Yes, yes.” Reynolds moved his salad plate aside. “I ordered pan-roasted California sea bass. Do hope it’s to your liking.”
Abby took one bite and rolled her eyes. “Delicious. So tender.”
For a while they ate in silence. He nodded at several folks coming out from the bar to the patio and smiled at two couples leaving. “Patients of mine,” he explained.
They were mostly quiet for the rest of their meal until Abby felt it was time to speak up. “I appreciate that you must still be grieving for your friend, but by now you must know about the ME’s report.”
“No.” Reynolds looked surprised. “I’ve been away from the area since we met yesterday outside the station. I only returned this afternoon.” He set his fork down and appeared genuinely concerned. “What caused Thomas’ death? Stroke? Heart attack?”
“Nicotine poisoning.”
“Dear Lord. I predicted that if he didn’t stop his addiction it would catch up with him.” Reynolds raked his hands through his thick head of hair. “The night he died, he lit one cigarette after another. Most disturbing. And him a renowned doctor.” He pushed his plate to the side. “I have known him since we were in college back in Kansas. We were students. That is where we both met Trish. Whenever she came to town to visit your grandmother, the three of us were inseparable. Those days he smoked Luckies, and his brand didn’t change over the years.”
&nb
sp; “So. What are you saying? You think there might have been a buildup of nicotine in his system?”
Reynolds spread his hands. “What other explanation could there be?” He carefully moved his knife to rest against the edge of his plate. “Unless he took his own life by injection.”
Abby drew in her chin. “Awful thought. I’ve never heard of anyone taking their own life like that. Have you?”
“No. I have not. And I sincerely hope I’m wrong. However, I do know he was depressed.”
“Do you know why?”
“Dear girl, aging depresses one. Lord knows, I have my bouts.”
Abby paused and sipped her wine before asking the next question. “What do you know about Michael Heath?”
“Heath? Not a lot. I’m aware he’s known your mother since they were both young and living on the east coast. He’s her literary agent, I hear.”
“He is. I probably shouldn’t be passing this on, but I had a conversation with him a couple of nights ago. He mentioned something about the surgeon having mobsters for patients. Possibly doing reconstructive surgeries. Is this true?”
“If it is, I’m not aware of it. Levine had his clinic in Florida. I suppose it could have happened. If he chose to perform something illegal, he wouldn’t tell me. He knew very well how I frowned on any type of illegal surgery.”
A wind blew through the patio, and Abby felt a sneeze coming on. There must be something she was allergic to in the air. She tilted the opening of her bag while she searched for a tissue. The evening breeze picked up the strong odor of horseradish.
“Good grief.” Reynolds sniffed and turned his head. “Whatever is that smell?” His eyes began to water.
“I’m sorry.” Abby quickly closed her bag and set it near her feet on the grass. She felt she owed him some kind of explanation, but she really didn’t want to get into the protection thing. “My aunt gave me a horseradish root. Seems it’s good for allergies.”
He reached for a hanky and blew his nose. “It’s most certainly strong enough. Brings back memories. My mother used it to kill cold bugs when we were children. At times I was convinced she was trying to kill us as well.”
“I heard it’s an old remedy. Sorry. I should have left my bag in the car.”
During their dessert of sweet ginger crème brûlée, Abby got up the courage to ask if the yellow tape had been removed from his villa.
Reynolds placed his credit card into the black folder. “Oh, you heard about the tape, did you? I suppose by now everyone at Del Oro has driven by my place and gossiped about it. The day after the poker game, officers arrived and fastened the unsightly tape across the front. I’m assuming they searched the place thoroughly. Why they left it hanging there, I don’t know. I am beginning to lose patience. I would like to get back to my place and sleep in my own bed.”
Abby could see how disturbed he was. “I’m sure it’s an inconvenience.”
“However, perhaps it’s blocking my way for a reason. Could be it’s too soon for me to go back and relive that deadly event. I know the dining room will never be the same after losing Thomas. I plan to empty the room. Sell the dining set and turn the room into a … I don’t know. Abby.” His eyes lit up. “What do you think about refurbishing? Any suggestions?”
Abby stood, smiled, and shook her head. “I’m not good at decorating, but I can refer you to a friend of mine who’s an interior designer. She’s here visiting for the next few days.”
Before she left the Palms, and after she located Trish, she’d drop by the villa and introduce Renee to Reynolds.
She crossed to his side of the table and held out her hand. “Thank you for a lovely dinner. When things settle down and you move back into your place, I’ll come by with Renee.”
“Yes, my dear. Please do.” He patted her hand. “I’ll look forward to your visit. Please bring your friend.”
“I was wondering, are you planning on attending the Follies this weekend when my aunts perform? My mother, too, if we locate her by then.”
Reynolds gazed over at the darkening mountains. “It would be wonderful to hear Trish sing on stage again.” He frowned and turned back to Abby. “Perhaps your mother will come to her senses soon and return from wherever she’s gone.” His frown melted into a sad smile. “However it turns out, I’ll be there, my dear. You can count on it.”
“Then I’ll say goodbye for now and hope to see you soon.” She picked up her bag and turned to leave.
Darkness was settling in. Reynolds caught up with her and took her arm. “I’m parked next to you. I’ll see you safely to your car.” He waited patiently until Abby clicked the buckle of her seatbelt shut.
She rolled down her window. “One more thing. Do you know of any town or place Trish might have taken off to in the past? Maybe a favorite vacation spot. Somewhere with lots of trees?”
He shook his head slowly.
CHAPTER 17
On the drive back to Logan’s, Abby thought over the dinner conversation and wondered about Trish’s connection to Doctor Thomas Levine. She thought back to her mother’s visit last week to Starduds. Trish had asked Abby if she thought she needed Botox for her audition at the Follies. Trish said she had a plastic surgeon friend in Palm Springs—Thomas Levine—who would do it for old times’ sake. Had Thomas the dead surgeon been in love with her too? Trish said she thought of marrying him at one time. Had he proposed because he thought Abby was his child? Did Trish say no because she knew he wasn’t?
Half an hour later Abby pulled into Logan’s. His car wasn’t in the driveway. He and Renee must still be at Dorie’s. Or doing something else. Maybe something fun. The night was still young. She entered the kitchen, dimly lit from a light over the stove, and switched on the hall light. Back in the bedroom Logan had so graciously provided, she dropped her bag on the bed and sat on the edge to remove her high heels. As she rubbed her feet, she went over the information she’d gathered the last couple of days. Nothing seemed to tie together. Her mother had either been forced to leave her car last Friday night, which Abby hoped was not true, or she’d staged things to keep someone off her track. If it was the latter, then who, or why?
When Sharita had finished channeling, she assured Abby her mother was alive. Abby wanted to believe. Hold on to the positive thought that Trish was in hiding because she knew too much. Not that she was being held against her will.
Tomorrow morning she would go to the station and talk to Dawson again. Should she tell him what the psychic had revealed? Abby had seen psychics interviewed on talk shows. Some of them had worked with the police and been successful in helping them find dead bodies. The unsettling thought made her shudder. She decided to ease Sharita’s message into the conversation. If Dawson showed any inkling he thought Abby was way out there in La La Land, she would quickly change the subject.
Tonight the most important thing she needed to do was plug in Trish’s flash drive and read the last paragraphs written before Friday’s poker game. If she found something or any clue to her whereabouts, she could justify snooping by printing out only the sentence or paragraph of interest. Then take what she found to Dawson.
Abby crossed the hall to Sterling’s office. His computer was still connected. Logan must be using it. She reminded herself to be careful not to leave any trace of her mother’s chapter when she was finished. Or, God forbid, erase anything of Logan’s. She sat at the desk and plugged in the flash drive.
At ten o’ clock, Abby turned off the computer and removed Trish’s flash drive. What a tangled mess of relationships her mother had. She shook her head. If a couple of the players had such strong ugly feelings about each other from the past, why did they continue with the game? Or maybe that’s what their whole lives had been. One big long game of revenge.
Back in her room, she lay on top of the covers. In the dark, she stared up at the ceiling, sorting out some of the secrets her mother had exposed in her memoir. The question now was, who knew what she was writing? Heath knew. Or suspected. H
e said he had warned her. But had he? Or did he have orders from someone higher up in Philly to stop her?
The back door opened and the house filled with the pleasant laughter of Renee and Logan. “I’ll check to see if she’s still awake,” Renee called. She quietly opened the bedroom door and peeked into the darkened room. Abby draped an arm over her face and pretended to be asleep. It would be impossible for her to speak to anyone right now. Not even Renee. She wouldn’t know where to begin.
Renee quietly closed the door.
Abby lost track of time as she lay awake. Her thoughts jumbled as she tried to put things together. If everything Trish had written was fact, not fictionalized, then she might never return to her old life. Perhaps she had to leave because she knew in her heart who the killer was. Trish had started to name the players she deemed dangerous. Then deleted them. Or so she claimed. But she did name the surgeon, Doctor Thomas Levine, as the person in danger. If she’d truly believed he was in danger then why hadn’t she warned him, or told someone before the night of the game? Or stayed in the Palms and called Dawson later that night? Was it because somehow she felt responsible? Couldn’t face the repercussions? Or had she left because she feared for her own life? Abby flipped over on her side and clutched a pillow against her middle.
Eventually the house grew quiet. Logan and Renee must have retired for the night. She switched on the table lamp then squinted at the small ivory clock built in the base. A quarter past midnight. It dawned on her she hadn’t heard from Blade since his brief message this morning. He was the one she needed to talk to. To run all this by. Get his take on what Trish had written. She reached for her bag, pulled out the cell and fast-dialed. Same clipped message as before. Same brusque voice. Where was he? Why didn’t he answer or return her calls?
Her thoughts flashed back to Yucca Valley. If that had been Heath driving by Trish’s office early this morning, did he have new information to share with Blade? If so, why had he waited until she drove away before he went inside? Or did he have other business to discuss? A personal reason he had driven to Yucca Valley? She frowned. All conjecture.