Soft Focus

by Jayne Ann Krentz

  She glared at him, exasperated. “Why would Dawson tell Vicky to give me so many details about his business dealings? From the sound of it, he’s coloring outside the lines.”

  “Just another tactic designed to try to scare us off,” Jack said patiently. “All this stuff about dangerous offshore investors who are threatening his life, et cetera, et cetera, is a little hard to take.”

  “What about Vicky’s plans to disappear?”

  “Probably a scam to con some money out of you.”

  “She was telling the truth, Jack. I could feel it.”

  He frowned. “Look, all I’m saying is that we can’t trust Vicky Bellamy any further than we can trust Dawson Holland. She’s the kind of woman who’s always got an angle. From what you’ve just told me, I’d say she’s trying to make a little extra cash for herself on the side.”

  Elizabeth nibbled on her lower lip. “You really think she’s trying to scam me?”

  “Uh-huh.” Jack turned his attention back to Robert Mitchum’s grim, world-weary face in a poster for Out of the Past. “That’s exactly what I think.”

  “I don’t know.” Elizabeth moved on to the image of Rita Hayworth posed in sultry invitation against a yellow backdrop in a title card for The Lady from Shanghai. “I think she’s planning to split.”

  “She’s planning to separate you from some of your money.”

  “Don’t be so negative. Everything she told me about the stalker incidents and those warnings you and Hayden got from Ollie adds up, doesn’t it?”

  “So what? She and Dawson have probably guessed that we’ve already figured most of that stuff out for ourselves. And even if she is on the level, you’ll notice that she didn’t give you any hard information that we can use to find Tyler Page and the crystal.”

  “That’s because she doesn’t know where they are.” Elizabeth drummed her fingers on the strap of her shoulder bag. “There’s only one thing that doesn’t quite fit.”

  “Your idea that she was Page’s femme fatale?”

  “Yes.” Elizabeth gazed at a framed lobby card for The Big Sleep. The chemistry between Bogart and Bacall was unmistakable, even in a simple ad for the film. “I was so sure—”

  “Look on the bright side,” Jack said. “If I’m right about not being able to trust her, your theory that she seduced Page into stealing the crystal remains intact.”

  “But I do believe her. Which means that there was no woman involved in this, after all.” She thought about the report that Ryan Kendle had been overheard arguing with a woman shortly before his death. “Scratch the Kendle connection.”

  “It was always a damn weak link anyway,” Jack reminded her. “The police were sure from the start that he was killed in a drug deal. But I have a hunch that the trashing of the lab is a solid connection. Page probably thought he could muddy the waters that way, just in case I did go to the cops.”

  “Vicky didn’t know anything about that, either.”

  “Why am I not surprised?”

  Elizabeth gazed pensively at Veronica Lake in This Gun for Hire. The uneasiness she had been feeling ever since she had left the theater was getting worse. “Well, one thing’s for certain. We should get some answers soon.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “If Vicky suddenly disappears, we’ll know that she was telling us the truth about her own plans to make a new life for herself.”

  “Financed by the Aurora Fund,” Jack said dryly. “Now, that I can believe.”

  “Why would you buy that part of her story?”

  “Because according to Larry, Holland is really on the rocks again financially. Even if she wasn’t afraid that he might be thinking of cashing in the insurance policy he has on her, Vicky would be looking for greener pastures.”

  THE DISTANT, MUFFLED sound of thunder brought Elizabeth awake with a suddenness that left her tingling from head to toe. She sat straight up in bed and blinked at the gray dawn scene outside the window. It took a few seconds for her dream-drenched brain to register the fact that there was no storm.

  Jack was already out of bed, padding toward the windows.

  “What is it?” she asked.

  “Sounded like an explosion of some kind. I can’t see anything from this angle.” He turned, stepped into a pair of khakis, and headed for the stairs.

  Elizabeth scrambled out of bed, seized her robe, and hurried after him. She caught up with him as he opened the downstairs slider and stepped out onto the deck. She winced as her bare feet came in contact with the cold, dew-dampened wood.

  “There.” Jack pointed toward a plume of smoke that rose skyward in the distance.

  She strained to see it. “What on earth?”

  “I’m not sure, but from the looks of it, I’d say a car just went off the road into the canyon. It must have gone up in flames. Now the scrub is on fire.”

  “Oh, my God,” she whispered.

  Sirens sounded in the distance.

  Jack put his arm around her. Together they watched the smoke spiral upward into the dawn.

  Elizabeth felt the prickle of tiny goose bumps on her arms. She hugged herself to chase away the chill. It didn’t work.

  “You okay?” Jack asked quietly.

  “Yes.” But the prickling sensation did not vanish.

  After a while they turned silently and went back indoors. The house was so cold that Jack switched on the gas fire.

  AN HOUR LATER, showered and dressed, Elizabeth paused in the act of slicing some bananas for breakfast and turned on the radio to catch the local news. The local announcer, probably more accustomed to giving ski-condition reports, sounded shaken.

  “. . . The brush fire caused by the explosion was brought under control almost immediately. Chief Gresham stated that the victim had apparently been thrown from the car and had been swept downstream. A search is under way, but the authorities warn that it will not be easy, given the force of the water in that section of the canyon.

  “The vehicle has been identified as a white Porsche registered to Victoria Bellamy. Ms. Bellamy has reportedly been stalked in recent weeks by a . . .”

  Elizabeth snapped off the radio and sat down hard on one of the counter stools. She stared blankly at the knife in her hand.

  “Jack.”

  “Right here.” He came down the stairs, buttoning his shirt. His hair was still damp from the shower. “What’s wrong?”

  “I just heard the news. The car that went into the canyon is Vicky’s Porsche. There’s a search under way for her body. They think she was thrown into the river.”

  He halted on the last step. “Are you sure?”

  “I’m sure.”

  “Interesting.” He crossed the room and took the stool beside her. “You think she really did it? Pulled off a disappearing act?”

  “Either that or Holland killed her,” Elizabeth said. “Maybe she waited too long. She said she knew that she had been pushing her luck.”

  Jack looked thoughtful. “I don’t think he killed her.”

  “Why not? It’s the same kind of accident that happened to his first two wives.”

  “Which is why I don’t think he’s responsible. Holland is smart. He has to know that, given the questions raised by the insurance company last time, there would be a lot of suspicion centered on him if a third wife died under similar circumstances. The last thing he wants right now is to have the police hanging around asking questions about Vicky’s death.”

  Elizabeth’s spirits lifted. “You’re right. He doesn’t want them in the way while he’s trying to find Soft Focus.”

  “There’s another point, too. If he had murdered her, he would probably have made it look like an assault by the stalker. Everything was in place for that kind of ending to the story. All he needed to do was throw a little red paint on the car.”

  “There was no mention of red paint in the newscast.” Elizabeth was feeling almost euphoric with relief now. “Jack, you’re brilliant.”

  He smiled faint
ly. “Your good buddy, Vicky, may have done us a very big favor on her way out the door.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “If she did arrange her own accident, she picked the one surefire way of making certain that Dawson would fall under immediate suspicion. If he’s dealing with the cops right now, he’s going to have a hard time attending an illegal auction.”

  “She told me to remember that nothing is ever what it seems in the movies or in real life.” Elizabeth smiled. She hopped down off the stool and grabbed the phone. “Excuse me, gotta make a call to Louise.”

  Jack swung slowly around on the stool, watching her as she punched out the number. “You’re going to transfer the money into that account in Miami, aren’t you?”

  “Yes, I am.”

  “Damn. I was afraid of that. It’s a scam, Elizabeth.”

  “It’s a bargain. And a deal’s a deal.” She eyed him as she waited for Louise to answer the phone. “I would think that you, of all people, would understand that, Jack. You’re the one who wouldn’t let me out of the Excalibur contract, remember? Not even after I poured ice water all over you in front of God and everyone in the Pacific Rim Club.”

  * * *

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  * * *

  “SHE TOOK EXCELLENT CARE OF HER BODY, I’LL say that for her.” The masseuse bore down on Elizabeth’s shoulders with the heels of her strong hands. “Most people come in here hoping that a soak in the hot pools and a massage will instantly bring back muscle tone and energy. They walk out the door and head straight back to their recliners and their remotes. But not Ms. Bellamy. She worked out every day and watched her diet.”

  The masseuse poured more warm oil on her hands. Elizabeth stifled a groan as the woman went to work on her lower back. She had made the appointment at the spa with the idea of picking up some local gossip. But shortly after stretching out on the table, she had decided that she really did need the massage. She had certainly been somewhat tense lately.

  “Were you her regular masseuse?” Elizabeth asked.

  “Yes. She always asked for me when she was in town.” The woman sighed. “Hard to believe she’s dead.”

  “Maybe she’s not dead,” Elizabeth said cautiously. “I hear that they still haven’t found the body.”

  “It can take a while to recover a body that gets washed downriver.”

  “A terrible accident.”

  “Well, now.” The masseuse lowered her voice to a confidential tone as she began a vigorous kneading motion. “My friend, Ethel, works as a dispatcher at the station. She says that Chief Gresham isn’t so sure it was an accident.”

  “Good heavens.” Elizabeth exhaled sharply as the masseuse intensified the pressure. “Do they think the stalker got her?”

  “Between you and me, there wasn’t any stalker. Ms. Bellamy told me that in confidence one day. Said it was just a publicity stunt. Chief Gresham is no fool. Ethel says he guessed that it was just a PR thing. Holland never filed a complaint.”

  “What does Chief Gresham think happened?”

  “I couldn’t say for sure.” The masseuse pummeled Elizabeth’s buttocks. “But Ethel says he’s looking for Dawson Holland as we speak. Wants to ask him a few questions. Apparently Holland’s first two wives died in similar accidents.”

  Elizabeth sagged beneath pounding fists. She buried her face in the little opening provided in the massage table and tried to breathe. “What do you mean, Gresham’s looking for Holland? Everyone knows where he lives here in Mirror Springs.”

  “Didn’t you hear? Dawson Holland’s housekeeper, Mary Beth, says that Chief Gresham went to the house early this morning to notify Holland of his wife’s death. When he went back a couple of hours later to ask him some questions, the place was empty. Looked like Dawson had packed up all of his personal stuff and left town.”

  FORTY-FIVE MINUTES later, Elizabeth slithered languidly into the espresso shop booth and smiled benignly at Jack. She set the pot of herbal tea and the cup she had picked up at the counter in front of her.

  “What’s the matter with you?” he asked. “You’re glowing a weird pink color.”

  “Just finished my massage and a soak in the hot spring pools at the spa. You know, I really ought to do that kind of stuff more often. Very relaxing. And informative.”

  He glanced at the tea as she poured some into the cup. “There’s no caffeine in that.”

  “Nope. Don’t want any. It would spoil the afterglow.”

  He settled back into his seat. “What did you learn?”

  “For starters, Dawson Holland has disappeared. Chief Gresham has notified the authorities between here and Denver to watch for his car.”

  “Yeah, I got that much just sitting here waiting for you. In fact, I’m a step ahead of the spa gossip. The kid at the counter says it’s all over town that a man who fits Holland’s description got on a plane in Denver late this morning.”

  “Why are the local cops suddenly so concerned? Gresham jumped on this kind of quick, didn’t he?”

  Jack smiled faintly. “Word has it that someone phoned in a tip to the police shortly after Vicky’s Porsche went off the road. Suggested that the authorities should ask Holland where he was when the accident occurred and take a look at how his previous two wives died.”

  “I’ll bet it was Vicky,” Elizabeth said.

  “I’ll bet you’re right.”

  Elizabeth sipped her herbal blend. “Did Larry get a chance to check that account in Miami?”

  “I talked to him just before you got here. So far the money is still sitting there.”

  “She probably took an indirect route to Miami to hide her tracks. Lots of layovers. Weather en route. Could be several reasons why she hasn’t picked up her money yet.”

  He hesitated, not wanting to destroy her bubble of confidence. “There’s another reason why Vicky might not have collected her money. She might be dead.”

  Some of Elizabeth’s warm, rosy glow dimmed. “If that’s true, we’ll have to talk to the cops. Tell them what we know.”

  He thought about that for a moment and then shook his head. “Maybe. But not yet. Chief Gresham is already looking for Holland. Let’s give Vicky a few more hours to pick up her money and get out of the country.”

  Elizabeth looked at him over the rim of her cup. “Any way you look at this, one thing’s for sure. With Holland gone, the auction is going to be a very small event. Unless there’s someone in the picture we don’t know about yet, Tyler Page is left with only two bidders. You and Hayden.”

  THE PHONE RANG at seven-fifteen that evening. Hayden jumped at the sound. He was mildly surprised to realize that night had fallen. He had been sitting in the dark for some time now. Ever since he had finished talking to Larry.

  “Hello?”

  “The auction will take place at nine o’clock tonight. I will give you the address. No late bidders will be seated.”

  The click of the hangup was painful in his ear. Hayden slowly lowered the phone. He sat in the gloom of the hotel room for a few more minutes, thinking. Then he picked up the phone again and punched out a number.

  THE CELL PHONE sounded just as Jack eased the car into a parking slot in the lot across the street from the Silver Empire Theater. Elizabeth whipped around in the seat, her eyes wide with excitement.

  “Jack?”

  “Take it easy.” He switched off the engine and reached for the phone. “Could be anyone. A lot of people have this number.” He spoke into the instrument. “This is Fairfax.”

  “I just got my summons to the auction,” Hayden said.

  Jack tightened one hand on the wheel and looked at the bright lights of the Silver Empire. The world premiere of Fast Company was scheduled to begin at eight-thirty. Elizabeth had insisted on arriving early to watch for Tyler Page.

  “Why are you telling me?” Jack asked.

  Hayden did not answer that. “Did you get the call?”

  “No.”

  “Place out on
Loop Road, about thirty minutes away. Nine o’clock.”

  “One more time. Why are you telling me this?”

  “Wouldn’t want you to miss the auction. Not every day a man gets a chance to buy back his own property.”

  Hayden hung up.

  Jack slowly lowered the phone. Elizabeth watched him from the other side of the car.

  “What’s going on?” she asked.

  “Hayden got the call from Page. The auction’s scheduled for nine this evening. A place out on Loop Road. About a thirty-minute drive, Hayden said.”

  “So why haven’t you gotten a call?”

  “Beats me. Can’t hold much of an auction without bidders to drive up the price.” Absently he tapped the cell phone against the backseat. He studied the bright lights of the theater marquee. “Fast Company starts in half an hour.”

  “Yes, I know. Forget about my plan to watch for Page. Obviously he won’t be in the audience. He’ll be conducting the auction.”

  Jack turned his head to look at her. “Doesn’t it strike you as strange that, after everything he put into it, Tyler Page would be willing to miss the premiere of his film?”

  For a second or two, Elizabeth said nothing. Then her eyes widened. “What are you thinking?” she asked.

  “That maybe you were right all along. Maybe there is a femme fatale in this script.”

  HAYDEN OPENED THE door, saw Jack and Elizabeth standing in the hall, and glowered. “What the hell is this all about?”

  “Just thought we’d stop by and pick you up for the auction,” Jack said. “We’re both going to the same place. Might as well use one car. Think of it as a little brotherly togetherness after all these years.”

  “Screw you.”

  “Actually, I think we are both about to get royally screwed,” Jack said. “Want to talk about an alternative?”

  Hayden turned away, but not before Elizabeth glimpsed the weary pain in his eyes.

  “No,” he said.

  “You’re not real good with the big-picture thing, are you?” Jack asked. “How the hell did you ever get to be a big-time CEO?”