“In a motel?” Jack asked.
Elizabeth scrunched up her face. “Oh.”
But despite the evidence pointing toward an affair, Jack still had his doubts. “To be honest, I’m not sure what happened. She doesn’t seem the type to do that, especially with a virtual stranger.”
Simon leaned back in his chair. “No?”
Jack shook his head. “I don’t know. Something I can’t put my finger on. But I’m not sure I buy it.”
Simon leaned back in his chair. “Don’t tell me you’ve fallen for her already.”
“Not yet,” Jack said honestly. He did have a penchant for falling for beautiful women, but so far his head was clear on that front. “But it’s early days,” he said, winning a snort from Simon.
Elizabeth took a drink of her orange juice. “I can’t wait to meet her.”
“You will tonight,” Jack said. “They’re kicking off the anniversary week for the hotel with a big shindig. Black tie. Susan invited me. I’m sure she won’t mind if I bring along a few friends.”
“Yes,” Simon said. “But will Santo mind?”
Jack grinned. “One way to find out.”
~~~
Jack left Susan a note that afternoon about his plus-two. He hadn’t heard back from her, but when he reached the crowded doorway to the ballroom for the party that night, the Crosses were on the list.
“So far so good,” Jack said as he let them go in ahead of him.
Once they got past the crush of people near the entrance, they peeled off to the side.
“Now this is a party,” Elizabeth said. “Is that Bobby Darin?”
A smug looking singer crooned from a platform off to the side.
“Bobby who?” Simon asked.
Elizabeth frowned at him, but didn’t let it dampen her spirits. And she was right, it was a party.
There was plenty of food and drink—two champagne fountains and an army of waitresses with hors d’oeuvres and cocktails. On the opposite side of the ballroom from Darin were two nearly naked acrobats hanging and twisting from vines that hung from the high ceiling. There was a small dance floor and a section of the room partitioned off with red velvet ropes where baccarat, blackjack and roulette tables were already busy.
“Just the Santos and three hundred of their closest friends,” Jack said.
“Two hundred,” a familiar voice said beside him.
He turned to see Susan. “And two,” she added with a welcoming smile as she looked at Simon and Elizabeth.
Jack nodded. “Right, thank you for that. May I introduce Simon and Elizabeth Cross? Old friends from California.”
Susan nodded and smiled politely. “Glad you could join us.”
“Thank you for letting Jack bring us,” Elizabeth said. “We really didn’t want to impose.”
Susan shook her head and squeezed Elizabeth’s arm. “You’re not. I don’t know if he’s told you,” she said, turning to Jack, “but we owe Jack quite a debt.”
Elizabeth played dumb. “He hasn’t, but that sounds interesting. He can be annoyingly humble. You’ll have to tell me all about it.”
Susan’s eyes lit up at the prospect and she looked at Jack briefly before turning back to Elizabeth. “He saved my father’s life.”
“Did he?” Simon said sounding impressed.
“It was nothing.”
“I told you,” Elizabeth said. “Annoyingly humble.”
“And a little mysterious,” Susan said, talking directly to Elizabeth in that way women do even when the men they’re talking about are standing right there. “So you’ve known him a long time?”
“A lifetime,” Elizabeth said with a smile.
Susan stepped closer to Elizabeth and said in a conspiratorial whisper, “You must tell me—”
“There you are,” Ronnie Whitmore said as he shouldered his way through the crowd and arrived a little sloppily by his sister’s side. “Your master is calling. Chop chop!”
“Ronnie,” Susan said under her breath.
His forehead was already shiny with drink and his eyes slightly glazed over. He looked at Jack, did a double-take and then frowned. “Figures.”
“Ronnie, please,” Susan said. Her smile remained, but it was stiff now.
He shrugged, indifferent to her embarrassment, and looked at the others in the group. His eyes skipped over Simon and landed heavily on Elizabeth. He smoothed down his hair. “Aren’t you going to introduce me?”
Susan looked at the Crosses apologetically. “This is my brother, Ronnie Whitmore. These are the Crosses.”
“Nice to meet you,” Simon said as neutrally as he could manage.
Ronnie glanced up at him and then took a step toward Elizabeth holding his hand out. He turned back to Susan. “You better hurry along. You don’t want to keep Tony waiting, do you?”
Susan flushed. But, sure enough, across the room Tony Santo was scouring the room for her and gave her a beckoning wave when he spotted her.
“It’s all right,” Jack said. “Go ahead.”
Clearly flustered, she nodded quickly.
“Would you excuse me?” she said to the Crosses, barely able to meet their eyes.
“Of course,” Simon said, as though nothing out of the ordinary had happened.
With one last embarrassed smile she hurried across the room to her husband.
Ronnie smirked and then turned his attention back to Elizabeth. He held out his hand and gave her an oily smile. “Hello.”
Elizabeth smiled politely, but didn’t take his hand. He held his out in mid-air and then laughed. “Right. That’s okay. I don’t mind workin’ for it.”
Simon, who’d shown restraint so far was nearing the end his patience. He stepped forward. “Why don’t you—”
“Get another drink?” Jack finished quickly, turning Ronnie by the shoulders and steering him toward a passing tray of cocktails.
Ronnie followed it, trying to catch up. He looked at Elizabeth over his shoulder and gave her a wink. “Catch you later.”
“Wow,” Elizabeth said. “That was sad.”
Simon grunted.
Jack watched Ronnie take another drink from the tray and wander off. “Ronnie’s troubled.”
“Well, yeah,” Elizabeth said. “But I was talking about Susan.”
Jack followed her gaze and watched as she played the dutiful and deferential wife.
“Yeah,” Jack said sadly. “Welcome to 1960.”
Simon, tall enough to see over most everyone there, craned his neck to scan the crowd. “Is Whitmore here? The less intolerable one?”
Jack looked around. “If Ronnie’s here, I’m sure Carson is. Let’s try this way.”
Jack led them around the perimeter of the room, away from the spectacle. The floorshow wasn’t Whitmore’s style. He was a more of an “off to the side talking business” type and that’s just where they found him.
Whitmore stood in a corner of the room deep in conversation with a tall man in his mid-forties, but he had the look of an older man. He was hard, hawk nosed and angry.
“He thinks he can do what he damned well pleases,” the man said. “He’s gonna learn a lesson the hard way, if he thinks he can push Beldon Katleman around. I’ll tell you that right now.”
Whitmore nodded. “Yup. They came in like they owned it.” He jabbed his finger at his own chest and thumped his friend on the chest. “We owned it. And we still do.”
“Damn right.”
Whitmore noticed Jack and the others approaching. “Threats don’t move men like us. If he gives you any more trouble, you let me know, Bel.”
Katleman grunted and stuck a toothpick into the corner of his mouth. He glanced over at Jack, but seemed to look through him as he stalked away, still angry.
Unlike his friend, Whitmore shook off the conversation and smiled broadly, holding out his hand. “Good to see you. I thought Bel’s might be the only friendly face here tonight.”
Jack said his hellos and introduced him to
Simon and Elizabeth.
Whitmore’s grin was broad and genuine. “Any friend of Jack’s.”
“They’re interested in business opportunities in town. Maybe a little land.”
Whitmore smiled at Jack, curious and maybe a little hopeful, then turned and shook Simon’s hand. “Is that right?”
“I’ve heard the town is poised for growth and that you were the man to talk to,” Simon said and Whitmore’s smile faded.
“You’re English?”
His eyes hardened as if he’d just learned Simon had leprosy.
“I’m afraid so,” Simon said, trying to play it off as a joke, but it didn’t seem to be.
“Don’t let it throw you,” Elizabeth said. “He’s more American now than most Yankees I know.”
Whitmore chuckled at that and then turned his attention to her. “Is that a little bit of Texas I hear or am I just dreamin’?”
“Plainview born and mostly raised.”
Jack tried not to smile. She did genuinely have a Texas accent, but she was knee-deep in the South right now. Whatever she was doing it was working. Whitmore’s instant freeze was starting to thaw.
Whitmore nodded, pleased, and then looked at Simon. He was still skeptical of him for some reason, but willing to overlook it. “All right then. So you’re looking for a little piece of land to call your own?”
“Not exactly,” Simon said. “More of an investment.”
Whitmore grinned again. “Well then,” he said and clapped Simon on the shoulder. “Why don’t we get you a drink? You don’t mind if I steal your husband for a few minutes? Talk business. Don’t want to bore you.”
Elizabeth smiled and shook her head. “You two go ahead.” She put her hand to her temple. “Numbers,” she said and then playfully grimaced. “They give me such a headache.”
Simon snorted and barely managed to cover it with a cough.
Whitmore slapped him hard on the back again. “Let’s get you that drink, son.”
Jack chuckled as Whitmore led Simon away, leaving him alone with Elizabeth. “Well corn my pone and chit my chitlins,” he said with a terrible Southern accent.
“It worked, didn’t it?” she said with a wink.
Jack shrugged. “At least we’ve got him interested.”
She nodded and looked around at the crowd. She jabbed him in the ribs with her elbow.
“Ow,” he said and held his side.
Elizabeth rolled her eyes and then looked across the room. “Is that the reporter and the photographer you were talking about?”
Jepson and Baxter were talking to a couple not far away. Baxter stepped back, held up his flash and took a picture.
Jack nodded. “That’s them.”
Baxter was busy taking pictures now, but Jepson seemed distracted. Jack followed his eyes. It wasn’t a surprise where it stopped. Susan.
She was standing off to the side alone for a moment, when John Marshall came up to her. She started at his sudden appearance and looked for someone, probably Tony. Marshall said something to her and she blanched, but nodded.
The whole exchange couldn’t have taken more than a minute, but she was visibly shaken by it. Jack could see her breath coming a little faster and she pulled nervously on the ends of her fingers as she scanned the crowd.
Jepson started to go to her, but Baxter grabbed his arm and shook his head. Jepson looked toward Susan, clenched his jaw and nodded.
Jack looked down at Elizabeth and could tell she’d seen the same thing he had.
“Go,” she said.
Jack left her and walked over to Susan. She looked flustered and embarrassed to be caught feeling whatever it was she was feeling.
“Is everything okay?” Jack asked. “I was just … “ He gestured vaguely back to where he’d been standing. “Are you all right?”
She nodded and composed herself. “I’m fine,” she lied. “Just a little tired.”
“I know the perfect cure for that.”
“Running away?” she said with a weak laugh, clearly meaning it, and laughing to cover.
Jack held out his hand. “Dancing. Ice cream works too, but …”
She smiled again, but shook her head. “I shouldn’t.”
He stepped forward. “You should. Doctor’s orders.”
She looked at his outstretched hand for a moment and then nodded. “All right.”
He took her arm and led her to the floor. He turned her around, but she hesitated. “It’s just a dance.”
She hesitated again, clearly weighing the wisdom of accepting his offer, but finally nodded. He took her into his arms, careful not to hold her too close. The song was a nice slow ballad, The Sea of Love.
She put one hand on his shoulder and he held the other. He could feel how tense she was in his arms; her hand was fixed and her back ramrod straight. He let the first few bars of the song play, moving her easily around the small dance floor.
He could feel eyes watching them. He was putting a target on his back by dancing with her. But better on him than her.
They danced in silence for a few more bars.
“I know we’ve only met,” he said softly, leaning his head down to keep their conversation between just them, “but if you need help …”
Her eyes, which had been looking at anything but him, shot up to meet his, and then darted away again. “What makes you think I need help?”
“Because I’ve known women like you before.”
She arched an eyebrow, offended. “Have you?”
“Trapped. Maybe by their husband, by their father? But by someone. By something.”
He knew it was a risk to be so forward with her, but she lived an insulated life and this might be his only chance. He felt her tense and start to pull away.
“I only want to help.”
She looked around nervously.
“We’re just two people dancing,” he said. “Enjoying the evening. Just smile and keep dancing.”
He moved her smoothly across the floor. She was terrified, but even more terrified of anyone finding out why.
“Not everyone in the world wants to use you,” he said and waited until she looked into his eyes. “I don’t.”
She looked at him with a hint of hope in her eyes.
“I want to help,” he said.
A spark of hope flared in her eyes and then caught fire into something else, suspicion. “Are you working for my father?”
“Not in the way you think.”
“And how’s that?”
“I’m not here to be the other man.”
She blushed and he found it even harder to believe she was having an affair with Jepson.
Her eyes searched his. “Why are you here?”
He thought about his answer. “Isn’t this where all lost souls go?”
She smiled and shook her head. “You don’t seem very lost to me.”
“You’d be surprised.”
She studied him for a moment. “This is a dangerous town, Jack.”
He nodded. “I know.”
She shook her head and looked at him sadly. “No, you don’t.”
The final few notes of the song played and they stopped dancing.
She looked at him for a long moment. “Thank you for the dance.”
He knew he couldn’t push it, not now, and merely nodded. She gave him one of her polished smiles and disappeared back into the crowd.
He watched her and then made his way toward the bar, where he was unsurprised to find Simon Cross.
“Scotch. Neat,” Jack told the bartender.
“That was quite a display,” Simon said. “I think every eye in the place was on you two.”
“Probably.”
The bartender handed him his drink.
“Was that wise?” Simon asked, asked as he scanned the crowd.
Jack took a sip of his drink. “I don’t know. I guess we’ll find out.”
Simon grunted. “Well, for my part, we have a meeting with Carson Whitmore tomorro
w. To look at some property.”
Jack was impressed, but not surprised. “Nice work.”
Simon grunted again.
“Something wrong?” Jack asked.
“I seem to have misplaced my wife.”
“Already?”
Simon gave him a sour look.
“It’s been ten minutes, how much trouble could she have gotten into?”
Simon’s face was flat.
“I withdraw the question.”
“She does have a gift for getting herself into things,” Jack said. “But she’s probably—”
Just then a loud cheer came from the direction of the gaming tables.
The two men exchanged knowing glances and headed toward the hubbub. Sure enough, there was Elizabeth, holding a pair of dice in the palm of her hand as Dean Martin blew on them for luck.
She grinned and waved to them before giving the dice a shake and throwing them onto the table.
The crowd roared again as she hit her point. People clapped and slapped each other on the back. Dean Martin grabbed Elizabeth by the shoulders and kissed her soundly.
“You’re better luck than Sammy, baby. And definitely a better kisser.”
Next to Jack, Simon sighed. “A gift.”
Chapter Ten
CARSON WHITMORE HELD OPEN the passenger side door to his green Cadillac. Elizabeth stared at the large bench seat and waited for him to pull it forward so she could get into the back. But he didn’t.
“Somethin’ wrong, honey?” he asked.
She shook her head and got in.
“Just slide on in.”
He wanted her to sit in the middle? That seemed weird when there was a perfectly good back seat, but when in Rome. She scooched toward the middle of the broad bench seat and Simon got in next to her. Luckily, there was no gear box in the floor for her to straddle. Then Whitmore sandwiched her on the other side. Even though he was a big man, there was plenty of room. But it was a strange feeling, sort of like being in an elevator, everyone lined up facing the same way. It was just like sitting on a bench, complete with absolutely no seat belts. Not for the first time, she wondered how mankind had survived the past.
“We’ll just drive around town first, get you a feel for the place,” Whitmore said as he started the car. “Then we’ll go on over to the property.”
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