“And you, Peter? Will you be able to hold yourself in?”
“Yes,” he said. “But Evans is mine when this is over. For old times’ sake.”
“Thanks for making my bail,” she said, shifting so that he could prop up her injured ankle. “They know I didn’t kill that man, but once you get on the wrong side of the law, they like to make you pay.”
“Thank Joey for bailing you out,” Peter replied. “I couldn’t go inside, because they think I killed Nottingham in the tidal basin. Let’s try to get some rest,” he added, standing up and stretching. “We’ll need it tomorrow. Issac Demont.” He said the name slowly. “How did you know, Magdalena?”
“I should have thought of it sooner, actually. The orangutan is such an obvious clue. Demont has worked hard to preserve species in Motambu. His love of apes is not exactly a secret, and he and Nottingham worked closely together. The microfilm was conclusive. Code One Orange,” she said. “All of these years and they never gave up. If it couldn’t be Central America, Africa would do. As soon as we have Evans, we can get the professionals to run down those numbers. If I were guessing, I’d say foreign bank accounts.”
“To fund Evans and his criminal plans,” Peter said bitterly.
Magdalena’s voice was suddenly tired, disillusioned. “I need to go to bed. Talking about this won’t change it, or bring tomorrow any faster.”
Peter and Joey stood up when she rose. “It won’t be long now,” Peter said. He checked his watch. Less than sixteen hours.
The zipper sealed the red sequined dress up her back, and Eleanor felt her heart skip. It was a perfect fit. Even the makeup that Evans had brought for her was perfect. She felt like a mannequin, some dressed-up killer doll. The tears threatened and she thought of Peter. She wanted to speak to him, to at least tell him what she felt for him.
“Don’t think about it,” Betty warned her. “Our plan may not be the most sophisticated, but it might work.” She tugged at the bodice of the emerald gown Evans had provided for her. The dress was attractive, but not as stunning as the one Eleanor was wearing.
“He says he’ll be holding a gun at your back,” Eleanor said. “What if he kills you first?”
“Not much chance on that.” Betty grinned, bringing back the dancing light in her blue eyes for a moment. “My mother always told me I was tougher than any girl had a right to be.”
“I hope she was right," Eleanor commented. She picked up the silver leash and Zelda rose slowly. There was no sign of life in her big, brown eyes.
“Whatever he gave her must have been strong,” Eleanor said. “She doesn’t really know what she’s doing.”
“Thank goodness,” Betty said. “Thank goodness.”
The door opened and Evans walked in, his tuxedo smudged and rumpled as if he’d slept in it “They’re waiting for the presentation.” His eyes roamed approvingly down Eleanor’s sleek, glistening form. “You look perfect.’’
“If I could kill you, I would,’’ she answered. When he tried to take Zelda’s leash from her, she jerked it away.
“Suit yourself,” he said. “I have no fondness for that creature. And I’ll have Dr. Gillette to keep me company.” He took Betty’s bare elbow, digging his fingers into the tender flesh of her upper arm until she winced. “Just remember,” he told Eleanor, “your friend will suffer if you make one false move.”
They walked through the hotel, an eye-catching foursome of man, women and orangutan.
“Isn’t that little ape darling,” one woman gushed, coming over to visit Zelda.
“Stay back!” Evans commanded sharply. “She’s extremely valuable.”
“I’m sorry,” the woman said, withdrawing. She cast a strange look over her shoulder at Evans, but moved away, nonetheless.
Wait! Eleanor’s mind screamed at her. Can’t you see something is wrong? But she remembered the metal pressed into Betty’s back and kept moving. Zelda walked like an automaton at her side.
They went through the lobby and down an elegant hallway with beautiful carpets and large vases of fresh flowers. At the Chinese ballroom they were stopped by several security officers.
“No handbags, no weapons,” the officer said, giving them a professional smile. “And you have an invitation?”
Evans gave him the embossed card, and they were ushered into the room.
A swirl of hunter green and rich burgundy seemed to stretch across the white marble floors and walls. Tiers of starched linen tablecloths folded out on all sides. Sparkling chandeliers shimmered with golden points of light.
Eleanor felt herself being pulled into the room, moving past a line of people whose names and faces were only a blur. At the end of the line she saw Issac Demont, a tall, smiling man who bowed to her with the most courtly of manners. His eyes seemed to hold some special promise for her, and she felt her knees begin to buckle.
Evans’s arm went around her waist, and his fingers dug into her ribs. “Make a scene and I’ll kill you all right here,” he whispered.
Eleanor forced her body to move forward. The presentation of Zelda would come in only a few moments, as soon as the official receiving line was closed and Demont took his place on the podium.
“Good luck,” Betty whispered.
“You’re on your own, and your friend’s life depends on you,” Evans said as he pushed Betty away. Eleanor stood stock-still, Zelda’s leash in her hand. Her eyes caught the movement of additional guests taking seats in the back of the room. Balconies extended from the mezzanine, and tables were already filled with expectant guests. Little did they know they’d come to see the man who held the key to peace in a large segment of Africa die.
She felt the tears sting behind her eyes, then suddenly the ape’s hand clutched hers. Looking into the depths of those warm, brown eyes, Eleanor saw a spark of the old life.
“Zelda,” she whispered.
The ape’s fingers closed tighter on hers.
“We can make it. We’ll outfox that maniac,” she whispered, feeling a moment of hope for the first time all day.
There was the official fanfare of trumpets as Demont made his way to the dais. Eleanor took up her position with Zelda. A procession had formed, and she was the center of it. She looked around, surprised to see that Charles Breck was not in evidence. Surely he’d want to see his handiwork come to pass, she thought. It struck her suddenly that Nottingham had been as thoroughly set up as she had herself. Breck was arrogant, intolerable, but he obviously knew nothing of this plan. He wouldn’t want to be the man whose gift backfired so tragically.
Her attention was called to the head table, where Issac Demont had risen.
“We all gather here to express our sympathy,” he began in a deep, melodious voice. “I have known for months of the work the Honorable Sam Nottingham has undertaken in order to provide me with such a special gift. I grieve for him today, and my sympathy goes to his family in their hours of mourning. Sam and I saw many things in many distant lands. I learned much from him, and I believe I can say that I taught him a few things. We were good friends. I know the police will apprehend his murderer, and some degree of solace will come for his family. He was a man with a hot temper, who knew the value of a cool head and the need for peace. I am prepared to accept the gift he worked so hard to prepare for me.”
Stunned that the moment had arrived, Eleanor failed to move inward. She felt a nudge at her back.
“Go ahead,” a woman urged her. “Everyone’s waiting.”
Eleanor stepped forward and down the aisle made by the spectators. Something was wrong with Zelda. At the sight of Demont, he had suddenly grown agitated. She shook the gift box as she twisted and capered against the leash. Eleanor held it tight, using all of her strength to keep the orangutan from rushing down the path to the man who waited for her with such open pleasure.
When they were only five feet away, Eleanor stopped. Now was the moment. Hand sweeping the floor, Zelda curtsied. Demont and the whole room thundered applause.
Eleanor’s hand lashed out swiftly and struck Zelda’s forearm. The gun exploded into the marble floor, sending the bullet ricocheting into the roof. A second shot was fired from the back of he room, followed by a third from one of the balconies.
Too late, Eleanor reached out to Demont. There was an amazed expression on his face as he fell back, propelled by the blast of a shot into the arms of his security men.
Completely out of control, Zelda screamed and jerked forward. Her lurch was so sudden and so strong that she pulled free from Eleanor’s grasp and ran to the stricken man. Her voice was that of a sobbing child as she cradled Demont’s head against her hairy chest.
Stupefied by the turn of events, Eleanor swung around slowly. Betty Gillette was standing by Evans’ fallen body. Rushing across the room toward her was Peter, dressed in the garb of a waiter.
“Peter,” she cried, staggering toward him. “Peter!”
The crowd parted for them, Eleanor flung herself into his arms, the pent-up tears finally flowing. “I tried to stop it. I tried. But he’s dead! Evans shot him.”
“It’s okay,” Peter said, holding her, crushing her against himself. “It’s okay. Really, Eleanor. It’s not as bad as you think. Listen to me.” He drew her aside as the commotion near the fallen leader seemed to thicken and swell to a mild uproar.
“Demont’s okay. He isn’t hurt. I promise,” Peter said. He stroked her hair, her cheek, he held her and talked to her. He wanted to pick her up in his arms and carry her out of that room, away from the nightmare she’d been forced to endure.
Very gently he took her to the dais, where a small cluster of dark-suited men stepped back. Issac Demont rose on one elbow and held out his hand to Eleanor. Zelda was at his side, patting his shoulder.
“I am not hurt,” he said. “Your friends warned me.” He pulled back his jacket to reveal the outline of a bulletproof vest.
“I’m taking that orangutan out of here,” a loud, female voice proclaimed. Pushing her way through the crowd, Magdalena Caruso limped toward Eleanor.
“Peter and I argued all morning on account of you,” she said to Eleanor, ignoring everyone else around. “He wanted to storm the Mayflower and rescue you like some old-time damsel without a brain. I told him not to bother, that you were smart enough to handle things for yourself, and I was right Zelda didn’t want to kill her old master, but you knocked the shot down, anyway.”
“Breck?” Eleanor felt as if she were hearing an unknown tongue. “He was behind this. He’s the one who hired Evans to train the monkey. He’s...”
“I never knew anything,” Charles Breck said. He assisted Issac Demont to his feet and helped steady him.
“He was a tool of Evans,” Peter agreed. He pulled Eleanor closer, delighting in the feel of her body against his own. He’d been worried sick about her.
“And Evans?” She swung around to find her colleague at the end of the room, a wide smile on her face. She held a deadly looking weapon trained on Evans, who sat holding his wounded arm.
“He’s going to a place where he may come to understand the sensations of being caged,’’ Magdalena said with pleasure. “Of course, if our system gets tired of holding him, we can always send him to Motambu to stand trial.”
“Who shot him?” Eleanor asked. Events had transpired too fast.
“I did,” Peter said softly. “He fired at Demont, and I shot him. He set me up for Nottingham’s murder.”
“And me,” Breck said.
“And me,” Magdalena added. She turned to Breck. “When will you learn not to trust people who mistreat animals? We’ve been through this again and again....”
“A very wise and valuable lady,” Issac Demont said, taking Magdalena’s arm. “Let me talk with you about a job in my country. Perhaps as Minister of Small Creatures.” He smiled at her and for the first time in her life it appeared Magdalena was at a loss for words.
“And Zelda?” Eleanor asked. The orangutan was following closely at Demont’s heels as he walked to a corner with Magdalena.
“We thought at first she’d have to be destroyed,” Breck confessed, “but Issac absolutely refuses to consider it. He’s going to take her home and love her. You know she was his, and Evans had her stolen. It’s one of the sickest plots.”
“Why?” Eleanor asked. Pressed against Peter, she felt isolated from all the terrible things that had happened to her. He was strong, safe, and he held her as if he’d never let her go.
“Because he’s a sick man,” Peter said softly. “I’ve hated him or years, but I guess I never fully acknowledged that he isn’t evil. He’s merely sick.”
“And he will be put in a place where he can never harm another living thing again,” Breck assured her.
“What will happen to Betty?” she asked. She sought her friend’s gaze across the room. Betty grinned and nodded at her.
“We’ll see,” Breck said. “We’ll take everything into account.”
“Champagne, madame?’ A waiter came up to Eleanor and held out a glass.
“No, thanks,” she said, shaking her head. It wasn’t until she saw the laughing eyes of Joey that she laughed herself. “And you were in on this, too?”
“As much as Dr. Curry would let me,” he said. “We wanted to rescue you, but Magdalena made us wait.”
“A wise woman,” Charles Breck finally agreed. “But don’t tell her I said so,” he whispered to Eleanor. “Now I’d better take Evans to the local authorities, so we can begin the process of ending this mess.”
Chapter Eighteen
“Home at last, Eleanor.” Peter opened the door to her apartment building for her and handed her into the lobby.
A wide-awake Familiar was clutched to the bosom of her red sequined dress. Eleanor held the cat as if he were her last friend.
“You need a hot bath and some rest.” He continued talking to her, soothing her. “You look positively haunted.”
“I’m okay,” she said, finally hearing the worry in his voice. She’d been lost in her own thoughts. So much had happened so quickly, it was still hard for her to grasp that it was all over. Evans was under arrest, and everyone else was safe. Everyone but Sam Nottingham.
“Don’t think about it anymore,” Peter said.
His hazel eyes were fiery with determination, and Eleanor felt them transfer their warmth to her chilled bones. And those eyes held a promise that at last made her emotions begin to thaw.
“Dr. Curry, Dr. Duncan!” Wessy came up to them. “Is everything all right?”
“Yes.” Peter patted the older man’s arm. “At last everything is okay. And I owe you an apology. I thought you were mixed up in all of this.”
“No problem,” Wessy said. “As long as Dr. Duncan is safe, there’s no problem at all. I’m glad you worry about her.”
He turned to Eleanor. “Hey, you’ve got a present. Some kid left this for you,” he said, reaching into the doorman’s room and coming out with a bottle of wine. “He said to tell you to celebrate your victory—and your future together. Those were the exact words.”
“Joey,” Eleanor said, taking the bottle. “I’m glad he escaped any serious injury.” She looked at Peter and felt an irresistible desire to kiss him. Fate had kept them apart, but now it was time to explore the delicious feelings they had for each other. It was a risk as big as any she’d ever taken in her life. “Let’s go upstairs and uncork this bottle,” she said.
Twenty minutes later with a purring Familiar curled on her lap and a glass of the delicious burgundy in her hand, Eleanor felt the knots in her stomach loosen. There was only one thing left to do—to bury Carter Wells and her past. Peter was her future, and she wanted to start clean, without any misunderstandings.
“Let me say one final thing,” she
said slowly. “My life with Carter was hell. I suppose it was worse than I remember, because I monitor my memories. I should have left him a million times. But my family disapproved of him—disapproved is too mild a word. When I married Carter, I severed all ties with my family. I call them in Arizona at Christmas—” she paused to push back her hair “—but I’m going to change that this year. Anyway, they forced me to the choice, and I guess I was so headstrong I couldn’t admit I’d made a serious mistake. So I stayed with him.”
“You were a very young woman,” Peter said. “I’m sure you were scared.”
She nodded. “Very scared. If I was wrong about Carter, then I’d ruined my own life for no good reason. So I hung on, hoping each day that he’d change, or that something would happen to free me. And it did. The car accident.”
“You can’t feel guilty because Carter’s death brought you a measure of relief. You were trapped in a bad situation, but you didn’t do anything wrong.”
“I know I didn’t, and I honestly hadn’t thought about him in years. But when I saw the man Evans had hired to pretend to be him, when I heard that voice, I believed he was back. Logically I fought it, but emotionally it was my nightmare come true. I didn’t tell you right away, because I was afraid I might have been hallucinating.”
She filled both of their wineglasses again before she had the nerve to continue. “I haven’t felt anything—allowed myself to feel—for a man since my feelings for Carter died. I guess I was afraid of my reaction to you. I do feel something for you, Peter. Something real.”
“I know,” he said.
“And I was afraid that I’d brought Carter back in my mind, to punish me for wanting you.”
“Oh, Eleanor.” He put his glass aside and drew her into his arms. “What have you been going through? Whatever happened, just remember that you’re not alone. Whatever happens in the future, we’ll solve it. Together.”
His fingers traced along her back, delicious swirls of pleasure following each light touch. The pressure became stronger, more insistent, and she moved toward him in response. Lifting her face, she smiled at him, then initiated a kiss.
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