After Midnight

by Diana Palmer

  “Sure I did, but I’m telling you that the current administration is so slow about investigations that you’ll be my age before any charges are brought.”

  “That could be true. But what if this administration loses in November?”

  “Then we’re all in a lot of trouble. Especially you, because that young fellow not only has some bright ideas about the economy and the jobless, he’s keen on keeping the earth unpolluted.”

  “More power to him,” Kane replied. “I feel the same way. But even if I didn’t do the dumping, I allowed it. It’s my responsibility to make sure my employees hire disposal people who obey the law. I didn’t.”

  “You weren’t here,” Fred returned. “I keep reminding you, you weren’t here! If you want to take long vacations, sell the business!”

  Kane sat down on the edge of his desk with a heavy breath. “I’ve got the company attorneys working night and day on a defense, but my heart isn’t in it. Did you see the photographs?” he asked, anger and sadness in his dark eyes. “My God, all that destruction. I hope they lock that idiot up in one of his own trucks and push him into a swamp.”

  “He’d pollute the environment,” came the dry reply.

  “I suppose so,” Kane agreed reluctantly.

  “Cheer up. I’m working on a way to save you.”

  Kane’s head cocked. “If you dare put a picture of a flying saucer over a photograph of that marsh and print it…”

  “Son, would I do that?”

  “Hell, yes.”

  “Not this time,” Fred promised. “I’ve got that fellow Lawson investigating some ties of Seymour’s to Senator Torrance.”

  Kane scowled. “What sort of ties?”

  “It’s very interesting. Did you know that seven years ago, Seymour’s only sister married Mosby Torrance?”

  Kane felt his heart turn over. “What?”

  “The marriage lasted six months. After a quiet divorce, there was talk that Torrance had only married to stop some gossip about his continuing bachelor status.”

  Kane’s mind was spinning as he connected what he was being told. Nikki had been married. She hadn’t told him that, but she’d said that she was involved with a man who couldn’t touch her. Torrance? Could it have been Torrance?

  Fred stopped pacing and stared at him. “What are you brooding about?”

  “What do we know about Torrance?”

  “Not much. He’s a secretive devil. I’ve got Lawson doing some discreet backtracking. We know that Torrance grew up in a little community near Aiken. Lawson has gone up there to talk to some people. If Torrance is hiding anything, that’s where we’ll find it.”

  “And if you do find something, what are you going to do?” Kane asked suspiciously.

  “Use it as leverage,” came the terse reply. “You and I both know that it’s Torrance more than Seymour who’s after you. I suspect it’s to keep your back to the wall so that you won’t have time to do any digging and point any fingers in his direction. He needs Seymour, but he’d jettison him in a minute to get us off his back. That’s what I’m counting on. I want leverage.”

  “You’re an underhanded man,” Kane said after a minute.

  “Luckily for you,” his father replied. “Your lofty principles would land you in the hoosegow for sure if I wasn’t!”

  Kane wasn’t so certain that his father’s lack of them wouldn’t land him there, but he kept quiet. His mind was on Nikki and the time they’d been together, when he’d felt safe for the first time in his adult life. It seemed very far away right now, with his business in turmoil. He should have been honest with her from the beginning, and let her be honest with him. If he hadn’t been so wary of commitment, anything could have happened. Now, there were too many barriers. His eyes narrowed and his temper flared. What had Torrance done to her?

  When Clayton went back to Washington, Nikki went along and moved into the small cottage at the Royce Blair estate which Madge Blair had made available to her. Madge was contributing the setting for a gala evening to celebrate Clayton’s party nomination and also to garner support for his campaign. Nikki’s genius for organization was being put to good use as she hired caterers, made arrangements for entertainment, and played overseer for the immaculate theme decorations that were being installed in the mansion’s great ballroom.

  “You never cease to amaze me, Nikki,” Madge confessed while she helped hang delicate silver filigree musical notes against a background of golden staffs on white satin. “A theme party built around opera, with all the guests to come dressed as their favorite singer or operatic character. I expect we’ll have twenty Pavarottis,” she confessed, laughing.

  “Where’s Claude?” Nikki asked, looking around the room.

  “In hiding with the cats,” Madge said, laughing. “He does so detest parties, my poor darling. He’s shut himself in the library with the Siamese twins and he’s furiously reading Greek tragedies. It inspires him, he says.”

  “Madge, he writes sexy murder mysteries,” she commented. “He’s world-famous. Everything he writes is made into a major motion picture. There’s one debuting next month.”

  “I know, dear, I’m married to him,” Madge returned, tongue in cheek.

  Nikki laughed. “Is he going to come to the party, at least? He does live here.”

  “He might. But rest assured that he’ll roll himself in flour and come as something disgusting like the ghost in that Mozart opera I hate.” She tacked a note into place. “Who are you coming as? I know—Madama Butterfly! With that jet-black hair, you’d be a natural.”

  “Actually, I’m going to wear a gauzy gown and come as Camille. I feel tragic.”

  “Oh, Nikki, not you. You always sparkle so.”

  “I’ve had my share of sadness.”

  Madge glanced at her. “Indeed you have. But your face doesn’t show it. You look almost untouched.”

  Nikki could have howled. She was, but Madge didn’t know why; she only knew that Nikki had a failed marriage behind her.

  “Hand me that stapler, could you?” Nikki asked.

  “Here, dear. The invitations have all gone out, and we’re very nearly through here. Only a few more hours. Clayton and Bett will be on time, won’t they?” she added worriedly.

  “They promised.”

  “Nikki, Claude insisted that we add a couple of names to the list, so I sent out a few extra invitations. I hope you don’t mind?”

  “How silly. It’s your house and you’re our friends. You’re even loaning us your home for this oh-so-discreet fund-raiser. How could I possibly mind?”

  “It’s just that Clayton is at odds with Kane right now. But, Kane and Claude belonged to the same yacht club at one time, and they’re still very good friends. I hope you won’t hate him…” Madge said worriedly. “Why, Nikki, are you all right?”

  Nikki had dropped the stapler and almost fell off the ladder where she was perched. “Kane Lombard? Claude invited Kane Lombard?” she asked, shaken.

  “They’re friends, you see. Oh, dear, I did try to stop him. He invited Kane’s woman friend, too. They’re almost inseparable these past few weeks since he’s had such terrible problems—not that Clayton should be blamed for them, of course.” She sighed. “Oh, Nikki, Claude doesn’t think. He means well. It’s those four cats,” she added darkly. “Two Siamese and two Persians, and they drive me mad! How he can write with those furry assassins all over his desk is beyond me!”

  Nikki’s heart was beating madly. Kane was coming here. He’d see her. He’d find out who she really was. She’d have to watch him with the lover he’d told her about, the faceless woman who had part of him that Nikki would never know.

  “Perhaps you should go and lie down,” Madge suggested.

  Nikki’s wide eyes met the green ones of her blond friend. “No. Really. I’m fine. I just got a little dizzy. I haven’t eaten anything.”

  “Then you must have a sandwich. Come with me. I’ll have Lucie make you one of her famous Philly
steak sandwiches and cottage fries.”

  “Thanks just the same, but I really don’t want to die of cholesterol poisoning,” Nikki chuckled. “Make that a small salad and some bread sticks instead, if you could.”

  “You sparrow, you.” Madge smoothed her hands over her ample hips with a grimace. “If I liked lettuce leaves, I could look like you in places, at least.”

  “You’re very nice as you are, as I’m sure Claude tells you constantly.” She linked her arm with Madge’s. “Now, let’s go over these catered items just once more.”

  The day’s activity, frantic though it was, didn’t take her mind off the coming confrontation with Kane. She nibbled at her fingernails until she almost gnawed one into the quick. She looked around the room at the arrangements, satisfied, and went toward the staircase. It was nearing time for people to start arriving. If only it would go smoothly. She always worried about the food and musicians arriving on time.

  “I can see the wheels turning in your head,” Claude observed, coming into the hall with a cat under one arm. One of the felines was a big, chocolate-point Siamese with blue eyes that appraised Nikki and found her uninteresting. He closed his big eyes and curled closer into Claude’s jacket.

  “Mudd is hopeless,” he remarked, nodding toward the sleeping cat. “He only wakes up to eat. He’s so lazy that he even lets the others bathe him. His psychologist says it’s because he’s depressed. He isn’t let outside you know, and it’s frustrating him.”

  Nikki didn’t dare grin. Claude took Mudd’s therapy sessions very seriously indeed.

  “How is he progressing?” she asked cautiously.

  “Well, I don’t notice much change, but at least he’s stopped chewing on my computer keyboard. Damnedest thing, all those toothmarks. Jealousy, you know. Yes, that’s right, he’s jealous of the computer when I’m writing.”

  It was impossible to be mad at Claude for long. Nikki, like everyone who knew him, adored him. She’d manage to stay out of Kane’s way. He didn’t know who she was, really, and in costume, perhaps she could go unrecognized. “Are you coming to the party?” Nikki asked her host.

  “I might. I think I’ll come as Ravel, with a cat under each arm,” he added. “Ravel kept cats, you know. Dozens of cats. He even spoke to them.”

  “I used to speak to my cat,” Nikki pointed out.

  “Not in its own language,” he returned with a wicked grin.

  “Puff understood me well enough. He could hear the sound of a can being opened from the balcony upstairs,” Nikki recalled wistfully. Puff had died of old age a few weeks back, and she was still sad about it.

  “You need a new cat,” he said gently.

  She shrugged. “I’m too busy for cats,” she lied. It was unthinkable to replace Puff so soon.

  “Why do you look so sad?” he remarked. “Clayton won the nomination.”

  “That isn’t what I feel sad about.”

  “He’ll discover that Bett isn’t right for him and marry that Derrie of his one day,” Claude chuckled.

  “Derrie quit, and Bett’s already announced their engagement. She isn’t so bad.”

  “She’s a lobbyist. If she marries Clayton there will be a major conflict of interest and she’ll lose her job. She’s an ambitious lady. When she had to make the final choice, she’ll leave him.”

  “How do you know so much about people?” Nikki asked, aghast.

  “My dear girl, I’m a writer. Who knows more about people than we do?”

  “Good point.”

  “Didn’t Camille have a cat?” he asked, frowning. “Madge told me that’s who you’re going dressed as. You could carry a cat, too.”

  “I think having a woman with tuberculosis carry a cat would be a bit…how shall I put it…unexpected?”

  “Oh, yes. I see.” He chuckled. “Bad suggestion. I know! I’ll see if I can get Madge to dress as something Egyptian or even Babylonian—from the Rossini opera Semiramide, you know—and she can carry a cat under each arm.”

  “Why does someone besides you have to carry a cat?”

  “Two cats,” he corrected. “I have four. They get in my box of fanfold paper and eat it if I leave them alone. Or they chew up manuscripts. Mudd can open the cabinet under the desk, remember.”

  “You need a filing cabinet.”

  He frowned. “That’s cruel.”

  “What is?”

  “Suggesting that I lock my cats up in a filing cabinet!”

  Nikki gave him an exasperated look and dashed upstairs to the sound of mischievous laughter. Poor Madge, she had to live with him!

  The gauzy white costume suited Nikki. She felt as if she were a floating island of sand among all the brightly colored costumes of the guests. Clayton and Bett had arrived, dressed as Carmen and her soldier. Clayton looked uncomfortable in the high-collared uniform while Bett was unconvincing as a peasant girl in the revealing blouse that showed little more than her extreme emaciation.

  There was no sign of Kane as yet, and Nikki entertained a faint hope that he might not come. He didn’t like Clayton, after all, and he must know that the party was being given in Clayton’s honor. Nikki hadn’t told Clayton that his archenemy was expected. She might not have to, she thought, as time passed and still Kane didn’t make an appearance. She began to relax a little.

  Claude and Madge were exceptionally colorful as Maurice Ravel and Madama Butterfly. Claude had Mudd under one arm. A quick scrutiny of the other guests revealed three more carrying cats. She smiled to herself. Claude was exceptionally persuasive, and the cats were like children—they loved being held.

  “It’s the odd couple,” Nikki quipped when they joined her.

  “Look who’s insulting whom, the coughing courtesan,” Claude returned, clutching Mudd under an arm. Mudd was wide-awake and very obviously irritated at the company he was having to keep. He gave his human friend a pie-eyed glare and suddenly sank his teeth into Claude’s arm.

  “Ouch!” Claude cried.

  “Repressed hostility can stunt mental growth,” Nikki said, nodding. “Better allow him freedom of expression. We wouldn’t want to inhibit him.”

  “I’ll inhibit him into a boeuf bourbonnais if he does that again,” Claude said, glaring at the cat.

  “Don’t be absurd, dear, you can’t cook a cat with red wine, it’s so bourgeoisie,” Madge told him.

  Nikki laughed. These two were the closest friends she’d ever had, and the most loyal. They didn’t know of her background, but it wouldn’t have mattered if they had. They were the least judgmental people she’d ever known.

  “What a crowd,” Clayton murmured, joining them. He scowled at his sister with her stark white complexion and painted cheeks. “What are you supposed to be, Vampira?”

  “I’m dying of tuberculosis, can’t you tell?” she muttered at him. “I’m Camille.”

  “I hate opera,” Clayton remarked to no one in particular.

  “You’ll learn to like it when we’re married,” Bett said carelessly. “I love opera, so we’ll be going quite often.”

  Nikki didn’t say a word, but she raised an eloquent eyebrow for her brother’s benefit. He gave her a hard glare.

  “Why isn’t Derrie with the two of you tonight?” Claude asked suddenly. “Did she have other plans?”

  Bett looked murderous. Clayton cleared his throat.

  “Derrie quit and went to work for the competition,” Nikki replied. “She found that her job description didn’t quite cover what the boss expected her to do.”

  “She wouldn’t follow orders so I fired her,” Clayton said, daring Nikki to argue. “She was a turncoat.”

  “Indeed she was,” Bett agreed eagerly. “I never trusted her.”

  “I did,” Nikki replied, staring at them both levelly. “She was the most loyal employee Clay ever had. She stayed with him through thick and thin, even when his office was attacked because of some unfavorable legislation he introduced in the state house of representatives, before he even dreamed
of going to Washington. Derrie was threatened, but she still wouldn’t quit.” Her tone became fierce as she stood up for her friend. “She worked twelve-hour days without complaint, gave up her home to move to Washington with Clay to oversee his personal and constituent staff. She even sacrificed her personal life to do it. Untrustworthy? Well, if that’s how you define it, I think we need more people like her.”

  Clayton fidgeted uncomfortably under his sister’s hot glare. “You’re very loyal to your friends, Nikki, but you don’t understand the situation at all.”

  “Do explain it to me,” she challenged.

  “Please,” he laughed. “Don’t rock the boat, sis. A lot is riding on this. I need more support if I’m going to get back in the saddle come January.”

  “Mosby and I are drumming up all sorts of support for you,” Bett told him.

  “Where is Mosby?” Madge asked.

  “He had other plans and sent his regrets,” Clayton said quickly. “He’s not much of a mixer. Parties make him nervous.”

  “It’s because all the women throw themselves at his feet,” Madge said with a wicked smile. “He’s so handsome, isn’t he? Oh, my, even my knees go weak when I look at him.”

  Nikki’s had once, too. But now she thought of Mosby with sadness and pain. She didn’t reply. Bett knew about the marriage, but only that it had existed. Apparently Clayton didn’t trust her very much, either.

  “Look, more guests are arriving,” Claude said enthusiastically. “I must mingle, my dears. Here. Have a cat.”

  He handed Mudd to a protesting Clayton, who promptly dumped him into Nikki’s arms with a grin.

  “You know you love cats,” he reminded her. “You have Puff.”

  “I had Puff,” she amended. “I do miss him.” She petted Mudd, who narrowed his eyes and began to growl.

  “He’s expressing his buried hostility,” Clayton pointed out.

  “He’s asking to be put down. I wonder if I dare?” she mused, looking around for Claude.

  “If you do, and he gets into Claude’s manuscript, you’d better have an escape plan,” her brother said.

  “Why can’t you hold him?” she muttered.