by Cathi Stoler
Mrs. Clair had showed Laurel and Aaron to their rooms on the top floor, following behind them as they climbed the stairs in the near dark. “You’ll have a little light if the rain stops and the moon comes out,” She said, pointing to the skylight in the roof. She had set down the hurricane lamp she used to light their way on a table in front of Laurel’s room and wished them a goodnight.
There were three guestrooms on the floor and a door with a “Hotel Employees Only” sign across its front. The hallway, which wrapped around an open four-story atrium, was lit by additional lamps filled with scented oil placed on several tables. Mrs. Clair was obviously expecting them and had taken time to prepare for their arrival.
The skylight would be charming on a starry and moonlit evening, catching the light and spilling it all the way down to the main floor. Not tonight.
Laurel shivered and thought about returning to her room, which had several oil lamps of its own to add a soft glow and cozy warmth. The lamps, coupled with her four-poster bed, mahogany secretary and marble-topped dresser with pitcher and basin, would offer the perfect setting for a romantic seduction. In her T-shirt and shorts, she didn’t match the setting. There was nothing remotely romantic about her outfit.
Laurel tugged at her T-shirt, crossed her arms over her chest and tucked her hands under her armpits. She was lucky to have something to sleep in other than her underwear. Since they had only planned on visiting for the day, Detective Schnall brought Aaron and her to the local drugstore and had the manager open by flashlight and fit them out with their so-called nightclothes and necessary toiletries. Probably another favor owed to him.
Laurel turned her face to the skylight overhead and roiling sky above, which reflected the turmoil going on inside her. Detective Schnall’s kindness to her was completely unexpected, especially since he probably hated her guts and would never trust her again. Just like Aaron. She tried to get straight with Norm back at the station, explaining over and over she hadn’t known about David Adams, Matt Kuhn and the Santucci family all being connected. She was here because of her story and because of Anne. By the time Aaron returned to the storm-shadowed conference room, she thought she had convinced the detective she was telling the truth.
What an idiot I’ve been. I knew something was wrong ever since I saw Matt on the street in Manhattan on Tuesday. I should have listened to my inner voice instead of trying so hard to convince myself that it wasn’t him, that he was in Italy.
Lightning cracked above her, filling the hallway and atrium with a bright, eerie glow, followed by a boom of thunder. Startled, Laurel screamed, the emotions and fear she held back all day finally surfacing in a near blood-curdling howl.
* * *
Aaron saw her racing through the hallway.
“Laurel, stop! What’s the matter? Are you hurt? What are you doing out here?” He stumbled out of his room and moved toward her.
“Oh, I’m such a fool.” The words were barely out before she threw herself into his arms. “Hold me. Please, just hold me.”
Aaron masked his surprise and held her until her body stopped shaking. How many times today did I want to comfort her? Or take her in my arms?
Reluctant to break away, but knowing he had to, Aaron slid gently back from Laurel’s embrace and gazed down at her. Even in such obvious distress, she was beautiful.
She returned his gaze. “I guess you’re wondering what I was doing wandering the halls at this hour. I was gathering my courage to knock on your door. There’s something else … something more you need to know.” Trepidation filled her voice.
Aaron’s stomach lurched. He didn’t know where this was going and was almost afraid to find out. “You don’t need courage to talk to me.” The words were out of his mouth before he could stop himself.
“Are you sure?” Her voice was a challenge. “No matter what I have to say?”
Aaron thought carefully before replying. Did he mean what he said? She deserved a straight answer. The trouble was he didn’t know exactly what that answer was. “You don’t. I believe you. I believe everything you told me.” He gulped. “I know you weren’t involved in any of this.” He gestured toward the town outside. “Hell … I still … I care about you.” He felt as though the words were being pulled out of him.
Laurel moved closer. She reached up to touch his face. Her fingers lingered over his angular cheekbones and slid down toward his lips.
Aaron responded to her caresses by taking her fingers into his mouth and her body responded. Slowly and deliberately, he kept the pressure on, gently sucking as he bent toward her. Finally, moving her hand away, he kissed her hard, sliding his tongue into her mouth and feeling the fullness of her lips on his own. He fit his body to hers in perfect symmetry, and her heat surrounded him through the thin fabric of her clothes. Keeping his mouth on hers and his arms around her, he backed up into his room, her body in sync with his every move just as when they were lovers.
He broke the kiss when they were inside his room, and looked deep into her eyes, searching for a spark that would let him know it was all right to continue.
“Aaron,” she spoke softly, meeting his gaze, “are you sure you want to do this? You won’t regret it later?”
He laughed. “I’m sure.” He kissed her again, deeper than before.
Aaron was blinded by passion. It flowed over him in an intense red haze that clouded his vision, suffused his soul, and fueled his every move. A passion met with equal fervor by Laurel. Lowering her onto the bed, he kissed her face, her breasts, her stomach, and her thighs, savoring the obvious delight of his touch. His hands explored every inch of her, followed by his mouth and his tongue. Then, when she was ready, he entered her slowly, moving to a rhythm that grew ever more frenzied until nothing could contain them.
Barely catching their breaths, they began again, exploring each other more slowly this time, anticipating, yet postponing the inevitable until finally Laurel, her long limbs stretching, crawled up his body like a cat claiming her prey. She straddled him, took him inside, and set the fires dancing until they both cried out with pleasure.
Later, they lay together in Aaron’s bed, arms around each other, enveloped in the softness and warmth of skin and bedcovers. The oil lamplight on the dresser outlined Laurel’s body from behind with a soft golden glow. Aaron was afraid to move, afraid to break the spell. He slid apart from her slowly and carefully and turned his body to face hers. She slept, peacefully he hoped, her face tranquil and serene. His eyes began to close as he watched her. They had to talk about their past, about tonight, and about what Laurel wanted to tell him. Somewhere deep inside, his conscience found its voice, asking if what he had done was right. Aaron sighed as sleep finally overtook him. There’d be time to think about that, and Laurel’s dilemma, in the morning. All the time in the world.
* * *
The small digital bedside clock was flashing 3:17 when Laurel’s eyes flew open. Startled awake and unsure of where she was, she looked at this symbol of modern convenience, power miraculously returned, set in the old-fashioned room, and settled back into the softness of Aaron’s bed. She had dreamed something scary … walking on rain-slicked, deserted cobblestone streets in near blackness, the hulks of industrial loft buildings shooting skyward around her, trying to find someone, something … She couldn’t quite remember what. The actual dream was already fading from her consciousness as sleep deserted her.
Aaron shifted next to her, his bare, muscular back moving rhythmically up and down with each breath. She untangled the covers from around his limbs and pulled them over him gently, fighting the urge to caress his shoulders, and willed him to stay asleep so she could think. Turning away from him, she tucked her hands under the pillow, where they couldn’t betray her, and stared sleepily at the faint moonlight peeking in around the edges of the curtained window on the opposite side of the room. The storm, which had been as wild and abandoned as their lovemaking, had finally passed. Now it was quiet and still outside. A velvety blackness
seemed to envelop the town, the inn, and the two lovers.
No recriminations. You both did what you wanted to do. It was beautiful. She smiled, trying to hold onto the magic their lovemaking created for just a bit longer.
Laurel was troubled, but not about the sex she shared with Aaron. It was the phone call she received that sent her in search of him in the first place.
The call was from Jenna. After hours of trying to reach her, it was a shock when Laurel’s cellphone rang and Jenna was on the other end. It was a relief for both of them to finally be able to talk.
“Laurel, it’s me,” Jenna said.
“Oh my God, Jenna. Where are you? Are you okay? I was worried sick after I got your message. I couldn’t answer then or call you right back because … well, it’s complicated. Then I talked to Tony and he told me you went to meet Matt, and then the phones went out because of the storm here and … and why didn’t you call me back?” Laurel spluttered it all out in one fast, crazy breath, not knowing what her overly impulsive friend might have done.
“Stop. It’s okay. I’m fine. Honestly. I tried to reach you, but the phone lines were all out. I’m fine.” From the shakiness in her voice, Laurel didn’t believe Jenna told the truth.
Laurel calmed down and started over. “Are you? What happened? Your message really scared me. What did Malin tell you?” She asked the question that burned inside her since the morning. “Why did you meet with Matt?”
Jenna hesitated, apparently organizing her thoughts. “Laurel, I … You can’t see him anymore. Something’s wrong.” She emphasized the last word. “I don’t know but he’s … not who you think he is.” There was a trace of fear in her voice and something else, something like disgust. “Promise me, okay?”
“All right, all right.” Laurel imagined how unsteady she must sound. “Please, just tell me what happened.”
“Yesterday I was out shopping for supplies for my studio and I ran into Malin on the street. He asked about you a few times in a funny way. You know, ‘and Laurel, she’s okay? You see her often? She’s not having any problems?’ I just didn’t get where he was going.” Laurel’s mind flashed back to the night she met Matt, who was part of the group with Jenna’s friend Malin. It seemed a lifetime ago, rather than just a few short months. Laurel shook off the weird feeling the memory created and brought herself back to what Jenna was saying. “Then he asked if you were still seeing Matt.”
There was a pause, and Laurel heard Jenna lighting a cigarette, a habit she gave up over a year ago.
Jenna dragged on the cigarette. “I knew something was up, so I lied and said you broke it off with Matt and were seeing someone else.”
“But why …”
“Because,” Jenna said as though speaking to a small child, “I wanted Malin to tell me what he knew. If he thought you were out of the picture, he’d be more likely to do that.”
“What did he tell you?” Laurel whispered softly into the phone, almost afraid to ask.
“He said he met Matt and some friends in a bar a few nights ago, at that Tally Ho gentleman’s club at East Sixtieth Street. Ugh. I don’t know why anyone would go there. It’s so degrading to women. It just—”
“Jenna!” Laurel yelled in frustration. “Please. Malin. Matt.”
“Anyway,” Jenna continued, “Malin said Matt was very nervous. He kept jumping up from the booth they were sitting in, looking at a door in the back of the room, as if waiting for someone to come out, and knocking down shots the whole time.” She stopped speaking, and Laurel heard her take another drag of her cigarette. “Malin asked him if he wanted to leave the club and head downtown to a party, but Matt said he couldn’t, that he had to stay for a business meeting with some people and gestured to the closed door.”
“A business meeting? There?” Laurel asked.
“Malin thought it was strange, so he asked him about it.” Jenna paused, seeming to weigh her words before continuing. “Malin said Matt’s voice went stone cold. Said the owner of the club was his uncle and he wanted to discuss hidden identity, the subject of your latest article.” Jenna pronounced this last word with a sneer in her voice, mimicking the way Malin said it. “But why would his uncle care what you were writing about?”
An icy shard of fear had formed in Laurel’s stomach and stabbed at her insides. She grabbed herself around the middle as if to ward off the pain she knew would come. His uncle? Oh my God.
Not waiting for Laurel to reply, Jenna went on. “Malin said Matt realized he’d told him way too much, and tried to cover it up by explaining you were going to write about the club’s patrons and how they might be hiding who they were. His uncle was concerned about their privacy.”
“That’s insane,” Laurel said. “I don’t know anything about that place or the people who go there. Why would I write about them?”
“That’s what Malin thought, too. He could tell Matt was lying and didn’t buy his story. They talked for a few more minutes, then Malin left. On the way out, he asked one of the dancers if she knew who owned the club. She gave him one of those you’ve-got-to-be-kidding stares and told him asking questions like that was a good way to end up with a broken leg, or worse. You know what that probably means, don’t you?”
The fear in Laurel’s stomach grew until she thought she might throw up. She knew only too well. Finally, ignoring Jenna’s question, she asked her friend in the calmest voice she could manage, “How did you come to meet up with Matt?”
“How do you think?” Jenna practically spat into the phone and Laurel could see her rolling her eyes heavenward at her denseness. “I called him. I told him I wanted to see him. That I didn’t like what I was hearing. That I knew he was a fraud and that he wasn’t going to get away with pulling this crap on my best friend.” Jenna grew more agitated and determined with each word. Her bravado finally exhausted, she began to sob, another behavior her friend rarely exhibited. “I was terrified for you.”
“Oh, you shouldn’t have met with him.” Laurel’s head spun and although she hated to say it, she did, “You could have been in danger.”
“I met him in Washington Square Park, by the fountain. I knew it would be safe. There are always so many people around, and, you know, the police are always there, looking for dealers.”
“He agreed to meet you there?” Laurel thanked God he hadn’t insisted on a more private place. “How did he react when you confronted him?” The reporter in Laurel did the asking; the woman dreaded the answer.
“He denied it. Said he wouldn’t have met me if he’d done anything wrong. That I’d know right away. He told me Malin made it all up. That they had an argument, and Malin was being a prick because he thought Matt screwed him in a business deal. That he loves you and would never hurt you.”
“Did you believe him?” Laurel gripped her phone so tight she nearly crushed it.
“Almost.” Laurel could see Jenna in the park assessing the situation, staring right into Matt’s eyes. “Then he blew it. He got this look in his eyes I hope to never see again. Told me to mind my own business. Said I was just a jealous bitch. He said he came to meet me this once out of respect for you, but he wouldn’t tolerate my neurotic interference. Then he said one more thing.”
“Oh, God. What?” Laurel barely got the words out.
“He told me I should worry more about my relationship with Tony. People could get hurt so easily. Anything could happen.”
The fear in Laurel’s belly turned from icy cold to something hot and burning, leaving her sweating and shaking all over. “Jenna—”
“I told him to stay out of my life and to stay away from you. Then I left the park.”
“Please, listen to me,” Laurel said. “You and Tony should go away for a few days. You don’t know how bad this really could be.” Laurel stifled a sob. “Matt … his uncle … I … I can’t explain it now. There’s been a murder here. The girl I was trying to help. Aaron’s here … involved, too. It’s all … very complicated.”
“Oh m
y God, a murder?” Jenna’s voice registered shock. “That’s … that’s terrible. Aaron? He’s with you? I don’t understand. What has this all got to do with me, or what Matt said about you?”
Laurel wanted to stop Jenna and tell her it might have everything to do with Matt, but she couldn’t. She needed more time to understand how, or if, Matt was involved in Anne Ellsworth’s death. If she said anything to Jenna now, anything at all, Jenna would go crazy. She’d probably confront Matt again, and then God-knows-what might happen. All Laurel could do was try to keep her friend out of harm’s way. “I mean it. Take Tony and go somewhere for the weekend. I’m canceling Dad’s birthday dinner tomorrow night, so there’s no reason to hang out in the city.”
This last statement wasn’t true and Laurel hoped her friend wouldn’t call her on it. There was something she needed to do.
“Okay. No dinner. Tony and I are fine. I’m not running away from anyone or anything. Just promise me you won’t go near Matt again. Promise.”
There was nothing Laurel could do except promise Jenna she wouldn’t see Matt again. But she would. She was sure he’d show up at Provence Sud’s tomorrow evening. He needed to see how she reacted to him and find out if she’d spoken to Jenna and believed her story.
Then she’d sat in the hallway thinking about how to tell Aaron what she just learned. Fate intervened, giving her a few hours’ reprieve.
Now, lying next to Aaron, she listened to her heart beating evenly in her chest. Tell him everything. Don’t lie to him again. Tell him everything. The words seemed to pulse through her body. Freeing her hands from the cage of her pillow, she turned over and gently shook Aaron’s shoulder.