by Sofia Grant
“I appreciate that,” Charlie said. The waiter returned with his tonic, along with a little plate of lemon and lime slices that Charlie ignored, though he plucked the aspirin tablets from the edge of the plate and dry-swallowed them. “Sorry, the altitude’s given me a headache.”
Now that they were face-to-face, Willy wished he’d just get on with it. She was expecting indignation and rebuke and possibly even threats, but she meant to gain the upper hand, as long as she could remain calm and claim the role of the injured party. Any claims Charlie made later to his father wouldn’t hold water if Willy could pull this off convincingly—perhaps even cry.
“I know this must be difficult to understand,” she said, letting her eyelids flutter down, folding her hands primly in her lap. “The age difference between me and your father. I’d be terribly upset if my own father—may he rest in peace—had dated someone so much younger after my mother passed.”
“Well, technically, he began dating you well before she passed.” Charlie made this observation tonelessly. “But go on.”
“What I was going to say is that what Harry and I have is based on so much more than age. Or status or wealth, for that matter. He’s such a kindhearted man, always thinking of his family, his employees, even strangers. Why, just last week he told me he’d found a little cat that had stowed away in the back of the truck, and he gave it water and part of his sandwich and let it ride in the cab all the way back to the hotel that night. The kitchen staff had apparently been feeding it scraps. Can you imagine?”
“I can,” Charlie said drily, “since it was, in fact, me who found that cat. Dad never drives the truck.”
Willy kept her expression steady while she silently cursed Harry—damn it, she should have seen through that one! “I must have misunderstood,” she said with a little laugh.
“Mrs. Carroll—”
“Please, call me Willy! We’re practically family!”
Charlie narrowed his eyes before continuing. “Willy, then—I think I can save us both some time by coming to the point. You can understand that your presence at the hotel where my mother was staying could create hard feelings among our family and friends. I’ve taken the liberty of securing you a suite for the duration of your stay in Reno at one of the finest establishments in the county. It offers luxurious accommodations on a par with the Holiday, not to mention a pool, horseback riding, a spa, and two restaurants. I can have a porter come for your things first thing in the morning. I’m also prepared to offer you generous compensation for any expenses you might incur as a result of this inconvenience.”
“You’re not sending me to the Arrowhead! They had to put one of their horses down from mud fever—the kitchen got shut down by the health department last month.”
“I’m not familiar with the Arrowhead, though it sounds like a delightful establishment,” Charlie responded coldly. “I was referring to the Double Y. It was profiled in Collier’s, and the least expensive rooms go for more than a suite at the Holiday. Yours, you’ll be happy to know, cost three times as much, and includes daily maid service.”
“The Double Y is in Cold Springs,” Willy exclaimed. “It’s nearly twenty miles away!”
“All the better to enjoy the benefits of fresh air and spring water. And I believe they have a naturalist on staff who gives lectures and guided hikes.”
Willy tasted the bitterness of her anger, but it was tinged with hurt. She didn’t want to admit it, even to herself, but there had been a part of her that had been hoping that—well, it was ridiculous to think of now, since Charlie was obviously never going to warm to her and his elder brother was probably worse—but that in Harry’s sons she might find a sort of family. That she’d become friends with their girlfriends, maybe serve as attendants at their weddings—hold their babies in the baptism photos. Not that she’d ever believed they’d accept her as a stepmother—she was only six months older than Frank—but that in time they might come to think of each other fondly.
But Harry’s kids were so opposed to their father finding love again that Charlie had made this ridiculous end run on the eve of Harry’s arrival in town.
“Your father is going to be beside himself when he finds out you tried to bribe me,” she said.
“I have a check for you in my pocket,” Charlie said, his tone hardening. “You may be interested to know that the signature on it is my father’s.”
That gave Willy pause. “That doesn’t mean anything,” she hedged. “You could have forged it. You probably write checks on his account for work all the time.”
“Not with your name on the ‘pay to’ line. It’s in his handwriting, you can check. Believe me, I wish Dad wasn’t too cowardly to do this himself, but I promise you that I am following his instructions to the letter. That last of which, I’m sorry to report, was to cancel your reservation at the Holiday as of check-out time tomorrow—I took care of that earlier today, in fact.”
“You can’t do that!” Willy said, fury creating spots in her vision. Why, it was all Harry’s idea to send her there in the first place! She’d canceled a lucrative—well, a paying, anyway—engagement at a club in San Francisco to come! “I can’t possibly get ready to move in so little time. I’ve had my clothes cleaned and pressed—I’m not about to jam them in a trunk again! I’ve made friends here!”
“You can take that all up with Dad tomorrow,” Charlie said, reaching in his pocket and taking out the check. “Or since you two apparently speak on the phone regularly, perhaps you can discuss it with him tonight. I’m afraid I need to be going, at any rate.”
He held out the check. Willy squinted at it—then tried to hide her astonishment at the amount. On the face of it, the number was good news, except that it signaled a cooling of Harry’s feelings for her—one that might lead to him postponing or even canceling their engagement.
But if Charlie was really forcing her out of the Holiday, she was going to need those funds fast. She’d rather go back to waitressing in a cocktail lounge than be stuck out in the boonies mucking out stables for entertainment.
She reached for the check, but Charlie didn’t let go.
“There’s one last thing—I must advise you to keep out of sight this week while we are gathering to bury my mother. Everyone will be leaving next Wednesday, the end of the week at the latest, so you can resume your . . . routine then without worry. On behalf of our entire family, I gratefully accept your condolences, and will make sure they are communicated to my father.”
“There is no way on earth that Harry told you to order me to stay away.”
“No, you’re right. I was counting on common decency to be enough to convince you.”
Willy gave a hard tug, and the corner of the check tore off in Charlie’s thumb and finger. He looked at it with distaste and flicked the little piece of paper onto the tablecloth.
“Oh dear, look at that,” Willy said, folding the check and tucking it into her handbag, then rising from the table. “A bit careless of you, wasn’t it? Let’s hope you learn to hold on to your father’s money better in the future.”
Chapter 41
Charlie
It could have gone worse, Charlie told himself as he walked out. The woman was utterly shameless—obviously didn’t care about anything but herself, and whatever she was able to wring from his father—but at least she’d taken the money. He’d been planning to put her in a taxi, but let her find her way home herself—car fare would barely make a dent in that check.
After the conversation in the bar, feeling slightly nauseated from the smoke and Willy’s overwhelming perfume, Charlie decided a walk would do him good. The Mapes was only a few blocks away, but he walked toward the river and headed east on the riverside path, which narrowed into a dirt trail as he got farther from the center of town.
His father thought every problem could be solved by money, a philosophy that Charlie had to admit had served him well in business. After a competing company started undercutting their bids a few years back, H
arry had taken losses underbidding every job until the other guys were forced to close up shop. No one had dared go up against HFC Events Management since, and Harry had slowly raised their fees until this year marked their highest revenues yet.
Charlie assumed that his father had also been ready to give his mother whatever she asked, to get out of the marriage—money, the house, a chunk of his investments. Now, of course, Harry wouldn’t have to part with any of it—at least, none but whatever it cost to maintain his new bride, who was probably already planning to move into the family home.
Which was fine with him. Charlie had no desire to move back to Nob Hill. San Francisco had lost its allure for him lately: too crowded, too busy, too much traffic. In the past few months he’d been thinking more and more often about leaving the company, maybe starting something of his own—far from San Francisco, so he’d never have to compete with Harry and Frank. He knew his mother would have been devastated, but now that she was gone . . . well, now wasn’t the time to be thinking about big changes. He just had to get through the next few days, the funeral. Then he’d see if his father would let him take a little time off. Harry and Frank had the nuclear tourism project well in hand; assuming the grand opening went off without a hitch, they’d be able to hand it off to the Moser brothers and all that would remain would be to collect their fees.
The path sloped gently down, closer to the river’s edge. He’d have to turn around soon; up ahead there were no streetlamps to light the way. He paused to light a cigarette, listening to the buzzing of insects and the splash of frogs in the cattails along the bank.
Then he heard another sound behind him—footsteps, approaching fast. He turned in time to see a figure with a knit cap pulled low over his forehead—and then something hit him hard in the side of the head.
Next thing he knew he was lying on the ground, being kicked in the stomach. Charlie curled into a ball and then, as kicks landed on his knees and shins, managed to grab the stranger’s foot. He yanked as hard as he could, and the stranger went down, sprawled in the mud. But before Charlie could scramble to his feet, his attacker rolled on top of him and started trying to hold him down and punch him at the same time. He hadn’t landed any good blows before Charlie slammed his forehead into the stranger’s nose.
The stranger howled, clutching his face as he crawled away. Charlie tried to get up but was hit with a powerful wave of dizziness that laid him flat again.
“Stay away from June!” the man bellowed. “Next time I’ll kill you!”
With that, he turned and ran unsteadily back up the path and disappeared.
Charlie lay still, waiting for his head to stop spinning. Gingerly, he touched the side of his head; it was sticky with blood. But there wasn’t too much, not enough to need stitches, anyway. The first blow had landed half on his ear and half on his cheekbone, and though it had rattled him, he’d likely end up with no worse than a black eye and a hell of a bruise.
As time passed, Charlie’s senses seemed to grow sharper. He could smell the dank, fecund river water, the insects starting up again. Overhead, the stars filled the sky with a brilliance he never got to see in the city.
After a while, he managed to sit up. Needles of pain shot through his skull, and he tasted metal, but at least he didn’t pass out. Gingerly he ran his hands over his ribs where the kicks had landed: nothing felt broken. By the time he got to his feet, Charlie was feeling a little sheepish about letting the stranger get the best of him.
Only an idiot would walk alone in a neighborhood like this at night. Charlie was lucky he hadn’t been rolled by some thug who’d take his wallet and watch and tip him into the river. Instead, he’d been a victim of mistaken identity. Or mistaken something, anyway . . . the only thing Charlie was guilty of where June was concerned was appreciating those long, slender legs and those riveting green eyes. Well, and maybe the way her cheeks turned pink when she was embarrassed and the dimples that popped up when she smiled.
Damn it.
Charlie started walking back toward town, taking care to stay under the streetlights. He didn’t need a second fistfight tonight, not with everything that was happening tomorrow: helping Francie with the funeral plans, then meeting Frank and their father at the hotel, getting them checked in, and going to dinner with them. It exhausted Charlie just thinking about it.
Though there was one bright note . . . in the morning, he was going to see his mother’s childhood home. Even if nothing remained but a falling-down shack, it was a part of her that he’d never seen before, a key to the past she’d rarely shared.
And June would be there. In fact, he decided he’d pick her and Francie up at the Holiday, to make up for hurting her feelings earlier. Charlie smiled in the dark. Hell—he’d risk getting the tar beat out of him again for another one of those smiles.
Chapter 42
Virgie
Virgie stayed up much too late writing in her diary. So much had happened, and her head was full of possibilities that made sense only when she wrote them down. She started by making a list of everything that had occurred since her last entry.
Went to Dr. P’s office with W’s note and the money W gave me. His nurse gave me a bottle of pills in a sack and I asked for a receet so W would know I did not cheat her but she said no and also there was no name on the bottle like Mother’s pills.
I took the pills to W and she took one right away but I still don’t know what is wrong with her because she looks Fine. She helped me with the Business and we made a flyer and I copied it during lunch and Mother asked What are you doing and I said don’t worry it’s for my College savings and she said okay. I gave out eight of them so far to the ladies who were having lunch and two of them ordered rings!
I saw Mrs. S leaving with Mrs. M’s daughter A.M. who walks with a limp. She has brown hair and brown eyes and is medium height. Mrs. M seemed happy to see her but then she got a little mad about something and then A.M. and Mrs. S left in a taxi.
When A.M. and Mrs. S came back later Mrs. S was wearing a fancy new suit. Also a delivery came from Danforth’s which is Very expensive that Clyde took up to Mrs. S’s room. (Where is she getting money to pay for all those new clothes or did she con A.M.!!!)
A Man came to see Mrs. S. He was tall and had medium-dark Brown hair and I’m not sure what color eyes and was probably the same age as Mr. Raynard at school and he had on gray pants and a shirt with little blue and white squares. The Man’s hair was the same color as Mrs. M’s but maybe she dies hers but also he looks like her in the face but handsom. MRS. M’S SON???? The Man and Mrs. S went to the Lounge to talk and I listened behind the Curtains in the library even though it was Dinner Time and I couldn’t hear everything they were saying but she was Flirting with him but then she got mad and stomped out of the Lounge and the man drove away in a black truck with HFC and some other stuff on the side like the Lepper and Sons truck with the big blue fosset so maybe he is a plumber or other kind of Repair Man and no relation to Mrs. M, and I went to the Closet next to her room and listened and there was ANOTHER Man in her room and he was her Acomplis! And he was so mad that she wouldn’t give him the ring but she didn’t tell him it is missing and also she sounded scared.
At that point Virgie had chewed on her pencil for a while, thinking about her various theories about the case. She drew a line down the middle of a fresh page and on the left wrote Facts and on the right a question mark.
Facts
?
Mrs. S talked to a Man in the Lounge
Flirting?? Trying to get a Date?
Mrs. M’s son?
She was upset after
He has a girlfriend or Wife already?
He doesn’t like her?
There was a man in her room who was mad and asking her where the ring was
Her Acomplis who she double-crossed?
Was she trying to hide from him?
How did he find her?
Climbed up fire escape?
She cried after he left
/>
Scared? He will Kill her???
Needs money for sick relative or Child?
He kidnapped her other Child?
After that came more pencil-chewing and thinking until Virgie finally closed the book and put it back in its secure hiding place. For every clue she found, there seemed to be more questions. Though sometimes, that was just the way it went on a case.
As she was sliding the panel back over the hiding place, Virgie hesitated. She reached for the leatherette case and took out the ring, then got her notebook and opened it to the page where she’d pasted the story about Norma Shearer’s engagement ring and examined the photograph. Norma’s ring had only one diamond, while Mrs. Carothers’s ring was much bigger, with two rows of diamonds around the big red stone in the middle. If Norma’s ring was worth nineteen thousand dollars, Mrs. Carothers’s was probably worth at least twice as much. Thirty-eight thousand dollars! The unbelievable amount of money made Virgie feel faint, so she put the ring back in the case and stuck it back in the hole. She had started to wish she had never taken it at all—if only she’d left it where it was, Mrs. Samples would already be gone, her former accomplice wouldn’t have found her and threatened to kill her, and she would have had the money to fix whatever problem had driven her to a life of crime. Now Mrs. Samples was so desperate she was willing to try to con a man whose mother had just died, which seemed pretty low, but Virgie knew that desperate people committed desperate deeds. In a way, they couldn’t help it.
There was no way around it—Virgie was in over her head this time. She stared at the notes she had made, trying to figure out what was most likely to have driven Mrs. Samples to kill an innocent woman. But maybe it wasn’t that simple. Maybe, just maybe, Mrs. Carothers had taken the ring off before she died, and left it out where Mrs. Samples just couldn’t help herself from taking it. In which case the rumor going around the hotel might actually be true—that Mrs. Carothers had thrown herself into the river because of a broken heart, not because she was murdered.