Shadows in the Limelight

by Sandra K Rhoades

  She raised her hand and knocked, half hoping no one would respond, but the door opened after only a brief respite. ‘Why, if it isn’t Cat Devlin!’ Rick beamed at her, then flung his arm back in a gesture for her to enter. ‘And to what do I owe the pleasure of this visit, darling?’ he asked as she had silently walked past him.

  ‘I think you can guess, Rick,’ she said flatly, turning to face him as he leaned negligently against the now closed door.

  His eyebrows lifted in his weasel-like face and he said, ‘Can I? Perhaps you’re calling on old friends tonight?’

  ‘This isn’t a social call and you know it!’

  He pursed his lips mockingly at the hardness in her tone and straightened. ‘Well, even if it’s business, we can still make ourselves comfortable. Please, take a seat. I’ll call room service and have them send up drinks. Champagne, I think. It’s been such a long time since we discussed business together, we should celebrate the occasion.’

  He started towards the phone and Catherine remained where she was, saying coldly, ‘I don’t want anything from you but those pictures and the negatives.’

  Rick gave her a guileless look. ‘Now what pictures would those be?’

  ‘You know damn well what pictures!' She temporarily lost control over her temper and had to struggle to regain it. ‘I want them. Oh, don’t worry ... I know I’ll have to pay for them. But I want them, and I don’t want the Latimers involved. This is between you and me.’

  The ingenuous facade dropped from him like a cloak as his eyes grew sly. ‘You know what I’m asking for them?’

  ‘One hundred thousand dollars.’

  ‘Cash,’ he reminded her with a sarcastic smile. Catherine mentally crossed her fingers before saying, ‘I don’t have the cash, but I have my jewellery.’ She withdrew the case she had taken from the hotel safe earlier and laid it on the table beside her. ‘You know the jewellery, Rick. You can have it in exchange for the pictures and the negatives. It’s worth twice what you’re asking.’

  He gave her a considering look, then asked softly, ‘Is it, Cat?’

  ‘You know it is, Rick. You complained enough about the cost when Casey was buying it for me. I only sold one set after he died—the emeralds. All the other pieces are there.’

  Casually, he walked over to the table and picked up the case. Opening it, he lifted out the pearls and inspected them. As she watched him finger the smooth orbs she felt almost as though he were violating her. Even if he refused to accept them, she doubted that she could ever bear to wear them again. ‘They’re very nice,’ he said after a moment. ‘It’s all nice—but it ain’t worth no hundred grand.’

  ‘That jewellery is worth twice that,’ she reiterated, her anxiety mounting when she couldn’t control the tremor in her voice. She mustn’t let him know she was afraid he wouldn’t accept them.

  ‘Sorry, kid, no way.’ He shrugged and dropped the pearls back into the case before setting it down again.

  ‘I want those negatives, Rick,’ Catherine demanded through clenched teeth.

  He smiled maliciously. ‘And you’ll have them.’ She stared at him warily. ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘You’ll get the negatives when you’ve worked out your contract. And I mean singing, no more hiding up in Canada. I want you back on that stage. In exchange, I’ll give you the pictures at the end of the two years.’ Unconsciously, Catherine was shaking her head. ‘It’s that,’ said Rick harshly, ‘or I release the photographs to the press.’

  ‘What if I could get the money?’ she asked, a note of desperation in her tone.

  He shook his head firmly. ‘Not now. I’ve changed my mind.’ He laughed. ‘Bet you thought that was only a woman’s prerogative, didn’t you? This is the only way I’ll ever let you have them.’

  ‘I can’t.’

  Rick stared at her through narrowed eyes, then said casually, ‘Then I guess you’d better go tell that new husband of yours what you’ve decided. You might mention that if he’s curious about the photos, he’ll be able to have a look at them in the morning papers.’

  ‘You’re bluffing!’

  ‘Am I? You know the police might even get interested in why you covered-up your brother’s death like that. They might even wonder if he was really dead when you pushed that car over the cliff.’

  ‘He was dead, you know he was. And besides, it was your idea to cover up what really happened. You have as much to lose as I do if those photos are ever publicised.’

  He tutted, shaking his head. ‘No, I don’t. I can produce twenty witnesses who will swear I was having a lucky streak at the tables that night. I wasn’t anywhere near the desert. It was all you and Brian. By the way, I’ll explain that he took the pictures and gave them to me just recently.’

  It was like a nightmare, growing worse and worse and yet she knew she wouldn’t wake up from it,

  ‘So what’ll it be, kid?’ he asked.

  Her mouth was dry and she moistened her lips with her tongue. ‘I’ll work out my contract,’ she whispered.

  ‘Fine.’ He smiled at her. As she reached out to pick up the jewellery case preparatory to leaving, his hand touched her arm. She pulled back as though burnt. ‘Just leave them, Cat. They may not be worth a hundred grand, but they’re enough to get us started again. You’ll need costumes, a band, we’ll have to find a place to rehearse—not to mention publicity. I’ll call you at your hotel when I have things arranged.’ He walked to the door and held it open for her. ‘Goodnight, Cat. Sweet dreams!’

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  ‘WHERE the hell have you been?’ Kent’s angry voice broke over her like a cresting wave as she walked into their suite. Catherine stopped, unable to say anything for a moment. She was near the end of her endurance, feeling that if the earth suddenly opened and swallowed her, she would welcome it as an escape from the purgatory of the last few hours—the next two years.

  ‘Do you realise I’ve been half out of my mind worrying about what happened to you?’ Kent demanded. He was in his shirt-sleeves, his collar undone and his tie askew. As she stared at him mutely, she noted his complexion had an odd greyish tinge to it. ‘I wasn’t even gone an hour and when I got back you’d disappeared. Maybe I was being selfish to leave like that, but you have to understand, that was one hell of a thing to have dumped on me all at once. I didn’t want us to get into an argument over it. We’re in a damnable mess and fighting with each other about it isn’t going to help. That’s why I figured I’d better take a few minutes to get a hold of myself before we talked.’ He was breathing heavily as he looked at her and his next words suggested that he had not gained total control over his emotions during his respite from her. ‘You never even gave me a clue something like this could come up. I thought ... I thought, especially after you told me about your childhood the other night, that it was only because you were so close to your brother that you couldn’t bear talking about him, about your career. I never imagined he was a drug addict.’

  Catherine averted her head, biting her lip. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said in a small voice.

  ‘I’m your husband. I wish you could have trusted me.’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ she repeated inadequately. ‘I suppose your father—’

  ‘Leave my father out of this. You’re as bad as he is,’ Kent accused impatiently. ‘This is between you and me ... he doesn’t come into it. You’re my wife, not his. You should have told me, but whether you did or not has nothing to do with my father.’ She couldn’t think of one word in reply, and finally he continued, ‘Anyway, as I said before. I don’t want to get into an argument over this. Where have you been?’

  The phone rang. ‘That’ll be Peter,’ he explained as he strode over to it. ‘Kent Latimer here,’ he said into the receiver, then after a brief pause, ‘Look, Peter, I’ll get right to the point. You know that letter I made out a few months ago giving you my power of attorney? I want you to go to my office tomorrow morning before the markets open and take it and my portfolio from the safe. A
s soon as the exchanges open, I want you to start selling off my stock.’ His voice rose as he cut off speech from the other man. ‘Look, Peter, I need one hundred thousand dollars—US—and I need it fast ... No, of course I haven’t been gambling ... and yes, I know I’ll be taking a loss on some of it ... I can’t explain over the phone. Just do it, then bring it to me ... Well, yes, try to hang on to my stock in Latimer’s, but sell it if you have to. I need the full hundred thousand.'

  ‘No, Kent!’ Catherine ran to him, grabbing his arm. ‘You can’t ... besides, you don’t need to. I’ve taken care of Rick ... I saw him tonight. We don’t need the money now—we don’t need it!’

  Kent stared at her, a frown settling on his brow, then he said quickly into the phone, ‘You’re at your apartment, aren’t you? I’ll call you back in a minute ... something’s come up here.’

  He set the receiver back into its cradle, and turning to her, asked slowly, ‘What are you talking about? Why don’t we need the money any more?’

  Catherine hesitated. Then she said, ‘I went to see Rick tonight. I wanted to get the pictures from him.’

  Kent swore softly. ‘You shouldn’t have gone by yourself. He might be dangerous. You don’t know.’ He pushed his hair back off his forehead in a distracted gesture. ‘You must have gotten the pictures, though?’

  ‘No,’ Catherine admitted softly.

  ‘No? Then what happened?’

  She couldn’t meet his eyes. ‘We made a deal. He’ll give them to me when I’ve ... I’ve worked out my contract with him.’

  ‘When you’ve what? Are you out of your mind? You can’t go back to work for him ... unless, of course, that’s what you want,’ Kent added in a hard voice.

  ‘Of course that’s not what I want!’ Catherine cried. ‘But it’s the only way. He said the only way he would let me have those negatives was if I finished my contract with him. I gave him my jewellery, but he said it wasn’t enough.’

  ‘But he kept it?’

  ‘Yes, to pay the expenses of putting a show together again.’

  Once again, Kent swore, and Catherine winced. ‘Are you sure you don’t want to go back to work for him?’

  ‘You know I don’t,’ she said tearfully.

  He went to her and wrapped her in his arms. ‘Don’t cry, Cat. You don’t have to go back to him. We’ll pay him.’

  'You don’t understand, Kent. He said he wouldn’t take the money now. He insists that I work for him.’

  He placed his finger under her chin and tipped her face up to his. Gently, his mouth covered hers, then he lifted his head away. 'I’m sure he’ll take the money once we get it together. Now let me call Peter back so he can get to work on it.’

  Catherine backed away from him, shaking her head. ‘I don’t want you to. I don’t want to work for him, but I know him and if he says it’s the only way, he won’t change his mind. You'll be wasting your time and your money. Even if he takes it, I don’t think he would give up the pictures, now.’

  'Trust me to deal with him. I think he’ll take the money once we have it for him.’

  'No, he won’t ... besides, it’s not really your problem, it’s mine. Casey was my brother, and I’m the one who should never have tried to cover things up. I don’t want you getting involved.’

  Some of the colour left his face as she spoke and he kept his eyes averted. ‘I see,’ he said in a clipped voice. 'Forgive me. I thought that as I’m your husband that made your problems mine. Obviously you don’t agree.’ His mouth twisted bitterly and he suddenly looked her full in the face, his blue eyes darker than she had ever seen them. ‘Even if we don’t agree on what a husband’s role in a marriage is, I think you have to accept that a parent has certain responsibilities. Have you forgotten you might be pregnant? Isn’t that why we got married in the first place? It’s even more of a possibility now ... we haven’t exactly been playing poker every night since we got here! I’m calling Peter and having him get the money. If you think I’m interfering in your affairs, then I’m sorry, but I’m not doing it for you. I’m doing it for the baby who might be in jeopardy if you insist on resuming your career.’

  Catherine felt as though he had kicked her. ‘I understand.’ She turned quickly so he wouldn’t see her tears and went into the bedroom.

  ‘Boy, that sure looks like an awful lot of money when it’s all in cash like that,’ commented Peter Castle as he stared mesmerised into the open briefcase filled with stacks of bills.

  ‘It is an awful lot of money,’ Kent returned drily, his own eyes resting on the piles of green paper.

  For Catherine’s part, she avoided looking at the money. Just thinking about it made her feel sick. It was all so pointless! If Rick took it at all, he would just say it was to cover the expenses of putting her act together. He wouldn’t give up the negatives: she knew that as certainly as she knew her own name. Rick loved living in the limelight, being the man behind the star.

  Peter and Kent were discussing the logistics of delivering the money to Rick and she tried to shut out their voices. She and Kent had barely spoken to one another since their argument the night before last. She had overheard Peter telling him that he had taken a beating on the stock that had been sold to raise the money. That made her feel even worse about it all.

  There was a knock at the door and Catherine saw the two men quickly exchange glances. They were edgy, but then who could blame them? It wasn’t every day one had a hundred thousand dollars in cash lying around.

  ‘I’ll get it,’ said Kent, going to the briefcase and snapping it closed. He picked it up and handed it to Peter. ‘Maybe you’d better wait in the bedroom with this.’

  ‘Good idea,’ he agreed, accepting the case. Kent waited until the bedroom door had closed behind him before going to receive the caller.

  ‘Can I help you?’ Kent asked in a choked voice after opening the door. Filling the doorway was an enormous black man. Several inches taller than Kent and considerably broader, he must have weighed at least three hundred pounds.

  Nonetheless, he looked strangely childish as he diffidently removed his cap and said, ‘I came to see Cat.’ Only then did Catherine look over to see who it was.

  ‘My wife?’

  ‘Brian!’ Catherine spoke at the same time as Kent, jumping to her feet. A smile lit up her face as she crossed over to him, her hands extended. When she reached him, she threw her arms about him and received a bear-hug in return. When he released her, she stepped back and smiled at him. A former wrestler, he had blunt, homely features and skin the colour of burnished walnut. In the years since she had last seen him, his wiry black hair had thinned, but his most remarkable feature, aside from his size, was still a pair of gentle brown eyes set around a misshapen nose. His appearance, combined with his innate shyness, caused many people to dismiss him as an intellectual moron. However, in the years he had worked for Casey, Catherine had developed a healthy respect for his mental abilities. Brian was by no means the dumb ox he appeared to be, though he often adopted that role to his own advantage.

  ‘Brian, it’s so nice to see you again,’ she said sincerely. Standing on tiptoe, she reached up and kissed his cheek. Her smile deepened as he grimaced in embarrassment and darted Kent a quick apologetic glance.

  Turning to Kent, she saw his features were a mixture of apprehension and bewilderment. ‘Kent, it’s OK,’ she said in an undertone, then louder, ‘This is Brian Collins, he used to work for Casey. He’s my friend. Brian, this is my husband, Kent Latimer.’ She was secretly amused by the caution Kent couldn’t hide as he extended his hand to the other man. Brian looked as though he could quite easily break every finger of her husband’s hand when his great paw engulfed it.

  A few minutes later the three of them were seated around the lounge. Catherine would have liked to have asked Peter to join them, but Kent had stayed her with a look. She supposed she couldn’t blame him for being slightly suspicious of Brian. After Rick, he had every right to be wary of her past acquaintances. />
  Brian came abruptly to the point of his visit.

  ‘What's this I hear on the Strip ‘bout you goin’ back to work for Rick, little girl?’ he demanded.

  ‘I am,’ Catherine said quietly. She shot Kent a quick glance and saw that his mouth had firmed.

  ‘He’s a bad dude. I come to warn you to stay away from him.’

  ‘I don’t have any choice, Brian.'

  ‘What’s that moth ... skunk,’ he amended, ‘been up to?’

  Catherine spread her hands in a helpless gesture, then looked over to Kent. He was studying Brian thoughtfully, then suddenly he looked at her. ‘I’m going to tell him, Cat.’ He turned his attention back to the big black man. ‘It’s blackmail. He’s threatened to expose how Cat’s brother died. I don’t know if you know this, but I’m interested in politics. If it came out, my career would be seriously damaged. At first, he just asked for money. Now, Cat doesn’t think he’ll accept it—that the only payment he’ll agree to is having her go back to work for him.’ Suddenly he met Catherine’s eyes. ‘It’s not going to come to that. I have the money and if he won’t take it, then it will just all have to come out. There’ll be a scandal, but we’ll weather it.’

  Their eyes held. Kent’s were dark, compelling blue and seemed to be saying all the things to her that he had never put into words. Gooseflesh formed along Catherine’s arms, yet she felt as if somewhere inside her a fire had been kindled. Never before had he looked at her like this: as though she were the most important thing in his life; as though he loved her.

  ‘Rick’s bluffing. There ain’t gonna be no scandal,’ Brian's voice broke the moment of intimate communication and they pulled their attention back to him. But still it seemed to Catherine as if things weren’t quite as bad as they had been before that exchanged look.

  ‘I don’t think he is, Brian,’ she said regretfully.