“You knew where to look for my birth certificate?”
“I’d been through the room before and found the safe in the closet. I’d also noticed that she had certain months circled on her calendar, and the initials B.C. with an arrow pointing to the letter S. I put it together that the months were the numbers in her combination.” He lifted a shoulder. “You can imagine my shock when I discovered she was your biological mother. I thought she was going to kill me with her bare hands when I confronted her.”
Marnie had no trouble imagining his shock, or Julia’s. But something else was troubling her. She wanted to know more about the trap he’d set for the killer. Ever since he’d mentioned it, she’d been grappling with a question.
“Was I the bait for your trap?” she asked him.
He seemed genuinely shocked. “No—hell, no. I’d had a plan in the works for months, long before we came to Mirage Bay.”
She listened quietly as he admitted that the concert had only been a small part of his reason to go to Baja. He’d chartered a private plane and made the trip to finalize the details of his plan, which included the remains that washed up on shore. They were not Alison’s, he explained. He’d paid off an assistant in the oficina de juez de guardia, the local coroner’s office, to have the body of an unclaimed drowning victim found on the beach.
“It was risky,” he acknowledged, “but the goal was to flush out the person who had the most to gain from Alison’s death. Obviously, that’s the same person who tried to frame me.”
“And may have killed LaDonna? You think they’re all connected.”
“I do.” He shrugged. “But everything changed when you got arrested.”
Marnie realized that he’d had to abort his plan and expose himself to prosecution to show up at her hearing. Julia wouldn’t rest until he was indicted for Alison’s murder, and there could be fraud charges. It wouldn’t surprise Marnie if Julia launched a civil suit for damages because of their plan to deceive her, but Marnie had no assets. It was Andrew who would pay if Julia won.
“Who altered Alison’s fingerprints?” she asked.
“I had that done months ago, after you and I entered into our arrangement. I’d taken a set of your fingerprints while you were in the hospital. I didn’t know if you were going to regain consciousness, and I had to find out your identity. Diego did a search for me, but he never found a match. Later, I had him switch your fingerprints for Alison’s.”
“How did he do that?”
“Diego doesn’t give away his secrets, but he did tell me the only fingerprints he found for Alison besides her DMV record were in a local police database. She had a traffic accident when she was a teenager that resulted in a driving offense. To change the prints required some hacking, I’m sure, but nothing like breaking into the FBI’s database.”
Marnie wondered what happened to people who altered fingerprint records. Andrew was probably in much greater jeopardy than she was.
It was all beginning to sink in, and it was very frightening. She let out a huge, pressured sigh, remembering the horror of the last few days.
“Andrew,” she whispered, “in the name of everything that’s holy, why didn’t you pick up the phone and give me a call to let me know you were all right? Do you know what it did to me, not knowing?”
She averted her eyes as tears threatened. She didn’t want him to know how vulnerable she felt, still.
“I couldn’t call without putting you at risk,” he told her. “Diego had time to search Sea Clouds before Bret kicked him out, and he found bugs all over the house. Someone had wired the place, but Diego couldn’t remove them without alerting whoever had done it.”
Marnie could hardly believe it. “Why would anyone bug Sea Clouds?”
“No clue, but he found devices in every room he checked, including our bedroom.”
She still couldn’t accept Andrew’s rationale. “You could have told me the real reason you were going to Mexico. You didn’t know the house was bugged then.”
“Marnie, you were worried about the dangers of a rock concert. What if I’d told you I was trying to trap a killer? I couldn’t take you with me, and I couldn’t have gone, knowing I was leaving you in torment. I’m not trying to frighten you, but we could be talking about a serial killer. Whoever killed LaDonna may have killed Alison, and possibly even Butch—and trust me, it won’t stop there. Somebody needs to stop this freak.”
“Do you have any idea who it is?”
“I have suspects, lots of them.”
She began to speculate aloud. “Julia, maybe? Bret? He just broke up with LaDonna. Tony Bogart? Maybe he killed her and then reported her murder.”
“It could be any one of them, and if LaDonna was murdered for the sole reason of framing you—or rather, Alison—then the list of suspects widens. There’s even a kinky estate attorney that Julia’s screwing around with.”
“Really?” Marnie was more than a little curious about that, but it had just dawned on her that Andrew had missed some names. “I can think of a couple more people to add to your list,” she said.
“Who?”
She shook her head, quelling a nervous, exhausted smile. “Make me that drink first. And some food, dear God in heaven, make me that omelet you promised!”
As Marnie watched him pull things from the refrigerator, she wondered what kind of omelet he had in mind. Mandarin oranges and feta cheese? It should be interesting. She also wondered why he was so sure Alison was dead. He hadn’t included her in his list of suspects, but Marnie had never been convinced she wasn’t alive.
Marnie closed her eyes and took a long, slow sip of her Cristal champagne. This was not actually nirvana, she told herself. It just felt like paradise, compared to everything else.
The doors to the deck of the beach house were wide open and a balmy ocean breeze gently ruffled her hair. The gulls cried as they soared and dived, feeding on fish. In the distance, dazzling white sails belled in the afternoon winds. The blue-and-gold seascape that stretched out before her was beautiful, and for once, she was actually enjoying the view.
She touched the ring that hung around her neck. There was little in her experience that allowed her to grasp what Andrew had done. He’d sacrificed his plan, his chance to exonerate himself, and possibly his freedom for her. Crazy as it seemed, it would have been easier to believe that he’d run out on her. That would have made more sense, because this felt like a miracle, and miracles didn’t happen to people like her.
She turned just enough to see him stretched out on the couch, his bare feet up on the rattan coffee table and an iced drink in his hand, looking surprisingly relaxed. He’d changed into khaki shorts and a flowing silk shirt after their talk, and then he’d opened the Cristal so they could celebrate.
At the moment, she was so madly in love with him it was sickening.
Fortunately, she understood the feeling as an aberration. She was no more in love with him now than she had been at twelve or thirteen. Then, it was a fantasy. Now it was relief, loneliness and gratitude. Not love, not nirvana; it just felt like that compared to jail and Sea Clouds.
She wondered how much time they had left, and then she pushed the thought away. Impulsively she said, “It’s such a beautiful day. Do you think we could go for a sail? I’ve never been out in a sailboat.”
“Never?” He dropped his feet to the floor and set his drink down. “Seriously? We have to remedy that at once.”
His smile was wide, his teeth a flash of brilliant white, and as he rose from the couch and walked over to her, Marnie felt her heart shift in a very odd way.
What is going to happen to us?
She was avoiding the question. They both were, but it had been hanging in the air between them since they’d left the beach house. Marnie moved out of the beating sun and into the shade of the canopy over the wheel, closer to Andrew, who was at the helm, guiding the sailing yacht toward San Diego.
She’d asked Andrew to drive her over to see her grandmo
ther before they went out on the boat. Gramma Jo had taken one look at Andrew and asked if he was the surprise she had mentioned. Marnie had blushed and said that yes, he was quite a surprise. She’d also heard herself promising to get Gramma Jo out of that place, without knowing how she was going to do it. There was no chance Julia would be involved. But it was a promise Marnie intended to keep.
Questions could wait, she decided. This was an adventure, a respite from the world and serious talk. Questions were irrelevant when you had an ocean of water beneath you and an ocean of sky above.
Andrew had suggested they dock at one of the marinas in San Diego and have dinner that evening, another of his brilliant ideas. Marnie had even brought along a sexy little sundress for the occasion. They were celebrating her freedom, and it was important to celebrate well. She had no idea how long it would last, and very soon they would need to talk seriously about what they might be facing in the way of criminal charges, and how to deal with it. But for now, they would go where the wind took them.
Andrew spotted her to his left, and his gaze swept over her in a very physical way. Perhaps it was a male reflex, but the look was nakedly interested. He caught himself and smiled. She was wearing one of the bathing suits he’d packed. The silky two-piece was a decent fit, except for the top. She was fuller there than Alison, and possibly he’d just realized that. His only other opportunities to compare had been fast, heated, and at very close range.
Not like today. This was a slow trip, leisurely. They could go only as fast as the ocean breezes would let them. The land was to their left, the open sea to their right, and they were headed due south. Maybe they would just keep going.
Blue waves crashed against the bow, scattering liquid diamonds. She could taste the salt spray on her tongue. “I know why you love this,” she said. “It’s glorious.”
His hands rested lightly on the wheel. “I’d go insane if I couldn’t get out on the water.”
She could hear the conviction in his voice. He actually meant it, and that concerned her, because there was nothing she could do to ensure that for him. If he’d really been her husband, he would have reached for her, and she would have gone to stand beside him. But they hadn’t touched other than when he’d offered a steadying hand as she came aboard. It was almost as if they had never touched.
“Do you want to take the wheel?” he asked.
“Yes.” The boat rocked as she went to join him. Yes, she did.
He stepped back, giving her access, but he stayed behind her as she slid between him and the teak and stainless steel steering mechanism.
“What do I do? This boat is huge.”
“Technically,” he said, “it’s a yacht.”
Laughter fizzed up. “Is that supposed to be helpful?”
“Someone once described sailing as half ecstasy and half abject terror,” he told her. “You decide.”
“It feels like freedom to me,” she said without hesitation. She tried the wheel, surprised at how sensitive it was, even to the lightest touch. Odd that a caress was all it took to control such a huge vessel. It was a lesson some CEOs and politicians could learn.
“Do you think she’s still alive?” Marnie asked him. The question came with no preamble, but he seemed to know what she meant.
“Someone pushed LaDonna off that cliff, and according to Bogart, the perp looked just like Alison.”
“Why would she do it?”
“To get rid of you, I’d guess.”
“All she had to do was come forward and expose me.”
“Ah, but then she couldn’t get me. If Alison were alive, I would no longer be the prime suspect in her death. She’s a mastermind, Marnie, as cunning as she is seductive. She befriended Regine for the sole purpose of getting rid of her.”
Marnie studied him. “Do you have any proof of that?”
“Nothing that would hold up in court. Alison didn’t show her true colors until after we were married. That’s when she started pressuring me to get her a record deal and to let her open shows for some of my big names.”
“But you didn’t?”
“I couldn’t. She had no fire, no stage presence. I tried to tell her, but she went nuts. She shrieked obscenities and accused me of sabotaging her because I was still in love with Regine. She ransacked my office, destroying everything she could find of Regine’s, records and posters, smashing awards. It was childish, but I could see how destructive she was.”
Marnie was trying to imagine the Alison she’d idolized flying into a rage that way. “What do you think actually happened the night Regine died?”
“Alison played bartender, and I believe she put something in the drinks. That would explain why I passed out and why Regine drowned, probably with a little help. Autopsies are rarely done on accident victims. Obviously Alison knew that. She also knew exactly how long she’d been away from the pool, talking on the phone, which seemed odd.”
Marnie wanted to ask what he would do if Alison was alive. Given how he felt, she couldn’t imagine he would ever want her back. But she also sensed his obsession with her, his churning conflict, and she didn’t understand it. Either he did want her back or he wanted her dead, but he wanted something.
Once again, Marnie forced the gnawing doubts from her mind. She couldn’t go there again, no more gut-wrenching questions. She had no idea how much time she and Andrew had, but she didn’t want to waste any of it. As the silence built, so did another thought that had been on her mind since they got to the beach house.
“What’s going to happen to us?” she asked him.
His sigh could be heard over the noise of the sails. “I wish to hell I knew.”
His hand dropped over hers on the wheel, and the unexpected contact set fire to her imagination. Every sense flickered and lit. She could feel the sun-baked deck beneath her feet and smell the damp musk of wet canvas. But mostly, it was the tactile sensation of his palm, his flesh, that she responded to.
He moved closer, hot against her shoulder blades.
She leaned back until they were touching. Full contact. Her breathing trembled. It was thrilling to be so close. And bizarre that it could be so powerful.
“I know what’s going to happen to us,” he said.
She tipped her head to look up at him. “What?”
He turned her around and kissed her. “This.”
The boat rolled beneath them. Marnie fell against the wheel, and it began to spin. Andrew caught her around the waist and clamped a hand on the wheel at the same time, fighting to steady it. He pulled her against him hard, and she felt the air expel from her lungs.
It was strange to be held so tightly. She was pinned by his arm, and his thigh had slipped between her legs. He was trying to brace them both, but the intimate contact was wildly stimulating. She softened against him, melting, moaning in her throat.
They rocked that way until the seas calmed, and he kissed her again. His mouth was luscious, as smooth and strong as good liquor. She could get drunk on him. She was drunk.
His tongue breached her lips, sliding along the side of hers. It made her wild, that feeling.
“You kiss like a woman who means it,” he whispered.
She nipped him. “I do. Mean it.”
The ocean swelled, lifting the bow. She lost the fit of his mouth for a second, and moaned. She wanted it back.
“This yacht of yours is coming between us,” she complained.
“We can’t have that.” He drew back to look at her, and his face changed as he saw her limpid eyes and passion-swollen lips. He touched her mouth and felt its wetness. He knew immediately what that meant.
“Nothing is going to come between us,” he said. “Give me a minute?”
She nodded, and he left her to go the pilot house, mysteriously saying that he had to make some adjustments. When he came back, he clasped her hand and started toward the companionway that led to the lower deck. “You’re coming with me,” he said.
Apparently he’d accomplished wh
at he wanted with the wheel.
“Who’s going to steer the boat-uh, yacht?”
Some time later, as she lay next to him, dozing and pleasantly spent, she noticed a darker, richer light filling the windows. Absently, she realized the sun was setting.
“Should we go above?” she asked him.
He cupped her breast as he was pulling her to him. “Not quite yet.”
She met his advances with a hissing sound—and a kiss that felt as if it could explode like firecrackers on a string. Suddenly they were rolling again, slipping and sliding. She stopped him, but had to catch her breath before she could talk.
“How are we doing, timewise?”
“If we wind up in Mexico we’ll know we missed our dinner reservations.”
They made love again, coupling in the near dark—and Marnie couldn’t imagine how sailing could be half abject terror. It felt like ecstasy to her. Her only fear was that it would end.
At two in the morning, they were jarred awake by bullhorns. Someone was yelling that they were about to be boarded.
“Stay here,” Andrew told her. “It’s the Coast Guard.”
34
When Tony Bogart checked his voice mail that afternoon, he found a message from Andrew Villard. Tony listened to it with a smile. Villard was being held without bail on murder and fraud charges, and he wanted to talk. Since he wasn’t actually married to Marnie Hazelton, he could testify against her, and by the sound of his message he was ready to make a deal to save his own skin.
Tony sipped iced coffee, basking in the glow of his latest coup. He was parked in his Corvette outside a Starbucks. He had the ragtop down and life couldn’t get much better. Finally he had the bastard where he wanted him, down on his knees. Alison had eluded him, but he’d tagged Villard, and that was almost as good.
Almost.
He hit a couple buttons and surrounded himself with music—cool, soothing jazz, designed to drown out bad vibes. But his sense of satisfaction evaporated anyway, gone before he’d finished his coffee. Marnie Hazelton was in jail, awaiting trial for the murder of his little brother, but Alison was still out there. Somewhere. Haunting him, taunting him. There wouldn’t be closure for Tony Bogart until he’d dealt with her, with Alison. She would live on until he saw her dead and rotting body with his own eyes.
The Arrangement Page 34