by Sylvia Nobel
“No can do. I’ve got to finish up my article first. I guess the sooner I get it to Harry, the sooner he can leave too.”
“I guess we’ll see y’all later at the hayride.”
“That’s the plan.”
She gave me an impish wink. “Have fun with Eric tonight. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”
“Well, unless it’s going to take place in the middle of a crowded restaurant, I don’t think you have to worry.”
Her musical laughter was still echoing in my ears as I moved to my desk. It took me a half-hour to put the finishing touches on my article and when I got it to the production room, Harry was pacing in obvious impatience. I apologized for being late as he anxiously grabbed the copy.
At my desk once more, I dug Mike Scott’s business card from the bottom of my purse and dialed his Phoenix number. His secretary kept me on hold for about five minutes before he came on the line. He remembered me immediately and asked if I was watching any of the French Open Tennis Tournament. I told him that I had been too busy. Had he, I asked, had an opportunity to think about where he had seen Claudia Phillips before?
“Gee, I’m sorry,” he said. “I’ve thought about it a couple of times since then and it bugs me that I haven’t been able to place where I’ve seen her before. I guess I’ll think of it eventually, but, if you don’t mind my asking, why are you so interested in her?”
I told him a little about my articles on the runaways and her involvement in the shelter. “That reminds me,” I said to him. “Does the name ‘Charles’ mean anything to you?”
“Charles who?”
“I don’t know the last name. All I know is that whoever this man is, I have the feeling she doesn’t like him very much.”
“Hmmmmm. Charles. Nope, I can’t tell you right now, but maybe that name will shake something loose.”
I thanked him and was about to hang up when he added, “I’m sorry I haven’t been much help in answering your questions, but I do have some other information you might find interesting.”
“What’s that?”
“Did you ever get that interview with Eric Heisler?”
“Yes, I did. Why?”
When he spoke again, a note of caution had entered his voice. “I don’t want to be accused of talking out of school, so what I have to say is strictly off the record. Agreed?”
“Agreed.”
“All those things I said about how lucky he is? Well, I might have to take that back.”
“You have my full attention.”
“A buddy of mine who’s pretty thick with some of the commercial brokers around town, heard that Heisler is in pretty deep guano with some of his real estate investments here in the valley, and up there where you are, too.”
I sat up straighter. “Is that so?”
“Yeah. Listen to this. You know the name of that tennis ranch where we met there in Castle Valley?”
“Sure. The Whispering Winds. What about it?”
“Rumor has it that he’s got to come up with a quarter of a million bucks by the end of the month or it goes into foreclosure.”
I was astounded. Before I could respond, he apologized, saying he had to take an important call. I thanked him for taking the time to talk with me and he promised to let me know if he remembered anything about Claudia Phillips.
The disquieting news about Eric left me numb for a few minutes. Mike Scott must be mistaken. Eric did not appear to be a man worried by financial problems. To the contrary, he seemed cool, confident, and totally in charge of his life. Perhaps at dinner tonight, I might find out more. That thought galvanized me into action. I had only a little over an hour to get ready.
Once home, it was a rush to shower, dress, and get to the tiny airport by five. The young man behind the counter in the small terminal pointed me in the direction of a snazzy looking red and white Beechcraft King Air.
As I approached the aircraft, Eric appeared in the doorway. “Ah, there you are.” He put out a hand and helped me into the plane’s plush interior. “You look super,” he said, seating me in the cockpit.
I thanked him and watched while he flipped switches, thinking again what a handsome man he was.
He asked if I’d ever flown in a small plane before and when I told him no, he carefully explained everything that he was doing. We sailed down the runway and rose smoothly into the air. Below, the desert floor receded, and out ahead scores of mountain ranges rose in jagged majesty against an orchid sky.
We’d been airborn about fifteen minutes when I said, “I hope this won’t be a problem, but I have to be back home by nine.”
He threw me an incredulous look. “I hope you’re joking.”
I explained the mixup to him and for a minute he said nothing, just stared out the windshield. He turned back to me shaking his head. “It was going to be a surprise. I made reservations for dinner in Las Vegas instead and…” he fished in his breast pocket and brought out tickets. “These are for Wayne Newton’s show tonight.”
I sat in stunned silence and pondered my predicament. I’d given Tally my word and it didn’t take a genius to figure out what he would think of me for breaking my promise a second time. “Eric, I don’t know what to say.”
“Look, Kendall, I don’t relish the idea of going back so you can spend the evening with Bradley Talverson, but if that’s what you want, I’ll do it.” The disappointment in his voice was evident and I felt like an idiot. He’d obviously gone to a great deal of trouble. It seemed supremely selfish on my part to ask him to make such a sacrifice.
“I appreciate that, but no. I can’t ask you to do that. Let’s go on.” Once we arrived, I would call Tally, explain the situation, and pray he would understand.
Eric gave me a searching look. “You’re sure?”
“I’m sure.”
27
After we landed, Eric escorted me to the luxurious white limousine he’d ordered and asked me to wait a few minutes while he spoke to the mechanic. Relaxing in the cool interior, sipping a glass of Dom Perignon, I thought of what Mike Scott had told me about his precarious financial situation and tried to reconcile it with his lavish lifestyle. If he was in trouble, he showed no signs of it.
I’d been surprised to hear that he’d spoken with his mother on Wednesday and she’d read him my article over the telephone. He’d raved about it and said that someone with my talent shouldn’t be wasting time at the Sun.
When Eric returned, he spoke briefly to the driver and within minutes, we were cruising along traffic-clogged streets aglitter with neon lights and pulsing with throngs of pedestrians. The pervasive air of action and excitement was somewhat tempered when we entered Madame Loussard’s French Restaurant and were seated in a cozy, candle-lit alcove.
“I need to make a phone call. Do you know what time we’ll be back?” I asked, after the waiter had handed us leather-bound menus.
He hesitated. “I don’t know. I didn’t want to alarm you, but I was having a bit of a problem on the way in. The mechanic said it may take several hours to locate it.”
“I see.” I fidgeted with my napkin while I thought of what to tell Tally.
“I’m sorry,” he said softly. “My little surprise has caused you to be unhappy. That certainly wasn’t my intent.”
I smiled. “It isn’t your fault.”
The flash of jealousy in his eyes disturbed me. “I won’t pretend to be happy that you’re seeing him, Kendall.”
Firmly, I repeated, “I have to make this call.”
At that, he looked contrite, “Of course you do. Shall I order for you?”
After agreeing, I located a phone near the restrooms and got the number for the Starfire from information. While the number rang repeatedly, I rehearsed what I would say. Every sentence I formed sounded lame and stupid. Why didn’t someone pick the damned thing up?
A woman with a thick Spanish accent finally answered and I knew right away I was in trouble. When I asked for Tally she said, “You call ba
ck. ¿Sí?”
“No! I can’t call back! I have to talk to him right now. Can you get him?”
The woman said nothing.
“Can you take a message?”
“Message?”
“Do you understand me? I need to leave a message for Mr. Talverson.”
“¡Sí! You call tomorrow?”
I bit back my irritation. “Get me someone who speaks English. Pronto. English. ¿Comprende?”
I heard her lay the receiver down. More than five minutes had gone by and I was almost out of coins when I heard a husky female voice. “Hi, there. Who are you trying to get hold of?”
“My name is Kendall O’Dell. I’m trying to reach Bradley Talverson. It’s terribly important that I talk to him tonight.”
There was a pause, then I heard a chuckle, “Well, now, fancy that.”
A lump formed in my stomach. I recognized Lucinda’s voice.
“Let me talk to Tally,” I said, straining to keep my voice calm.
“I’ll try to find him, but we’re just swamped right now.”
We’re just swamped? She was talking as though she was the lady of the house. “I want to leave a message for him.”
“Why, sure,” she answered sweetly. “You just tell me every little thing.”
“Tell him, I’ve been unavoidably detained and won’t be able to make it for the hayride…”
“That’s too bad.”
My fist curled in anger. I could see where this was heading. “Tell him I’ll explain in the morning.”
“I’ll rush out right this very minute and give him the message.”
“Yeah, right.” I slammed the phone onto the hook, cursing under my breath. Tally would never get the message.
When I returned to the table, Eric jumped up to seat me again and poured more champagne. Determined to make the most of the evening, I shoved the incident to the back of my mind.
As we dined on salad and chicken smothered in a creamy wine sauce, he seemed in exceptionally high spirits. His voice was animated as we discussed politics, world events, the weather, and eventually I pulled the subject around to Bonnie’s baby. “They are ecstatic.” I told him. “No, wait, more than that. They’re floating on cloud nine. The whole family is. I think Bonnie would gladly be your slave, if you asked her.”
Eric laughed heartily. “Don’t take it too seriously. It’s not uncommon for some women to transfer feelings of love in situations like this. It’s similar to cases where new mothers develop crushes on their doctors. It’s temporary and fades with time.”
“I was very impressed to hear how you handled it. It seems like a tremendous amount of work. Since you’ve been out of town so much, I gather business is good?”
“I can’t complain, but having a successful practice is not without its shortcomings. It doesn’t leave me much time to devote to worthy cases like theirs.” Time, he lamented, was something he’d like to have more of. He showed no evidence of stress, so I decided Mike Scott was guilty of spreading a false rumor.
“And, speaking of time, Kendall,” he said, locking my gaze with his mesmerizing eyes. “What I’d really like to do is spend more of it with you.”
My heart fluttered uncomfortably. I tried not to, but part of my brain kept returning to the fact that right now I should be bouncing through the desert on a hay wagon with Tally beside me. The other part, found it hard to resist the attentions of this extraordinary man.
“You’re so quiet,” he murmured. “Did I say something wrong?”
I gently disengaged my hand from his. “Eric, before we get into this any deeper, there’s something that’s been bothering me. May I be direct?”
“Aren’t you always?”
I chose my words carefully. “I hope I’m completely wrong about this, but…ever since that first night we met, I’ve had the oddest sense that you’re only attracted to me because I resemble Stephanie Talverson.”
He stared at me in surprise, then composed his face when the waiter appeared to remove the plates. After ordering espresso coffee, he asked woodenly, “What makes you say a thing like that?”
“Because you looked like you’d seen a ghost, and I’m aware that you and she were…lovers.”
He looked taken aback. “Don’t tell me you’ve bought into all those vicious lies invented by the Talversons? Can’t you see what Bradley is trying to do? He’s trying to poison our relationship.” He shook his head sadly. “Kendall, I’m disappointed in you. I gave you credit for having better judgment than to believe unsubstantiated rumors.”
“People saw the two of you together, Eric. I’m not accusing you of anything. I just need to know the truth.”
For a moment, I was sorry I’d brought it up. He looked so miserable. “I’m not going to lie to you,” he said quietly. “I was very fond of Stephanie and, to be frank, it did give me a start that night. Yes, there is a physical resemblance between you, but believe me, that’s where it ends.”
“I saw her picture in an old edition of the paper. She was gorgeous.”
Eric took my hand again. “Kendall, I won’t deny that Stephanie was a devilishly attractive woman, but our relationship was strictly attorney and client. You have to believe that.”
“I heard she spent the night at your house in Phoenix. Is that true?”
“Yes. She was so overwrought that particular day, I thought it unwise for her to drive all the way back home. She slept in the guest room. It was as simple as that.”
Apparently sensing my skepticism, he pressed on. “When she first came to me about the divorce, she was in a terrible state of mind. She told me how desperately unhappy she was at the Starfire. I believed her when she said they all hated her. She seemed genuinely frightened.”
“Of what?”
“Bradley. She told me that on more than one occasion he’d been physically abusive.” His jaw muscle twitched at the memory. “She said he had threatened to kill her.”
His remark startled me and while the waiter fussed about pouring the coffee I remembered the anger in Tally’s eyes the day he’d told me of his true feelings for her. It made me feel ill to think she had been a victim of such treatment. In Tally’s defense, I said, “People do things and say things in anger that they sometimes don’t mean. Isn’t that possible?”
“Sure. But, you didn’t see how terrified she was. I advised her to get separate quarters immediately, but she insisted on staying through the Gold Dust festivities. If only she’d taken my advice she’d be alive today.”
“What do you think happened that night?”
He stirred cream into his cup with deliberate care and arched a brow at me. “What do I think? I think Bradley Talverson tampered with the reins. I think he deliberately goaded her into taking that wild horse of his. And,” he added, “I think he used his money and influence to persuade a small town sheriff to conveniently lose the evidence needed to convict him.”
I swallowed hard. His hypothesis was very convincing, very believable. But, then, so was Tally’s. “I’m sorry I had to bring it up.”
Eric’s eyes softened. “It’s all right. I’m glad it happened. The last time we were together, I sensed you were holding something back. Now that it’s all out in the open we can just put it behind us.” He glanced at his watch and signaled the waiter. “We’ve got a show to see. Let’s go have some fun.”
And we did. The show was a glitzy and spectacular musical experience. Wayne Newton, backed by a first class band and singers, performed for three solid hours, taking turns at playing thirteen separate instruments.
Afterward, Eric took me to the blackjack tables and we made the rounds of other clubs, dropping coins in almost every slot machine we passed. He generously provided all the money, refusing to let me spend a dime. He gambled away nearly a thousand dollars without so much as a wince. The suspicions I’d harbored about his affair with Stephanie, and his financial woes vanished in the wind.
At one point, he phoned his mechanic at the airport and rep
orted back that the problem would take several more hours to rectify. That was okay by me. Las Vegas was enormously stimulating and as we raced hand in hand along the Strip, from one crowded club to another, I was so caught up in the excitement, and so absorbed in his company, I completely lost track of time.
It wasn’t until my feet began to ache that I realized with a shock that it was four in the morning. “Summon the carriage,” I said, yawning. “I can’t drink another drop and I can’t take another step.”
“Your every wish is my command,” Eric said, draping an arm around me.
On the ride back to the airport, he drew me close to him. I’d been rather surprised that he hadn’t kissed me all evening. The next ten minutes made up for it. The heat generated by our passionate embrace, combined with the substantial amounts of champagne I’d consumed, made my head spin. I pulled away from him, breathing hard. Self-consciously, I wondered if the driver was watching us in the rear-view mirror.
“Let me catch my breath,” I whispered, adjusting my skirt which had climbed more than half way up my thigh.
“I hate for this night to end.” His lips closed over mine again. With one hand firmly around my shoulder, he used the other to caress my neck and back. At a snail’s pace, he trailed it down to my waist, back up to cup one breast, and then he dropped it lower to massage my thighs. The pleasurable warmth of desire that tingled my skin, made me realize how long it had been since I’d been with a man. As enjoyable as it was, I decided that was as far as I intended to go in the back of a limousine.
“I think I need an ice cube,” I panted as the car pulled up and stopped next to the hangar.
“What for?” he asked with surprise.
“To sit on.”
He looked delighted and squeezed me harder. “Don’t try to fight it, it’s bigger than both of us.”
“Please. That sounds like a line from a 1940’s movie.”
He chuckled and kissed the top of my head. “I think it is.”
The flight home was a delicious blur. I was thankful he was sober, because we’d have been in Canada had I been piloting the plane. I fell asleep, and when I awoke, the first blush of dawn tinted the eastern sky. I felt more lucid, but terribly exhausted.