Intrusion

by Kay, Arlene

  The evening’s host tapped the microphone and made a few self-deprecatory remarks. No one paid much attention. The crowd was focused on our guest of honor. The Secretary of State approached the podium, acknowledged the applause and surveyed the crowd. A hush descended on the room.

  “I’ve spent my life fighting the enemies of our great nation,” Chernikova said. “Tonight we’re here, Democrat and Republican, to battle another one: diabetes.” He thumped his chest. “If it weren’t for this little pump, I probably wouldn’t be standing at all.”

  Nervous laughter swept through the ballroom, but our table bucked the trend. Meg’s face was a stone sculpture. Her husband took refuge in his wineglass.

  “I’ve been called a lot of things in my Washington days,” Chernikova grinned, “but one of them doesn’t bother me at all—guinea pig. Yep, I’m one of the lucky ones testing an implantable insulin pump that allows me to jet all over the world. Thanks to my doctors and the fine staff at CYBER-MED, I’ll be plaguing my detractors for at least another decade.”

  That answered one of my questions. Tommy knew that Richard Chernikova was a client of CYBER-MED, and something made him think the Secretary was in peril. Lucian gave me a quick, enquiring glance. Meg exhaled, looking as if an enormous boulder had come off her perky little shoulders.

  “Nice plug for CYBER-MED,” she beamed. “Another satisfied A-list client.”

  I didn’t mention the dissatisfied ones. That would be rude. Jacob Arthur, Ian Cotter and Mary Alice Tate wouldn’t speak up. Death had put paid to that. After a few more rah-rah speeches, a top-flight jazz quartet appeared. I knew from experience just how good they were. I’d heard them once before.

  “Dance, Elisabeth?” Lucian asked. He put his arm around my waist, guiding me toward the dance floor. Meg left her husband’s side and claimed Arun Rao as her partner. Despite the age gap, they made a handsome couple. Rao’s dark hair played brilliantly off Meg’s platinum locks. If only he hadn’t spoiled the effect by scowling at Lucian.

  The first selection was so familiar it stung my heart, that old Billy Holiday tune, “But Not For Me.”

  Lucian maneuvered us to a secluded spot and held me closer than dancing demanded. For once in my post-Kai life, I didn’t fight it. I closed my eyes and rested my head on his shoulder until a whiff of Creed jolted me.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked.

  “Nothing, it’s just your cologne.”

  He stopped dancing and cocked his head. “It offends you?”

  Embarrassment swept through me like a brush fire. “No, no. It isn’t that.”

  “What then?” Lucian wouldn’t let it go.

  I hate stammering. It’s so uncouth. “I thought it smelled like Creed, Silver Mountain Water.” How gauche I am. I’d offended him and probably spoiled our evening.

  Lucian’s face was untroubled. “Bon. Not many people would recognize it. I spent a lot of time in Switzerland as a boy, and that scent reminds me of the Alps.”

  I turned my head, blinking back tears. “Forgive me, Lucian. That was Kai’s favorite fragrance, too. Forget about it. Let’s get back to Chernikova.”

  “I’d rather resume dancing for the moment. Do you mind? Arun is glaring at us. Let’s keep him guessing.”

  Lucian was a superior dancer, transcending my lackluster performance by whirling me around as if I were an expert. When the set ended, he squeezed my hand and guided me back to our table. Immediately, I went on alert: Meg was entertaining the guest of honor.

  “Good thing your husband’s here tonight, little lady, or I’d be tempted to tuck you under my arm and steal you away.” Chernikova’s sparkling eyes radiated mischief and a whiff of entitlement. “Give your favorite client a big hug.”

  Meg fluttered what I knew were false eyelashes at him. Oh oh. From the vibes she was putting out, I’d bet Sir Richard was very familiar with that leather bustier.

  Carter Cahill stifled a yawn. No spousal jealousy there. He shrugged as Chernikova playfully tugged his wife toward the dance floor. It seemed like a typical charity gala until the screaming started.

  Thirteen

  Lucian knocked me flat on my back, shielding me with his body. For a moment I couldn’t breathe or make sense of anything except that shrill voice shrieking, “Murderer!”

  A lithe, smartly dressed woman brandishing a broken wine glass advanced toward Meg Cahill. “CYBER-MED murdered my husband!” She got no second chances. Chernikova’s bodyguards pounced on her, wrestling the would-be assassin to the ground.

  As partygoers stampeded for the exits, the master of ceremonies rushed to the podium, begging for calm. “Everything’s under control, folks. Relax. Just a little misunderstanding.” Pleas for calm seldom work, but in this case, the well-heeled crowd showed remarkable fortitude. Instead of vanishing, most of them milled around the bar, energized by the unexpected entertainment.

  His agents hustled Chernikova out the side door before I could catch my breath or introduce myself. Hotel security ringed our table while the disarmed culprit continued her tirade.

  “They killed him. Ian was perfectly healthy until they murdered him.”

  Aha! Now it made sense. This must be the betrayed wife, Mrs. Ian Cotter. She was quite a looker, although tears hadn’t improved her makeup much. Screaming was no beauty plus either.

  The biggest surprise was Dr. Margaret Cahill. After the initial hubbub, she exhibited an icy calm that put snowmen to shame. I saw her beckon to Arun Rao and speak softly to him. Then she approached the sobbing widow and hugged her.

  “Oh, Kathryn,” Meg said, “I’m so sorry. I know how much you miss Ian. We all do.” She gave an imperious nod to Arun. “Dr. Rao will deal with the authorities. Mrs. Cotter is under a physician’s care. She needs rest.”

  If I hadn’t been there, I wouldn’t have believed it. Within five minutes, Kathryn Cotter vanished, music started, and the dance floor filled with chattering couples. The show was officially over.

  ~

  “We’ve got to find her!” I was so excited I couldn’t unfasten my seatbelt. “Kathryn Cotter holds the key to Tommy’s murder.”

  Lucian pulled the Porsche into my driveway and tossed the keys to the doorman.

  “What makes you so sure, Elisabeth? She seemed to love her husband.” His arm was around me again. He hadn’t let me go since the trouble started.

  “You don’t get it. She said CYBER-MED is involved. The manufacturer paid off the family, but that widow isn’t satisfied. She knows something.”

  “Consider this. She may have murdered your friend or tried to attack you. It might well be a vendetta against CYBER-MED and those who run it. On the other hand, maybe she’s just lonely for her husband.” He gently stroked my cheek. “You can identify with that, can’t you?”

  I had to slow things down. Lucian was reading my mind, seeing private things I never intended. He had insights into me that didn’t make sense, otherworldly things.

  “Let me escort you to your door.” He walked over to my side and helped me out.

  Sunstreaked tendrils escaped from his ponytail, but his tux was still pristine. I smiled at Lucian’s formality. It was like a 1940s-era film, anything with Charles Boyer.

  “I have to walk Della,” I said as the elevator wheezed up to my floor. “Candy’s probably long gone.” Butterflies were spawning in my stomach. It made no sense to feel this nervous. Lucian Sand was just another man. I needed to seize control of the situation and my emotions.

  “I never thanked you,” I said, holding out my hand.

  Instead of squeezing it, he slowly kissed my fingers one by one. “For what?”

  “Saving my life, of course. That’s the second time. I keep count.”

  “Your life is worth saving, ma belle. Worth so much.” Those solemn blue eyes held me in their thrall. I almost felt giddy. How long had it been since a man held me? How long since Kai left me?

  Hearing Della’s warning bark, I fumbled with my keys and succeeded in dumping
my purse on the floor. A glut of feminine frippery splayed out on the carpet: brush, mirror, blush and lipstick. Lucian scooped up the keys and put his arms around me. His kiss was soft and gentle as he explored my lips, mouth and tongue. My heartbeat accelerated to an alarming rate. I had to stop it right now.

  He brushed my bangs out of my eyes and smiled. “Don’t be afraid, Elisabeth. I won’t hurt you. A woman like you belongs with someone who will cherish her, take care of her. Someone who can give her what she really needs.”

  I took a deep breath and exhaled as a wave of longing swept over me. “I don’t need anything. I can take care of myself.” Della’s barking intensified as she stormed the door.

  Like Kai, Lucian unlocked it with one quick twist of his wrist. It usually took me several tries. Della, my steadfast watchdog, didn’t even try to bark. She rolled over, prostituting herself before the Frenchman for a tummy scratch. So much for female solidarity.

  I rooted around in the closet, searching for her leash, while Lucian patiently waited for a different answer. Where in the world had Candy put it?

  “Is this what you’re looking for?”

  He dangled Della’s special red lead high above his head. It was custom made, Kai had insisted, of braided mountain climbing rope just like his. I should have tossed it, should have let it go, but I couldn’t bear to. Kai loved that thing, said it reminded him of my red hair.

  Lucian chuckled. “Della must be a pretty tough customer. I’ve used these myself on hiking trips.” He saw the stricken look on my face and quickly closed the gap between us. “No, no. Don’t be sad. Your husband’s memory will be always with you. That’s OK.” He massaged the aching muscles in my neck. “Just open up your heart. Let someone else in.”

  “Della. I have to walk her.” Even I thought that sounded feeble.

  “She’s fine. Never mind Della.” He led me to the sofa, gently lowering me onto the down cushions. Our eyes met in the timeless language of desire as Lucian slowly unwrapped the folds of the sari. When he reached my skin, his fingers brushed the contours of my body like a tender breeze. I shivered as a dreamy haze of pain and pleasure consumed me. It had been so long, and I was so needy.

  “La Belle Dame Sans Merci,” he murmured. “Will you break my heart?”

  I gasped as he peeled off my soft lace undergarments. This was surreal, a virtual stranger quoting Keats while he undressed me. He mapped out every sweet spot and sensitive point on my body as his lips and tongue inched down my skin. The intensity of my response overwhelmed me. I felt bloodless, boneless, otherworldly. Nothing could forestall the inevitable now. I couldn’t stop it, didn’t even try.

  “So soft, so beautiful.” Lucian flooded me with hot kisses and sweet words. He stopped for a moment and gazed out the window at the sparkling nightscape. “I know you still love him, my Elisa, but just for tonight, give yourself to me.”

  I closed my eyes and freed my senses. The night passed slowly in a sweet, sensual fog.

  ~

  I felt like an awkward schoolgirl the next morning. Strange men don’t stay in my home. I’m not like that. The living room told a different tale. It was littered with the debris of lovemaking with clothes, shoes and underclothes scattered everywhere. Della had found a new bed on the beautiful peach sari from last night.

  Lucian bustled about the kitchen with her at his heels. He wore the unisex robe from the Four Seasons that hung on the bathroom peg and had helped himself to the toiletries, as well. I watched him firing up the espresso machine like a pro. He seemed perfectly at ease, too much so.

  “Good morning, Elisabeth. You slept well?”

  I flushed when I realized how disheveled I was. Clinging to shreds of dignity, I hustled into the bedroom and grabbed a peignoir. While I was there, I removed my smeared and splattered makeup and brushed my hair.

  We hadn’t used the bedroom. I was glad about that. I couldn’t bear to bring another man into Kai’s bed. Not yet, anyway.

  The door chime caught me totally unprepared. What the hell?

  “Ignore it,” I called to Lucian. “Whoever it is will just go away.”

  “I don’t think so,” he said, sotto voce. “It’s Ms. Ott.”

  Shit! Ignoring Candy was a losing proposition. She was impervious to the slights and snubs that would wither more sensitive souls. Plus, she had her own key.

  “OK. Wait just a minute. I’ll let her in. She needs to hear about last night anyway.” Not everything, of course.

  I stood in front of the armoire, paralyzed by indecision. Lucian couldn’t wear a bathrobe or a tuxedo all morning. There were plenty of shirts and slacks, neatly folded, in Kai’s dresser. They had lain there undisturbed since the day he died. Was it a betrayal to offer them to another man?

  I reached in and found a flannel Brioni shirt and jeans. They’d probably fit just fine. Lucian tapped on the door and handed me a steaming cup of espresso. His hair was a tousled nimbus of curls, framing those amazing eyes. Chiseled abs peaked out from the terrycloth, causing lusty thoughts to surge through my body.

  “Maybe you’d better change clothes,” I suggested without meeting his eyes. “These might fit OK. The dressing room is to the left. You can store your things in this tote bag.”

  For a moment he hesitated. “Of course,” he said. “That’s very kind of you.” He kissed my fingers as I handed him the clothes. “Don’t worry, my Elisa. Everything will be just fine.”

  If only I could be that certain.

  Nothing deterred Candy. She swept into the foyer with a fervor only hurricanes can muster, stopping short while she viewed the disarray.

  “What’s all this, Mrs. Buckley? A burglary in process?”

  I chose the high road. “Oh, that? I was rearranging the furniture.”

  “Yeah. That always happens.” Candy gave me the gimlet eye. “Things went well last night?” She stooped down to ruffle Della’s silky coat. “I can’t stay long. Today’s that luncheon with Mrs. Jacob Arthur and the other bleeding hearts.”

  “Espresso?” I asked, walking over to the machine. “I know that I need one.”

  Before she could blurt out something rude, Lucian strolled from the dressing room, clad in Kai’s old clothes. They fit him perfectly, almost like a second skin.

  “Good morning, Ms. Ott,” he said. “You look lovely.”

  Compliments always disarm her. Candy beamed a mile wide smile and preened. Appearance is important to her, and she always looks the part. Today’s ensemble, a bright red suit with navy piping and big white buttons, struck a patriotic note.

  We clustered around the kitchen table, sipping the magic brew as I recounted last night’s events. Naturally Candy got a redacted version. Everything else was personal.

  “Arun called me first thing,” she admitted, “but he didn’t know much because he was way in the back. This is thrilling.”

  “Actually, it was scary. Meg was phenomenal, though. Cold as ice. No wonder she was a top-flight surgeon.” I shivered as I contemplated Dr. Margaret Cahill wielding a scalpel. “I plan to contact Mrs. Cotter today. That woman has a story to tell.”

  “Maybe,” Candy said, staring at me. “She may just be a nut job. You know how obsessive some widows can be.”

  Few people ever accuse Candy of subtlety.

  “Listen, Ms. Know-it-all. When you question Mrs. Arthur, and I know you will, try to gauge her feelings about CYBER-MED. You know what I mean. Tommy thought there was something fishy involving the Judge’s death.”

  Lucian thoughtfully sipped his espresso. “CYBER-MED was cleared of negligence,” he said. “I was there at the time. Judge Arthur’s pacemaker went wild and jolted him into eternity. Manufacturer’s error.”

  “Well, something went wrong. Three deaths linked to the same company. Suspicious, don’t you think?” I tried to marshal my facts and think like a prosecutor. What if Tommy sounded the alarm, tried to stop the negligence. Meg and Arun would have erupted. Carter Cahill might have joined them. He’d spoken quit
e openly about a return on his investment. Would they murder Tommy to protect CYBER-MED?

  Candy fixed her green cat eyes on Lucian. “I don’t really understand this stuff, but wouldn’t it be impossible to monkey with one of those IMD things?”

  “Normally.” Lucian was quiet, almost brooding. “Not impossible, just extremely difficult. And why would someone go to the trouble?”

  I considered that chilling conversation. Tommy had accused someone of deliberate murder, not an accident or carelessness. Was a lunatic loose at CYBER-MED, someone who got his kicks hurting others?

  “I thought they just monitored things there,” Candy said. “That seems harmless enough, unless someone was fooling around. Remember, my friend Mary Alice’s medical data got out somehow. That was a really mean trick.”

  Lucian morphed seamlessly from suitor to professor. “Things can happen. I’ve replicated incidents in my lab, but conditions have to be just right.”

  “Incidents,” Candy asked. “You mean you stopped someone’s pacemaker? That’s sick, man.”

  He leapt up and started pacing. “You don’t understand. Everything was closely monitored. We used components from Radio Shack on a test instrument. No one was in danger.”

  “Who else was involved?” I asked. Suspicion resurfaced. What better way to insinuate yourself into an investigation than by seducing the clueless widow, thrilling a woman wedded to a ghost?

  Lucian waved his hand impatiently. “Our team at LIPS participated.”

  “Lips!” Candy showed her manic side. “Sounds more like my neck of the woods.”

  “It’s the group that studies the safety of IMDs,” I said. “I presume you shared your results with Meg.”

  No more tenderness from Lucian. He resumed his role as the abrasive scientist.

  “I told her,” he muttered. “That was the last time we spoke before last night.” He brushed off his jeans and carried his cup to the sink. “I have to leave. I’m teaching a seminar this afternoon.”