Tangled Destinies

by Diana Palmer

  “You want me,” she said, staring straight at him. “You may not like me or love me, but you want me!”

  “I want ice cream, too, but I can live without it. Besides, honey, Lana’s all you never could be. Maybe you satisfy Joe. But you’d never satisfy me.”

  She glared at him through tears, her face pale, her body taut.

  “I’m not sleeping with Joe,” she whispered huskily. “I never have!”

  He gave her a look that spoke volumes, that insulted without words. “I might have had some respect for you if you could have told the truth. I did the right thing nine years ago when I took a payoff instead of you. I got the best of that deal, even with having to pay the money back!”

  Blinded by tears, she scrambled off the hood with a broken sob without seeing where she was going and ran into her dressing room. There was no door, no lock. She pulled the curtains and stood crying huge, hot, silent tears, feeling them run down her cheeks. How could he! How could he believe Joe? Why had Joe told him those lies about her?

  She heard a door open and close, and voices. Marc’s was close, and she knew that he’d been coming after her, probably to start all over again. Thank God, Ed had come back. The voices merged, one called goodbye, and the door closed.

  “Hey, here’s your coffee, doll face!” Ed said good-humoredly.

  Gaby wiped her eyes on a towel that was hanging beside her neat suit on its hanger. “I’ll be right there!” she told him loudly, and paused to fix her makeup before she dressed and ventured back out. Marc was gone. At least for the time being. She took the coffee with her and left quickly, saying goodbye to Ed and Motocraft, Inc., in the same breath. Not if she was starving to death would she ever accept another contract for the parts company. She wanted to forget that she’d ever heard of Marc Stephano.

  Joe called for her at six. Gaby had almost decided not to go out with him. She was furious about the lies he’d told Marc. But when she opened the door and he smiled sheepishly at her and started apologizing for his behavior, she melted. He was the old Joe again. Her friend. Maybe he did have an explanation for it. Anyway, if she went, she might get him to explain why he had lied to his brother.

  He looked bad. Every time she saw him he was thinner and more drawn. His eyes looked sunken, as if he didn’t even sleep.

  “You look terrible,” she remarked at the restaurant, torn between wanting vengeance for the lies he’d told Marc and feeling pity for him.

  “I feel terrible,” he said under his breath as he finished one whiskey and ordered another. “Those damned outside auditors!”

  “I guess you’ll be glad when they leave,” she said absently.

  “Will I? I may be up to my neck in trouble when they leave,” he muttered darkly.

  She frowned, put down her drink, and touched his arm. “Joe, what’s going on? Are you in some kind of trouble?”

  “I was born in some kind of trouble,” he grumbled. He looked at her, his eyes dark and wild. “Marc’s smothered me all my life. If he’d given me half a chance, I could have made something out of myself. But he kept on and kept on, forcing me into the company, forcing me to work for him. I didn’t want that. I hated it from the beginning. But he got his way, like he always does.”

  “You could have said no, Joe,” she replied. “You had a choice.”

  “I never had a choice!” He seemed to be sweating a lot, and his collar bothered him. “Why is it so hot in here?” He sipped some of his drink and took a deep breath. “What was I talking about?” He laughed blankly, and when he looked at her, she noticed that he seemed to be staring beyond her.

  “Joe, are you on something?” Gaby asked hesitantly.

  “On something?” He took another sip of the drink. “I’m on booze, I guess. It sure does seem to affect me in the oddest way, you know? Lately my mind goes on vacation. I think it’s that superpowered booze of Dave Smith’s that’s doing it. I’m just going to stay away from old Dave.”

  Joe rambled on, not really making much sense. Gaby began to get worried, wondering what could have caused him to become so confused and excited. Finally he seemed to come full circle and began talking about Dave Smith again.

  “Dave’s getting too careless, too greedy,” Joe said, and Gaby wasn’t certain if he was talking to himself or to her. “I told him I was going to tell Marc all about it. I really ought to tell Marc. It’s not right, what we’ve been doing, Dave and me. I kept thinking Marc owed me something. I mean, he had you, didn’t he? Once, anyway. I guess he still could, if he tried.” He stared at her, frowning. “You know he was crazy about you back when you left, don’t you? Blind crazy. I just mentioned your name once, and he actually teared up. Marc, can you believe it? He’d have died for you. And for me.”

  She let him talk, not knowing what else to do. “Marc was more a father than a brother to me.” He sipped his drink and smiled vacantly. “Great guy. He fought my battles for me, he paved the way, gave me money... I got in trouble and he got me out. My whole life he’s been my safety valve, my feather pillow. But, now—” he frowned “—I don’t know. Now I want to stand on my own, but I don’t think I can. I don’t know how.”

  “Joe, something’s wrong with you,” she began, her anger gone, replaced by concern.

  “I’m crazy about you, Gaby,” he said abruptly. “We’ll be so happy when we get married. I told Marc we were getting married, but he stormed off and wouldn’t listen. He’ll come to the wedding, though.”

  “Joe, we’re not getting married,” she said gently.

  He blinked. “We’re not?”

  “We’re friends, Joe,” she said, her tone soft and quiet. “Just friends.”

  “Oh, that’s what they all say, right, baby?” He laughed drunkenly. The liquor was making him worse. He started swaying a little, his voice slurring. “I got Dave to hire you for the Motocraft account, did I ever tell you? He owed me a favor. A lot of favors. I always liked you, Gaby. You made me feel like somebody. Not like Marc’s shadow, like somebody.” His voice broke. “Oh, Gaby, why did I do it to Marc? I stole from him. I helped Dave steal from him. My brother, my own brother, I stole from him. He’s been so good to me, and I never gave him anything but trouble. And the auditors are going to find it, Gaby. We couldn’t buy them off. They’ll find it any day now, and Marc will hate me when he finds out!”

  “You and Smith stole what, Joe?” she probed, horrified at what she was hearing. No wonder he and Smith had been so secretive on vacation. It even explained why Joe was drinking so much. Did Marc even suspect?

  “I can’t tell you,” he returned. He finished the drink. “I can’t tell you, Gaby. Marc won’t want you.” He assured her, smiling. “I told him all kinds of lies. I had to, you see. You’re my girl. We’re going to be married. I’m crazy about you, Gaby.”

  “You’re talking wild, Joe,” she returned, hurting as she understood that he hadn’t known what he was doing when he fed Marc those very believable lies. Marc would hate her, but hadn’t he always? And Joe was in trouble. She had to help him somehow!

  “No, I’m not.” He leaned back in the chair. “Let’s go to my place. You know you want to.” He got up, staggering a little, and grabbed her by the arm. “Come on.”

  He was strong! More so than usual in this drunken state. She struggled, mindless of spectators. “Joe, stop it!”

  “You’re coming with me,” he told her with eyes so wild, they frightened her. “You’re mine now. Marc can’t have you. Come on!”

  She dragged her arm away from him and ran out of the restaurant. Luckily there was a cab nearby, and she got in before Joe could catch her. When she got home, she went upstairs to her room. She didn’t understand what had gone wrong with Joe. He’d never acted like this before, and he frightened her terribly.

  As she’d expected, he followed her. The doorbell rang over and over again,
but she wouldn’t answer it. If only her father had been home! But he wasn’t, and she couldn’t stand it. A few minutes later Joe started calling up to her, telling her he wouldn’t leave until she came downstairs and let him in. He kept on calling, declaring his love for her and telling her he wanted to get married.

  In desperation she finally called the police. Minutes later they came and took a struggling, incoherent Joe off in a squad car. Gaby watched them go with eyes like death. Marc would find out. God knew what he’d do then. He already hated her. He’d believe every lie Joe told him, and he was capable of anything. And what about Joe? Poor Joe, who’d lived his whole life in the shadow of his brother. What would he do? In his present condition, anything was possible. She was in such a state of shock that what he had said about stealing from Marc barely registered. It had been wild talk, anyway, and she put it out of her mind.

  Later that night her father found her huddled in a robe in the living room, looking sick and drawn.

  “Hey, what’s this?” he asked as she raced into his arms. “What’s wrong?”

  “Oh, Daddy,” she said, weeping. She sat down beside him on the sofa and poured out the whole miserable story with a few embarrassing exceptions, ending with Joe’s wild behavior.

  “For Pete’s sake.” Her father whistled. He got up and paced. “Off his rocker, I’d say. Poor guy.” He glanced at Gaby ruefully. “You’ve sure had your problems with the Stephano family, haven’t you, little one?”

  “Joe fed Marc a lot of lies, and he believed them, that’s all,” she said quietly, wiping away the tears. “I guess it’s my fault, though. I started seeing Joe to get back at Marc, to irritate him. But I swear, I never expected Joe to behave like this. I thought we were friends. He was acting so strangely that I had to call the police...oh, Marc will really hate me now!”

  “What else could you do?” he asked gently. He sat down beside her and patted her hands. “He was probably just drunk, you know. Marc will realize that. Maybe he’ll realize it enough to get help for him. You did what you had to, Gaby. Don’t condemn yourself.”

  She nodded and smiled. But she did condemn herself. Her thirst for revenge had started it, and Joe had suffered as a result. Now the fat was in the fire, and she couldn’t stop it from burning up. She didn’t know what to do.

  The next day she called her agency and discovered that Marc had been in touch, trying to locate her. She knew why, so she didn’t return the call. The Motocraft account was ended, and she had to forget that the Stephano brothers had ever existed.

  And she might have. Except that when she turned on the television, a picture of Joe Stephano flashed on the screen. And when she turned up the sound, it was to learn that he’d died the night before in a car crash, presumably from driving while intoxicated. She watched the screen go black and didn’t realize until she hit the floor that it was because she was fainting.

  CHAPTER NINE

  “IT’S NOT YOUR FAULT,” Jack Bennett said gently.

  But Gaby only dimly registered his words. She’d slept only briefly all night long. After coming out of her faint she’d tried to call Marc, but there hadn’t been any answer at his apartment. It had probably been a bad mistake to phone, anyway, under the circumstances. She imagined that he was hurting too much to want to talk. Joe had been the only close family Marc had. Losing him would leave Marc alone in the world. She hated that this had happened to him. She also hated her part in it.

  It seemed so odd that Joe would go crazy from alcohol, as he had the night before. His behavior had been so totally out of character that it still bothered her to remember it. He’d acted more like someone on drugs than someone who’d been drinking. She frowned, puzzled. Joe had never touched drugs; she was almost certain of that. He’d often remarked that drugs were for losers, that you risked too much by messing with them. Alcohol, he’d told her jokingly, was less dangerous. At least when he woke up with a hangover, he still had a brain.

  “He acted like he’d been doing drugs,” Gaby mumbled. She lifted her bloodshot, shadowed eyes to her father’s. “He acted crazy. But Joe never used drugs. I’m positive!”

  “Alcohol can do it,” her father said quietly. “Don’t you remember how your mother used to get sometimes?”

  “Not like this.” She sat up, clutching the robe around her. “Dad, something’s not right about this. Something’s definitely not right.”

  “It’s the shock,” he said, trying to comfort her. “Gaby, darling, try to remember that people usually make their own hells. You can’t be held responsible for what happened to Joe.”

  “He’s dead,” she whispered, and her eyes burned with tears that overflowed down her cheeks. “Regardless of what he became, he was my friend, Dad. I really did care about him. I felt like he was my brother.”

  She burst into tears. He drew her close, as he had when she was just a baby, and smoothed her hair gently.

  “There, there, darling,” he said soothingly, and kissed her hair. “There, there. Everything will be all right.”

  But Gaby’s heart was broken. So much had gone wrong in her life. Sometimes she wondered if the sun would ever break through the storm clouds for her. Poor Joe. Poor, poor Joe. And Marc. His grief would be so much worse than her own. If only she had the right to go to him, to comfort him. Lana would be doing that. She cried even harder with the thought.

  Later in the day she phoned Motocraft, Inc., and asked about the funeral arrangements. She was told that the funeral would be held the next day, a simple graveside service at a nearby cemetery.

  She went walking that afternoon and took a long, long walk, so that she could think, get things into perspective. She would always feel guilty about Joe. She’d genuinely liked him, enjoyed his company at the beginning. He’d been a good friend, like a brother. Why hadn’t she realized that he wanted more from her? Why hadn’t she seen that at the outset? Marc had. He’d accused her of leading Joe on. He’d told her at the country club that Joe was crazy about her. And she hadn’t listened. She’d thought it was a ruse to make her stop seeing Joe. She should have listened.

  It didn’t seem possible that Joe was dead. Looking down the streets, crowded with pedestrians, she could hardly believe that he wasn’t around somewhere. They’d had such fun together. She remembered riding in the little white VW convertible with him, laughing as they sped along the beach. That was how she’d always remember Joe. Laughing, kidding, so much fun. Her eyes misted.

  Without realizing it she’d gone toward a street she’d avoided all these years, since Marc had pushed her out of his life. She stopped, a vision in her blue sundress with its delicate white pattern, her auburn hair lighter in the sunlight, her face like a delicately carved bas-relief. She stared at the old garage, which looked nothing like the one she remembered. In place of the dilapidated building and pumps with faded lettering and grease, there was a huge modern garage with the Motocraft, Inc. name on it. It was a transmission shop now, and its red-and-black logo announced it to the world. This had been the first shop. This garage, where she’d come every afternoon to see Marc, to laugh with him as he worked, to watch the muscles bulge under his grimy white T-shirt, to watch his hands, deft and sure, on engines he was fixing. She’d handed him tools and they’d talk, and she’d loved him with her eyes.

  She turned away. It hurt too much, seeing it, remembering. Even then Marc had been wrapped up in Joe’s problems, although Gaby never knew what they were. He’d made the odd remark about Joe being in trouble, but she never found out what kind of trouble. She’d assumed after being around Joe in recent weeks that he’d straightened out with age. But now she wondered. Those hints he’d made about doing a favor for Dave Smith bothered her, especially after the strange things Joe had said when he had been out to dinner with her. He’d confessed to stealing from Marc, along with Dave Smith. What if it hadn’t been wild talk? What if it were true? She
remembered Dave’s odd conversation on the phone in the Hamptons, his argument with Joe. Something about what the auditors might find. And there was Joe’s wild, erratic behavior. It had to connect somehow, but what did it all mean? Perhaps if she mentioned it to Marc, if he’d listen, she might start him thinking. Marc had a sharper mind than she had. He might make some sense of it. And if there was something suspicious about Joe’s death, Marc might discover what.

  The more she thought about it, the faster she walked. It made sense. What if Joe had been involved in something illegal with Dave Smith, and Dave had been afraid that Joe was going to spill the beans? Joe had been worried about the auditors, but Joe was Marc’s brother. If Joe had confessed to some illegal doings within the company, Marc would have protected him, but what about Smith? Smith would have had no such protection. And Smith had a wife who loved expensive living, a wife he’d have done anything to keep. If he got caught, he stood to lose his job, his income and therefore his wife.

  Who had called in outside auditors at Motocraft, Inc., and why? What favor had Joe done for Dave Smith? Could Dave possibly have a motive for doing away with Joe, and making it look like an accident?

  She knew she might be completely wrong, but she had to tell Marc what she suspected.

  When she got home, she tried again and again to call him, to say she was sorry about Joe and tell him her suspicions, but she was never able to find him home. She gave up late that night, and the next morning she forced herself to attend the funeral. Marc might not approve of her being there, but she felt she had to go.

  She wore a powder blue suit with her sleek hair under a pillbox hat, and she looked sedate and elegant as she walked toward the small gathering in the cemetery. The service hadn’t started yet. The priest was speaking with someone, and Gaby saw Dave and Steffie Smith in the group. She frowned as she stared toward Dave, noticing that he looked nervous and a little preoccupied. Good, she thought, I hope you squirm, because I think you had something to do with this, and I’m not letting you get away with it, you rat!