Ann Cristy (Helen Mittermeyer)

by Tread Softly (lit)

  The roses were there, next to the package. Checking first to see if the flowers had plenty of water, Cady decided she would open the parcel before doing the ar­ranging.

  The strapping tape was troublesome to remove, but she was finally able to unwrap the box. While she crum­pled the paper and tape in her hands before throwing it in the waste basket, she looked curiously at the plain, unmarked box that appeared as though it might contain typing paper. Whatever could it be? She lifted the cover and froze. She could actually feel the blood in her body drain to her toes. Her hands and feet turned to ice. She stared at the nude picture of herself, her head thrown back, her hands touching her own body in a provocative way. She lifted the picture between thumb and forefinger to look closer and found another one underneath it. Sure that she must be hallucinating, she closed her eyes, then opened them again and resumed perusing the pile of photographs. Each was more shocking than the last.

  There were more horrors under the first five pictures of Cady alone in promiscuous poses. These were fol­lowed by pictures of Cady and… Oh, God! Cady felt the contents of her stomach rise. She ran for the tiny powder room off the library and threw up her lunch.

  With shaking hands she wiped her face and looked at the chalk-faced person who stared back at her in the mirror. The purple bruises that were her eyes held a wounded look. How could it be? How could there be pictures of her and Rob Ardmore in lascivious poses? She staggered back to Rafe's desk in the library, not even glancing at the hapless roses. There were more pictures of her and Rob and... Cady almost fainted. There were pictures of her an'd Todd Leacock! What was going on? With lifeless fingers she picked up the typewritten sheet that had fluttered to the floor when she had picked up one of the pictures.

  MRS. DENSMORE: YOU SHOULD BE ASHAMED OF YOURSELF. THESE PICTURES WILL BE SENT TO DAY MAGAZINE. PEOPLE NEED TO KNOW HOW CORRUPT YOU PEO­PLE CAN BE. YOU'LL RECEIVE A PHONE CALL THIS EVENING AT SEVEN P.M.

  Cady stared at the typed words, not really compre­hending. When the phone rang at her elbow, she let out a little scream.

  "Cady, love, it's me. I have to see Conroy on the Elkins land scheme. It looks like it will run late. Forgive me? Cady?"

  "Yes... of course, Rafe. I understand."

  "Angel, is something wrong?"

  "No... Good-bye."

  Cady could sense Rafe's hesitancy, so she hung up quickly. Putting her face in her hands, she began to shake. Who could have done this? Why?

  She managed to put Mrs. Lacey off when the house­keeper wanted to serve her some food. When Trock asked to see her, Cady told Mrs. Lacey to tell him she was busy. She sat in the darkening library, the box with the pictures clutched close to her stomach.

  When the housekeeper rang at seven to tell her there was a call, Cady lifted the phone as though it had sud­denly turned into a rattlesnake. "Yes, this is Cady Dens-more."

  "Recognize my voice, Cady? It's Todd Leacock."

  Cady snapped straight in her chair, thinking of the pictures she held in her hand, remembering the photos of her and Todd. "Why are you calling here?" She couldn't seem to clear the hoarseness from her throat as she waited with a sense of doom for his answer.

  "Come on, Cady. You were always such a smart girl in college. Prudish, but smart." Todd's laugh was harsh.

  "Did you send those pictures?" Cady fought the quaver in her voice.

  "Admit you never looked lovelier, Cady."

  She could almost see the leer on his face. "I never posed for those pictures. You could go to prison for doing such a thing."

  "I remember you posing for them, Cady. I remember photographing you and Congressman Ardmore, too. You never seemed to mind being seen naked with him."

  "You're a liar." Cady tried to stifle the spasm in her mouth by biting her lips.

  "It's your word against mine, lady. I have nothing to lose if these pictures come out. You do."

  "What are you saying?" Her lips were pasteboard.

  "I'm saying that I don't mind if the pictures become public knowledge. If you do, then you should be willing to cooperate with the electorate in your state. There are certain things we want done, and your husband is drag­ging his heels. If you persuade him to help us in our endeavors... then you can have the pictures and the neg­atives and do what you want with them."

  "There are laws to punish blackmailers in this coun­try." Cady licked her lips. They felt like papier-mache.

  "Don't use dirty words, Cady," Todd warned. "I get angry when people try to push me around."

  "You're crazy," she whispered. "You know those pic­tures are faked. Why are you doing this?"

  "I told you. A few people and myself want your hus­band to back down on this environmental bill for the Hudson and Lake Ontario. That's all we want, Cady. You can handle that. After all, it means more work for the state, more money—"

  "To line the pockets of certain men with vested in­terests, such as Greeley and his boys," Cady hissed, her voice grim.

  "I didn't mention any names, Cady."

  "You didn't have to. This is a crime, Todd. Get out of it while you—"

  "You talk to me about crime! You and all that Dens-more money! Why should you have so much and I have so little? Do you think old Emmett Densmore made his money honestly? Damn it, you know he didn't. So what's the difference if I dip into the honey pot for my share?"

  "You know it's wrong. Todd, listen to—"

  "No, you listen, Cady. Get your husband to back down or the pictures come out. I'm not kidding."

  The phone slammed in Cady's ear, making her blink. She held the receiver in her hand until she heard the dial tone, then she set it very carefully on the cradle. Wrap­ping her arms around her body, she sat there rocking, pulling herself into a nearly fetal position. Her mind fragmented into panic, frozen into stillness. Perhaps if Rafe had come home at that moment, she would have blurted out the whole thing to him, poured her anguish and fears into the open, but she was alone.

  She had no concept of time passing when her hand reached for the telephone. She dialed the number in a stupor, almost surprised when she heard Rob Ardmore's voice. She had to tell him he was involved in this. He said hello twice before she responded. "It's Cady, Rob. I'm in terrible trouble." Her mouth had difficulty with the words, but finally she was able to tell Rob the bare outline of what had happened.

  "Cady. Cady, listen to me. Don't give in. I'm coming over right away. There's always a way to fight this sort of thing."

  For the second time that evening the phone went dead in her ear before her numb arm had replaced the receiver.

  She paced the library, head down, while she waited for Rob, her mind like cotton wool, barely functioning as she dealt with horrible visions of the future.

  When she heard Rob's car in the drive, she answered the door herself. Mutely she stared at him, unable to control the shaking of her limbs.

  Rob stepped forward, taking her by the arm and turn­ing her back toward the library, only speaking after he had closed the door. "Cady, don't look like that." He put his arms around her. "We'll fight them."

  "How?" she croaked, her hands clutching at his shirt front. "You haven't seen the pictures. They're awful. I'm ashamed to show them to you."

  He set her away from him and looked around the room, seeing the box on the desk. In two strides he had the pictures in his hands, peering at them in scowling silence. "Whoever did these was no amateur." Rob ground the words out, looking up at her with a pronounced pallor on his face. "You must see that we can't submit to any of their demands. It would be a never-ending cycle of destruction. Next it would be some other bill that Rafe was interested in, or something I backed. There would be no end to it. You see that, don't you, Cady?"

  She nodded in numb affirmation. "What can we do, then?"

  Rob looked at her for a moment, shaking his head. "I need time to think." He exhaled deeply. "First we need someone we can trust who will watch this Leacock person. We have to find out whom Leacock is acting for." Rob looked
at her for long moments. "I can think of a few people who would profit if I went down the tube. Who would stand to do well if Rafe was discred­ited?"

  "Greeley," Cady pronounced, straightening. "And I know someone I can trust." She strode to the door, feeling the blood rise in her face, and pressed the buzzer.

  Trock arrived in short order, and though Cady didn't show him the pictures, she told him about Todd's phone call and what Rob had suggested they do.

  Trock never took his gaze from her. His face was like a rock, but his eyes took on a strange fire as he listened to her. "I'll trail him, Mrs. D. I'll know when he breathes. Don't worry." He turned away, then paused at the door and turned back. "Is the senator not to know?"

  Cady shrugged and shook her head. "I don't know."

  "Let's see what the three of us can do with this first," Rob advised.

  Trock nodded once and left the room.

  Cady promised Rob she would find any excuse to put Todd off until they could find a way of undermining him. A few minutes later Rob left. When she had closed the door after him, Cady leaned against the sturdy oak, feel­ing her head pound. She sighed and straightened before going upstairs.

  When the door leading to the back hall crashed open, she stared open-mouthed. Rafe was standing there like a boxer ready to come out of his corner.

  "Damn it, Cady, what the hell is going on?" His hands opened and closed, his eyes glittering. "I saw Ardmore's car come out our gate just as I was coming up the road. What the hell do you mean carrying on like that?"

  All the terror, the pain, the boiling confusion of the past hours erupted from her mouth. "Don't you speak to me like that! How dare you come on like the oh-so-moral husband with me? You of all people have no right to criticize anything I do," she lashed at him, anger throb­bing in her ears.

  "I'm your husband," Rafe roared, his body taking on a menacing curve.

  "And you only remember that when it's convenient to you! How dare you not trust me!" Cady screamed at him, the frustrations of the evening pouring over her like hot lava, scorching her good sense. "I don't have to take that from a philanderer like you, a man who was the star attraction at those parties at Durra, going from woman to woman," she blurted, knowing she was being unfair.

  Rafe bared his teeth, seeming to swell in size. His voice was like forged steel plunged into ice. "Philan­derer? That's an archaic word for you, isn't it, lady? Why don't you say what you mean? You want trust, but you damn well never give it." He bit off the words and spat them at her like rivets from a gun.

  "What would I trust about you? Should I trust that the first chance you get you would have another get-together with all your party friends at Durra?" She lifted her fists and shook them at him.

  "You never gave me a chance to explain about Durra." Rafe's words sliced the air.

  "You had every chance in the world to tell me about Durra, before and after we were married." Her trembling yell seemed to echo through the crystal of the chandelier and dig itself into the very plaster of the walls.

  "I explained that to you."

  "No, you excused yourself."

  "Now you had better tell me what Rob Ardmore is doing in my home when I'm not here." He stepped toward her.

  "I'll tell you nothing." Cady ran to the stairway. Half­way up, she turned to look down at him. "Nothing, do you hear me? And don't you ever come near me again. Never." She stumbled on the last stair but kept on running until she had slammed the bedroom door behind her.

  She didn't bother to turn on the light as she stripped the clothes from her body and strewed them every which way. She threw herself naked on the bed, the raw burning of her eyes increasing as the tears bottled up behind them.

  She lay there in the vortex of the nightmare, eyes wide open, wounds fissuring inside her, with nothing to com­fort and soothe the pain.

  Sleep came with the pink-streaked dawn, but the nightmare stayed with her.

  * * *

  The next day she was up at seven, after having slept for only two hours. She heard Rafe moving about in their suite, but she didn't leave her own room until she was sure he was gone. A long, cold shower didn't take the puffiness from her face, but the needle-sharp spray helped to bring her mind out of hiding.

  She was on her second pot of coffee, having ignored the toast and eggs Mrs. Lacey set before her, when Trock walked into the dining room, the dogs at either side of him.

  "I'll be gone most of the day. I'm taking Graf with me."

  "What are you going to do?" Cady forced the words past numbed lips.

  "No plan yet." Trock turned back to the door after telling Hobo to stay. His back to her, he added, "Don't worry."

  "Thank you, Trock." Cady felt better. She called Hobo to her and walked outside to think. She went over and over in her mind what Todd had said to her. How had Greeley connected up with Todd Leacock? She closed her eyes, picturing their conversation on the day of the clambake. What had he said? That he'd done some work for people who worked for Rafe, she recalled as she walked down to the paddock, Hobo at her heels.

  She stopped so abruptly that the dog at her side whined up at her. Bruno! Would he dare do this? Wouldn't Emmett balk at anything that might damage his son's po­litical career? Cady nodded. The answer was an unqual­ified affirmative. She started walking again, feeling her mouth compress. Emmett wouldn't cross the street to save her life, but as long as she was Rafe's spouse, he wouldn't do anything that would spot her reputation. Emmett would jump off a skyscraper to see that his son remained a senator. Therefore, Cady thought in bitter amusement, Emmett would not have had a hand in the blackmail scheme. But would Bruno go it alone on some­thing like this? Cady nodded again. He had the nerves of a riverboat gambler. "Bruno." She hissed the name, startling the bull terrier into whining and rubbing his muzzle against her thigh. Cady patted the animal absentmindedly. Would Bruno have the gall to cross Em­mett in such a way? Yes. There were enormous sums of money involved if Greeley succeeded in burying the en­vironmental bill before it reached the floor of the Senate.

  "How do I prove such a thing, Hobo?" she quizzed the whining dog. "How do I throw a wrench in the works of a plan that would be disastrous to Rafe... to me... and to our marriage? If they're allowed to get away with this, Hobo, they'll begin to undermine all the hard-fought battles Rafe has engaged in for our state." She stopped, clenching her hands in front of her, seeing in her mind's eye Rafe brought down, disgraced by these men. "No!" she shouted, making the dog bark. She patted his head. "I'm not going to let it happen, Hobo. They would pull Rafe apart, just as you were torn apart in pit fighting. Right now I'm between a rock and a hard place"—Cady hit the palm of her hand with her fist—"but I will be damned if I'll let these people destroy Rafe or his ideals."

  She paced back and forth in the meadow surrounding the paddock, racking her brain. "Stacy. Stacy Lande. I'll talk to her." Cady inhaled, feeling suddenly lighter as she thought of the secretary in Rafe's office whom she had hired away from Bruno Trabold at Stacy's own plead­ing. At first Cady had been very suspicious of the woman, thinking that she was a plant Bruno had placed there so he could spy on Cady. Gradually she had come to accept Stacy and believe her story that she could no longer work for the unscrupulous Bruno Trabold and still sleep nights. The two women had become close, and Cady considered her a good friend.

  She returned to the house on the run and called Rafe's office, asking to speak to the secretary. "Stacy? It's Cady Densmore. Yes, it's been awhile." Cady took a deep breath. "Stacy, I want you to do a favor for me. I want..." Cady swallowed. "I want you to tell me more about the Durra parties. Yes, I know I said it was a dead is­sue ... Now I need to know some things. I'd rather not talk about it on the phone. Yes, I know it was a rough time for you.. .for me, too." Cady gulped. "Stacy, I have it on good authority that there is a plot to destroy the senator and his work. You'll help me? Thank you. Yes, Robert's will be fine. One o'clock on Monday."

  The rest of the morning Cady made notes on people s
he might have alienated while she was working in Rafe's office. The list wasn't long, but it held more names than she would have guessed had someone asked her before­hand.

  When Trock returned, a panting Graf at his side, he held a camera out to her. "I brought this a while back. For a time I was an air photographer in the Marine Corps. Learned a few things." He paused, his throat working. "Leacock seems to know many people." He looked down at the dog. "Graf spotted his enemy... Bruno Trabold. They met on the access road to the Battle of Manassas Field. It's pretty open there, so I wasn't able to get too close..." He patted the dog. "But this fellow recognized Trabold and so did I." He coughed. "Following Todd Leacock hasn't been too hard. Don't imagine he figured anyone would do that. Got some good pictures of him and Trabold." He wrinkled his brow, clearing his throat as though talking made it hurt. "I won't be around here much. I want to see what Leacock does with his eve­nings." He took a deep breath. "Can you stall him?"

  Cady nodded, grim-faced. "I will. I must."

  Trock grunted. "Don't expect to see me until I have more information. The pictures will be ready tomorrow. I'm developing them myself."

  "Thank you, Trock."

  "They won't get away with it, Mrs. D." Track's voice was flat, but there was a lethal flicker in his opaque eyes.

  Rafe called and left a message with Mrs. Lacey that he would be working late that evening. Cady was both relieved that she could put off facing him after the row they'd had the previous evening and fearful that Rafe would be with a beautiful woman who would take his mind off his hysterical wife. All the pain of rejection that she had felt prior to Rafe's accident seemed to gather and balloon inside her once more. Worms of doubt nib­bled away at the newfound happiness that she was be­ginning to find with her husband.

  She plunged herself, dry-eyed, into the work at hand. She wouldn't allow herself ever again to become so im­mobilized by pain that she would retreat into a cocoon of oblivion. No! She lectured herself. Cady Nesbitt Densmore, you're a fighter, not a quitter! You can't give in to this! If you had talked to Rafe all those times before the accident, if you had told him how hurt you were by the things his family said and did to you, if you had made him talk to you instead of sending him alone to parties, to socials, then you might never have felt frozen out of his life. She gritted her teeth, nodding her head jerkily. Bruno Trabold and Todd Leacock expect you to cave in. Surrender! Concede! Cady surged to her feet behind the desk, rocking the heavy oak desk chair. "Rafe didn't quit," she muttered, staring at the oak-paneled walls, her hands snapping the pencil they held between them. "I won't quit, either. I'll see them in hell firstf