The phone rang.
Leila’s shoulders startled at the sudden jangle. “Don’t answer it.” Her wet tongue caressed his neck.
Certainly, he didn’t want to, but something in June’s smiling portrait called to him. What if something had really happened to her this time? “I have to.” He reached across her breasts for the receiver.
“No, you don’t,” she said. Her long fingers caressed his thighs and then…
“Oh yeah, hi Bunny,” he said, struggling to catch his breath. What did Bunny want, right now, at this most inconvenient moment? “No, I’m fine. How are you? Look, I said I’m fine. Oh. She’s not? No Bunny. I won’t be mad. You should do that. Bunny, I don’t… Hi there, Giles. Yeah, sorry to hear about June.” Suddenly, Leila’s hand seemed frozen there. Was it his imagination? Had the temperature in the room just dropped twenty degrees? “No, I’ll be in to work tomorrow. You can count on me, Giles. Bye.”
Dan hesitated for a moment, while Leila stared at the picture on the dresser. June in her forties, he supposed. She really hadn’t changed much, though Dan guessed she was somewhere in her sixties. Had she always looked so old? He reached for Leila’s chin; he tried to stroke her smooth cheek. She brushed his hand from her face. Something changed between them. What happened?
“Who is Giles?” Leila’s eyes never wavered from his bruised face. The clock in the hall chimed twelve times.
“Why?”
Leila sat up, and confronted him with folded arms. “I want to know. I want to know everything about you.”
“Well, it’s not very intriguing, but here goes. Giles is my wife’s father.”
“What? What does he look like?”
“Hey, I thought you were interested in me.” Dan chuckled at his own joke. Leila did not. He noticed that and wondered. “Leila, what is wrong with you tonight?”
“Tell me what he looks like, damn it.”
“Well, let’s see. How do I describe Giles Dingwerth?”
“Dingwerth!”
“Yes Leila, I’m married to Bunny Dingwerth, I work for Dingwerth Distinctive Designs, and Giles Dingwerth IV is my father-in-law. Giles is about 6’1” tall, with white hair, and dark brown eyes. Sort of tan skin, even in the winter, don’t know how the old boy does it. June is Bunny’s mother, who by the way, is in a coma, and by the way, that’s her portrait over there on the dresser. God knows she still looks the same as she did back then. Creepy stuff, huh? So, there you have it. Now, you know everything there is to know, except I guess what it is I do for Giles at Dingwerth Distinctive Designs. So, I’ll tell you that part, too. I’m Vice-President.”
For a second, Leila seemed distracted from her hysteria. “I’m impressed. What are you in charge of exactly?”
Dan stumbled for a second. His mind scanned his resume for an impressive credential. Nada. “It changes all the time. That’s what makes my job so, so…”
“General?”
“No. I’m always in charge of something. Giles sees to that. Like tomorrow, for example, he can’t be there for an important interview, so he makes sure that I am. Why are you so quiet all of a sudden? Are you mad about something?”
Leila buried her head in her hands. She sat cross-legged with her elbows resting on her knees. If he didn’t know better, he would have thought someone had just died. She shook her head from side to side while she spoke. “I must tell you something. I want you to listen very closely. Nothing I say is going to change how I feel about you.”
“Leila, I promise you, I’m getting a divorce.”
Leila put her fingers to her mouth. “Shh. I’ve never felt about anyone what I feel for you. Not Carlos, not Roberto, not Diego, not Sergio, not—”
“You can stop now.”
“Okay. It doesn’t matter to me if you get a divorce or not. I don’t care. I will love you, married or no.” She shrugged and tossed her long, dark hair. “I feel if two people love each other, they should love each other. Life is short, you know?” She leaned toward Dan and kissed him, softly at first, with her eyes wide open; then, with her eyes closed, they share one long, passionate kiss. “I love you, Daniel Hunter, and I don’t want anything ever to come between us.”
“It won’t, I promise. Why are you talking like this?”
Again, Leila stared at June’s portrait. She took a deep breath. “Dan, I know Giles Dingwerth.”
“So does half of this town, maybe all of it. What are you trying to say?”
“I’m saying, I know him. Intimately, like I know you, I know him.”
“You mean, know him, like you’ve been with him?”
“Yes.” Leila’s voice sounded low and shaky.
“That’s impossible. We can’t be talking about the same guy.”
“Does he like marmalade on his toast? Does he like his mashed potatoes with lots of gravy?”
“Well, yes, but—”
“Does the end of his mouth twitch when he’s upset?”
“Yeah,” he said, in a puzzled tone. “Does he have a driver who drives him around in a black Mercedes?”
It had to be Giles. Dan didn’t see any point in answering Leila’s last question. He didn’t feel angry—just incredulous. It couldn’t be, and yet, it had to be. Well, so what? He wasn’t going anywhere. Leila was right. If they loved each other, then no matter what the price, they should be together.
“Dan?”
“Hmmm?”
“There’s just one thing.” Leila rubbed the back of her neck. Every word sounded heavy and labored. “His wife is very sick, no?”
“That’s what they say. What are you getting at?”
“Will she die, do you think? Giles would be a free man.”
Dan hadn’t thought about much, actually. He hated to admit it, but he was beginning to see Leila’s point. If June should die, Giles would be free, and these days, Dan did not enjoy that privilege. If Bunny had her way, Dan would be saddled with Bunny and Bunny Baby, while Giles and Leila…he didn’t want to even remotely entertain the painful scenario.
“No, June won’t die. This happens all the time. June just doesn’t take care of herself, and her diabetes goes wacko. I’ve seen it happen before; it will happen again. Nothing to be alarmed about, trust me.”
Bunny said she would spend the night at the hospital, did Danny mind too terribly much? For once, Bunny had perfect timing. Dan lay beside Leila that night, unable to close his eyes. Clearly, Leila trusted him, for she slept soundly. He only wished he could take his own advice.
After this bizarre discovery, he didn’t know if he could go into the office tomorrow morning. What were the chances of such a coincidence? A cold chill ran down his neck. Giles had mentioned an interview with the Knowes woman tomorrow morning, hadn’t he? That reporter must know about Leila! That’s what she wanted to talk about-he just knew it. His gaze fell on June’s photo. For the first time, he wondered about his mother-in-law and Giles. Did June know about Leila?
The following day…
Gabby felt livid. For the second time in three weeks, Giles Dingwerth broke an appointment with her. Worse, he didn’t even have the decency to reschedule, oh no. What did he do? He booked the fool who sliced her donuts into bullets to do the “up close and personal” interview. Would her readers forgive her? Ha!
When she spotted him, with his face all bruised up like that, she almost ran the other way. Then, she reconsidered. In her devious mind, he owed her an interview. With a juicy scoop, he could possibly redeem himself. Besides, he might give her some good gossip about his spoiled rotten wife, Bunnywitch that she was. Ooh, he was walking her way now.
“Hello, Miss uh…” His eyes darted around the room as if he might find her name written somewhere on the stark white walls.
“Knowes. It’s Gabby Knowes, from the Gateway Gabette. Do you recall the night of your car accident? I called 911 for you. Or, I’ve got it. Maybe you remember the first time we met, you know, the day you smashed a box of Krispy Kremes into the revolving door at th
e Hotel Charlotte. Any bells ringing in that head of yours? Ding-a-ling?” Okay, maybe she’d been extreme. Dan’s reluctance to take a seat behind the massive mahogany desk told her that much. He stood by the closed door, his arms folded tightly across his trim body. For a moment, Gabby thought he would turn and leave. She thought wrong.
“Have a seat, won’t you Miss Knowes?” he said, pointing to the burgundy leather sofa in Giles’ office. Morning sunlight streamed through the airtight glass, revealing a fine coat of dust on the coffee table in front of the sofa. “Make yourself at home.” He took a seat behind Giles’ desk, staring and grinning in apparent amusement.
Gabby did not look amused.”You must know why I’m here today,” she said, crossing her long legs.
Dan leaned back in the oversized executive leather chair. “Tell me.”
“Well, by now of course, you must have heard the rumors.”
“Rumors? About me?”
Gabby laughed. This guy had to be kidding or pathologically obtuse. “We’ll get to those later. You can bet on that. No, I’m talking about those wild stories about Giles Dingwerth and that drop-dead gorgeous model. You know, the one from Venezuela? Caracas, I think it is. Everyone knows who she is, Mr. Hunter.” Was she imagining things, or did she just see a quiver in Dan’s shoulders? Maybe it was a sudden chill, but she wasn’t feeling one. Nope, she was definitely feeling warmer.
Without hesitation, Dan replied. “You know, it’s too bad that my father-in-law isn’t here to defend himself, isn’t it? I mean, I can’t explain those types of crazy stories, especially with my mother-in-law in a coma over at Ivymount Medical Center. Don’t you feel just a little disrespectful, Miss Knowes?”
Like a ravenous cat with a cornered mouse, Gabby considered Dan. Any way she looked at it, she had Mr. Hunter where she wanted him. The real question remained, exactly where did she want to put him?
“Well,” she began, recrossing her shapely legs, “I just thought your father-in-law might appreciate the chance to set the record straight, so to speak. As a conscientious reporter, I feel I owe the naked truth to my readers. Care to comment?”
Dan folded his hands on the desktop and glared at her with determination. “No. You can quote me on that.”
Gabby uncrossed her legs. “Okay.”
“Okay, then I assume we’re finished here?”
“Oh noo-o. I’m just beginning.”
“No, I don’t think you are. In fact, I think one call to security should help you to wrap this up.” Dan reached for the elaborate phone system, complete with fifteen lines to only-Giles-Knew-Where.
“I wouldn’t do that just yet,” Gabby said. “You do realize, of course, that you’re confirming my suspicions? But hey, go ahead.”
Dan set down the receiver. “What suspicions?” he said.
Gabby took a stab in the dark. “Well, you were seen at the Hotel Charlotte two nights ago. Now, don’t think I believe such a thing, but you might as well know it’s out there. Rumor has it that you didn’t leave until well after midnight,” and-here, Gabby dropped her voice to a whisper—“that you were in Room 1204 the whole time. Care to comment?”
“You’re a real troublemaker, aren’t you?”
“Great minds think alike, don’t they?” Gabby said, with a twinkle in her eye.
Dan rose from the chair, his jaw locked in rage. From the look on his face, the rumors about him and Mrs. Bolivar had to be true, Gabby concluded, at least in part. Now, he reached for her elbow to pry her from the sofa. “It’s time you left the building.”
“I only speak the truth. Don’t you want my readers to know the truth?” Gabby planted her high-heeled shoes into the plush Oriental rug. Clearly, she did not intend to leave. Still, his hand gripped her arm insistently.
“I said, leave, and I meant it,” Dan said. “If you choose to pick such a trying time in Dingwerth family history to print your trashy rumors, you will hear from our lawyers. I am very prepared to call security. Now, go!” His fingers clenched the flesh on her arm as he hoisted her to her feet.
She struggled to free herself and collapsed on the sofa. “I’m not leaving until…” Gabby’s voice melted to a whisper, for there in the doorway, stood Bunny Dingwerth.
Now, she pointed at Gabby. “I knew something was going on. I’m telling you, woman to woman, sister, get lost!” Her hands were on her hips, her white plastic sunglasses perched on her cute nose, and her ponytail bobbed while she yipped and yapped, like a toy poodle that had been clipped a little too close to the skin. Her powder pink sweatsuit looked wrinkled and tired. Somehow, her white framed sunglasses had become awry and crooked on her cute nose.
Gabby was tempted, she really was. How could Bunny have known what Dan knew about Giles and Leila? If only she had. How could Bunny have known Dan feared Gabby would tell Bunny everything she knew? If only she had. Perhaps then, Bunny wouldn’t have made such a fool of herself.
“I heard you came to harass my husband today. Daddy said Danny could handle whatever problems you threw at him. You ought to be ashamed of yourself, you know that? As if Daddy doesn’t have enough on his mind, with Mommy still at Ivymount. And I know how upset Danny is too, even though he tries to hide it so he won’t upset me. He’s just too sweet, that’s his problem.”
“How is June?” Dan said, hoping to change the subject, as soon as possible, please and thank you.
“Who?”
“Your mother, Bunny. How is she?”
“Oh, she’s much better. Dr. Hart says she can come home today at five. She needs her car. I hope you’ve been taking good care of it for her.”
Gabby saw the panicked look on Dan’s face. She didn’t know if Bunny had or not, because Bunny prattled on and on about how Penny and Candy dropped by Mommy’s hospital room today. Didn’t Danny think those two were just the best friends ever? His face had suddenly gone very pale. What, Gabby wondered, was on Dan’s mind?
“Danny,” Bunny said, nudging the sunglasses high on her nose, “I didn’t see Mommy’s car in the parking lot when I showed up today. Where did you park it?”
“Hmmm?” Dan said.
“You know,” Gabby said, “I’ve got to go now. Deadlines to meet and all that stuff, but then, Mr. Hunter here knows all about pressure, don’t you, Mr. Vice-President of…I’m sorry, what is it that you’re in charge of, sir?”
“Something. Danny’s in charge of Something,” Bunny said. “You can quote me on that, ’kay? Now, I hope this time you’ve got all you need. That way, you won’t have to come back.”
Amused and oddly relieved, Gabby eased her way past a tense Dan, a fuming Bunny, and into the noonday sunshine. Yes, she had all she needed, at least for now.
But, she would need to come back for more—much more.
Thirteen
Dr. Hart felt exhausted. This entire week had been simply exasperating, with Giles and his daughter Bitty, and worst of all, the late night phone call from Marc. Add to all of that the mediocre existence he led in that moldy apartment and well, one got the picture. He’d wanted, indeed needed, the divorce from Angela, no doubt about that. In fact, as he parked his silver Cadillac—finally!—in the hospital parking lot that morning, he actually struggled to recall whose idea it had been to initiate it. Things had gotten that bad.
Still, the call from Marc nagged at him for at least two reasons. The first one had to do with the sneaky suspicion that Marc felt a physical attraction to him. He’d only encountered it once before, back in medical school, when another student named—oh, what was his name—Alfie Hornsby, that’s right, when Alfie put his hand on his knee during a film on heroin addiction. Funny, he still remembered it and he hadn’t thought of it since, until today.
He didn’t know what to do about Marc. Quite simply, he liked Marc as a friend, because he was a genuinely nice person, but that was all there was to it. His personal taste for more erotic pleasures had always run to the female persuasion. But, because of Marc’s job at the Hotel Charlotte, he told D
r. Hart things from time to time that kept him “in the know,” so to speak.
In short, Marc idealized Dr. Hart and Dr. Hart genuinely liked Marc. But, he wondered if the day would come when he would have to stop seeing Marc because the friendship had grown too intense. Because he would lose both a valuable friendship and breaking news on social scene, he sincerely hoped not.
His professional opinion of Giles Dingwerth loomed in the forefront of his mind. The irritating phone call with his soon to be ex-wife Angela, now coincidentally with Marc’s ex-lover Brock, confirmed the rumors swirling in the dirty wind about Leila and Giles. Strolling up the stone walk to Ivymount Medical Center, his last conversation with June Dingwerth reverberated in his weary brain. It’s the model Leila Bolivar Giles wants, not me…If I should suddenly die, doctor, it might not be an accident. Dr. Hart punched the elevator button. Were those the musings of a delusional diabetic, or the harsh truth? They could be either, or both.
He stepped off the elevator and into the stark wide corridor. Judging from the collection of jumbled trays stacked high on metal carts, breakfast had just ended. There was a steamy, sick bed odor hanging in the stale air. It never failed to amaze him that anyone recovered in such an atmosphere. Oh, there was Giles now, talking on his cell phone. Dr. Hart knew he shouldn’t eavesdrop, but under the questionable circumstances…
“Leila darling,” he heard Giles say in a muffled voice, “what is going on here? Don’t tell me nothing. You never have time for me anymore. Well, it certainly doesn’t seem like it. You know, I came by your hotel room last night, and by gosh, you weren’t there. My wife? Oh dear, she was still in one of her comas, but she’s fine as fish now.” He must have felt Dr. Hart’s stare, because he turned and said, “Oh dear, it’s the doctor wanting to see me now. Got to go, darling. I’ll call you.”
Dr. Hart approached him, June’s medical chart cradled in his right arm. “Well Giles, today’s the big day, eh?” He managed a broad smile, searching for something in Giles’ expression to speak to him, to tell him what he needed to know.
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