Cade shrugged. He didn’t particularly want to learn old Gerr had written a dozen books that were in every public library in North America. But surely, if the guy was a best-selling author, Cade had read enough crime fiction that he’d have recognized the name. And he wouldn’t mind hearing Gerr was a complete unknown.
“What the hell,” he finally said, “let’s go for it. His name’s Gerald Asimov.”
Harlan headed over to his bed and settled in with his laptop once more. Cade sat half-watching his roommate, half-wondering if Gerr had anything more than talking to Talia on his mind. He didn’t like the thought of that. Didn’t like it at all.
But there wasn’t a thing he could do about it—except kick himself for spending six entire weeks being a damn fool, playing his dumb look-but-don’t-touch game.
“Nothing,” Harlan said after a couple of minutes.
“What?”
“Nothing. I’ve checked four different libraries, and none of them have a listing for an author named Gerald Asimov.”
Cade couldn’t help smiling a little. He liked Harlan’s news flash. “So he’s not exactly Elmore Leonard.”
“Who?”
“A really well-known crime writer.”
“Oh. No, I guess not. Not unless he uses a pseudonym.”
Cade’s grin faded. “Can you find out?”
“Yeah, I think so.” Harlan went back to his keyboarding for another minute or two, then said, “We’re going to have to wait.”
Cade shot him a curious glance.
“I think,” Harlan explained, “the library of Congress cross-references pseudonyms. But the data base is down. They’re probably updating it or something. So, you want me to check any more catalogs?”
“No, don’t bother. But look, I’m feeling kind of restless, so I think I’ll head down to the bar for a while. You want to come?”
Harlan had taken a shower after the day’s deliberations and was wearing only his kung fu pajamas. He wasn’t likely to want to go anywhere, but it seemed only polite to ask.
He shook his head. “After last night there’s no way I’d go to the bar. In fact, I’m not leaving this room again till morning. I just want to talk to my buddy in Arizona.”
Cade nodded and blew out the candle. He’d been wanting to do that from the moment the waiter lit it. There was something about it that really annoyed him. Probably, he silently admitted, it was because he equated candlelight dinners with romantic evenings. And if anyone was having a romantic evening, it sure wasn’t him.
He glanced at the door that led to Talia’s room, hoping it wasn’t her and old Gerr, either.
That thought preying on his mind, he headed downstairs to the bar. When he walked in, four of the other jurors were sitting around one of the larger coffee tables.
He pulled up a chair to join them and got three friendly greetings. What he got from Roger Podonyi, though, was a surly grunt. Since their resident English teacher was normally talkative, he figured Roger was still steamed about being told to concentrate on the evidence, not his gut feelings.
A few minutes later, when another of the other jurors wandered in and headed in their direction, Roger announced he was going for a walk.
“I’m going to pack it in, too,” Myron Beyers, their jury foreman, said. He lingered after he stood up, though, until Roger was gone. Then he looked over at Cade.
“Hey,” he said quietly. “I’m rooming with Roger, you know.”
Cade grinned. “Lucky you.” That almost ranked with having Harlan for a roommate.
“Yeah, one day, and I’ve heard his entire life story. But take a friendly piece of advice, Cade. Maybe you shouldn’t get him any angrier at you.”
“No?”
“No, it could be dangerous. He doesn’t just teach English at that ritzy private school. He’s a crack shot, and he coaches students on the shooting range.”
Cade waited for some sign that Myron was joking. When it didn’t come he said, “I’m probably safe enough. I doubt he brought his gun along…did he?”
Myron shrugged. “I haven’t seen one, but maybe he did. He mentioned the resort has a shooting range. And that he’s planning on hitting it when he gets a chance.”
“Great,” Cade muttered. “If I turn up dead make sure you mention all that to the cops, will you?”
TALIA LEANED BACK, sipping her final few drops of wine while Gerald switched off his tiny tape recorder and stuck it into his suit pocket.
All the jurors who’d been in the dining room had been wearing casual clothes, but the majority of the resort guests had dressed for dinner—and dressed extremely well. Gerr’s suit was obviously not off the rack.
“Was I any help?” she asked when he met her gaze again.
“You were great. I’m already feeling a lot better about the book.” He gave her a smile she found a touch unsettling.
He seemed like a nice enough guy, but he was a little too smooth and polished for her liking. And even though he hadn’t said a word to suggest he had any interest in her—other than as an interviewee—she had a feeling he wasn’t a man who enjoyed finding himself alone in bed at the end of an evening.
“It’s an hypnotic sound, isn’t it?” he said.
For a minute she wasn’t sure what he meant. Then she realized that since they’d stopped talking the faint crashing of waves was audible.
“Very peaceful,” she murmured, glancing out into the night. The candle on their table was casting a glow on the dark glass, and their images were framed in the window.
Beyond that, she could see across the groomed hotel grounds to the road. On the far side, the beach stretched silver in the moonlight, and moonbeams danced on the white froth of the Atlantic surf.
“I love being near the water,” Gerr told her. “I’ve got a summer place in Cape Cod, and I head up there every time I can escape.”
She merely nodded. Remarks like that always made her feel sorry for people who lived in the Big Apple. It seemed that every New Yorker she’d ever met talked in terms of escaping from the city.
“How about a walk on the beach?” Gerr suggested. “I was out just before dinner and it wasn’t too chilly.”
“Oh…no, I’m wearing this dress…and heels, so—”
“You could change. After being locked up in that conference room all day, some fresh air would do you good.”
“Well…” She glanced outside again. He was right. A little fresh air would do her good. And if it was Cade suggesting they go for a walk, she knew she’d jump at the idea. But why on earth was she thinking about Cade again?
“Hey,” Gerr teased, “I’m a lawyer and writer, not a rapist and murderer. But I guess until the police get that killer you’re going to be pretty nervous.”
“Yes, I guess that’s it.”
They already had the killer, though. Thanks to Frank Boscoe, she knew that. And there wasn’t any real reason to be leery of Gerald Asimov. He was far too cool to try anything she couldn’t handle.
“But being nervous is silly, isn’t it?” she said, deciding. “So, why don’t I just run upstairs and change. It’ll only take me two minutes to put on jeans and sneakers.”
Gerr smiled. “Good. I think I’ll get into something more comfortable, too. Gucci didn’t design his shoes for walking on the beach.”
Once he’d signed the bill they headed for the second floor. When they reached the top of the stairs, Gerr started to turn left, then hesitated, seeing that she was turning right. “I’ll walk you to your room.”
“Oh, no, I’m fine. Really. I’ll meet you in the lobby in a few minutes.”
“Uh-uh. Bud mentioned you’re probably worried about more than that woman’s murder. He told me what happened last night—about the guy with the gun. So let’s not give him a chance at a repeat performance.”
She nodded, telling herself there was a fine line between being brave and being foolish. And insisting on walking to her room alone when she’d be scared spitless doing it was d
ecidedly foolish. Despite her anxiety, though, their trip down the hall was uneventful.
“You’re okay going in by yourself?” Gerr asked as she unlocked her door.
“Uh-huh. I’ll see you downstairs in five minutes.” She flicked on her light, then glanced back and smiled. “See? No murderers.”
When he laughed, she forced another smile. Then she closed the door and glanced toward the balcony. The maid had cleaned earlier, putting everything where it belonged—including the chair Cade had braced against the balcony doors last night. No doubt the woman had strict instructions about how she was to leave the room.
But the bed was already turned down, with two chocolate truffles perched enticingly on the pillow, so the maid wouldn’t be in again until tomorrow. And that meant there was no reason not to put the chair back where it would make things safer.
After moving it Talia started for the bathroom, unzipping her dress as she walked. With each step, her heart beat faster.
She firmly told herself that was ridiculous. There was no killer waiting in her bathroom. The sheriff’s people had him securely locked away.
Stopping at the door, she gingerly pushed it open and reached inside for the light—not quite able to erase her mental image of Mrs. Wertman lying in a spreading pool of blood. Then she flicked the switch and the light flashed on, revealing nothing but the shiny white bathroom.
Her heartbeat began to slow. Ridiculous or not, seeing the room was empty was a relief. Muttering that she was becoming downright paranoid, she changed and hurried back downstairs. When she got to the lobby Gerr was already there, chatting with Judge Bradshaw.
As she reached them, the Judge finished whatever he was saying to Gerr and turned to her. “Frank Boscoe spoke to you, I trust?”
“Yes. Thank you for asking him to.”
He nodded. ‘’Well, Gerr said you were off for a walk, and I don’t want to hold you up. I’ve got to find Liz, anyway, so I’d best get back to looking for her.”
Talia smiled a goodbye, then headed outside with Gerr. The night was just cool enough to be refreshing, and the moment she smelted the sea breeze she was glad she’d decided to come. Gerr had been right. After being cooped up all day, this was exactly what she needed.
They walked until they reached the road that paralleled the shore, then turned left—toward the north end of the island where the private estates and village were. After following the road for a few hundred yards, they cut down onto the beach and began walking not far from the water’s edge.
“This reminds me of the Cape,” Gerr said, breaking the silence. “Of course, it’s cooler up there in April, but most of the bite’s gone from the wind, so you know summer’s on the way.”
Talia nodded, taking another deep breath of the fresh sea air and wondering why she’d been so nervous about the idea of coming out. She really must be at risk of becoming paranoid.
Gerald Asimov had wanted to go for a walk, period. Any man with an ulterior motive would have at least tried to take her hand by this point.
“Which of the other jurors do you think I should talk to?” he asked. “Which of them are most perceptive?”
“Cade Hailey,” she said automatically.
“Yeah? Bud mentioned he’d probably be helpful, but he didn’t seem too friendly at lunch.”
“I think he just had something on his mind.”
“Okay, then I’ll try to set something up with him and—”
Suddenly there was a series of sharp spitting sounds in the sand near their feet and a sound like a car backfiring again and again.
Confused, Talia looked toward the empty road, trying to see where the car was.
Before she could spot it, Gerr grabbed her arm and roughly dragged her down behind a huge driftwood log.
Terrified, she tried to struggle up.
He shoved her back down, hissing, “Don’t move! Somebody’s shooting at us!”
Chapter Ten
Crouching behind the hulking chunk of driftwood with Gerald Asimov, Talia desperately wished she could crawl into the sand and disappear. The best she could do, though, was try not to move a muscle.
They hadn’t heard a sound from their shooter in several endless seconds. But given the crashing of the waves and the pounding of her heart that didn’t mean a thing. He could be closing in for the kill right this instant, and they’d never hear him.
But who was he? Her weirdo? Or had Ruth Wertman’s murderer returned? Or maybe he’d never left. Maybe the cops had arrested the wrong people.
“There he goes now,” Gerr whispered.
“Wait!” she cried as he scrambled to his feet and started sprinting across the beach. Her plea was lost in the roar of the ocean.
Frozen by fear and indecision, she followed Gerr with her eyes. Then she looked past him, spotted the man he’d seen and felt a faint sense of relief.
He hadn’t been closing in for the kill at all. He was running away—simply a dark figure running along the road. But Gerr was angling across the beach after him, which was crazy. He was liable to get himself shot.
As she watched, someone else appeared in the distance, coming rapidly from the direction of the hotel. Even with only the moonlight to see by, she recognized his stride. It was Cade. And the shooter was running toward him. When they rounded the bend in the road they’d come face-to-face.
For a moment her heart stopped. Then she pushed herself up from the cold sand and started racing across it. If that guy started shooting again Cade could end up dead.
Her throat tight, she tried to run faster, cursing the sand for slowing her down. Ahead she saw the shooter and Cade nearing each other, and her heart almost stopped again. But there was no more shooting. Once the two men reached each other, they stopped and began to talk. Then Gerr reached them and gestured in her direction.
Cade started charging across the sand toward her. When he wordlessly folded her into his arms she clung to him, her knees suddenly so weak she didn’t know how she’d managed to stand, let alone run.
“You okay?” he murmured.
She nodded against his chest, fighting off threatening tears. How could she have even tried to convince herself she didn’t feel anything special for him? The man who’d been shooting at her was standing right up there on the road, yet she felt absurdly safe in Cade’s arms.
“What are you doing here?” she asked at last.
“Making sure you’re okay. That’s what friends are for.” He gently smoothed her windblown hair with his fingers. The gesture was so tender she almost lost the battle and gave in to her tears.
“I was in the bar,” he said, “and the Judge came in looking for Liz. He mentioned you’d gone out for a walk with old Gerr and I just…Oh, hell, Talia, I just wanted to make sure you were all right. I mean you don’t really know anything about the guy, so…”
“Thank you,” she whispered.
“You’re welcome,” he whispered back. Then he simply held her close while his heartbeat began to slow a little.
He’d never been more terrified than when he’d heard that gunfire up ahead. He’d known she was out here someplace, and all he’d been able to think was that he could lose her. Lose her before she was even his to lose.
“There was really no reason to worry about Gerr,” she murmured at last, then pointed toward the road. “But, oh, Cade, that man there was shooting at us.”
“No, it wasn’t him. That’s Roger Podonyi.” Reluctantly he released his hold and glanced across the sand to where Roger and Gerr were waiting.
“Roger? I…I didn’t recognize him. But if it wasn’t him…Cade, somebody was shooting at us. And a minute later Roger was running away.”
“I know. But he said he didn’t know what the hell was going on. If the guy who killed Mrs. Wertman is still around, though, maybe—”
“No. No, it wasn’t him, either. For a minute I was thinking that, too, but it couldn’t’ve been him. I talked to Frank Boscoe before dinner, and they’ve got Ruth Wertman
’s murderer locked up.”
Cade listened while she briefly filled in the details. “Then it obviously wasn’t him,” he said when she finished.
“And you’re sure about Roger?”
“Hell, Talia, there’s damn little I’m sure about at the moment. But he said he was only running because he figured this wasn’t exactly a safe place to be. He didn’t even realize you and Gerr were on the beach.”
“But how could he not have seen us? We were walking right out in the open.”
“I don’t know. I only spoke to him for a second. But let’s not worry about that right now. Let’s just get the hell out of here. We’re like sitting ducks in the moonlight.”
They started across the sand, Cade’s mind racing. From the moment he’d heard those shots, his only thought had been for Talia’s safety. But now that he knew she was all right, he’d begun thinking about what Myron Beyers had told him—that Roger didn’t just teach English, that he was a crack shot who taught some of his students to shoot.
So maybe Roger did know what had been going on. After all, as Talia had just said, how could he not have seen them when they were right out in the open? By the time they made it to the road, he was almost convinced it was Roger who’d been doing the shooting— and almost ready to kill him with his bare hands.
“You’re sure you didn’t see the guy with the gun, Roger?” he demanded as they reached him and Gerr.
“What kind of question is that? If I had I’d have told you.”
Cade shrugged, trying not to lose his cool entirely. “It just seems kind of hard to believe. I mean, you must have known roughly where the shots were coming from. And if there was someone standing there, I don’t understand how you didn’t—”
“If there was someone standing there?” Roger snapped. “What’s that supposed to mean? That you think there might not have been? That you think it was me? Dammit, Hailey, you can be a real pain. Do I smell like I’ve fired a gun recently?” he asked, shoving his palms practically against Cade’s nose. “If I had, there’d be gunpowder residue on my hands. You’d be able to smell the cordite.”
Love And Lies Page 10