by Norma Lehr
“Yeah, but I’m not dressed yet.” He widened the door a slit. He had a towel wrapped low on his torso. Another was draped around his neck. “Did Heath give you the information about Trish you were looking for?”
“He did.” She hesitated then added solemnly, “He most certainly did.”
They were both silent for a moment.
“Give me a minute,” Blade said. “I’ll get my clothes.”
“Okay. Hurry, though. I’ve got to get back to Ginny’s.”
“You can’t stay awhile?” He held out his hand. “Come on. I’ve made plans.”
She shook her head and glanced away. “Get dressed. I’ll wait.”
He turned to go back in then swung around. The towel at his waist slipped dangerously low. He slid his keys from a table where a small lamp threw off a golden glow. An inviting golden glow. With a quick glance back over his shoulder, he smiled guiltily while he secured a corner of the towel. “While I get decent, can you find a folder in my car? It holds info I need you to see. Look on the backseat.” He dangled the keys.
Awkward, awkward. The heat rose to her neck. She found it difficult to keep her eyes off his smooth, well-tanned chest as she reached out for the keys. Blade gently gripped her fingers. She looked up and met his dark eyes. “Stay, Abby. For a while anyway. We haven’t had much time alone since we got here.”
Slowly she disengaged her fingers from his warm hand. “I know. We’ll have our time, but it can’t be tonight. Or any night, really, until I find my mother. Did Heath tell you about her past?”
“Some, but not many details.”
Suddenly dizzy, she grabbed onto an outside metal rail.
Blade stepped out. “What, Abby? Are you all right?”
“I’m fine. Just tired. Go on in. I’ll be back in a minute with your folder.”
Inside Blade’s rental car, Abby kneeled on the passenger seat and leaned over. The manila folder sat on top of a briefcase in the back. When she stretched to reach, her foot hit the glove compartment on the dash. The lid flipped open and a small interior light revealed the contents. She turned back around to close the lid. Instead, she sat down and peered in. Not much inside: a few car rental papers, a black leather pouch, and a plastic wallet-size case with photos. Intrigued, she lifted the pouch and zipped it open. Tools of various sizes. No need to guess what they were used for. To pick locks. Abby had owned a set once when she lived in New York. Her roommate gave them to her when she moved out. Told her there were times they would come in handy and showed her how to use them. Well, now. What a find! Exactly what she needed to get into the dentist’s place. She leaned back and thought a moment. If she asked, Blade might loan them to her. Then again, he might not if she refused to tell him why she needed them. If he knew her plan, he might try to talk her out of going there alone. But it was important for her to go alone. She needed to concentrate. Scour the scene quietly with no distractions. Could be some trace of her mother in the villa the police had overlooked, or didn’t think was pertinent to their case. If she was thorough and took her time, she might spot something. Any little clue that would point her toward Trish. Afterward, she would return Blade’s tools, explain what she’d done and apologize profusely. Abby raised her head and looked out past the windshield to his cabin door. Still closed. Feeling a tad guilty, but not enough to stop, she stuffed the pouch in her big black purse.
Curious, she removed the plastic picture holder and turned it over. Two pictures inside. Could be shots pertinent to Blade’s current case. Photo leads from the man who hired him in Santa Barbara. Hmmm. She studied them closely. Looked like family pix. The first, a headshot of a smiling, pretty woman with dark hair and soft dark eyes. A nice shot taken by a professional photographer. She flipped the clear plastic. With all my love, Val. Opposite the pretty woman was a snapshot of two beautiful children. A boy and a girl with broad smiles sitting on a sofa. Printed on the back. Trudy, 4 & Terry 6. We love you, Daddy.
Abby collapsed back against the seat and slapped her hand over her mouth.
“Here,” Abby said, trying to hold in her anger. “Your folder.” She turned to leave.
Blade, now fully dressed in gray slacks and a navy T, reached out for her arm. “Wait. Where are you off to?” He shook the folder. “We need to discuss what’s in here. There’s interesting info you need to see.” He squinted. “What’s up, Abs?”
Abby turned her back. Tears blurred her vision and she didn’t dare turn around. She’d found all the interesting info he had. More than she needed to see. Without answering, she shook off his hand, rushed to her aunt’s little GEM, circled the drive and putted out of the Caliente Tropics with her foot heavy on the pedal. When she reached the main road, even though he was far past hearing, she called back over her shoulder, “So much for a warm hug and an understanding heart. And don’t ever call me Abs.”
The night air cooled her head and she let her hair blow free as she buzzed along the highway to Ginny’s cottage. After spinning dangerously around two curvy miles like a wounded bird, she let up on the pedal. Maybe she’d jumped to conclusions without giving Blade a chance to explain the photos. He’d never so much as mentioned having a wife or kids. And who carried a picture of their ex? And she had known him since they worked together at Lake Tahoe last fall. While they were enjoying a fantastic dinner by the lake, she’d asked and he said he’d been through two divorces. One bitter. He’d spoken of his parents, but there was no mention at any time of children. Even if they were from a divorce, it still didn’t sit right with her. Holding back important information was dishonest. The same as lying, as far as she was concerned. Blade knew about her ex and her twins from the get-go. And her aunts. And her friends! And more recently, her mother. She’d been pretty much upfront with him. Why would he hold back this important part of his life unless he had something to hide? She wanted to trust him. Work on building an important relationship with him. Tears surfaced as her history with a lying ex-husband popped up to taunt her. Or warn her. She sucked in deep breaths of the desert night air. When she calmed down, maybe she’d be able to listen to whatever he had to say. But not tonight.
At Ginny’s place, a copper Lexus parked in the cottage driveway announced her Aunt Dorie had arrived from the airport in style. Abby was nearing the tiled entryway when women’s voices drifted from around the back of the house. She hesitated while she gathered her thoughts. It took a moment to sort through the distressing information received earlier from Michael Heath. Upsetting and dangerous. Before she faced her aunts, she resolved to find out the truth about her mother. No matter what!
Blade had secrets, her mother had secrets, and now her aunts …. She turned right and took the side gravel path to the patio. A confrontation with her two strong-willed aunts was not going to be easy.
Ginny and Dorie sat in the bubbly hot tub discussing Trish. Heatedly discussing Trish. “You know how undependable she is.” Dorie’s voice rose from the bubbles as she brushed the tips of wet hair behind her ear.
“She’s been sober for so long I thought—”
“Thought, thought.” Dorie stood naked in the water. “It takes faith.” She reached for a towel but couldn’t quite get it. Abby made her way around the perimeter of the tub’s shadowed side, picked one up and handed it to her.
Dorie’s face lit with a bright smile of professionally whitened teeth. “Abby, darlin’. Where’d you come from?” She lowered her chin and peered up at her. “Sneakin’ up on us like that.” She climbed out and opened her arms. “Come here, baby.”
Abby ignored her aunt’s invitation for a hug. Instead, she draped the towel over Dorie’s wet arms and smiled demurely.
“Abby,” came Ginny’s harsh voice. “Where were you? I’ve been worried sick. Why didn’t you call?” Ginny reached up from the water for a hand. With Abby’s help, she managed to climb the two steps while holding onto the metal rail.
“Haven’t had time to call. I’ve been busy. Any news here? Good or bad?”
Ginny reached for her towel. “Let’s sit on these patio chairs. We need to get caught up. There’s a pitcher of tea on the table.” The aunts shoved their feet into rubber thongs and grabbed their robes.
Abby spotted a whole lemon on a small green and white enamel tray. She picked up the small sharp knife on the side, pursed her lips and began viciously cutting the lemon into pieces before she tossed them into tall glasses. “Well, what are you waiting for?” She planted her hands on her hips. “Someone pour the tea.”
Ginny offered a weak smile. “Something wrong, honey?”
Dorie stepped around the side of the white iron patio table, grabbed hold of the pitcher and stared at Abby. “I just got here. Was sent for. Some welcome.” She huffed and plunked the pitcher down. “Went to a lot of trouble to get my affairs in order to make this trip here to help out. Now without so much as a thank you, you give me an attitude. What’s your problem, Niece?”
Abby pursed her lips and scowled. She dropped one hand from her hip and tapped a finger at the corner of her mouth. “Oh,” she said, “I know what my problem is. I’ve been thinking maybe you two,” she spread her hands palms up, “might be able to clear up some information about your sister, my mother. You know, like something terrible that might have happened to her when she was young. A shocking incident?” She widened her eyes and her voice dropped. “Or—and I hate to even voice it—about someone dangerous she was mixed up with. Maybe mobsters who could at this very moment be looking for her?” She plopped down on the patio chair, feet splayed and knees pressed together.
Ginny limped over and put her arm around Abby’s shoulder. “What are you talking about?”
Abby shook her off. “I just had a very interesting conversation with Trish’s literary agent. What a whopper of a story he told. He’s a fellow—well, he’s a man now. You may or may not recall, but seriously I don’t know how you could forget him. He tells a hair-raising story of mob crime and murder. Hates you both for what you did. Says you two dangerously used your younger sister, my mother, to get the Malones headlined in Vegas back in the day.”
Ginny’s mouth opened to speak then shut abruptly. She looked helplessly at Dorie.
Within seconds, Dorie’s demeanor changed. Her smile returned and she used a soft pink hand towel to dry the tips of her shiny blonde hair. “Looks like someone’s been filling your pretty head with a bunch of nonsense about the past.” She stopped drying and peered up at Abby from a corner of the towel. “What we need to do here, right now, is let go of dangerous troublemakers. Pray Trish is in no danger. That we shall momentarily receive good news of her safety. The keyword here is pray.” She draped the towel around one shoulder, closed her eyes and raised her right arm, fingers splayed toward the sky.
Ginny lifted her chin and her eyes brightened. “Dorie’s right. Let’s not get carried away. Not by weird stories from who knows who. Your Aunt Dorie has come here to help. We all need to hang in there together.” Ginny tilted her head. She carefully reached out to Abby and gently touched her wrist with her fingertip. “Not argue and blame.” She turned and gazed at Dorie, standing in the moonlight with both arms raised. “Your aunt’s become an ordained minister. We should be very proud. Anyway, I’m impressed. Dorie started her own spiritual congregation. Church of the Highest Note. She’s on TV every Wednesday evening.”
Abby stood. Speechless. She stared at Ginny and then Dorie in disbelief. “My phone’s buzzing. I’ve got to take this. Don’t move. I’m not through here. In the meantime, think about what I said.”
Dorie began to hum in a low voice. Ginny stood spellbound.
“Ginny!” Abby snapped her fingers. “Snap out of it! I need the truth if we want to find Trish.” Abby stomped across the planked deck, firmly clutching her phone.
“Hi, doll, Heath here.” He didn’t wait for her reply. “I’ve been thinking over our conversation. When you confront those biddy aunts of yours, they won’t recognize my name. But they’ll know who I am. Don’t get pulled in by their innocent act. Those two sisters are responsible for whatever happens to your mother.” Before Abby could ask why or how, or squeeze a word in, she realized he’d ended the call. Outside, a car started. She moved to the kitchen window and peered through the slats. Across the street, a dark car with no lights and darkened windows pulled away. An icy shiver darted across her shoulders.
Had that really been Michael Heath calling? There was a definite echo after each word. Like the caller might have been standing in a tunnel. If the caller had truly been Heath, why was he pushing? And why was he possibly at the house?
She figured she knew why. He still loved Trish. Or did he? Her head began to throb. Tired. She desperately needed sleep. Questions for her aunts could wait till later. Her plan to get to the dentist’s condo topped her list. Tomorrow morning. First thing. So many important things to do.
Weariness overcame her. She stumbled into the living room, where she dropped onto the sofa. She pulled up her feet and stuffed a sofa pillow under her throbbing head. As she drifted off, visions of her mother’s face flashed across her closed eyes. A veiled image of Trish hovered above and gazed down at Abby with love.
Her smartphone buzzed again, but now Abby couldn’t be reached. Someone removed the phone from her hand while someone else slipped off her shoes and covered her with a soft blanket. Whispers—whispers across the room.
Dawn broke through the sheer drapes. Abby awoke with a start. She’d slept through the night. When she tried to turn over, she moaned. Stiff. All the tension from yesterday’s escapades had caught up with her. Her smartphone had been placed next to her on the coffee table near the sofa. She reached over and squinted. One call from Blade at ten-thirteen last night. Her eyes narrowed. She needed his help. That was a given. No time now for a confrontation. Best to let the pictures of family in his glove compartment wait. Abby sat up. Today there were more important issues to deal with. Still in yesterday’s clothes, she rubbed under her armpits and sniffed. Pinching her nose, she headed for the shower as the antique hall clock softly chimed six. She hesitated, waited, and listened. All was quiet in the house. Down the hall, both bedroom doors were closed. Good! With time on her side, she could shower, make tea and get out of here before her aunts awoke. Her plan? To return here later and demand answers about what went on in Atlantic City.
The hot water beating down on her shoulders revived her. After two deep breaths, Abby stepped one foot from the stall and was immediately handed a fluffy white bath towel. “Good morning, love,” Dorie hummed. Abby pulled at the towel and stepped back into the stall to dry and wrap up.
“I’ve already had my tea,” Dorie sang softly. “There’s a steaming cup waiting for you in the kitchen. First, I need to show you something.”
Good Lord. This early her blue eyes shone and she looked fresh-faced as a high school sophomore.
“Thanks, Dorie, you’re an early bird. However, I’ll have to take the tea with me. I’ve got an important appointment.”
“At a little after six? I suppose you didn’t hear the hall clock chime. It’s still early. Come on. Your bag is in the guestroom with your clean clothes. I have something important I want to show you.”
Important? Good. Dorie might be ready to shed light on Heath and Trish’s story. “Give me a second.” She turned to gather yesterday’s clothes from the rack.
Dorie took them first. “Here, I’ll do these up for you. When you get back from wherever you’re mysteriously going, they’ll be clean, hung, and folded.”
Wow! Preferential treatment. In the past, Dorie had barely noticed her. Always too absorbed in her daughter and her own showbiz life. Abby watched her lightly step out the bathroom door, tiptoeing like a ballerina. Abby followed as Dorie headed for the guestroom, smiling and mimicking her aunt’s graceful exit.
The guestroom didn’t look the same. Dorie had arrived yesterday and in a short time rearranged the furniture. A small altar with lit yellow candles had been set up on the chest of drawers. A fra
med picture of a much younger Trish had been placed on one side of the chest, catching flickers of candlelight. Facing the picture stood a small statue with a porcelain face. A gold headpiece covered her head like a helmet and a strand of tiny rubies had been placed around her elongated neck. Tiny wings on the helmet flashed in the morning sunlight, streaming through the window. In one hand she held a golden tablet. In the other, a small harp. Abby leaned closer to study the instrument’s four well-defined strings.
“It’s a lyre,” Dorie offered. “Used in the days of the Ancient Greeks. Maybe even centuries earlier. Beautiful work, don’t you think?” She reached for Abby’s hand and covered it with her palm. “This is the way, the path and the light to find Trish.”
Abby nodded then shook her head. What in the world was Dorie into? She carefully removed her hand. “This is all really lovely, but I need information from you about the past. Last night I asked you and Ginny about Atlantic City. It’s important I know. Could be vital to finding Trish. Do you have something to tell me about what went on back then? Does Ginny?”
Dorie turned away and pressed a button on a portable CD player. “Relax, Abby, and listen to this music. Beautiful music of the Muse.” She fluttered her hands and began to hum in a monotone.
Good grief! “It’s all beautiful but I’ve got things to do and places to be.” She turned to grab her bag and pack a few things she’d left hanging in the closet. “I’ll leave my bag for now but I won’t be staying here tonight. The guestroom is all yours.” She gave the statue a quizzical glance. “I’ll be back to hear what both you and Ginny have to say. While I’m gone, the two of you can talk it over. I need to know everything about Atlantic City! The sixties.”
Abby rushed back to the bathroom to brush her teeth and comb her hair. After she changed into blue slacks and a white sleeveless shirt, she packed her cosmetics bag. When she turned, ready to leave, Dorie stood in the doorway, blocking her exit.
