They walked out of the tunnel onto Marine Drive. “Well, I — wait, uh, hi, my name is Jewel—”
Beulah stuck her hand out and Jewel shook it. “So pleased. I’m Beulah.”
“—I know how you can get some great media coverage. See that house over there?” Jewel pointed at Virgil’s marble-fronted mansion. “A whole lot of important people will be in the alley behind that house tomorrow night for a block party. Reporters. Cameras. You should come. Tell them your message.”
Beulah lit up. “They’ll want to try the potion! Perhaps I can get more. I expect to see the prophet tomorrow.” She might be as appealing as Griffy, if she would comb her hair.
That little devil, Buzz. He never told me any of this. “You should come. Be a living example for the — the benighted ones at this party.”
“I would be honored,” Beulah said superbly.
“Around eight. Bring all your friends. The ones who took the potion and converted to Self Love. Oh, and here—” She dug in her purse for Mrs. Noah Butt’s card. “I know some people you would love to meet. Bring them, too.”
“Thank you. I will.” Beulah moved away, slow and serene.
Jewel delivered Griffy’s invitations. Then she sneaked into Virgil’s house and took the back stairs to her room.
On her bed she found the anklet-tracking unit, which was about the size of a parking ticket book, and a pile of background reports. She settled down to read.
Nothing on the cook or the maid or the chauffeur. She opened the butler’s report and was confounded by a blank page with the word ‘classified’ stamped at a slant. “What the—?” A sticky note was stuck to the page. “Couldn’t get clearance for this,” she read aloud. “What am I, chopped liver?” This guy could be a serial killer or a terrorist or something.
She stared at her flowery bedroom curtains, pondering, until she heard a soft footstep in the hall. Maid?
She flew to her bedroom door and locked it.
The footsteps passed.
Heart pounding, Jewel picked up the next report.
By comparison, Griffy’s life was transparent as a martini glass. Until she was twenty-six she had stripped in Atlantic City, and accepted short-term protection from life’s storms with various male philanthropists. At twenty-six, her employment record ceased and her profile became a catalog of increasingly expensive purchases. She did not seem to have been gainfully employed in a very long time.
Jewel tapped the report on her front teeth. If Virgil had kept her since she was twenty-six, at least he’d kept her well.
On to Virgil’s report. His records were more complete. Birth in Utah sixty years ago, that can’t be right, a year of junior college, a stint in the National Guard, an early killing in tech stocks, a lifelong interest in antiques related to swindling, and articles about same posted to the Internet. Back in the early 2000s he’d been on the board of an oil company that did an Enron-like scam on a small group of investors, but he was listed as a victim of the scammers, not a suspect. That was the sum total of his interactions with the law.
Jewel didn’t believe a word of it. Griffy thought he was seventy and she was incapable of lying.
Tucked in the back of the report was a loose printout, a Google list of URLs. The names and data were all over the map, but the ‘search’ box on top gave her a clue. “Virgil Thompson” “Virgil Athabascan” “Virgil Marconi” “Virgil Dante NOT inferno” “Dante Virgil NOT inferno” “Inaeas O. Virgilius.”
Now Jewel wondered if Griffy’s lack of employment history might be due to a change of name. If Virgil changed his own name — she glanced from Virgil’s background report to the Google printout. These were aliases the department didn’t have.
On the other hand, going by this page, Google hadn’t found much on those aliases, either. Only ten mentions for the list.
I should check AFIS for these aliases. She stuck the sheet into her purse.
On to Dr. Gustavus Katterfelto Kauz’s file, the one sent over by the Fifth Floor. Jewel’s eyes popped. Then she smiled.
Gustavus (“Gussie”) Kauz had spent his childhood on a commune in western New Jersey. His parents were disciples of a severely crunchy demagogue — maybe a role model for Kauz’s persona? — a good talker who peddled homegrown drugs and primitive applications of zen. After college and a business degree, Kauz had done the commune’s books for ten years. He then abandoned his Birky-wearing, yogurt-brewing, flea-ridden parents and converted their muddy-ankled mysticism into something that met the comforts — and sanitation standards — of a luxurious spa.
Hm, this could be good for something. Jewel knew all about coming from a small, muddy place to the big city. She might not be able to defeat Kauz with it, but with careful use of this information she could unnerve the shit out of him.
At the bottom of the pile she found Sovay’s file. This included the department’s skimpy findings and, again, Clay’s printouts. Jewel licked her lips. This would be what had made Clay so hot to hide the whole case from her.
The first three pages were wedding pictures. Every bride was Sovay.
The next two pages were obituaries of the guys who had married her.
Holy crap. No wonder Clay was worried. His whole charade clicked into perspective.
Chapter Twenty-Three
While Jewel had been risking her neck, Clay had been trying to find out what his father was up to. He can’t kill me for asking. Over the shrieking of volleyball players, he yelled, “Where’d you put the bed, Dad?”
Virgil signed for silence, then jerked a thumb. He marched a few yards away from the picnic table, and, when Clay followed, he took off his sunglasses, a DefCon 4 act of aggression. Virgil’s naked, pale-blue eyes were something out of nightmare.
“What have you been saying to Griffy about me?” he demanded.
“We didn’t talk, we had sex,” Clay said airily, and enjoyed the old man’s horrified double take. Wow, that got a bigger reaction than he’d hoped for. Virgil looked so taken aback that he pushed. “So she’s old enough to be my mother, eh, well. She can do more with a twinkle than most women do naked.”
His father’s eyes narrowed. “You had a crush on her when you were a kid. Sticking up for a stupid bimbo all the time.”
“Take her off your hands,” Clay suggested. “Problem solved.”
Virgil ruffled up like a scrawny turkey confronting a bear. “You can’t afford her.”
“She doesn’t want money. She wants love. You’ve always confused the two.”
“Good thing, since you can’t make any money,” Virgil hissed.
“Bet?” Clay smiled without humor. “Bet you I get Sovay’s money before you do.”
At that Virgil grabbed him by the arm with a strong claw and yanked him close. “I have videotape of you and your girlfriend doing the hoky-poky on that bed.”
Clay felt his skin shrink up cold. “You’re bluffing.”
“Try me.”
Thinking fast, Clay sneered, “Videotape! How twentieth century is that?” His heart was in his mouth. Then it occurred to him to ask what he should have asked in the first place. “What do you want?”
The old man laughed delightedly, as if he knew how off-balance Clay was. “There’s an investigation focused on my house. I want your girlfriend looking at someone besides me.”
“You dope, she’s watching Sovay.”
Virgil waved a hand. “I don’t give a hoot about your fool job. There’s a real investigation, FBI, and they’ve put someone in my house, and I want you to find out who it is.”
Clay was shocked. Virgil never got caught. “You sure?”
“Him or her. I heard about it through my own channels. I need the mole’s name.”
“You can’t con the FBI, Dad.”
“Leave that to me. Do this, or I’ll play the tape where you least want it aired.” He shuffled closer and lowered his voice. “Who’ll hate it worse? The girl? Her boss? Anonymous gift in the mail, wonder what this is, pop in the ca
ssette, looky!”
Jewel would hate it worse. Clay knew the pupils of his eyes had betrayed him. The old man was good. He fumbled for damage control. “The boyfriend’s jealous. Lord Darner.”
“Your rival, Lord Pontarsais?” Virgil corrected. “He’s gone. Sneaked out the window when I caught him in bed with Sovay. If he dares to come back, I’ll show him the tape, too.”
Videotape. Probably a cassette. At least it was old-fashioned video, not a digital file. Clay’s eyes narrowed, hiding his relief. “You’ll have trouble finding him. He’s in that bed.”
“In the bed.”
“Yeah. He’s a sex demon. He’s possessing that bed now.”
“Still believing your own fairy story. Well, then you should care as much as your partner cares. Make her cooperate.” Virgil chuckled. “Magic is for marks, boy.”
Clay flung away, trembling with fear and rage, trying to be calm. Tape. Good. If it had been digital, finding and destroying all copies would have been hopeless.
He waited for Jewel to come out of the sky. She would not be happy about any of this.
But Jewel scrambled out of the parasail and walked away down the beach, looking behind her as she made her getaway.
Then, of all people, Griffy started harnessing up. Clay forgot his partner for a few minutes.
o0o
“I want twice the time you gave my friend,” Griffy said.
“Costs more,” the instructor said.
“I’ll pay extra.” Already high on anticipation, she checked the harness links and couplings, ran her hands over the lines of the parasail, and lifted her head to sniff the lake breeze. The blood sang in her veins. “I want to fly before it gets dark.”
It was just as glorious as she had hoped.
Pink light washed between the buildings to the west and flooded the beach, making the crowds look as happy as she felt. The wind lifted the parasail higher. Through the harness lines, she could feel the sail as if it were part of her body. Below, the lake spun by like the ground under a roller coaster. She passed gulls on the wing as if they were standing still. Griffy let the wind carry her laughter away.
Faces on the beach turned up to her. It was like stripping, only she didn’t have to glue pasties on. She could just be.
She waved. Everybody waved back, and cheers floated up from the beach. She felt marvelous. Maybe she could start over. Sovay had been telling her that she had no future. But I have. She didn’t have to feel trapped with Virgil, or lost without him. The wind carried her along. I’m free.
There was her picnic. Sovay was drinking, looking bored. Virgil and Clay were tussling over the field glasses. She blew them a kiss. How old and small Virgil looked down there, all by himself. No matter what she did, he never seemed to realize he wasn’t alone. She had never felt alone when he was there.
She felt alone now. It was glorious. She felt powerful and free and happy.
The boat slowed and the parasail dipped lower. Griffy sighed. That instructor must be reeling her in already. The boat whirled past the breakwater and began its turning arc. She sank lower still. The sail carried her smoothly over the pink and blue waves.
Down on the sand, Virgil stared up at her. Sovay came to his side, turned him to face her, and kissed him on the lips.
The sight struck Griffy over the heart. She slipped to the side in her seat, and the instructor, with a look of alarm, reeled her in to the flight deck. She fumbled out of her harness, blundered off the flight deck, tripped, and fell headfirst into the lake.
She sank, not caring.
She was thinking, I can make it without him. It’ll hurt, and I’ll be lonely. But I’m not broke. I can make it.
The instructor hauled her out of the water. “Are you okay?” he kept yelling.
Fierce, hot pain tore at her heart, though she was dripping and shivering. “I’m fine.” I’ve lost my old buzzard. But I’m going to live. She hoped her tears wouldn’t show.
Here came Clay, looking panicked.
Virgil took the towel out of Clay’s hands and wrapped it around her shoulders. Then he pulled her into his arms.
Griffy blinked against his bony shoulder. “Virgil? I’m okay.”
As he led her away from the breakwater, their eyes met for one moment. She almost tripped.
In eighteen years, Virgil had never looked at her like that. Like he wanted something from her. With his heart showing.
Her breath caught.
In the next instant he had handed her off to Clay.
Clay sat her at the picnic table and poured her a glass of wine and rubbed her back through the towel.
Virgil sat across the table and turned his attention to Sovay.
And yet. For the next twenty minutes Virgil’s knee touched hers under the table. He spoke to Sovay, but whenever Sovay’s eye was off him, he smiled at Griffy. Griffy was so stunned that she forgot to smile back. Sovay flirted with Dr. Kauz, with Clay, with Virgil, and Griffy sat like a mummy, wrapped in her loss.
Yet every now and then Virgil would look at her. It was a secret look that made her heart thump.
This wasn’t the face he used for business. It seemed as if he wasn’t thinking about his face, which couldn’t be true, not Virgil. She studied him by the light of bursting red and yellow stars, feeling her heart jump around, feeling more noticed by him than she had since that first bottle of champagne eighteen years ago in the back of a limo in Atlantic City.
Halfway through the fireworks Dr. Kauz took Sovay for a walk. They hadn’t returned by the time Mike the chauffeur came to pack up their baskets. In the dark, by colored starlight, Virgil squeezed her hand. Numbed between the thrill of hope and the ache of loss, Griffy felt as if her feet didn’t touch the ground.
Behind her, Clay murmured to Mike. She walked homeward, ignoring them, her head high, her heart in turmoil.
Virgil kept hold of her hand.
It’s just for one night, he’ll be over it tomorrow, he’ll have to tell me it’s over sometime.
Then she stopped thinking, because there might never be another moment like this one.
o0o
Jewel fiddled with the tracking unit. The manual said it could find the anklet within twenty-five feet. She panned slowly around the room. A string of numbers appeared on the tiny screen. “Groovy. What does this mean?” She consulted the manual. Ah, that was her longitude and latitude.
Now she needed to determine which anklet was to be located.
Fudge. They hadn’t bothered to check which anklet was which. Just snapped ’em on and let ’em run like they were freaking cheetah cubs. “Can you say ‘half-assed?’” she muttered.
She shuffled out of her room, watching the screen. New numbers appeared. The first numbers changed as she moved, the last digits shifting slowly. “So that’s me. And this number down here is the anklet I’m tracking.”
The anklet, she realized, was only a few digits away from the coordinates representing her.
That must be Randy’s anklet! It must be in the house! She felt triumphant until she realized she already knew that.
All she had to do was move around until the numbers matched.
Keeping her eyes on the screen, she slipped out of her room and crept up the corridor.
o0o
The whole party stopped at the entrance to the pedestrian tunnel and looked back. A humongous fireworks star burst over the water, first a big red bang, then a smaller white star, then a yellow star that popped and sizzled, then an even larger green star that made Griffy think of the color of Jewel’s aura in Dr. Kauz’s pictures. Green light flashed on Clay and on the chauffeur with his arms full of chairs and baskets. The green lasted a long time before it faded.
Sovay still hadn’t returned with Dr. Kauz.
She felt Virgil’s arms slide around her from behind. He squeezed. “I’m going to be seventy tomorrow,” he whispered.
Her breath caught. “Yes.” She kept her eyes on the sky.
“I’ve missed you
these past few weeks. Come upstairs?”
“Our guests,” she choked out.
“Are grownups. Clay can take care of them.”
She swallowed a lump. “Okay.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
Jewel tracked Randy to a door at the end of the corridor on the second floor. Pulse quickening, she turned off the tracking unit and tried the doorknob. It turned.
Inside, the room was lit by streetlight. Big paintings covered two walls. The windows bowed out, showing Marine Drive and the fireworks through many small panes. Master bedroom. Virgil’s. Where else would he hide something the size of a bed?
She closed the door and ran to the bed, a high, queen-size sleigh model with a curving headboard and footboard, piled with pillows and covered with a patchwork quilt. Sovay’s bed!
Jewel lay her hand on the quilt. Randy?
Her palm tingled.
She was about to hop up on the bed. Then she remembered the massage table and seaweed on the ceiling and ran back to lock the door. My God, I’m shaking. Better not tell Randy how much she had missed him. Wait, where was the anklet? Find that first.
She went over the bed until she located the anklet, wedged between the headboard and the frame. It was small and black and easily missed if you were, say, rolling the bed down the corridor to that so-convenient service elevator. She pocketed the anklet.
The floor creaked outside the door.
Jewel snatched up the tracking unit and slid under the bed.
The locked bedroom door opened and the light flashed on.
She held her breath. If a maid had come to vac under the bed, she was dead.
Not a sound but the faraway trilling of the air conditioner.
A pair of men’s dress shoes with thick, soft, black soles approached the bed. Someone rummaged in the nightstand drawer. He opened and shut dresser drawers, then opened the walk-in closet. Jewel eased herself toward the footboard and peeked.
It was Mellish.
He looked big and scary in his dark butler clothes.
She scootched deeper under the bed and lay still, hugging the tracking unit and inhaling fluff.
The Hinky Velvet Chair Page 17
