Things Happen That Way

by Tinnean

  “In that case, give the son of a bitch a punch for me as well.”

  “Flight 873 is now boarding rows fifteen and higher.”

  “I’ve gotta go, babe.” There was a heavy sigh over the line.

  “Go, Mark. Have a safe flight. I’ll call Bryan as soon as I get off the line. If he needs to contact you…?”

  “Give him my cell number, but let him know I’ll call him myself.” And of course he’d have my uncle’s phone number. “I’m scheduled to get in to LAX a little after seven.”

  “All right. Let me know if there’s anything I can do to help.”

  “I will. Thanks. Quinn…”

  “I know. Me too.”

  “Good. Bye, babe.”

  I relished the pleasure in his voice. “Bye.” I disconnected the call and checked my watch. It was after 1:00 p.m. in Los Angeles, and Uncle Bryan would be on the set. I went into my contacts, scrolled until I came to his name and the icon for his cell phone, and then pressed the button.

  The phone rang about four times before he picked. “Qu-Quinn.” He sounded out of breath. “Is everything all right? Your mother?”

  “She’s fine. Are you all right?”

  “Ne-never better.”

  “Are you sure you’re not having a heart attack?”

  “No h-heart attack, Quinn.” That amused him very much, and it occurred to me he might be enjoying a little afternoon delight in his office. While he was in his seventies, he was a vibrant man, and Sebrings carried their age well. He didn’t look like he was more than fifty.

  “I apologize for interrupting, Uncle Bryan, but I need a favor.”

  “Not at all. What can I do for you?”

  “A friend of Mark’s is missing. Would you be able to check the set and see—”

  “I’m not on the set, Quinn. Production was shut down for the rest of the week. Some kind of contract dispute with one of the leading actors.”

  Dammit. I had interrupted a little afternoon delight.

  “That doesn’t mean I can’t go see what’s going on. Tell me what you know.”

  “As I said, a friend of Mark’s hasn’t been in touch with his partner since yesterday morning. And before you ask, Mark is certain Spike wouldn’t just walk off.”

  “Spike? He’s the one who’s missing? I know him. Well, I’ve seen him around on the set and in the commissary. He’s an attractive young man, very sweet. He was so kind as to have lunch a couple of times with an old man.”

  “Who would that be, Uncle Bryan? It definitely can’t be you. You’re not old.”

  “That’s what Tony says as well. But Spike could have been my grandson.” He sounded sad. He would have been an excellent father, but with his wife never having been able to carry to term, he’d never had the opportunity. “There was something about him... I’d swear I’d seen him somewhere.”

  “You may have. His real name is Valentine Duchesne.”

  He was silent for a moment. “Yes, of course. He has his grandfather’s looks. I just never connected the two.”

  “Why would you?” I almost expected him to insist he should have, but he let it go, and relieved, I continued. “Mark said he’d bring you up to speed when he arrives in LA—”

  “When will that be?”

  “Around seven your time.”

  “Almost six hours? I can probably find Valentine in less time than that.”

  “I have no doubt. I also have no doubt you’re not going to wait for Mark to land.”

  “Of course not. If there’s anything I can do to help—” he began righteously.

  “In addition, it’s been a long time since you had any fun.”

  He burst into laughter. “You’re right. I’ll start at the studio and see where that takes me.”

  “Would you do me a favor? Don’t go to the studio alone?”

  “Oh?”

  “I’ve got a bad feeling about this, and I don’t want you to get hurt.”

  “All right, Quinn. I’ll take Cisco with me.”

  John Cisco was a former ATF agent who’d moved into the guest house on their property when Cara Mia, Uncle Tony’s young wife, was being harassed by her psycho ex-husband. Cisco had wound up killing the bastard.

  “You’ll take Cisco where?” I could hear my oldest uncle over the line.

  “I’m just going in to the studio to look into something for Quinn.”

  “And you feel you need to take Cisco along?”

  “Yes.”

  “Right, I’m coming too.”

  “I had a feeling you would, big brother. Quinn, we’ve got to track down Cisco, but then we’ll go right to the studio. I’ll call you if I find anything.”

  “Thank you. Please be careful.”

  “We will.”

  We said good-bye and hung up, and I put my phone back in my pocket and returned to the dining room.

  “I apologize for disrupting dinner,” I murmured.

  “Not at all,” Lord Creighton said. “Your mother and I had a very intense discussion. And....”

  “And?”

  “If I can persuade Ayesha to marry me within the next few days, Portia has agreed to stand up with us.”

  “Congratulations.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Quinton, I think it might be a good idea for us to return to the hotel so Jack can talk to Ayesha.”

  “Of course.” I drew back her chair, and she rose. Lord Creighton also got to his feet.

  “We’ll only be here for another five days, so hop to it, Jack.”

  “Yes, Portia.” He came to her and took her hand between both of his. “I think when you turned down my proposal, it was the luckiest day of my life.” Color ran up his cheeks. “I’m sorry, that didn’t come out the way I’d intended.”

  “I understand. You need a woman like Ayesha, who needs a man like you.” Mother went up on tiptoe and kissed Lord Creighton’s cheek. “Don’t blow it, Jack.”

  I choked back a chuckle, and Mother turned her head and raised an eyebrow.

  “I believe we’ll be going now.”

  “Yes, Mother.”

  Once again, Lord Creighton took Mother’s arm, and we walked to the entryway, where we collected our coats and waited for him to ring for his car.

  Chapter 11

  I was still chuckling as we stepped out of Lord Creighton’s car and entered the hotel.

  “‘Don’t blow it,’ Mother? Really? If Gregor heard you, he’d blame Mark for being a bad influence.”

  “Hardly, Mark. Remember, I have three older brothers who neglected to guard their tongues when they were unaware of my presence. Having said that, sometimes a little strong wording is what’s required to get through to a man.”

  “This is why Lord Creighton would never be the right man for you. You’re a strong woman, and with the best will in the world, he seems to prefer a woman he can coddle.”

  “He probably got that from his father. Lord John tended to be overprotective, especially after what the family went through during the First World War.”

  “Oh?”

  “German troops forced them from their farm in West Africa. They lost their first child, a little girl, at that time, due to snakebite.”

  “That’s very sad.”

  “It is.”

  “How did you learn of this, Mother?”

  “Your grandmother and Lady Portia were prolific correspondents. After Lady Portia passed away, Jack gave me Mother’s letters to her. When we return home, I’ll let you read them, as well as the letters Lady Portia wrote to her. They were amazing women who lived through amazing times.” Abruptly she changed the subject. “Am I safe in assuming that was Mark on the phone?”

  “Yes. A friend of a friend of his is missing.”

  She made a satisfied sound. “I always knew he was a very loyal man.”

  “Yes.” I looked around. “It’s still rather early. Would you mind stopping in the bar for a drink?”

  “No, I’d enjoy that.”


  We walked into Claridge’s Bar, which was fairly empty at that time, and I ordered two Avelã Manhattans—bourbon and vermouth chilled with chocolate bitters and charged with Port and hazelnut soda.

  “Would you care for something to nibble on, Mother? The cheese selection, perhaps?”

  “That sounds good, sweetheart.”

  “Will you have it sent to our table?” I asked the bartender.

  “Love to.” He grinned and gestured to a waitress, who went to take care of it.

  “Where would you prefer to sit, Mother?”

  She made her way to a table near the fireplace, and once there, I helped her remove her coat. As she made herself comfortable, I draped her coat over a chair, placed my overcoat next to it, and then sat down.

  “Now, what is it?”

  “What do you know of the Philadelphia Duchesnes, Mother?” I asked.

  She tipped her head and observed me with interest. “They are an old Main Line family, although not as old as some.”

  “So the family hasn’t been here as long as the Sebrings.”

  “No. Justin Duchesne didn’t arrive in Philadelphia until some years after the end of the Revolution. Rumor had it his family sent him to the New World because of his rakehell ways, but of course Eleanor denies that strenuously, claiming those are nothing but vicious lies. That’s one of the reasons Eleanor tends to avoid me when she can.”

  “Because you know they aren’t lies?”

  “Precisely,” she murmured. She took a sip of her Manhattan, then put down her glass and blotted her lips. “She’ll do everything in her power to protect the family’s name. However, what she’s unaware of is that there are a number of letters in the library at Shadow Brook. Amanda Sebring corresponded with her daughter, Emeline, who’d moved to Philadelphia after she married. According to Emeline’s letters, Justin Duchesne ran off with the woman who became his wife while she was still married to another man.”

  “Yes, that would be considered a scandal.” In those days, things like that just weren’t done. “I’d like to read those letters also, if you have no objection.”

  “None in the least, sweetheart.”

  The waitress arrived and placed the platter with the cheese selections on our table.

  “Would you see this is billed to our suite?” I handed her my keycard, and she went to deal with it. I offered Mother a fig.

  “What do the Duchesnes have to do with Mark’s friend?”

  “Val Duchesne is the one who’s missing. Mark suspects he’s been kidnapped.”

  She sighed and shook her head. “What can I do to help?”

  I reached across the small table and squeezed her hand. How many would offer their aid so freely? “Mark is dealing with it. He’ll speak to Uncle Bryan when he gets out to LA.”

  “How did your uncles become involved?”

  “Mother, I only mentioned Bryan.”

  “Yes, but if he’s involved, Tony will be as well.”

  I couldn’t help laughing. “You’re right. Uncle Tony refused to let Bryan go to the set alone.”

  “I still don’t understand their involvement.”

  “Val goes by the stage name of Spike, and from what I understand, the last time he was seen was on the set of CIA.”

  “Ah, that explains it. Bryan would not appreciate someone with whom he works being harmed in any way.”

  “Did you ever meet Valentine?”

  “No, although I remember his maternal grandfather spoke of him quite fondly.”

  The waitress returned with my keycard and a slip to sign. I did so and handed it back to her, along with a tip. “Thank you.”

  “Thank you, sir!”

  “You’re welcome.” She left to take care of a newly arrived customer, and I turned back to Mother. “There’s more to the story.”

  Mother raised an eyebrow. “There usually is.”

  “Val is gay.”

  “What did Eleanor and her miserable excuse for a husband do to that poor boy?”

  “According to Mark, first they tried prayer and then aversion therapy. Neither worked. Val ran away to DC and...” There was no easy way to put this. “He wound up on the streets, selling himself.”

  “How badly was he damaged?” Mother rarely permitted her emotions to show, and just then she was the epitome of the Ice Queen.

  “Not badly, again according to Mark. A friend of his took Val in a couple of years ago, and since that time, they’ve become a couple.” I met her eyes, aware of what she was going to say. “The friend’s name is Paul, but that’s all I know at this point. I’ll look into it when we get home.”

  She picked up a cracker, spread some cheese on it, and handed it to me. “Your father and I knew Valentine’s grandfather—we met when he was campaigning for JFK in 1959—and he was a friend of your uncle’s as well.”

  “So, a friend of the family?”

  “Yes. He passed away about seven years ago.” She helped herself to another fig.

  “I’m sorry. How would he have reacted to Val being gay?”

  “I have no doubt Arthur Morens would have been furious at what his daughter and her husband did to his youngest grandson. You’ll keep me informed as to what happens to Valentine?”

  “Of course.”

  “Splendid. Now, what shall we do tomorrow?”

  There was nothing more I could do at this time—Mother knew that as well as I did—but I had every confidence in how Mark would handle things. I finished the cracker Mother had given me and sipped my Manhattan while we discussed our options.

  It was after midnight when we entered our suite. I hung up our coats and said good night just as Mother’s cell phone rang.

  Thinking it was Gregor calling to chat, I retired to my bedroom to give her some privacy.

  I had placed my dinner jacket on the suit rack, removed my bow tie and cummerbund, and was working on my shirt studs when Mother tapped on my door.

  I opened the door and asked, “Is everything all right?” And then I knew it had to be: her face was light with amusement.

  “That was Jack. I wonder if he’s bitten off more than he can chew.” She saw my confusion. “Ayesha has said yes and no.” That didn’t clear up my confusion, and Mother chuckled. “Yes, she’ll marry him, but no, not at the Register Office and not within five days. So there’s no need for me to remain here in London.”

  “Ah. Might I assume that was also Ayesha’s decision?”

  “Jack didn’t say, but I wouldn’t be at all surprised.”

  I laughed and shook my head. “Well, we can decide what we’ll do during our ride tomorrow.” We had a busy day planned.

  “Yes, we will.” Mother rested her palm against my cheek. “Good night, sweetheart.”

  “Good night, Mother.”

  And we retired for the night.

  The first of the following day’s activities was done, and Mother and I had just returned from an early morning ride, having come to the decision we would cut our stay short. She had been able to tell I was anxious to return home.

  We planned to change, have an early lunch, and then visit the Tower of London to view the Crown Jewels. Afterward, I would call the airline to reschedule our flight.

  I had stripped down to my shorts when my cell phone played “Such a Night.” I hadn’t expected to hear from Mark this soon. It was the early morning hours in Los Angeles, and my stomach twisted, my knees nearly gave out from under me, and my hands shook. I sank down on the bed and answered immediately. “Mark.”

  “Hey, babe. Do you have time to talk?” He sounded relaxed, and I felt the tension start to leave my body.

  “For you? Always.” I drew in a breath. “First tell me you’re all right.”

  “I’m fine.”

  I brought myself under control. It wouldn’t do to let him know I’d nearly fallen apart from worry. “In that case, proceed.”

  “Okay, so here’s what happened…”

  I sat back and listened, allowing myself to enjoy h
is disgruntlement—although I shouldn’t have—as he revealed how my uncles had had the situation wrapped up by the time he arrived on the scene.

  An acquaintance of the Duchesne family had kidnapped Val. Giles Stapleton had said his intention was to get Val out of the situation he was in: living with an older man, but Val hadn’t wanted to leave. He was happy with Paul, and Stapleton had resorted to drugging the younger man.

  “The thing is, your uncle thinks this Stapleton bozo might have ulterior motives for getting his hands on Spike,” Mark said.

  “Oh?”

  “Yeah. Stapleton is engaged to Spike’s sister, but while Spike’s parents may have disowned him, his grandfather never did, so he’s still in line to inherit a nice chunk of change.”

  I was silent for a moment. “So you’re saying Stapleton’s motives weren’t as altruistic as he claimed.”

  “Hell, no. If anything happened to Spike, his share would go to his sister.”

  And through his sister to Stapleton.

  “Is Stapleton still alive?”

  “Yeah. I wanted to bang him up a bit, but your uncles had a better idea. They have enough evidence to send him up the river, and with his pretty face, he’s gonna be really popular.”

  “I’m glad to hear that, if only because Val is your friend.”

  “Yeah, and that’s the thing: I’ll be out here a few more days at least until we know for sure how Spike is.”

  “Oh.”

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing. I’m glad you were able to rescue Val.”

  “Me? I didn’t do a fucking thing. It was your uncles who got to him. And Cisco.”

  “Well, you set things in motion.”

  He mumbled, “Bullshit,” then said, “Something’s still bothering you.” He knew me so well.

  “Don’t get me wrong, I’m really pleased that your friend has been found safe. It’s just.... I was rather hoping I’d see you tomorrow night.” Which was exceptionally foolish of me.

  “But you’re in London.”

  “Mother and I are cutting our trip short.”

  “How come?”

  “There’s no reason for us to stay. Jack Abberley took the news very well. As a matter of fact he wasn’t as upset as Mother thought he’d be. Not that she wanted him to be upset, but for the past ten or twelve years he’d vowed he loved her.”