Red Carpet Christmas

by Patricia Rosemoor

  “I’m in. I’m safe.”

  Gideon glared at her. “What happened, Simone? At least you can be honest about it.”

  “Can I really be honest with you, Gideon? All right. The past is always going to be between us.”

  That was the truth, as much as she hated it. She’d thought all the other good things about him could erase the past, but the first thing that had come to her when she’d opened her eyes was that she’d slept with the man who’d put her father behind bars for life.

  “I thought we were beyond that,” he said.

  “We’ll never be beyond that unless you wave some magic wand and make it all go away. I figure the odds are against that happening. And then there’s…”

  She was going to say Drew until she spotted his book bag next to the couch. He hadn’t stayed the night at his friend’s house, after all. Knowing he was in the house unsettled her. She didn’t want father and son coming face-to-face.

  “Then there’s what?” Gideon asked.

  “What does it matter. You need to go.”

  “You need to stop holding something that happened seventeen years ago against me.”

  “How can I when Papa is still in prison?”

  “I saw him kill my own father. Should I have lied to the authorities to please you?”

  Simone heard a noise. Pulse jumping, she checked the stairs, but saw nothing. Drew never stayed up this late. He was asleep and she was hearing things. Even so, she didn’t want to take any chances.

  “Good night, Gideon.” She held the door open for him and indicated he should leave.

  “We’re not done, Simone.”

  He pulled her to him so fast she couldn’t think. His kiss was angry. And short.

  Then he was out the door.

  Heat flushed through her as she locked the door behind him and then leaned against it for a moment. Flashes of their lovemaking flitted through her mind until she heard a low murmur overhead.

  Drew…

  As Simone rushed up the stairs, she heard his voice, purposely low. By the time she got to the landing and glanced into his room, he was hanging up the phone. Whom had he been talking to at this hour? He never left the door open when going to bed, so he’d obviously heard her downstairs and had come to see what was what.

  Nerves taut, she said, “Drew, honey, I didn’t think you were going to be home tonight.”

  “Change of plans, Mom. G’night.”

  Before she could ask what happened, he closed the door in her face.

  Simone stood staring at the wood panel, wondering how much he’d overheard.

  Chapter Fourteen

  By the time Simone got up the next morning—she’d overslept—Drew had already left for school. If he’d eaten breakfast, she couldn’t tell. That didn’t upset her. What upset her was that he hadn’t told her he was leaving.

  So unlike her overprotective son.

  Certain that he’d been on the stairs when she’d been talking to Gideon, she again wondered what Drew had overheard.

  Knowing she was going to have to deal with it later, Simone tried to put that particular worry out of mind as she started a pot of coffee, then headed back upstairs. Even as vague as she was feeling, she realized the living room was a mess—what had Drew been doing this morning? Surely if the place had looked like this when she’d come home last night, she would have noticed.

  Guiltily wondering if her son had been taking out his frustration at whatever he had heard on the living room, Simone rushed upstairs to shower.

  She dressed in a forest-green pantsuit appropriate for an office. Cecchi and Burke Law Offices, to be exact. On the trail of the elusive Anthony Viglio, she meant to learn what she could about the phantom account.

  Not wanting to arrive during the lunch hour and possibly miss the office manager, Simone grabbed a muffin and ate it with a quick cup of coffee.

  Leaving the back way, she locked up even as thoughts of Gideon plagued her. No matter what her head said, her heart said once was not enough. That parting kiss had convinced her of that. Even loyalty to her father hadn’t kept her from falling under Gideon’s spell again.

  Torn about what was ahead of her, Simone was distracted as she opened the door into the dark garage. Then a scrabbling noise made her heart thud. A rear car door stood open and a foot stuck out from the back seat.

  “Hey, what do you think you’re doing?” she yelled.

  A mumbled oath blasted from the car and the person inside nearly exploded out of the vehicle in a flurry of brilliant color.

  “Santa Claus!” she yelped as the padded figure plowed into her, knocking her over.

  The red-coated figure came at her with a piece of rope in hand.

  To strangle her like he had Nikki?

  Light-headed, Simone struck out with a booted foot as hard as she could. Contact. The hand exploded upward, the rope went flying.

  Santa came for her again, but she was already scram bling back. A gloved hand caught her foot and pulled so that she fell flat on her back, knocking the air out of her. She groped along the garage floor and found something hard and round—a piece of pipe. She struck out with the pipe and made contact, but Santa was padded and therefore protected.

  But when the pipe was switched to Santa’s hand and was raised over her, that was a different matter.

  Thinking fast, Simone found her key ring and pressed one of the buttons on the pad so that the car alarm sounded and the lights flashed. Santa started and dropped the pipe. The sound blasting through the building was so loud it hurt her ears. Her attacker didn’t waste any time in jumping over her sprawled body and taking off out of the garage.

  Simone was on her feet in seconds and, without thinking, ran after the fleeing figure. But by the time she got to the alley, there was no sign of her attacker. No sign of a vehicle she could identify.

  Chest heaving, pulse pounding as she caught her breath, Simone stood staring for a moment.

  No wonder her place was such a mess. The person in the Santa suit—the murderer, she presumed—had gotten inside, undoubtedly the same way she and Gideon had gotten into Al Cecchi’s private office. Thankfully, Drew had already left for school.

  This time when she went into the garage, she turned on the overhead light. The rear door was still open. What had the bastard been doing in her car?

  Looking inside, she felt a moment’s confusion. The box that held her music was open and the tapes and CDs were dumped everywhere. Santa was a music freak? Furthermore, the tapes were out of their boxes, as if Santa had been trying to make sure the right tape was in the right box.

  Then it came to her.

  A tape.

  Maybe the killer was looking for a tape.

  Now the only question was—of what?

  “NO MORE INVESTIGATING on your own, is that clear?” Detective Norelli growled at Simone after taking her story.

  “I’m simply looking out for my own interests. I don’t want to spend time behind bars.”

  “Better than being dead.”

  “So you say.”

  He shook his head. “I’m done here for now, but you’ll be hearing from me.”

  Simone hadn’t admitted to being at Josie Ralston’s place the night before, but she had told him how she had come to believe that the killer was trying to find a tape that could incriminate him in a crime. She was sure now that it was a man, because Santa had been too big and strong to be a woman. Well, at least not one Galen’s size—not that she’d mentioned that conclusion to Norelli.

  What she had suggested was that the tape had been hidden in the desk that had passed through multiple hands—the reason why various members of the club had been attacked, their homes searched.

  Norelli had listened to her theory without comment. He’d taken enough notes, but if he was impressed with her logic, he didn’t let on.

  “What about them?” she asked of the evidence technicians.

  There were two men. One had started in the garage, the other in
the house. Now they were both taking prints in the living room.

  “They’re almost done,” Norelli said. “Don’t worry, you’ll be able to clean up soon.”

  How long would that take? Simone wondered, itching to get to Cecchi and Burke.

  “Here’s my card. You get anything, use it.”

  Certainly a different attitude than he’d had the last time they’d met and he’d tried to pin Nikki’s murder on her. Simone took the card and saw Norelli to the front door. Then she went upstairs and changed into jeans and a sweatshirt. By the time she got back to the living room, the two men were on their way out.

  And then she was alone.

  Simone told herself that being alone would be safe enough. That Santa had already been through her things and would have no reason to come back. She had to believe that or she would go out of her mind.

  Cleaning up the mess in the living room, she thought about calling Gideon to let him know what was up. They hadn’t parted on good terms the night before, so she kept her hands off the phone. If he knew, he would undoubtedly rush over here, and she wasn’t ready to face him yet. She needed some breathing room. Time to think.

  What was she going to do about him?

  By the time she was done cleaning, she was no clearer on the Gideon problem than she had been when she’d started, so she put off calling him.

  It was late afternoon before she arrived at Cecchi and Burke Law Offices. After exchanging pleasantries with the receptionist, a young law student named Penny who was new to the firm, she went directly to Rebecca Finley’s office.

  “Simone. What a surprise.”

  Rebecca removed her reading glasses and slid them out of sight on her desk. She might be on the verge of middle age, but she was attractive and a bit on the vain side. As usual, she wore a designer suit, this one of pink and cream bouclé.

  “You’re not shocked to see me, I hope.”

  “Considering that both partners are gone, I figured you would be around eventually.”

  “Actually, that’s not why I’m here. Not exactly.” Simone took the chair opposite the office manager’s. “This may have something to do with Al’s murder.”

  Rebecca couldn’t hide her surprise. “I’ve told the police everything I know. The other lawyers and the rest of the staff, as well.”

  “Did you know Anthony Viglio?”

  “Viglio?”

  “A client.”

  “Yes, I know the name. How could I forget it when he’s got a huge retainer on the books?”

  Simone noted the way Rebecca had phrased it. On the books. Not that there was any actual money to be had now.

  “Was there anything unusual about the retainer?”

  “Other than the amount? You bet. He paid in cash. Who walks around with a half a million in cash?”

  Simone’s heart beat faster. She was getting closer to the truth; she could sense it.

  “You said you know the name. Not the client?”

  “I’ve never met him. I’m not sure he’s ever been here. If Al took an appointment with Viglio here, it wasn’t on the calendar.”

  “What about on the phone?”

  “Nope. Never spoke to him.”

  Feeling deflated, Simone asked, “Could he have come in while you were out?”

  “Let’s find out.”

  Though they checked with the associates and staff, no one seemed to have seen the man. Which pretty much meant he really was dead.

  As she was leaving, the receptionist said, “Um, you were asking about Anthony Viglio…”

  “You know who I’m talking about?”

  “He was only here once, but yeah.”

  So he had been here! Or had he? “What did he look like, Penny?”

  “Gorgeous for a criminal type,” she said, as if she thought all criminals should be unattractive. “Big and blond and blue-eyed.”

  “Age?”

  Penny shrugged her shoulders. “A lot older than me.”

  Which probably meant over thirty, Simone thought. “Anything unusual about him?”

  Penny shook her head. “I didn’t see him long enough to get a close look. Al took him into his office right away. And when Viglio left, he headed straight out the door without so much as looking my way.”

  “Like he was angry?”

  “Yeah. Could have been.”

  “And you never saw or heard from him again?”

  “Just that once.”

  Simone thanked the receptionist and left the offices.

  Driving home in the dark, she thought about the discrepancy between this description and the photo Logan had printed out from the online obituary.

  Anthony Viglio had been short and dark. A small man. So who had stolen his identity?

  Big and blond and blue-eyed. Two men who fit that description came to mind—Sam Albright, Nikki’s ex-husband, and Ulf Nachtmann, Michael’s bodyguard.

  Either one could be a killer.

  AFTER PLACING several calls to Simone and getting her voice mail, Gideon decided to pay her another surprise visit. Though things had been awkward between them when they’d parted the night before, surely she’d had enough time to come around.

  He knew she loved him as much as he did her.

  But was that enough?

  Double-parking the car in front of her house, he noted only a single light on, as if no one were home. He ran up to the door and rang the bell. No answer. Just to make sure, he went around to the back. The lights in the kitchen were off, the garage was open and Simone’s car was gone.

  Cursing, Gideon ran back to the street just as some impatient dolt started laying on the horn. There was plenty of room to go around him, but obviously the guy couldn’t handle his SUV on a city side street.

  So where was Simone? he wondered as he pulled away from her house and into an empty area near a fire-plug. The only thing he knew she’d planned for the day was a visit to Cecchi and Burke, but surely that hadn’t kept her this long. He might as well leave, get over to the club and try to get some paperwork done. Who knew when she’d be home?

  Heading for Clark Street, he checked his rearview mirror to see a dark vehicle pull out of a spot, catch up to him fast and make the turn with him.

  His thoughts about Simone confused him. He’d meant to have it out with her, to make her admit their being together had meant something.

  Brights behind him made him turn his rearview mirror to night vision. Idiot! Why in the world did anyone need brights on a well-lit city street?

  Thinking he didn’t want to go back to the club just yet, Gideon decided to take a spin on the Drive. He always did his best thinking at high speed.

  He turned east on Fullerton and the brights turned with him—he caught the glare in his sideview mirror.

  He sped up, but the brights stayed pinned to his mirrors.

  Surely the other driver would turn off and head through the park, Gideon hoped. Only he didn’t, and the damn brights grew annoying. Hoping to make the other driver anxious enough to go around him, Gideon slowed.

  The brights stayed right in his mirrors.

  An odd feeling, like fingers crawling up his spine, warned Gideon that he was being followed. So when he passed the zoo and approached Lake Shore Drive, he did so in the left lane with his left turn signal on.

  And watched the left turn signal blink on behind him.

  At the last minute, his pulse charged, Gideon swung across the right lane and entered The Drive going south rather than north.

  The dark vehicle followed.

  One of the many jobs he’d had in his bizarre life was at a car track. He’d driven the hot cars every chance he’d had. Thinking fast, he burned rubber only to have the dark vehicle stay with him. Suddenly it was coming alongside him, squeezing him to the embankment. Gideon dropped back, but not before the other vehicle popped him, jerking him in his seat.

  Gideon saw red. This was no accident. This car had been following him from Simone’s place.

  When the
other vehicle dropped back as if to begin another attack, Gideon floored the accelerator and didn’t let up until he reached the next exit, where he sped off and veered back along the south end of Lincoln Park.

  He wasn’t alone.

  Cornering this guy without ending up in a crash—that was the goal.

  Thankfully, traffic was light. Gideon swung around the curve. The other vehicle swung wide and came up for another attack, no doubt intending to roll him into the park. Gideon acted first, hauling the wheel around so he rammed the other vehicle good. Then at the next intersection, he swung right again onto the main artery that cut through the park.

  As Gideon passed the pond and café, he watched for the service road that used to be a throughway for visitors’ cars. He took it and sped along the iron fence separating the zoo from the rest of the park.

  Halfway to the parking lot on the east side, he saw the now familiar lights behind him.

  Gideon grinned, shot forward and made another right. He was going to see who this bastard was. He drove as far as the stone tunnel to the pond and its service road, made the turn and another to the right and cut his lights.

  Spun the car around.

  Stopped.

  Waited, engine purring, blood rushing through him as he set his trap.

  The dark vehicle came to a screeching halt just before it ran into the pond. And Gideon flicked on his brights, illuminating the black sedan, which suddenly rolled in reverse back under the stone arch.

  Now Gideon was following.

  He hadn’t gotten a good enough look at the vehicle or at the bastard driving it, but he wasn’t about to give up until he knew who was after him and why.

  The best laid plans often go awry…especially when the police were involved. A patrol car shot out of nowhere, blue lights blazing, and flashed a spotlight on Gideon.

  Caught!

  Regretfully, he watched the dark car speed away without ever having seen the driver.

  “DREW, WE NEED to talk,” Simone said halfway through her meal.

  She’d whipped up fettuccine with a spicy sauce, a salad and garlic bread—one of Drew’s favorite dinners. Not that anyone would know it, the way he was picking at his food.