Swann Songs (The Boston Uncommon Mysteries Book 4)

by Arlene Kay

  I felt a curious sense of compassion and kinship for this ungainly young woman who worshipped at the feet of her idol. No doubt she was the type to toil in obscurity while flashier models took the lead.

  Duff checked her watch and jumped to her feet. “Grab a seat and I`ll get Sonia. Sometimes she gets off schedule.” She nudged us toward the sitting room and stopped short. Every seating surface was filled with posters, flyers, and bumper stickers. “Oops. Sorry about that,” Duff said. “I`ll go get Sonia. She`s expecting you.”

  Every movement needs loyal soldiers like Duff. Cannon fodder. No army could function without them. For better or worse, Sonia had inspired at least one follower with cultlike fervor. I hoped that she appreciated the girl’s devotion.

  Anika leaned against the windowsill, alert and perfectly poised, but I was too anxious to follow her example. My enthusiasm waned with every moment that we waited. What made me get involved in this venture? It could only lead to controversy, discord, or tears. All three were unappealing prospects.

  When the bedroom door opened, both of us stared at the woman who emerged. Despite an attempt to sublimate her looks, Sonia Reyes’ astounding beauty shone forth. Loose clothing and subdued makeup couldn`t camouflage creamy skin, lustrous black hair, and wide, intelligent eyes. Gabriel would be the proverbial moth drawn to his colleague’s flame.

  “Ms. Kane, and you must be Mrs. Swann.” Sonia enveloped both of us in a generous hug mixed with a scent I recognized but couldn`t quite place. I`m not the hugging type, but I bravely endured the gesture without grimacing. Anika took everything in stride. I had to salute Sonia for putting aside her political beliefs in addressing Anika. My mother-in-law was an ardent feminist who adored her husband and preferred the title Mrs. to anything trendier. Somehow, probably with the aid of Google, Sonia had figured that out.

  “You were so generous to come here,” Sonia said. “I know it was an imposition, but I had to see you.” She made a sharp gesture to her doting acolyte. “Tea, please, Duff, and clear a space for our guests.”

  The girl mumbled something as she made several piles behind the sofa. She waved me away when I offered to help.

  “It`s okay. I should have done this already. Sonia’s mission is too important for trivia. It`s sacred.”

  Important maybe, but sacred? I detected a gleam of fanaticism in Duff’s formerly limpid eyes as if Sonia were a modern day Joan of Arc. Some of the world’s most dangerous zealots shared that look. Things usually didn`t end well for them or the causes they served.

  It took a swift kick from Anika to focus my attention. While I was daydreaming, a slim fortyish male with thinning hair and a prominent nose had slipped into the room. He could have only come from Sonia’s bedroom.

  “I`m Sorrel Yeagan,” he said, extending his hand to each of us. “Sonia’s agent and publicist. Pleased to meet you, ladies. Forgive me for intruding on your discussion.”

  He had a self-effacing manner and a forgettable face, one that character actors or spies would envy. Yet something about this man with a soft, sibilant voice drew me to him. Was he the power behind Sonia’s throne?

  “I`m forgetting my manners,” Sonia said. “Sorrel guides all my business matters. I have no head at all for finance.”

  For an accomplished professional, Sonia certainly required a lot of maintenance. Her poor-little-me act was unconvincing and distasteful. It harkened back to another century when women hid their light under any convenient male vessel.

  Once we were seated and sipping tea, Sonia came straight to the point.

  “Eja, after reading your books, I knew you and I would be simpatico. Sorrel and I discussed things, and he agreed. That`s why I asked you here.”

  I leaned forward and smiled. “You lost me, Sonia. Simpatico about what?”

  Her smile grew more forced as if I were a backward child. “I need a biographer, someone to chronicle both my life and our cause. You are ideal, the perfect fit. Just think—you`ll be my Boswell!”

  The idea had no appeal at all for me. I`d always considered Boswell a toady and the esteemed Dr. Samuel Johnson a great humbug. Besides, I had yet to form an opinion of Sonia Reyes or the Bella Brigade.

  “Sorry, Sonia. It`s a great honor, and I`m sure your story is fascinating. Unfortunately, I only write fiction.”

  “Really?” A hint of steel peeked out from her sunny persona. “One of your books was true crime, was it not?”

  Anika immediately threw me a life preserver. “That book was very personal, Ms. Reyes. It described the hunt for my daughter’s murderers.”

  Sorrel winced and put his hand on Sonia’s arm.

  I heard the tremor in Anika’s voice although most strangers would miss it. She would never truly recover from losing CeCe though she seldom mentioned the subject to outsiders. Sonia’s eyes widened, and she pulled in her horns.

  “I understand, of course. Forgive me for mentioning it. But since you`re here, can we just discuss my proposal? Think how many lives would be improved by the Bella Brigade.”

  “Maybe we need more background on your group,” Anika said. “Press accounts are so distorted, and word of mouth is seldom any better.”

  A frown marred Sonia’s perfect forehead. “If that word comes from Gabriel Mann’s mouth, you bet it`s distorted. That man spreads poison everywhere.”

  I shivered, as the temperature in the room grew subarctic. “Gabriel has his faults, but he never really discussed the Bella Brigade. He`s too self-centered to think of anything but his own interests. Frankly, he was more concerned about ending his feud with you.”

  Sorrel nodded as if he too favored a truce.

  Sonia narrowed her eyes as she silently sipped her tea. For a moment I thought our meeting had abruptly ended. Duff, the ever-vigilant aide-de-camp, hovered in the background as if ready to spring into action and repel infidels.

  “Are you his surrogate, Ms. Kane? In view of your past history that surprises me.” Sonia’s saccharine tones were enough to induce a diabetic coma.

  I swallowed the anger that welled up in me as I envisioned Gabriel and his new playmate dissecting my flaws while frolicking under the sheets.

  “Not at all. I`ve learned never to take sides.” It took effort, but my smile never faltered as I mouthed that lie.

  Anika dipped a toe in the conversational waters by posing a question. “You are so lovely yourself, Ms. Reyes. Forgive me, but aren`t you an unlikely spokesperson for the Bella Brigade?”

  I glanced at the placards festooning the room. We were surrounded by images of Susan B. Anthony, Eleanor Roosevelt, and Betty Friedan, brilliant women who were far from beautiful. Duff tensed, as if poised again to stomp out any heretics who challenged her crusade. Sorrel swooped in to calm troubled seas.

  “Actually, Mrs. Swann, that`s why Sonia is the perfect representative. Beauty is power, and she uses hers for the good of others.” Passion for his cause or his client electrified Sorrel’s mild grey eyes. Now I understood his allure: signs of a first-class intellect blazed through his being. A brilliant man, even a plain one, is a major turn-on.

  Sonia spread her arms wide. “Our message is simple, Mrs. Swann. Beauty is but one facet of a person. We ask—we demand—that the victims of lookism be heard, not judged or discounted.”

  That sounded like a stump speech if I ever heard one. For a moment I almost felt sorry for Gabriel. Just for a moment.

  Duff Ryder leapt to her feet. “Besides, men are affected too. Albert Einstein, Abraham Lincoln, Benjamin Disraeli—no one would call them beautiful.”

  I felt rather proud of Duff for airing her opinions, but Sonia’s reaction was different. She shot her acolyte a look of pure venom that forestalled any further comments.

  Sorrel made a self-deprecating gesture that dialed down the rhetoric. “That’s one thing I can relate to a
s well. No romantic leads for me.”

  Sonia patted his hand, sparking a look in his eyes that was almost heart-wrenching.

  “I`m still puzzled,” I said. “Why involve me in this fracas? I`m just a mystery writer.”

  “A very fine writer of mysteries,” Anika said proudly.

  “Precisely!” Sonia said. “That`s why you must help me. My story must be told by someone with credibility. Someone who can silence the haters—before they silence me forever.”

  “Someone threatened your life?” Anika asked. “Over the lookism campaign?”

  Sonia pointed to Duff. “Get the letters for them.” The girl whispered something into her ear and strode away.

  “Oh! Duff just reminded me that we have a press interview in five minutes.” She called out a warning to the girl. “Make sure my things are laid out. Especially my throat spray.”

  Anika and I exchanged glances. Whatever Sonia’s game was, I wanted no part of it.

  “I just had dental surgery,” Sonia said. “If I don`t use that stuff, my throat explodes!”

  We rose and gathered our things before making our escape. “Thank you for your interest,” I said, “but I don`t think . . .”

  “Wait!” Sonia stepped in front of us. “Don`t make a decision yet. Join me as my guest tomorrow night at our fundraiser. What you hear may change your mind.”

  “Is this Melanie Hunt’s gala?” I asked. “My husband just bought two tickets.”

  Sorrel drew a list from his suit pocket. “Ah yes. Mr. and Mrs. Bolin Swann. Wait a minute. We have another listing for Eja Kane and Deming Swann.”

  Anika laughed. “The whole clan will be there. One of Bolin’s clients gave him tickets to the dinner.”

  “There you see—it`s kismet! Please tell me you`ll go.” Sonia flashed a beguiling smile our way.

  “Okay,” I said. “Guess it couldn`t hurt. But before we leave, I must ask you something. Melanie Hunt is married to my ex-husband Gabriel. Isn`t that a conflict of interest? At the very best it`s awkward.”

  Sonia was difficult to read. She shrugged as if the matter was too trivial to comment upon until Anika stepped up to the plate.

  “There must be a story here,” she said. “I don`t know Melanie, but Bolin and I played golf with her parents. Lovely couple. We haven`t seen much of them since they moved to Phoenix.”

  Suddenly, Sonia changed course. “It`s not a secret. Not really. Melanie went through a very awkward stage in high school. Braces, thick glasses, acne, every malady that could befall a teenager. Believe it or not, she was even pudgy.”

  “Really?” Anika clucked her tongue. “Who would believe it? Melanie is so lovely.”

  “She was scarred by rejection.” Sonia nodded. “Bullied at school. That`s why she supports us.”

  I tried to reconcile the svelte, picture-perfect Melanie Hunt with a lonely teen outcast. Couldn`t do it. Moreover, Gabriel was obsessed with appearance. He had told me more than once that a wife’s outer beauty—or lack thereof—reflected on her husband. Perhaps this was payback for his many transgressions. Maybe he didn`t know about it.

  Duff suddenly appeared and thrust a thick manila envelope my way. “Here`s the latest batch,” she said. “Just copies. Sorrel gave most of them to the cops. Some letters, mostly emails.”

  “The police are involved?” I asked. “What did they say?”

  Sorrel shot a look of tenderness and yearning at Sonia. She shrugged it off and laughed.

  “I dismissed the whole thing as a macabre joke, but Sorrel insisted. The police didn`t seem concerned. You know how suspicious they are of pressure groups. They never even came over here.” She pivoted far more gracefully than I ever could and glided toward the bedroom. “Ta ta, ladies. See you tomorrow.”

  THE LOBBY WAS awash with the prying eyes and big ears of the Bella Brigade. To avoid problems, we kept quiet until reaching the safety of the Mercedes. Paranoia ran deep in most political groups.

  Anika took time to apply lipstick and fluff her hair before starting off, but I was too troubled to consider my appearance.

  “Why did I ever go there?” I moaned. “Now we`re stuck at this thing tomorrow night.”

  “Stuck?” Anika shook her head. “No, Eja, I think we`ll have fun. Sonia Reyes has something up her sleeve. Something involving Gabriel. Let`s see what cards she holds and how she plays them.”

  “Oh, great. I`m some sort of pawn. Just what I need.” Deming would pop his elegant blazer buttons at the thought of it, but my father-in-law would simply grin. Bolin Swann was far more likely to relax and enjoy the game.

  Anika braked sharply, narrowly avoiding a marauding Prius. “Use your head, Eja. Melanie Hunt, Gabriel, and Sonia Reyes are playing some kind of sick game. I`m sure she wants you there to up the ante.”

  “What`s your take on this Sorrel Yeagan?”

  Anika shrugged. “Can`t place him yet. I`ll ask Bolin. He usually knows the players or can find out if he doesn`t. It`s obvious that Sorrel is another pawn in the game. He and Sonia were lovers—past and maybe present. That hangdog look of his was the tip-off.”

  When it came to lovesick swains, Anika was an expert. Her impact on men was akin to gravitational pull.

  “But I have absolutely no need to see any of them again—particularly Gabriel. He won`t even be there tomorrow night unless he`s extending an olive branch to her. You know, playing the good guy for a change.” I sneered at the idea of it. “That`s a new role for him.”

  “She`s beautiful, isn`t she?” Anika said. “Sonia I mean. I`m sure she and Gabriel had a moment.”

  “A moment—count on it. An hour is more like it. The man’s a rake. Out of control.” I stopped myself in mid-rant. “Of course he may have changed. Until last week, I hadn`t seen or heard from him in ten years. Maybe he`s different now.”

  Anika laughed. “Some things never change, dear. Any man who would deceive one wife will do it again, or in Gabriel’s case, again and again. Face it. He`s a serial philanderer.”

  She spoke from long experience. Over the years, she had witnessed the implosion of many relationships. Her marriage to Bolin was unique because even after four decades their passion for each other never abated. I longed to find her secret formula, guzzle it down, bottle and sell it.

  Chapter Four

  OVER DINNER THAT evening I gave Deming the lowdown on our visit. His gift for listening, really listening to a woman, was among the many things that made him irresistible. He zeroed in on the salient points, planted his elbows squarely on the marble dining table, and curled his lip.

  “My parents will be there tomorrow? I can`t believe that my dad agreed to this farce.” He heaved a giant sigh and surrendered. “Okay. But don`t expect me to like it, and don`t complain if I watch you every moment.”

  “Watch me?”

  He laced his fingers into mine and kissed my hand. “Yes, ma’am. That`s in my job description now. You draw trouble like a magnet, Mrs. Swann.”

  I looked down, focusing on the delicate patterns in the Aubusson rug. It thrilled me hearing that name—Mrs. Swann. A foolish, immature reaction from a grown woman and career feminist but a genuine one. After Gabriel dumped me I armed myself against the pain of toxic relationships. I showed no emotion and felt nothing. My career and friends were more than enough, or so I thought. When Deming and I connected, my vulnerability returned and with it a deluge of feeling. Even now I occasionally pinched myself to prove that it was true: Deming Swann loved me. I was his wife.

  “Hello in there, Eja. Are you in a trance?”

  “Nope. Just thinking. I have to finish reviewing the galleys of my latest novel, get my nails done, and brace myself for this extravaganza. Whew!”

  “Just goes to show you,” Deming mused. “Melanie Hunt went to some Manhattan boarding school. Spence I think. No. Wai
t a minute. It was Miss Porter`s in Connecticut. Very ritzy. By the time I saw her she looked pretty much the way she does now.”

  “Flawless, you mean.”

  “Not really.” He gave it some thought. “Pretty enough but cold and remote. We called her an ice princess on the Deb circuit.” Deming pinched my cheek. “Not the spunky, fiery type like you. Eja Kane—brilliant and brave. Don`t mess with that girl.”

  “They do have a point you know about lookism. This Bella Brigade is just a stalking horse for a bigger issue. After all, outer beauty only goes so far. Women are still evaluated by appearance.”

  Deming shrugged. “Moderation in all things, my love. You can`t change human nature. Sensitivity is fine, but there`s nothing wrong with beauty. Think of the Venus de Milo and the Mona Lisa. Both beauties.” He grinned, “Or for that matter, my mom, sister, and you.”

  I blew out the candles and walked his way. “I`m glad we found each other. You saved me from turning into a hollow shell.”

  He laughed. “I remember everything about you since you were five. Join me in the study, and I`ll tell you all about it.”

  I SPENT THAT NEXT morning chained to my computer, grinding out my thousand words per day. The discipline helped to calm my overactive imagination and put the forthcoming soiree into perspective. After all, even at five hundred bucks a ticket, a dinner is just a meal.

  To avoid complications, we agreed to share the Swann family limo with Anika and Bolin. Not a hardship since their vehicle of choice was a Bentley Mulsanne chauffeured by Bolin’s trusted retainer and majordomo, the famously loyal Po.

  “I plan to swim in martinis tonight,” Deming growled. “Only way to make the evening bearable.”

  I stood on tiptoe and tugged his bowtie. Tuxedos elevate even ordinary men to the next level, but a dreamboat like Deming soars into the stratosphere.