“Hope this fits,” Chance said as he put a bag from Hôtel de Paris on her bed.
Inside was a luxurious burnt orange Chinese silk robe.
“I’m a J.Crew kind of girl, you’ve forgotten,” she said with a voice devoid of emotion. “But it’s beautiful. Thanks.”
Although the three were thicker than thieves, there was uncharacteristically not much being said between them.
“Dad said no,” Jackson said, unable to avoid the obvious. “No autopsy.”
Charley’s back went up, and her eyes widened.
“Something’s not right,” she said. “Did you tell him what I saw?”
Her blood pressure was rising, and the beep of the monitors reflected it.
“Calm down, Sis, please,” Chance cautioned. “Besides, I think we can have it done without him. If you’re sure.”
“I’m sure, dammit!” she insisted. She had just lost her mother in the worst way and all this was unimaginable.
A nurse appeared in the doorway.
“We’re sorry,” Jackson apologized as the nurse checked Charley’s vital signs.
Charley took a couple of deep, cleansing breaths. From all her visits to spas with her mother, she knew the art of relaxation, even at times of crisis. The last thing she wanted now was for the staff to send her brothers away.
“She needs to rest, gentlemen,” the nurse ordered.
“Promise me you’ll find a way, Jackson…” she said with the plaintive voice her brother couldn’t resist. “I need answers. I just feel so empty.”
He nodded, holding back tears.
“We love you, squirt,” Chance said as he kissed her on the forehead. He motioned to the new robe. “We’ll get an aide to help you put that on.”
Charley managed a smile, and the boys exited into the hall.
“You think we can do this?” Jackson asked as soon as they were out of earshot.
“Dad’s been arrested, and he loses that privilege,” Chance stated. “As his sons, we can do whatever the hell we want.”
Jackson fist-bumped his little brother.
“It’s going to open a barrelful of worms, bruv,” Chance said. “The officials are going to need Charley’s statement. And once the press gets hold of it…”
“Do you think he did it?” Jackson said, clearing his throat.
“I don’t know. Did we think he was a scumbag?” Chance answered.
The sad truth was, they realized, did anyone ever really know their father?
The Monaco medical examiner was busy when Jackson and Chance entered his office. It had been a busy month with several suicides, ODs, and a boat accident or two. The playgrounds of the rich and famous are also rife with drama.
“Are you the next of kin?” he asked them as if they were one. He was a well-built man of about forty who had a pleasant face, short-cropped hair, and a professional demeanor.
“Sons,” Chance nodded.
“From the police report, it looks pretty cut-and-dried as to what happened,” he said. “No pun intended.”
“We’re not sure the accident was an accident,” Jackson offered, ignoring him.
He cocked his head and looked to Chance. “Criminal circumstances?”
“Our sister, who was in the car with her, said Mum passed out just before she lost control. Our mother may have seemed fragile, but she had the constitution of a horse.”
“What’ll it take us to get this done?” Jackson said, noticing the examiner checking out his brother.
“You need to sign the authorization papers and guarantee the cost,” he said.
“That’s it?” Jackson asked.
“That’s it,” he answered.
“How much?” Chance wondered.
Looking at their John Varvatos shoes and Jaeger-LeCoultre watches, he smiled. “I’m sure you can afford it.”
Chance returned the smile. The examiner was actually warm and engaging, which they needed under the circumstances.
“You understand the procedure?” he added. “Some like to know the details of how it works; others would rather believe it’s just magic.”
Both guys shook their heads. No need for the gruesome details. They’d rather think of their mother as whole.
He pushed a letter of authorization in front of Chance.
“A full autopsy?” he asked.
“Whatever will find out what killed her,” Jackson said.
“If something killed her,” the examiner reminded them.
“How quickly will we get results?” Chance asked.
“It could be several weeks to a month,” the examiner said, tapping his pencil idly as he stared directly into Chance’s eyes.
“Any way to hurry it up?” Chance asked.
“I’ve got two corpses in front of your mother—”
Chance slipped off his $39,000 chronograph. “Are you sure it’ll take that long?”
“I can’t take a bribe, Mr. Gaines,” the examiner stated coolly.
“Chance,” Chance offered. “And Jackson.”
“William,” the examiner offered.
“Consider it a gift, Willy,” Jackson said as Chance laid the exquisite Swiss watch on the desk.
“It’ll help you keep track of the time.” Chance smiled.
Willy was taken by the man in expensive accessories and 501 jeans that fit like a glove.
“We need to keep this under wraps,” Chance added. “No pun intended.”
“I’ll do my best,” Willy said, lost in Chance’s eyes.
“Call me directly when you’re done.”
Chance handed Willy a business card with one hand and adjusted his crotch with the other.
“I’ll get on it as fast as I can,” Willy said with a tone that was an obvious double entendre.
Jackson and Chance headed out.
“And I thought Dad taught me well,” Jackson said once they were out of earshot.
They both chuckled, although the laughter soon faded.
“OM…OM…OM…”
Since leaving Salem, Marlena had returned to practicing meditation. Used for centuries to ease tension and open the mind, she had come to crave the stillness and peace it offered her at a time when her life was so confusing.
She had used different meditation techniques in her practice for years and now could truly appreciate how they opened her mind.
If they saw me in Salem, they’d think I’d lost my mind, she thought, and a smile crossed her face. They might be right.
“Om…Om…Om…” she repeated. Sitting on the floor of their gym, she had perfect posture, the soles of her feet touching and her hands resting gently on her knees. New age music wafted through the speakers, and her breathing slowed. The tension left her face. Until suddenly she felt as if she’d been hit by a cattle prod.
“Oh!” She gasped. Looking at herself in the floor-to-ceiling mirrors, she studied her face as if looking for answers.
“One of the girls,” she said softly.
Over the years, when she’d had a feeling like this, it nearly always had to do with one of her daughters. That connection was so strong that she knew someone was in trouble.
There was a message on her voice mail from Blake Masters who wanted to see her tomorrow. So far, she hadn’t answered.
“Docteur Evans,” she heard coming from the doorway.
It was Desiree back from the trip to see her father.
Momentarily distracted from her worries, Marlena rose from her position.
“Your tone isn’t good, Desiree.”
“I’m not,” the normally poised nurse rambled. “Did you hear about the Gaines Financial Group, or whatever they’re called?”
Marlena had not only heard about them, but her family was tangled in the midst of the drama.
“Of course, it’s international news,” Marlena said.
“My father—he was a major investor with that charlatan,” Desiree said, near tears. “He got me and my best friends involved, and now we’ve lost every
thing.”
“I’m so sorry.” Marlena could feel Desiree’s anguish.
“Bernie Madoff?” Desiree scoffed. “At least he targeted people with tons of money, who can make it back somehow. Gaines?” she spit. “He stole our future.”
“If you need a loan…” Marlena offered sincerely.
“I don’t know what I need, Docteur Evans,” Desiree answered. “But thank you for the offer.”
“Your job is safe. I hope you know that.”
“Thank you,” Desiree said. She liked Marlena and felt guilty for keeping John’s secret. “It’s time for Mr. Black’s evening medication.”
“You pull yourself together. I can bring his meds,” Marlena said.
Normally, Desiree wouldn’t have let her, but Marlena was right. Desiree could see herself in the floor-to-ceiling mirrors, and she was a wreck.
Marlena knocked softly, and John answered, “Come on in.”
He was once again watching CNN and surprised to see Marlena with his meds.
“I thought I saw Desiree was back,” John said.
“She is, but she needs some time. She’s one of Gaines’s victims,” Marlena said sadly. “Your meds?”
John slowly lifted a glass of water from the tray Marlena carried, and swallowed a handful of pills.
She loved even just watching the cut of his arms as he placed the glass back on the tray. Although his movements were unsteady, his hands were still strong, with long, masculine fingers.
“Can we talk?” she asked hesitantly.
“Sure, Doc.”
He didn’t want to. He didn’t want to be this close to her for this long.
She turned off the TV and set the tray next to his bed, and as she did, he could see the soft curve of her back beneath the formfitting leotard she was wearing. If she had seen the desire in his eyes, she would have kissed him gently and mounted him. Satisfied both of them in ways they haven’t felt in so long.
But she didn’t see his desire, and he didn’t feel her longing.
“Have you heard anything from Sami?” she asked.
“No, why?” Then he saw her expression. “One of those premonitions of yours?”
“Carrie seemed fine when I spoke to her yesterday, and if it’s trouble, it usually involves Sami,” she said, tilting her head.
He loved when she did that. He also loved what he called her “smiling eyes.” Every emotion was in those hazel beauties.
“Could be the Belle thing,” John reminded her.
“It doesn’t feel like it is, but I’ve been wrong before,” she said.
“When?” he said, and it was as if he was teasing.
“When I thought I was wrong, and I wasn’t.”
They shared a smile.
“Let me see,” John said, taking her hand.
Marlena’s fists were clenched, as they always were when she felt tense, and boy, was she feeling tense now.
He massaged them gently for a moment. His hands weren’t as agile as they once had been, but she welcomed his touch. Like old times. Good times.
Are we connecting, John? Actually connecting? she thought.
The moment was broken by John’s cell phone ringing. It was Belle.
“Belle,” he said as he answered by speakerphone.
“Dad, I’m trying to reach Mom, but she’s not answering her phone. Do you know where she is?” Belle asked.
“I’m right here,” Marlena said, adding, “Belle, are you sure you’re all right?”
“Another of your premonitions, Mom?” Belle said gently.
“Yeah, yeah,” Marlena answered, realizing they all knew her too well.
“I’m fine,” Belle said, Marlena not believing her for a minute.
Marlena nodded to John.
“But that’s not why I’m calling.”
“Talk to me,” Marlena said.
“It’s a favor for Shawn, really,” Belle said, glancing to Shawn, who was sitting in the Fancy Face IV galley. “He’s right here.”
“Marlena,” Shawn said.
“You know you’ve made us very proud, Shawn. And don’t say we shouldn’t be,” Marlena scolded lightly.
“Thanks, but this isn’t about me; it’s about Charley Gaines.”
“Oh?”
“I know it’s weird, but I have this need to help her somehow,” Shawn said.
“It’s actually a typical reaction for someone to connect to a person they’ve literally saved,” Marlena said, putting on her psychiatric hat without even realizing it.
“But I need to be spending time with my own wife and daughter,” Shawn said, warmly stroking Belle’s arm. “Charley’s a total wreck right now, and I thought if anyone can help her through this, it’s you.”
“Oh.”
“I know it’s asking a lot, but could you leave John for a few days and come down here to see her?”
Marlena was torn. She didn’t want to leave John, but if she did, she could see Belle and Claire. She would also have an excuse to avoid Blake Masters.
“If it’s all right with your father-in-law,” she said, looking to John. “A few days in Monaco to help a friend of theirs?”
John nodded. In fact, he was happy to see her go.
“I’ll be there tomorrow?” Marlena offered.
“Thanks. We’ll pick you up at the Nice airport. There’s an Air France flight that comes just before noon.”
“I’ll be the one with the pink rose in my hair,” she said lightly.
“Belle says good-bye too,” Shawn said as he disconnected the call.
“Bye,” Marlena said, but he was gone. “You sure?” she said to John.
“I’ll be fine, Doc,” he said firmly.
“Guess I’d better let the nurses know,” Marlena said.
John nodded again in that silent, sure way that always made her feel safe.
Once Marlena was gone, John snapped on the TV again. When he was sure she was long out of earshot, he dialed a number on his cell phone.
“Donovan, it’s John,” he said. On the other end was Shane Donovan, one of John’s closest friends and a bigwig in the ISA.
“Is it time?” Shane answered.
“Doc’s going to be gone for a few days,” John said, swinging his muscular legs over the side of the bed. “I’ve got to prove to myself I’m ready.”
Several hours later, Marlena was in her bedroom, packing.
She’d only be gone for a few days, so she didn’t need to bring much in the way of clothing. A few crisp white cotton blouses, lightweight tailored slacks, and a beige linen jacket. The monochromatic tones complemented her blonde hair perfectly.
It was August and beautiful in Monte Carlo this time of year, but there could be a few scattered thundershowers, so she threw a small umbrella and a cashmere sweater into her carry-on. She zipped her cream-colored Tumi and set it by the door.
Her cell phone was on the desk by the window, and she stood gazing out while she texted Blake Masters.
“Out of town a few days. Sorry.”
Simple. Direct. Send.
Sorry? she thought. Should I have said sorry? Am I?
Before she could put the phone down, it dinged! It was a text from Blake: “Should hav bio report on ur return. C U then.”
Marlena stared at it a long moment. His response was simple and direct too.
Good, she thought.
Right now she just didn’t want to see him.
She slipped out of her clothes and into a lounging robe, then sat at her desk to read. She’d spent hours reading since she and John moved to Lausanne, but this time she couldn’t concentrate.
The late-summer sun was setting, and the view from Marlena’s bedroom was beautiful.
The Swiss Alps were on one side of Maison du Noir, and while known for their snowcapped glory in winter, they were equally stunning all year long, on account of their craggy, jutting peaks. Lake Geneva was in the distance, seen over the fields of grapes that were just about ready for harvest.
>
She put her elbows on the desk and leaned on her clasped hands. Rubbing her palms together slowly, she felt the spot John had massaged so tenderly. It was as if he were touching her again, and she gasped.
Had she known John was standing at the matching window in his room, just across the hall, staring out at the same magnificent landscape and rubbing his palms in the exact same way, she would have flown to his side.
But she didn’t. So she didn’t. Instead, she was leaving town in the morning.
“Ow,” CHARLEY YELPED AS AN ITALIAN MALE NURSE FIRMLY pumped up the collar on her arm to take her blood pressure. “Too tight,” she scolded in perfect Italian.
Esther scurried in and shooed the scowling thirty-year-old out of the room.
“Ptiu,” he spit silently through pursed lips. This guy had a problem.
“I am so sorry, Miss Gaines,” Esther apologized. “Let’s try this again, and I’ll surely report him.”
“Thank you,” Charley said, confused. “If he’s having a bad day, he doesn’t know what a bad day is,” she added.
“Beautiful robe.” Esther smiled, trying to change the subject.
“From my brother,” Charley answered. “He’s always had the best taste in the family.
Esther completed the blood pressure test and found that Charley was 140/70. It was an excellent reading for someone who’d been through such physical and emotional trauma.
“I guess we won’t need any more blood donations from your friend,” Esther offered.
“My friend?” Charley questioned.
“Mr. Brady,” Esther answered. “The young man who donated blood. So lucky you share B negative. Very rare.”
“Lucky,” Charley said.
“Especially since neither your father or mother, God rest her soul, were a match,” Esther said gently.
“Lucky,” Charley replied.
Wait, what?
“Your brother called, and they’re on their way up with your father,” Esther said.
Charley was so deep in thought that she didn’t answer.
“Miss Gaines?”
“Yes?”
A Secret in Salem Page 10
