Charley was sitting on one of the suite’s four overstuffed sofas, her legs tucked under her, when Marlena entered in front of Jackson and Chance. John took up the rear, and when he saw Charley, he was startled.
“Didn’t realize you were quite so gorgeous.” He smiled with that crooked smile that made Charley feel at ease.
“I’m pleased to meet you—”
“John,” he interrupted before she could finish. “I’m really sorry about your mother.”
I’m sorry about Olivia too, she thought. Devastated. But she wasn’t my mother.
“Thank you,” she answered.
“What can you tell me about the night of the accident?” he asked gently.
Charley recounted the details as she remembered them.
She recalled the frantic day at OMG and Olivia’s early departure to have her hair done by Beverly Hills’ finest. That Olivia had been overly excited about the bash on the K because of all the celebrities who loved her, and that she had been drinking her favorite Dom Pérignon rosé with caviar and tea sandwiches when Charley joined her downstairs.
Charley’s voice was shaky as she told John that she didn’t blame them, truly, but Jackson and Chance were supposed to have been with them and driven to the party. When they hadn’t shown, Olivia had taken the driver’s seat instead, not wearing her seat belt. Chance had broken the news to her that there had been cyanide in her system, which had to be why she was dizzy and nauseated as they had driven the Route de la Grande Corniche.
“And then you hit the railing,” John concluded.
“I tried to control the car, but I couldn’t,” Charley said, choking back tears.
“This wasn’t your fault,” Marlena assured her.
“If I’d seen that man on the bike earlier, I could have reacted faster,” Charley said, feeling guilty.
“What man on a bike?” Jackson asked.
“Just some guy. He appeared out of nowhere,” she answered.
John let it all ruminate. “Cyanide reacts really quickly in the body. Can you show me where you were before you left the house?”
“We can show you,” Chance offered.
He and Jackson led John toward the infamous bar off the foyer as Marlena poured Charley a fresh glass of water with lemon from the ready tray nearby.
“Would wine be okay?” Charley asked ruefully.
“It usually makes things worse,” Marlena told her. “As a doctor, I’d tell you to avoid it, but it’s your call.”
Charley studied Marlena’s face, and the warmth in it was appealing and convincing. She took a long, satisfying sip from the crystal tumbler.
“You were really with the ISA?” Jackson asked.
“For a number of years, yes,” John answered. “Now and then, I get called back into duty.”
“A real James Bond,” Chance said.
“I’ve been called a lot of things,” John answered. “But yes, that’s been one of them. Where is the wine cellar?”
“Downstairs through that door,” Chance said as he pointed to a carved door next to the game room. “But the Dom is always kept here for Mum. Or was.”
John opened the cabinet, and there were eleven bottles of the premium champagne ready to be iced.
“And any food comes from where?”
“The help brings it from the kitchen,” Jackson said. “And nothing’s ever kept more than twenty-four hours. If it’s not fresh, it’s out.”
“Delivered by whom?” John asked.
Chance and Jackson realized quickly that John asked all the right questions.
“All gourmet from Royal Food and produce from Place des Armes. They cater to the palace, so it’s all the best quality you can find,” Chance explained.
“And what’s L-cytokine?” John asked as he took out a vitamin-supplement bottle that was behind several jars of olives, candied cherries, and perfect pearl onions.
“That? A supplement Mum thought would help ward off hangovers.”
“Empty,” John said. He opened it and smelled the empty bottle. “’Scuse me.”
John headed back into the living room, where Marlena was going through photos with Charley.
“Charley, did your mother take any capsules before you left for that party?” he asked.
“Yes. She took them every time she went out.”
“How long before you left the house did she take them?”
“A few minutes, maybe,” Charley answered.
“What about you?” John asked.
“I was going to take them to humor her, but there were none left.”
“Are you sure?” John asked.
Charley nodded. “That’s what Kelsey told me. She was the maid. Dad fired her the next day. I was sorry too; she was pretty special.”
John’s ISA mind was spinning. “Where is she now. Do you know?”
“She was with Gemma Kasagian at the funeral,” Chance said. He was a fine observer.
“Mind if I take this bottle, guys?” John asked.
It was obvious to them where he was going with the question.
“How would cyanide get into that bottle?” Charley asked.
“That’s a $64,000 question,” John answered.
“Take whatever you want from the house,” Jackson said.
“Unless it’s something we have to inventory for the authorities,” Chance added sardonically.
“I’ll have to send it to the ISA lab in London,” John said apologetically. “I think it’s best if we keep this on the down low until we have some answers.”
“Wait, could the medical examiner’s office test it? That would be faster,” Chance asked.
“Too public a forum,” John said.
“Not for us.” Chance smiled. “At least not for me.”
ON THE RIDE BACK TO THE HôTEL DU CAP, THE TOWN CAR TOOK the same route traveled by Olivia and Charley on the night Olivia died.
Marlena rested her head on John’s shoulder as they rode in silence with the beauty of the Mediterranean spread out in front of them.
Hundreds of tourists and residents were partying the night away, while Charley was in the villa trying her best to forget the horrors she’d been through and get much-needed sleep.
“She’s a very sweet girl,” Marlena whispered.
“She’s got to drop the guilt. But you know that better than anyone,” John said.
Marlena had once been accused of heinous crimes. While it had ultimately been proven that she didn’t commit them, she remembered the pain, doubt, and gut-wrenching insecurity she had felt until that happened. Even when she had been proven innocent, residual guilt lingered on.
“Stop here,” John instructed the driver as he noticed the dying yellow flowers and melted candles by the side of the road.
The driver pulled the car over, and John got out to take a look. He could see up the highway, and it was a clear shot. Anyone heading in their direction could be clearly seen.
Looking behind him, he saw the same. Yes, it was a hairpin turn, but the approaches were both easily visible.
Marlena got out of the car and joined him.
“Thoughts?” she said.
“Strange that a bicyclist would appear out of nowhere,” he answered.
Marlena smiled. He was indeed the old John. He was the John whose powers of deduction and observation had helped him out of the most unthinkable positions. No wonder he was an ISA favorite.
“You miss the ISA?” she asked.
“The ISA, Salem, Titan Industries, Basic Black, the Toscana Foundation…I actually miss them all. Except DiMera Enterprises, for obvious reasons.”
She knew it was because of Stefano’s involvement. The man had wreaked havoc on so many decent people that John regretted ever finding out that he and Stefano were half brothers. It was like finding out you were a Gaines. Thank God John didn’t carry the DiMera name.
“What I missed most of all is you,” John said, wrapping her in his arms. The moon was full, the night air heady.
>
“You ever done it in the back of a town car overlooking Monte Carlo Harbor?” he asked, yes, cocking that eyebrow.
Her response was to hit him playfully.
“Not when we have the most exceptional suite in all of the principality.” She smiled.
He kissed her fully, deeply. She rested her head on his shoulder.
“We need to help Charley,” she said.
“I know,” he said, kissing the tip of her nose. “But there’s nothing we can do tonight, so how ’bout we take up where we left off this morning?”
“With the kids in the suite?” she reminded him.
“You mean the humungous suite with bedrooms on either side of the living room?” he reminded her.
John helped her back into the car and went around to his side to get in. Before he did, he stopped to survey the area one more time. The wheels kept turning in his mind.
Belle and Shawn were on the terrace of the suite when John and Marlena returned. The table was littered with plates. After spending a few hours with Abby and Chelsea, they had ordered the best room-service hamburgers and frites in the Riviera.
Shawn was up and inside in a flash when he heard them enter.
“How is she?” he asked.
“Charley’s gone through a lot, Shawn, and it’s going to take a long time for her to heal,” Marlena said.
“Well, thank you for helping her, Marlena,” Shawn answered.
“Mom and Dad, you look amazing.” Belle beamed as she entered through the French doors. Even though they’d been through an emotional and mind-bending few hours, the two of them did still look incredible.
“Not exhausted and ready for bed?” John asked pointedly.
Shawn caught on immediately. “Oh, bad, you look really, really bad. Really exhausted. Really tired.”
“Thanks.” Marlena laughed.
“We’re heading off to bed anyway, Mom,” Belle assured them. “And tonight’s been absolutely great, thank you.”
“Night,” Marlena said.
“Night, Mom. Dad,” Belle said as she went into John’s arms. “Life couldn’t be much better, could it?”
It was a question that didn’t need an answer.
“I’ve got some work to do tomorrow, but you’ll still be around, right?” John asked.
“Our next stop was your place, so the time schedule’s up to you. Unless you don’t want us to visit now since we’ve seen you.”
“Go to bed,” Marlena scolded.
“Yes, Mommy.” Belle smiled.
“Let’s go, CB,” Shawn said.
For the first time, John and Marlena noticed Claire was on one of the sofas, asleep, snuggling with one of the squishy silk pillows. Shawn scooped her up and carried her toward the second bedroom.
“Ice cream?” Claire muttered in her sleep.
“Good night,” Shawn called back as he disappeared with the nearly four-year-old bundle, Belle following behind them.
“Good night,” John and Marlena said in unison.
Alone at last, they waited until Shawn and Belle’s door was securely closed, then bolted into the bedroom.
“What are you thinking about?” Marlena asked John as she snuggled against his chest.
The bedroom was lit by candles and moonlight, and John was staring at the ceiling. Their clothes were scattered around the room, and they’d had a very hot night once again. Hey, it had been years, so they were both more than ready.
“What?” he said, coming out of a fog.
“I’ll bet I know,” she said. “Cyanide.”
He couldn’t help but smile.
“Offended?”
“You know better,” Marlena said. “I was just thinking about Charley.”
John and Marlena were both professionals who knew each other well. In fact, they found each other’s dedication incredibly sexy.
John kissed Marlena and pulled her close.
“This is good,” he said.
“No, it’s perfect,” she responded.
They lay totally secure in each other’s arms with the connection that only comes with familiarity. The passion of commitment.
Claire was sound asleep between Shawn and Belle in the massive, luxurious bed in the second bedroom. Their hands were clasped as they gazed into each other’s eyes.
They smiled and blew each other a kiss, then closed their eyes and drifted off to sleep.
The passion of family.
“GUINNESS ON TAP, MARTIN,” JACKSON SAID TO HIS BUDDY the bartender at Le Big Ben, the most popular pub for locals in Nice.
The English pub was a short drive from the Gaines Villa, as was pretty much everything on the Côte d’Azur, and Jackson needed air, but not the warm breezes that wafted through the coast; he needed the familiar stale air of a pub sandwiched between shops on the narrow Rue Alberti. The south of France might have been the Gaineses’ base camp every summer, but home for him was still London.
Charley had gone to bed for the night, and Richie, well, he was drinking and watching Wall Street 2 in his screening room. Chance had gone off to meet Willy, leaving Jackson alone to ruminate on everything they’d been hit with.
An icy-cold draft and some peace and quiet were what he needed. True, Le Big Ben catered to the sophisticated pub crawlers, but they were pub crawlers just the same.
Jackson downed the first one in two swigs from the pint and ordered another. Martin slid the glass over to him, and Jackson snatched it up.
“Nice grab,” a voice said behind him.
He turned to come face-to-face with Abby. From behind, she’d just noticed his broad shoulders, slim waist, and dark floppy hair.
“I know you.” He squinted through the smoke swirling around them.
Abby was not in the mood for a confrontation but steeled herself.
“Abby Deveraux,” she said, then addressed the bartender. “Two pints for my friend and me.” She nodded to a nearby table, where Chelsea sat observing. “Excuse me,” she said as she moved in front of Jackson and placed her euros on the bar.
“How do you live with yourself?” Jackson asked.
“My intent wasn’t to hurt your family,” she said simply, not looking at him.
The pints were put in front of her, and she took them back to her table.
Jackson shoved his empty pint toward Martin. “Another.”
Martin poured the third stout for his friend, whom he wasn’t used to seeing drink this way. Jackson studied Abby sliding into the seat opposite Chelsea.
Martin slid the drink across the bar. “Jackie.”
“Nice creamy head, mate,” Jackson said as he reached around and hefted it, studying the pale golden foam. “Put it on my tab.”
“Your credit’s no good, mate,” Martin said carefully.
Jackson cocked his head.
“Boss’s orders. Sorry.”
Word had gotten around quickly that the Gaineses’ assets were all frozen.
“Bollocks,” Jackson said, rummaging in his pocket. He had a wad of euros and tossed them at Martin. “How about cash?”
Martin pushed it back. “On me, Jackie,” he said. “For tonight, anyway.”
Jackson took another swig. It was a pity pint, but at this point, he wasn’t in the mind to argue.
Chelsea and Abby were finishing their ale when Jackson stumbled to the table.
“Do you even have a conscience?” he asked with steely anger.
People at the next table turned sharply.
“Where is your compassion?” he sputtered. He curled his right hand into a fist. He’d been a varsity boxer in prep school, and they had called that fist the Jackson Five. “If you were a man, I’d knock you to kingdom come.”
Abby took a moment and then bolted from her seat and got right in his face.
“If you were a man, you’d admit you looked the other way while your father destroyed the lives of thousands of people.”
“I had no idea what he was doing,” Jackson spit.
“The
n you’re either a liar or a fool,” Abby retorted.
“What do you think your paper does, report the news?”
“We let the world see what already exists,” she said.
“Clever girl,” he sneered.
Abby grabbed Jackson’s fist and forced it down.
“Don’t you dare condemn me for doing a job to protect my family. My parents nearly lost everything, and I figured out a way to help them. Was I lucky to get those photos? Lucky and smart. Unlike your father, we prey on the guilty, not the innocent!”
A round of applause came up from the pub’s patrons.
Jackson was steaming.
“Let’s go, Chels,” Abby said, grabbing her bag from the back of the chair.
Chelsea was up in a flash, and she and Abby made their way out the door.
Once outside, Abby collapsed against the side of the building. She was breathing heavily.
“Are you okay?” Chelsea asked. “You were just fabulous in there!”
Abby held out her hands, which were shaking badly. She started to laugh from nerves and relief.
The door to the pub slammed open, and Jackson stormed out.
Abby and Chelsea froze as he whirled and moved right into Abby’s face again.
Grabbing both of her shoulders, he yanked her to him and kissed her with intensity and passion. Jackson then turned on his heel and strode down Rue Alberti to his red Ferrari.
Abby was dumbstruck.
“So hot,” was all Chelsea could mutter.
THE CHURCHILL SUITE HAD BECOME COMMAND CENTRAL FOR John, Marlena, and the family since he had stunned her with his romantic recovery. It was costing him well over $10,000 a night, but this reunion was worth it. Besides, what was money for?
John sat at the sleek contemporary dining-room table drawing a schematic of the Route de la Grande Corniche while Marlena had breakfast on the terrace with Shawn, Belle, and Claire.
John’s mind was clicking again, and he was in his element.
The bell to the suite rang. It was Jackson and Chance, the former looking a bit worse for wear.
“Hey, guys,” John said. “Coffee?”
“Do I look like I need it?” Jackson asked.
A Secret in Salem Page 18
