She remained standing. “What do you want?”
I took my time and inspected her top to bottom. “You’re looking good. Kept your figure. And had a little work done around the jowls, the eyes?”
“I don’t need plastic surgery. I take care of myself. Always have. It’s paid off.”
“Uh-huh.” I let the disbelief seep into my voice.
She pressed her lips together. “I asked you a question.”
“Yes, you did. Let’s see, what do I want?” I tilted my head back and gazed at the ceiling. “What I wanted was for you to be long gone. Which I thought you were, since you left me, as usual, holding the bag. Your friend Dwayne beat the shit out of me and then killed the guy who came to help me.”
“I don’t believe you.”
I stood, pulled my sweater up and turned around so she could get a good view of all my bruises, which were now turning into a rainbow of colors. I pulled my sweater down and took my seat on the chaise again. “I know you read about the murder in the papers or saw it on the news since you told Kroy your life was in danger.”
“All right, I heard about the murder, but I never saw Dwayne before in my life. So stop playing games and answer my question.” She folded her arms across her chest. “What do you want?”
“In a word? In. I want in.”
“In? That’s it? Well, you made it. You’re in the house, in a guest bedroom.”
“Now who’s playing games? I want in on the con.”
“Well, you’ve changed your tune haven’t you? What happened to Miss Priss, who couldn’t tell a lie? Did you finally get tired of living with that old hag, June? Last time I saw you—what is it now—nine years ago, you wouldn’t come with me. Said you wanted to stay with her forever. I couldn’t believe it. Thought you’d be fed up with living in the sticks.”
I looked down at my hands as if inspecting my non-existent manicure. “She got tired of me, actually. The bitch threw me out.”
That got a smile out of Elizabeth. “I can believe that. You could be a real brat.”
“Let’s not get into character attacks. You’ll lose that competition. So, what about it? Are you going to tell me what you’re planning, or…”
“Or what?”
“Or I might have to have a little conversation with Kroy.”
“That would be pointless. He already knows all about me.”
“All about you? Really? Even that you’re in bed with the FBI?”
“That’s a lie! You’re just making things up to get back at me.” She paced to the balcony window and back again.
I laughed. “Why should I lie when the truth is beyond anything I could make up? I have to admit I was pretty surprised. Elizabeth Hill a snitch? Unimaginable—well, almost anyway. But when my new best friend who’s a homicide inspector tried to find out about you, he ran into a brick wall. Your sheet—all your arrests, convictions, even your fingerprints were blocked by the FBI. And do you know who that guy was—the one who tried to help me and got shot in the head for his trouble? An FBI agent. But what I want to know is why you let them kill Phil.”
Elizabeth stopped her pacing and sank slowly down onto the bed. “Phil’s dead? When?” She seemed truly shocked, but then I had to remember she was an excellent actress.
“Last night. They tortured her first. She had burns on her arms just like the ones you gave me.”
“You can’t think I had anything to do with it.”
“It doesn’t matter what I think. It’s what the police and the FBI think that you should worry about. They know the killers lured her to a motel by telling her you were hiding out there. So you,” I went on, “are in some really deep shit.” That made the third time I’d sworn in the last few minutes. Funny that I could do it so naturally. Didn’t pause or stammer. I’d already lied like I did it every day, and now swearing came off just as easily. All that was left for me to do was start a fight and I’d be three for three.
“Did you talk to the FBI?”
“I wouldn’t describe it so much as talking to as being interrogated by the FBI. They want you, of course. Now that I know where you are, I may have to pass that information on, unless you decide to include me in your plans.”
“It’s not really up to me.”
“Elizabeth, it’s me, Valentine, remember? I know your MO. Whatever you’re into with Kroy, I know you have your own scam in place, or at the very least a backup plan.” She didn’t say anything. I sat in silence for a minute, then said, “I don’t expect to be let in for free. I can make a contribution. I’m good, you know, probably better than you ever were.” I rose from the chaise and crossed to the door. “Why don’t you think about it and give me your answer later on tonight?” I opened the door.
She stood up and gazed at me for a few moments as if she’d never seen me before. “Dinner’s at seven,” she said and walked out the door.
Ashley must have been listening for Elizabeth to leave because she appeared in my doorway seconds after Elizabeth left. “What happened? Beth didn’t look too happy.”
“We have some stuff to work out, that’s all. Could you do me a favor? Would you mind showing me around? I’ve never been in such a big house.”
“Sure,” she said. “Come on.” I followed her out into the hall. “There are four bedrooms at this end, but you and I are the only ones here for now. Sometimes Dad has company and people stay here. If you turn left instead of right at the top of the stairs that’s the way to Dad’s room and a couple more guest rooms.”
“Is that where Elizabeth is staying, down the hall?” I asked.
“Yeah, but in her own room.”
“So that’s this floor. What about downstairs?”
“Follow me, I’ll show you a secret staircase.” She pressed a panel at the end of the hall. It swung open and revealed stairs. “Not really secret, I guess, except that I didn’t know it was there at first and was really surprised when Connie or Miss Carmel Candy would show up all of the sudden.”
“Okay, I have to ask—why is his name Connie and who is Miss Carmel Candy? Is that something like Miss America?”
Ashley giggled. “Dad gives people names. Connie is short for Confucius, which isn’t really his name either. But Dad says he’s really wise like Confucius was.”
“Is he?”
“Dunno. He doesn’t talk much.” She led the way down the stairs.
“He looks more like a wrestler than a butler,” I said.
“He doesn’t do butler-type stuff for anyone but Dad. If I ask him for something, he just ignores me.” She paused a moment before going on. “He’s like a bodyguard.”
“Excuse me for being nosy, but why does your dad need a bodyguard?”
Ashley paused on the stairs and looked back at me. “He told me he’s had death threats, but don’t know who or why. I just came to live with my dad a couple of months ago. I’m still figuring stuff out.”
The door at the bottom of the stairs opened into a kitchen just as vast and modern as the rest of the house. A middle-aged Latina paused in dicing tomatoes and looked up at us.
“Carmela,” Ashley said, “this is Beth’s daughter, Valentine. She’s going to be staying with us for awhile.”
“Nice to meet you,” I said.
She gave me a brief unsmiling glance and returned to chopping tomatoes.
I looked at Ashley and raised my eyebrows. She gave a little shake of her head as if to warn me not to pursue the conversation.
I crossed to a door. “Where does this go?” I opened the door without waiting for a reply and took in the garage that held three large shiny and expensive cars. Behind me, Carmela gave a disapproving sniff.
“Does the garage go to the back garden?” I needed to know all the escape routes.
“No, just the side yard,” she said. “To get to the back you have to go this way.�
� She crossed to another door and opened it. I followed her and pointedly ignored the sour look Carmela gave me.
We passed into a hallway. I closed the door to the kitchen behind me. “That’s Miss Carmel Candy? She sure is sweet—not,” I whispered conspiratorially.
Ashley giggled. “Isn’t she awful? She won’t let me get anything out of the kitchen if she’s in there. Dad says she cooks like a dream and that’s all that matters.”
The doorway directly opposite led to the dining room. The long table could seat twelve easily and sixteen if everyone was friendly.
“If you go that way,” she pointed to my right, “you’ll end up in the front hall. The other way goes to my dad’s study, but don’t go in there,” she warned me. “He gets upset if anyone goes into his study.”
“Even Elizabeth?”
Ashley made a face. “No, sometimes she goes in there, but he yelled at me when I did.”
“Sounds like he’s not used to having you around yet.”
She shrugged. “Yeah, right.”
I heard anger and disappointment behind her words. Time to change the subject. “Can I see your room? It’s this way to the main staircase, right?” I headed down the hall with Ashley right next to me.
At the end of the hall just before it opened up into the huge foyer were two doors opposite each other. I opened one and found a row of coats. “Oops, not this way.” I crossed to the other door. Ashley put out a hand as if to stop me, but I was too fast for her and pulled the door open. Connie sat, newspaper in hand, in the cramped quarters of a small windowless room, in front of a bank of screens, each one displaying a different place inside or outside the house—the state of the art system Kroy had bragged about.
Connie heaved himself out of his chair. “What do you want?” he growled, fixing me with his hooded gaze.
“Hi,” I said brightly. “Ashley’s taking me on a tour of the house. Wow, this is amazing.” I slipped past him into the small room and peered at one of the monitors. “It’s like a TV department, only they’re all tuned to different stations.” Did I sound ditzy enough to be non-threatening?
A computerized voice interrupted my gushing commentary. “Side door open.”
Connie reached over and tapped a button below a blinking light on the console in front of him. One of the screens switched images and we watched as Carmela exited through the laundry room. Connie tapped another button and on the adjacent screen we saw Carmela from the front view.
“That’s really weird, isn’t it?” I jabbered on. “We’re seeing her from the front and the back at the same time. Kind of makes you dizzy, doesn’t it?”
“Get out,” Connie said. “You don’t come in here.”
I wanted to see more of the system and didn’t move. “So you’re like head of security for Mr. Kroy? That’s awesome. He told me he has a Diebenkorn painting and lots of others that are really valuable, but he said he doesn’t worry about burglars and now I know why. You’re here taking care of it all.”
I felt Connie right behind me, but kept scanning the security set up until he grabbed me around the back of my neck and lifted me in the air. I jabbed sideways with my elbow and clipped him on the cheekbone. He tossed me out through the door. I would have slammed into the wall but Ashley caught me.
I rubbed the back of my neck. “That’s going to leave a mark,” I complained.
“I said don’t come in here.”
“Okay. You made your point. I’m out.”
He closed the door with a click. I turned to Ashley who stared at me wide-eyed.
“We’re not supposed to go in there,” she whispered.
“You know, I sort of got that impression,” I whispered back straight-faced, then giggled.
She couldn’t help smiling back and the tension left her face. “I guess I know more about Connie now. I mean, omigod, don’t mess with him or he’ll get you in a Vulcan neck pinch.”
I gazed at her for a moment. “I thought I’d read them all, but I don’t remember that myth. Whose neck did Vulcan pinch?”
Ashley stared at me. “What are you talking about?”
“Greek myths, right? Vulcan, or Hephaestus as the Greeks called him? Isn’t that what you meant?”
“No, I was talking about Star Trek. Mr. Spock?”
I shook my head. “Star Trek? I haven’t read very much science fiction.”
“Where have you been? It was a TV show. An old one. There are movies, too.”
“That explains it. My aunt didn’t have a TV.”
Ashley stared at me. “No TV? Omigod, you don’t know anything, do you?”
This was my in for Ashley. Make her my mentor. “Maybe you can help me catch up?”
“Maybe,” she said slowly, as if she thought I might be a hopeless case. “Let’s go to my room.”
We didn’t meet anyone on the stairs or in the hallway. Ashley led the way into her bedroom and locked the door behind us.
“You have to lock your door?”
She leaned close to me. “Can you keep a secret?”
“My lips are sealed.”
She waited a moment as if debating whether to trust me or not.
“I promise,” I said.
Ashley crossed to her dresser, opened a drawer and pulled out a pack of cigarettes. “Want one?”
“No thanks. You have to hide them?”
She crossed to the balcony door and slid it open. “Dad doesn’t want me to smoke, but I can’t stop. I tried, but it made me way too antsy.” She struck a match, held it to a cigarette and inhaled deeply. “He says I’m too old for that ‘rebellious crap.’” She perfectly mimicked Kroy’s tone. “But smoking’s not rebellious. It’s just something I really like to do.”
“At least you have a dad, even if he is a pain. I never knew mine.”
“Really? Not at all? Did he send you birthday presents, stuff like that?”
I shook my head. “I don’t even know his name. All I know is that he’s a magician.”
“Really? And you’re a magician, too. Do you think he might see you? Recognize you?”
“I doubt it. He probably doesn’t even know I exist. I don’t think Elizabeth told him.”
“Why? Was he mean and she had to get away from him?”
“I don’t think so. I think she didn’t want the complication of having him in her life. She likes to be the one who calls all the shots.”
“Just like my dad.”
“Really?” I carefully kept a straight face, turned to the bookcase, and pulled out a book. It had a drawing on the cover of an androgynous figure flying through the air. The extreme foreshortening of the drawing gave a near three-dimensional effect of the figure’s fist about to punch right out of the page. The most noticeable feature to me was the haircut, which was identical to Ashley’s. It was actually a kind of comic book; every page held a series of drawings with very few words exchanged between the characters. “Is this your favorite anime character?”
“Actually, the graphic novels are called manga, but yes, that’s Hideko.”
“You know, I’ve never read these. Could I borrow one?”
“Sure.” She dropped her cigarette on the balcony and stepped on it to put it out. “But start with the first one.” She crossed the room and pulled another book from the shelf.
I took it from her. “Thanks. What do you like most about manga?”
“I like everything. The characters. The stories. In Japan they come out every month, but here we have to wait for enough of the series to come out, then they translate and publish them in a book, but I’m going to learn Japanese so I can read them right away.”
“Really? That’s terrific.” This was the most enthusiasm I’d heard from Ashley. They might be comic books, but they mattered to her, so for the time being they’d matter to me, too. “Hey, can I ask you som
ething? It’s sort of gossipy.”
“Sure,” she said, interested.
“What’s the deal with your dad and the public/private girlfriend thing? Your dad’s rich and good looking. Seems like he could go out with anyone he wanted.”
“Well, he really likes Marcie. But she doesn’t fit the image he needs to keep up.”
“Image for what?”
“He runs a really big foundation. He raises money for kids with AIDS.”
“Really?” I couldn’t keep the disbelief out of my voice.
“It’s totally for real. He sold his business and everything and spends all of his time now on his charity. It’s really important to him to help children all over the world.”
“Wow. He’s a big humanitarian. I had no idea. And this woman, Marcie, doesn’t want him to do it?”
“It’s not that. I guess she does. But the people he gets donations from didn’t like her very much. I mean, she’s really young and kind of…you know. Not from the same background as Dad.”
I flashed for a moment on the image of the twenty-something triple D-cup blonde in Vegas who had hung on Kroy’s arm while simultaneously nearly hanging out of her low-cut dress. “I get it.” And suddenly I did. Elizabeth as Beth Hull could be the well-bred woman with impeccable manners if she had to. She could easily transition from stealing the life savings from susceptible men to conning people out of their money in the guise of helping sick kids.
“I kind of feel sorry for your mom,” Ashley said.
“Really? Why?”
“Dad will never marry her.”
I had to laugh. “I’m sure that’s not a problem for her.” I stood up. “Look, I’d like to have a bath, maybe take a little nap before dinner. Okay?”
“Sure. I’m going to check my email anyway.”
I went down the hall to my room and on into the bathroom. It was as white and as luxurious as the rest of the house. There was a fluffy terrycloth bathrobe hanging on the door and the tub was as big as a small swimming pool. I filled the tub with hot water and sank into it. Waves of weariness swept over me. I’d had only a few hours sleep before coming over to Kroy’s and sleep deprivation had the effect of making everything seem strangely unreal. My panic attack in the elevator, seeing Phil’s body, talking to Lopez—it all felt as if it had happened to someone else. And maybe it had. The person I’d become lied and cursed and even said bad things about Aunt June.
The Magician's Daughter Page 14
