Jinxed

by Carol Higgins Clark

  “It's okay.”

  “Didn't I see you in some movie?” the clerk continued, frowning in concentration. “I think I did.”

  “I've done a few movies,” Whitney replied, wishing he would just check her out quickly.

  “I knew it! You played a funny part. . . . I'm trying to think of what the name of it was.”

  “I usually do comedy,” Whitney said as politely as she could.

  “Can I have your autograph?” he asked, handing her a piece of paper with the hotel's name on it.

  “Sure. What's your name?”

  “Herman.”

  Whitney scrawled “To Herman. Best wishes. Whitney Weldon” and handed it back to him.

  He squinted at it. “Could you put today's date on it?”

  “Sure.”

  As Whitney wrote the date, he took her credit card and printed out her bill. When she signed the receipt, he joked, “Now I have your autograph twice. But I think the credit card company wants this one more than I do.” He started to laugh, a wheezing, snorting sound that initially grated on Whitney. As he continued, she started to laugh as well, which made him repeat the joke again.

  “Yup, they want your autograph more than I do,” he said for the third time.

  He took forever to fold up her bill and stuff it in an envelope. “Do come back and join us again, Ms. Weldon. Pretty soon you'll be a big movie star, and I can say I knew you when.”

  By this time Whitney couldn't get out of there fast enough. “Thank you,” she said as she picked up her bag and hightailed it out the door and into the parking lot.

  The clerk smiled to himself, then suddenly realized he hadn't handed her back her credit card. He trudged as fast as he could, following her footsteps, but when he got out to the parking lot, it was too late. There was no sign of her. She was gone, headed one way or the other on the Pacific Coast Highway.

  “Tsk, tsk, tsk,” he said aloud. “Now that's a shame.” Back into the motel he went, finding the lobby just as empty as before. The ring of the telephone broke the silence. He hurried over to answer it.

  “Pacific Waters Motel,” he answered in an eager chirpy tone.

  “Huh?” he said a moment later. “Well, you're not going to believe this. She checked out no more than two minutes ago. . . . No, she's gone. I tried to chase after her. She left her credit card here. Isn't that a shame? My fault, really. I didn't hand it back to her. If she comes back, I'll definitely have her call her mother. By the way, she's a lovely actress.”

  On the other end of the phone Regan conveyed the news to the group. Lilac and Leon groaned while Earl made a face. It wasn't seven o'clock yet, so no sounds were allowed.

  “She just left!” Lilac cried.

  “I don't believe it!” Leon pounded the table with his fist and then glared at Earl. Regan knew what he was thinking. If Earl had been helping with the phone calls this hour, they would have reached the motel before Whitney checked out.

  “Now we don't know where she's going. She might even be heading for one of the places we already called!” Lilac cried in despair. “We'll have to start all over again!”

  “We may as well stop calling for now,” Regan said. “She's on the road, and I imagine she must be planning to drive at least a bit of a distance or she wouldn't have checked out.”

  “Who knows where she's going,” Leon said with disgust.

  Earl's watch beeped. “Seven o'clock,” he proclaimed as he rejoined the speakers of the world. “I think we'll find her. The universe will send her to us.”

  “I'll phone the clerk again and ask him to make sure whoever is on duty this weekend knows it's vital that Whitney call home. Let's hope she contacts them about her credit card,” Regan said, trying to be positive.

  As Lilac nodded, she switched on the television in the office. The news was coming on, trumpeting the headlines of the day.

  “And later,” the anchor was saying, “we'll talk to you about May weddings. It's a big month for marriage, and we have a piece on a special May-to-December romance. Ladies, go for it! We'll introduce you to a woman who was a silent film star. Lucretia Standish is getting married for the sixth time, and her lucky husband is a much younger man.”

  “Oh my God!” Lilac cried.

  “There she is!”

  A much younger man, Regan thought. How much younger? “If she's marrying a younger guy,” Leon noted astutely, “he'll take control of her money. We can kiss good-bye any chance of getting those millions if we don't all get to the wedding.”

  I'd say he's right about that, Regan thought.

  Earl finally made himself useful. He exited, then came back carrying a bottle of pinot noir and a tray with four glasses. Regan was surprised at how deft he was as he uncorked the bottle and poured with finesse. She noticed that the label had the sketch of an old man standing in a pile of grapes in the bathtub. I guess that's Grandpa, she thought.

  Leon's face remained impassive. He accepted his glass and took a big gulp.

  What money will do to us, Regan thought. Gaining it, losing it, coming close to a bonanza. It makes everybody crazy.

  “I can't believe that Whitney won't call that motel before Sunday,” Regan found herself saying. “If she goes to another motel, she'll need her credit card.”

  “She has several credit cards,” Lilac said flatly. “When things get really tight, she rotates them, borrowing cash from different ones. Her credit is good, but I know she won't use the same card two times in a row.”

  Oh, great, Regan thought as she sipped the “Grandpa” wine.

  She didn't know why she was surprised, but it actually tasted good. She wished the segment on Lucretia would start quickly.

  “So you never met Lucretia,” she remarked to the unhappy threesome.

  They all looked guilty.

  “We were busy . . .” Lilac began just as the anchor's face once again filled the screen.

  “Meet Lucretia Standish.”

  They watched as ninety-three-year-old Lucretia gaily told of her plans to marry on Sunday. “My husband-to-be is so shy,” she said as a shot of Edward Fields, fleeing down the hallway outside of the civil offices in Beverly Hills, filled the screen.

  “He moves fast,” Regan noted.

  “He certainly does,” Leon agreed. “Something about it smells.”

  “And there's nothing we can do about it,” Earl said. “If we knew Lucretia better, we might be able to, but not now.”

  Edward Fields, Regan thought. She'd ask Jack to check that name as well. If Regan's instincts were correct, Lucretia Standish would be in big trouble if she said “I do” to that bird.

  As the foursome stared at the television, they had no idea that they were under surveillance by a big lurking guy named Rex, whose alias was Don Lesser.

  18

  Rex had followed Regan to the dirt road leading to the winery.-A big sign said ALTERED STATES WINERY. Another sign said DEEP BREATHS MEDITATION CENTER. He hadn't dared follow any farther in his car. How could he possibly hide? But he knew that this was where Whitney Weldon's mother lived.

  Rex had bought a dark wig, and he'd put in his colored contacts. He was still recognizable as a big fellow, but now his hair was black and his eyes were brown. Anything to look different.

  He drove a short way down the road, then did a U-turn, pulled over, rolled down the windows, and turned off the car. The vineyards and rolling hills were beautiful. It was late afternoon, and the light was softening. He loved this time of day. It meant night was not far off. For Rex nighttime was when he felt most himself. If there was one thing Rex wasn't, it was a morning person.

  He picked up his cell phone and called Eddie.

  “I'm outside the winery.”

  “Just a minute.”

  Rex could tell that Eddie was turning away from the phone. “Excuse me, Lucretia,” he apologized. “This is about a surprise for you.”

  He's got that partially right, Rex thought.

  “Okay,” Eddie said fi
nally. “I'm out of earshot.”

  “I followed Regan Reilly up here to the winery where Whitney's mother lives.”

  “How did you find her so fast?”

  “She was at the movie set. Anyway, I'm going to see if they have a room for the night.”

  “Don't you think that's a little dangerous?”

  “Yes, but at least I'll have my finger on the pulse of what they're doing to find Whitney. How are things with you?”

  “Lucretia wants to tell the world about this wedding. I'd love to give her a couple of sleeping pills so she doesn't wake up until Sunday.”

  “Not a bad idea.”

  “The maid's always around. She'd know something was up.”

  “I guess.” Rex tapped his fingers on the steering wheel and sighed. “I'm going to drive around a little bit before I check in.”

  “Should you call first and reserve a room?”

  “I don't want to give them the chance to turn me away. But I don't want to get there right after Reilly, either. I'll wait a few hours.”

  “Let me know what happens.”

  To Rex, Eddie's voice sounded defeated. “Don't worry, Eddie. This time Sunday you'll be Mr. Lucretia Standish.”

  There was a click in Rex's ear.

  “No sense of humor,” he muttered as he drove away from the winery.

  19

  Nora and Luke rode the elevator up to their suite at the Four Seasons Hotel. They had only a half hour to get ready before meeting Wally and Bev for dinner.

  “How did I do today?” Nora asked Luke as he held the door open for her. She was referring to her two-line cameo in the television movie of one of her books.

  “Brilliant as usual,” Luke replied in his deadpan voice. “I'm your biggest fan.”

  Nora laughed as they walked into the elegant sitting room. Everything was spotless. Nora glanced toward the bedroom off the sitting room. “I'd love to take a nap, but I think we'd better start to get ready,” she said, making her way into the large marble bathroom.

  With that statement the phone rang. Luke picked it up.

  “Hi there, Wally. . . . You'll pick us up? Great. . . . Seven-thirty it is then.”

  Luke hung up the phone. “We have a little extra time. Wally had a meeting that ran late.”

  “Perfect. I'll put my robe on and relax.”

  At eight o'clock Nora, Luke, Wally, and Bev were seated in a booth at a quiet Italian restaurant in Beverly Hills.

  “I can hear myself think here,” Wally said as he snapped his fingers and grabbed a piece of the warm bread.

  Bev nodded and sipped her water.

  “I'm sorry Regan couldn't be with us,” Wally continued. “Nice gal. A nice gal you've got there.”

  “Yes. Well, she just got back from vacation and got a call about a girl who took off from a movie set she's working on near Santa Barbara.”

  “What movie?” Wally asked quickly.

  “Jinxed.”

  Wally's eyes opened wide. “I know the director, a youngish kid about thirty. He's pretty good. I was actually thinking of him for one of my projects. I should give him a call.” He took out the small black notebook he always carried with him and wrote himself a note.

  20

  I'll make us some dinner,” Lilac said when the news was over. “Regan, you're going to stay with us tonight, aren't you?”

  “That would be a good idea,” Regan agreed. “After dinner we can start calling the hotels and motels again.”

  Leon drained his wineglass. “What are the chances of our just happening to find Whitney a second time in one day?”

  “Better to light a candle than curse the darkness,” Earl said positively. “Regan, why don't I show you to a room right now? Do you have a bag in the car?”

  “Yes.”

  “How about if we eat in an hour?” Lilac suggested.

  “Sounds great,” Regan replied.

  The bedroom had a simple country charm, much in keeping with the rest of Altered States. A pine dresser and bed with a simple white spread and a colorful area rug gave a warm, cheery feel. A sliding glass door opened onto the backyard with a view of acres and acres of rolling hills.

  “This is lovely,” Regan said as Earl put her bag on the bed.

  “There's so much more we can do to make Altered States a first-rate winery, meditation center, and hotel,” he said. “It's so incredibly peaceful here. I'm glad to get out of the rat race.”

  Rat race, Regan thought. This guy looks as if he's never been in any sort of race in his life. “Oh?” she said innocently. “What did you do?”

  “I had a company that dug for oil. I had a partner. Sometimes it worked, sometimes it was a bust. All in all, too much stress. Then I discovered the spiritual life.”

  Now I've heard everything, Regan thought. This guy certainly doesn't look like your typical oilman.

  When Earl left, Regan called Jack. She got his voice mail and left him a message about Edward Fields. She then opened the sliding glass door and walked outside. The air smelled earthy and fresh. There you go, Regan thought. Freshness. Where is she?

  Regan brushed her teeth, washed her face, reapplied her makeup, and then changed her outfit. I'm not only looking for Freshness, but I'm striving for freshness, she thought as she headed out to the reception area.

  “Come on into the dining room,” Lilac greeted Regan. She had set an attractive, inviting table. Candles flickered, reflecting light off the crystal wineglasses. Fresh flowers, not so high that you couldn't see over them, were in a vase in the middle of the table. Soft music was playing on the sound system. There was a feeling of peace and harmony. “My brothers will be out in a minute.”

  Regan and Lilac both turned simultaneously as they heard an unfamiliar male voice calling from the other room: “Hello?”

  A large fellow wearing black jeans and a black leather jacket appeared in the doorway. He had black hair that looked unnatural to Regan, but he seemed genuinely friendly.

  “Can I help you?” Lilac asked.

  “I hope so. I was wondering if you have any rooms for the night.”

  “Yes, we do. Let's go to the desk and get you registered.”

  Now this place has two guests, Regan thought. If Jack were here, it would be three. Oh, well. No such luck. It seemed to Regan that Lilac was not thrilled to have another guest. She realized that Lilac wanted to focus on finding Whitney. Heck, that would be worth a lot more than the profit from a guest for one night. I wonder if Lilac has to provide him with dinner.

  When they returned to the dining room, Lilac introduced Don Lesser to Regan, and even though she didn't have to, she offered him dinner. He accepted but insisted on sitting at his own table. “I don't want to disturb you. I'll just have a glass of wine and some bread and whatever you're having, and I'll read my book.”

  He sat across the room, but it was so quiet that Regan knew he could hear everything they were saying. That's the awkward thing about sitting next to a lone diner in any restaurant. You know he has nothing better to do than eavesdrop.

  Leon was particularly morose. “What are you going to do if we don't find Whitney at any of the hotels we call tonight?” he asked Regan.

  “I was thinking of driving back down to the hotel where the movie is based. I can't believe that somebody there doesn't have some information on where she might be.”

  “That's logical,” Earl said as he ate a forkful of whole wheat pasta with tomato sauce.

  Lilac had made a salad, heated Italian bread, and whipped up a delicious sauce made from what Regan was sure were organic products. Regan twirled several strands of pasta onto her fork but dropped her utensil when Lilac let out a high-pitched scream.

  “What?” Regan cried.

  “Freshness!” Lilac jumped up and went running over to her daughter, who was standing in the doorway.

  To Regan it was as if they all had seen a ghost.

  “Mom!” Freshness/Whitney laughed. “I've never had such an enthusiastic gre
eting from you.”

  It also seemed to Regan like one of those moments on a game show when the contestant wins the big money. The contestant usually loses nearly all control, depending on the size of the jackpot. And Lilac and her brothers had just won a big jackpot. Leon jumped out of his seat, knocking over the wine bottle, and even Earl abandoned his cool and calm demeanor. They both raced over to embrace their niece.

  “What is going on?” Whitney asked, nodding hello to the man sitting by himself who was watching her with what Regan thought was great intensity. Well, Whitney was a very attractive girl and obviously provoked quite a reaction from her relatives.

  “You're not going to believe it!” Lilac began, leading her daughter to the table.

  Another chair was quickly pulled up, Regan was introduced, and Lilac related the story of Lucretia's wedding to Whitney. She lowered her voice, but not when she spoke of the $2 million check that awaited each family member if the whole group showed up.

  “Two million dollars!” Whitney cried. “To think I almost didn't come home. Who is she marrying?”

  “A con artist. I just know it,” Leon said. “But if we each get two million dollars, I'll be happy. Regan, you should look into that guy. But first I'd like to make a toast . . . to my beautiful niece. Thank God you came home. And to Uncle Haskell, may you rest in peace. We're finally getting your money.”

  They all laughed and drank and toasted their good fortune. Regan could see how happy Whitney was with her mother and uncles. She was a cute girl, and thank God she'd made it home. Now everyone could be happy.

  “I have to be at a seminar tomorrow morning,” Whitney said as she drained her wineglass.

  “What?” her mother asked abruptly.

  “It's a one-day acting seminar not too far from here. It ends early Sunday morning. I'll meet you at Lucretia's at noon.”

  “I'm afraid to let you out of our sight,” Leon exclaimed, putting his hand around her forearm.