by James Burke
Morley explained that he'd come into some money about that time and couldn't see staying in Washington, where he'd been transferred after the tragedy, so he decided to take that indefinite sabbatical in Florida. He loved it. It had become his "South Sea island," and he didn't plan to leave it, ever, at least for anything less than the real thing.
Dana listened quietly to Morley's recital. When he had finished and was staring thoughtfully out to sea, she impulsively leaned over and kissed his cheek. Morley turned slowly to look in her eyes and then gathered her in his arms. The kiss was long and searching, gradually changing from tenderness into mutually demanding passion. His hands explored and caressed the exquisite softness of her breasts under the loose pullover and ventured under the waistband of her slacks. Suddenly there was no turning back. Another kiss and two zippers later they were making violent love, oblivious to the moon, the surf, the sand, and everything but the rising crescendo of their excitement.
They lay back on the towel, sated, she still secure in the crook of his arm. Dana kneeled at his side, looking down at his face. She smiled and quickly lowered her face to his, resting her palms on the sides of his face. "Wow! Guess we got carried away with that South Sea island bit. I forgot this is Florida, where the natives are sometimes restless. Hope we didn't have an audience."
Morley laughed. "I don't think so. Didn't hear any clapping." Then he reached up and pulled her down for a kiss. "I've got an idea, though, that there might be some jealous suitors or local voyeurs around, so we'd better have more privacy. I know a place. Interested?"
"Hmmm. Maybe. Just what did you have in mind?" She grinned widely.
"Oh, I thought maybe we could, mmm, dance."
"But I'm not dressed for dancing, love."
"Just for love, love?"
She looked coyly at herself. "Maybe you're right. Maybe we should go where it's - well, warmer." She reached for her slacks and pullover and slipped them on. "Not that it's really too chilly on our South Sea island, lover, but that damn moon light makes me feel like I'm on center stage."
Morley laughed, the mood of passion deferred, not dismissed. They dressed quickly, and adjourned their meeting to a location with a higher and more secluded view of their island. He returned her to her ground-level quarters at the Rutledge shortly before dawn. Lisha was still not home.
Morley was really in a quandary now. He couldn't even sleep it off because sleep wouldn't come. Man, did he ever want this girl to be the McCoy. But moonstruck infatuated as he was, he'd played the game too many times not to recognize all of the danger signals. Of course there might be an explanation, or better yet she might be straight as a ruler, but he had to admit that the odds were against it. But dammit, the least he could do was give her a chance. Her life hadn't been easy either. She hadn't said so but he figured she'd had to work pretty hard to finance those three years of college since she wasn't getting much attention, much less support, from home. He also figured that she'd become persona non grata with her family when she married Kelly and had been left pretty much on her own after he died.
She was smart and clever, without being a smart-ass; sunny and pleasant, without being a giggler; beautifully feminine, without being cheap or coy; but most of all she was great, great fun to be with. Yeah, fun and games. Sex. She was something else. His Indiana religious upbringing, even his marriage, had not prepared him for this girl and her honest and unabashed delight in the wonders of the human body. She treated everything so naturally, in a relaxed and joyful way; she had no inhibitions about any aspect of sexual relations or intimacy and no compunction or embarrassment about discussing it. She was indeed a new and exciting experience for Morley, and she seemed to know it and to revel in his obvious delight in her. He found himself emulating both her wide-ranging tastes and her unbounded satisfaction in the results.
Was he falling for this lovely free spirit? Of course. But "free spirit" was not a fair description; it implied some aspect of irresponsibility, and this did not fit her. She believed in marriage and family and blueberry pie and all that, but she just felt that in the meantime some healthy expressions of affection-displayed and dispensed on a very selective basis-were natural, enjoyable, and excusable. But back to the problem: he was falling for her. No question about it. Maybe was was the wrong tense-he'd already fallen, hard and some time ago. What to do about it? He didn't know. He really didn't like to face the problem because it was extremely unpleasant. But he had to find out about her before he got in any deeper. (He found himself smiling at the expression.) Maybe he'd think of something tomorrow. Tomorrow! That was all he needed to start him counting the hours until he would see her again, and he finally went to sleep on this happier note.
The phone rang at nine-fifteen, racking Morley out of a nightmare into the brightness of morning. He'd been dreaming that he was chasing a beautiful naked girl, and when he caught her she'd turned into a huge gorilla and started biting and clawing him. He'd let her go, and she'd become the beautiful woman again, he'd start chasing again, and so it went. Where are you, Freud, when I need you?
It was Terry Rourke. "Hope I got you up."
"You're one up for the day. What's your next hope?"
"Hope it's raining harder there than it is here."
"You're back to scratch. Wanta stop?"
"Never have quit when I'm even, but I guess it's never too late to learn. I got a report from California and thought you should have it soonest. Nobody with you, is there?"
"How you talk. No, unfortunately, I'm solo. Tell me about California - the part that was worth your getting up so early on Sunday morning."
"We never sleep, y'know."
"C'mon, get the friggin' commercials over with."
"Okay. Dana Hayes Kelly. Born Ventura, California-May 6 is the day to remember. The first child of Elena Magnelli Hayes and Melvin James Hayes. She attended high school in Ventura from 1977 to 1981 and then UCLA from 1981 through June, '83. B minus average, language minor, international relations major. Married Raymond Charles Kelly, January 1983, L.A. That was about it in California. You told me not to have any live interviews run. No police records on any pertinent Hayes or Kellys."
"What about Wisconsin and Chicago?"
"About the same degree of exciting. Dana went to Racine August, '83, residing with Mr. and Mrs. Lyle Carstairs, relationship unknown. She worked as a receptionist in a medical clinic in Racine until November '84, when she quit and moved to Chicago. Clinic records indicate she was a good employee two raises in less than two years - and her reason for resigning was desire for better advancement opportunities more in line with her educational qualifications. Only thing odd to me, Pat, and not further explained, was that the clinic records indicate she gave them a specific forwarding address in Chicago when she left. She knew right where she was going."
"Uh-huh. Would it be that Delaware Avenue address I gave you?"
"You're psychic!"
"Not really, but thanks anyway."
"What does it mean?"
"Only that she knew one or both of her roommates before she came to Chicago."
"So?"
"So let's check them out, okay?"
"Will do."
"Incidentally, who are they?"
"Angela Mornay, age mid-twenties, works as an account executive at a Michigan Avenue brokerage house. Private life still private. No police record, Chicago or federal. Good credit rating. Couldn't get anymore on her without live interviews or deeper record search. Will do if you request."
"Hmmm. I think we have to dig more, but first, how about number two?"
"She's Marjorie Banks Ferris, age twenty-eight or nine, exec secretary at a large wholesale produce outfit downtown. All pertinent records clean. Same problem as Mornay with private life."
"So we don't know which one knew Kelly before?"
"Not yet, but we can find out. Want me to?"
"Yeah. I think it's important enough to risk some live interviews - with your usual discretion."
"Okay. I'll set it in motion today."
"No problems with the time and energy I'm taking up?"
"Nothin' we can't handle - long as you pay the tab. Any other wishes, sire?"
"Not particularly. Hey, did you get that info on the Chicago hood setup?"
"Yeah, and I don't like it very much."
"You mean you weren't gonna tell me?"
"No, not that, Patrick. Just that I didn't quite know how."
''What do you mean?''
"Well, the setup there isn't too clear at the moment. It seems that the Chicago chief was bombed into hood heaven a few days ago. So I don't quite know all the names and numbers at the moment."
"Yeah, I think I read a small news squib on it. What was his name, Masterson?"
"You're close, it's - or rather it was - Matthewson, James Matthewson. An investment broker they called him, known to his friends, of whom there were not many, as 'Jammy,' and to his parents as Gennaro Giamatteo. Oh yeah, his secretary girlfriend made the mistake of being in the car when old Jammy turned the ignition key. Name was Cassandra Porter. Also, it would appear from remnants found in the blast area that Jammy and Cassandra may have been planning a trip. You know, luggage, passports, and lots and lots of scraps of U.S. green."
"Very interesting. Any comments on significance?"
"None that haven't occurred to you, I'm sure. Got my lines out, and I'll let you know if I pick up anything."
"Do. It might be useful."
"Thought it might, but I won't ask why."
"Good. Well, thanks a million Terry, ole man. Don't know how I coulda got up this morning if you hadn't called. Love to Barb and the kids. I'll be in touch."
"Okay. 'Bye."
Morley was thoughtful as he hung up the phone. He knew he should be happy that Dana had checked out so well - so far - but he had a nagging, intuitive feeling that something was out of kilter. He didn't know why he felt that way, but he did, and it bothered him. He knew that sooner or later he was going to have to brace Dana with some very unpleasant accusations. He had to find out, but he wasn't looking forward to the prospect.
The next couple of days went like gangbusters. They rented a boat and went deep sea fishing. Dana got a large kingfish and insisted on cooking some for them that evening. Morley was gratified but not surprised at the scrumptious meal she whipped up. This brought up the subject of domesticity and they agreed it was the natural way of life. Dana was serious throughout the discussion. She said she would get married "in a minute" whenever she and the man were sure and when she did, it would be for keeps and "exclusive." She liked kids and hoped to have some day, but wanted to be sure first that they'd get the best possible start in life-"not money, but love and guidance." Morley listened and agreed, and then he kissed her and the toboggan ride started while the dinner dishes were still on the table.
Another day they went athletic: waterskiing in the morning, tennis in the afternoon, and a dip in the ocean to cap the day. By this time Morley was convinced it was more than infatuation. He couldn't believe anything bad about this woman. He came close to not giving a damn about anything she'd done or been before right now. Now was what counted. Was it love? What else? He'd loved Monnie very quickly, very much, and very faithfully, but it wasn't the same. Monnie had been the "girl of your dreams" type, on a sort of pedestal, who never let you get too close to her. Oh, she loved him too, no question of that, and she was loyal and faithful in every way, but Monnie's privileged upbringing, her status as the center of her parents' attention since birth, had coated her with an almost impenetrable veneer of reserve that extended even into the intimacies of their marital relations. Morley shook his head. But sex, wonderful as it was, was not the main attraction with Dana Kelly. There were other things. He looked in the mirror, combing his hair, and commented, "All right, asshole, shape up. You know this girl is a plant. She's here to set you up for a long ride. You know it! Get hold of yourself." But the guy in the mirror looked him right in the eye and said, "But I love her. What are you gonna do about that?"
13
Ash Wednesday. And it was at the top of the ride when the bottom fell out. That morning, much as it pained him, Morley had had to leave the delectable Kelly charms and maintain the semblance of job routine. He had driven down to Coral Springs, fifty-odd miles away, to work out the details of a large group tour, "Europe from Paris to Petrograd in twenty-two days." Everything was resolved, and he was on his way back, happy that he had a bone to toss to Roger, but mostly because now he could move up the time of his date with Dana. Just thinking about it gave him a schoolboy feeling again.
He smiled to himself, thinking it would undoubtedly be a long and lovely but strenuous night and maybe he should prepare for it with a good lunch. He turned, still smiling, into the parking lot of an excellent little Italian place near Deerfield. Then the smile vanished. For the first time in a week he was all business again, and it was a good thing, as it eased the pain just a bit from the kick in the guts he got. There, standing in the half-shielded entryway to the restaurant, in close and obviously serious conversation, were Dana Kelly and the tall blond man he'd last seen at the United counter at West Palm Airport that fateful Saturday!
Morley drove on through, came out on the next block, and paralleled the highway for a couple miles before rejoining it. He wasn't hungry any more. What a stupid lovesick ass he'd been. He'd followed the script just like it'd been written. How naive can you get? Oh hell. He'd known it all the time; he just hadn't wanted to admit it. He was having too much fun playing house with this beautiful girl and convincing himself it was love.
Then he came out of shock and began to think more rationally. He'd suspected from the start that Dana was too good to have just happened along. But he'd convinced himself that that didn't necessarily mean she was a syndicate lady - until he saw her with that soldier, that is. But damn it, he'd been making judgments about people for quite a few years as to whether they were loyal, truthful, trustworthy, etc., and he'd had damn good success at it. Could he be a hundred percent wrong on this girl? She'd have to be not only the greatest actress since Bernhardt but heartless as Jezebel to be setting him up for a kill by pretending to love him. Of course, the annals of espionage, as well as crime, were full of just such maneuvers. But not Dana. Not him. It couldn't be!
Morley stopped at the office in Palm Beach, gave Roger the happy part of his trip south, said he had some personal things to take care of, and left for the day. At home, he made a tall libation and went out on his balcony to drink and think. He went over it all again, with no brilliant conclusions other than the one that had been dogging him from the start - he was condemning without a trial somebody he'd held, just a few hours ago, above everybody else in this world. Now he'd admitted it and he felt better. Hell yes, Dana certainly deserved the basics, and a lot more, like the benefit of the doubt. How to do it? The shock treatment? He might lose her. So be it. He couldn't have her and not trust her - not ever know. That made even less sense. He had to bring it to the surface, clear the air, and soon.
His phone rang, startling him into reality again. It was Dana. She was downstairs. He buzzed her in, then waited at the door while she came up in the elevator. She looked lovelier than ever in the tailored suit she'd been wearing when he saw her a few hours ago in Deerfield. When he'd released her, she slipped out of the suit jacket and plumped onto a couch. "Playing hooky, love?"
"Not really. Just had a few personal things to take care of. Left a little early."
"Hey, I'm sorry. Didn't mean to interfere. I'll get out and let you work."
"No way, baby, you never interfere. Work period's over."
She hooked her finger and Morley came obediently to the couch, leaned over, and kissed her. She pulled him down beside her, then reclined back against the pillows as he followed. Morley, now lost in his desire, with no reality but those soft lips and that softer body, was at once gentle, rough, demanding, and compliant. Inevitably, when the arm of the couch was dr
aped with fragile blouse, an even more fragile bra, and a slightly wrinkled skirt, Morley picked up the gorgeous, warm, naked girl and carried her into the bedroom.
The afternoon sun painted stripes of light and shadows on the wall as it poured through the balcony doors into the bedroom. One of the light stripes moved a fraction of an inch and centered on Morley's right eye. The eyelid twitched and opened. He woke slowly but fully, still reluctant to release that drowsy, satiated feeling that he remembered so well and had missed so long and so much. He turned his head. Nothing had changed. Dana Kelly, or whatever her real name was, all satin tan five feet six of her, slept quietly on her back, one arm hooked over her head, the other resting across her middle, the shadowed indentation of her navel peeking out between splayed fingers. My God, she was lovely, every inch.
Dana stirred, turned, and opened one alert and sparkling eye. She saw Morley unabashedly admiring her curvaceous form and turned toward him. "You like, meester?"
He answered by kissing the nearest parts, the soft round of a shoulder and the pert coral of a nipple.
"Fresh!"
"Yeah, sure is."
They laughed, but before the natural evolution could begin again, Morley raised up on one elbow to face her more directly. It was now or never. "Dana."
"Yes, sweetheart." Her fingers were making traces on his chest and stomach.
"Why are you here?"
She looked up with the same pixie grin that had accompanied the earlier banter. "Like the man said, love, ever' body gotta be someplace."
He smiled thinly but said nothing. She became serious, and the fingers stopped. "Why am I here? Funny question. I guess I'm here 'cause I want to be - here - with you. Yeah, and because I think you want me to be here. What else? Guess I don't know what you mean."
Morley was still unsmiling; the first lights of annoyance replaced those of puzzlement in Dana's dark eyes. Finally he spoke. "I mean here in Florida."
