Wildfire

by Susan Lewis

  ‘Where did it happen?’

  ‘Not far from my old apartment in Venice. Max refused to let me go back there after. But I insisted on keeping my independence so he found an apartment here for me. It’s a secure building with guards and everything to keep Max happy and it suits me fine. Everyone minds their own business. There’s none of that in-your-face got-to-tell-you-my-life-story stuff, not unless you want it, anyway.’

  ‘Do you spend much time here?’ Rhiannon asked, looking up as a uniformed porter took hold of her suitcase before she could lift it.

  ‘Mmm, about half and half,’ Galina answered. ‘Max wants me to give it up now we’re getting married, but I’m not keen to. It’s somewhere for me to come and hide out when he’s in one of his vile moods. Besides, I like having my privacy, don’t you?’

  Rhiannon inhaled deeply as she thought about that. ‘Well, yes, of course I do,’ she replied. ‘But isn’t that part of getting married, giving up your privacy? I mean, that’s one of the downsides, I know, but it has its compensations, or so I’m told. Besides, from what you’ve said I’d have thought that Max’s house was big enough for you to lose yourself in if you felt the need.’

  ‘Oh, it’s big all right,’ Galina chuckled, ‘but it’s definitely not big enough to escape from Max, not if he doesn’t want you to escape, anyway. Actually the whole of LA isn’t big enough to escape from Max. He’s got his bloody spies out everywhere. I’m sure he bribes the people here to keep an eye on me and let him know what time I go out, what time I get back, who’s with me, how long they stay.’ She laughed. ‘I’ve even suspected that he gets them to check my laundry.’

  Rhiannon screwed up her face. ‘Why would he do that?’ she said.

  ‘Because’, Galina answered, nodding at the doorman as they walked into the cool marble lobby and over to the elevator, ‘he’s always trying to find out if I’m sleeping with anyone else.’

  Rhiannon’s lip curled in distaste. ‘And he gets them to check your laundry to find out?’ she said.

  Galina laughed and shrugged. ‘I don’t know,’ she answered, pushing the button. ‘He might.’

  ‘How on earth do you stand it?’ Rhiannon said, ‘having your every move monitored like that?’

  ‘I love it,’ Galina grinned. ‘It proves how much he loves me and how he can’t stand the idea of me screwing another man.’

  Rhiannon looked at her as the lift rose to the third floor and Galina, obviously enjoying herself immensely, gazed innocently ahead. ‘So do you?’ Rhiannon asked as the lift doors slid open. ‘Screw other men?’

  Galina laughed. ‘Of course!’ she cried. ‘Whenever I get the chance,’ and sailing out into the grey-carpeted corridor, she took out her keys and made an abrupt right turn to the end apartment.

  ‘Et voilà!’ she cried, throwing open the door and walking into a wonderfully sunlit living-room whose vast, double sliding windows opened on to a white mosaic veranda overlooking the marina. ‘This is home,’ she declared, grinning at Rhiannon’s obvious admiration of the sumptuous white sofas, glass-topped tables, huge white feather fans and deep-piled white carpet. The art on the walls and untidy stack of magazines on a coffee table provided the only colour in the room and the terrace, for even the garden furniture was padded with thick, spongy white mattresses.

  ‘And these’, Galina pronounced, directing Rhiannon towards an enormous vase of white lilies which were set on the counter top that divided the kitchen from the living-room, ‘are especially for you. I bought them myself this morning.’

  Rhiannon was smiling, touched by the childish note of pride in Galina’s voice, for of course, she had no way of knowing that lilies would evoke such painful memories of the honeymoon suite in Marrakesh. Quickly pushing them aside, Rhiannon stooped to sniff the scent of the flowers, then turning to Galina she said, ‘They’re lovely. Thank you.’

  ‘You’re welcome,’ Galina smiled back, her deep-blue eyes reflecting the emotion that had caught gently in her voice. The rays of dazzling sunlight slanting in through the window made her hair seem whiter than ever and her flawless skin shone like burnished gold. She had never, Rhiannon thought, looked more lovely.

  Galina glanced at her watch. ‘Oh crikey! Look at the time!’ she cried. ‘My nail appointment’s at five, so I’ll have to dash. There’ll be plenty of time to gossip over the next couple of days. Pierre will be right up with your luggage. Here,’ she added, digging into her purse and bringing out a five-dollar bill. ‘Give him this. You’ll be OK, won’t you? Everything’s been taken care of. Ula even rented a car for you. Pierre will show you where it’s parked. And Ula’s left a note somewhere, I think, or she said she did. It’s probably next to the bed. The main bedroom’s right through there.’ She was pointing at a closed smoked-glass door. ‘There’ll be a list of telephone numbers somewhere too, I’m sure. Mine and Ula’s and Max’s and the main one for the house. I think Ula stuck some maps in the car. There’s food in the fridge and Ralph’s, the supermarket, is just up on Lincoln – which is the road coming in from the airport. There’s a stack of take-out joints and delivery services and bistros and restaurants and singles bars around the area, and a gym downstairs in the building and a pool and jacuzzi. All the residents here get together on a Sunday morning to say hi and swap divorce and therapy stories. I’m serious,’ she laughed when Rhiannon pulled a face. ‘One to be avoided. Anyway, I’ve got to run. Are you sure you’ll be all right here? Just call if you need anything. Actually, I might be back later if Max is being too vile. If not, you’ll get to meet him some time tomorrow. It’ll be an experience, I promise you. Anyway, I’m out of here. Make yourself at home, feel free to use the phone and anything you can’t get to work, just call down to the lobby for help.’ And treating Rhiannon to a quick kiss on either cheek she was gone.

  Feeling as though she had just been released from a tornado, Rhiannon stood still for a moment, blinking and trying to catch up with her thoughts. She wasn’t too sure what she’d expected when she arrived, but it certainly wasn’t to have been abandoned so soon. However, she had been and to stand there feeling sorry for herself about it wasn’t going to change it. So, turning to the window, she released the catch and slid it open.

  Stepping from the air-conditioned apartment, the heat hit her like a fire. She drew back, then slipping off her jacket walked over to the glass-and-filigree balustrade to gaze down at the marina. She was trying so hard not to think of Oliver, but right at that moment her longing for him was impossible to master. She didn’t want to be here alone. She didn’t want to be here at all. All she wanted was to turn back the clock, to find herself marooned in a time before the pain had begun, a time when her life wasn’t ruled by fear, a time when she still believed in her dreams.

  Starting as Pierre called out that he had left her luggage in the bedroom, she turned quickly back into the apartment to tip him. She was too late, the front door was already closing behind him and the telephone was ringing.

  ‘Hi, Rhiannon?’ a stranger’s voice called cheerily down the line before Rhiannon had a chance to say hello.

  ‘Yes, it’s Rhiannon,’ she answered.

  ‘Hi, it’s Ula, Max’s assistant. Welcome to Los Angeles.’

  ‘Thank you,’ Rhiannon smiled.

  ‘Everything OK for you?’ Ula asked. ‘Galina pick you up OK?’

  ‘Yes, everything’s great,’ Rhiannon assured her, wandering into the bedroom and feeling a pleasing lift in her heart when she saw how inviting it was, with its huge white wooden bed, mountainous cushions and plush white drapes.

  ‘Galina just called from her car and told me she’d abandoned you,’ Ula said. ‘So I thought I’d call and check you were OK. I’d come over if Max weren’t due back in a couple of hours, but . . .’

  ‘It’s all right,’ Rhiannon interrupted, smiling. ‘I’m fine.’

  ‘Well you just call if you need anything, do you hear? I’ve left all our numbers there. You’ll find them next to the phone. Do you like the apa
rtment? Cool, isn’t it? You should be comfortable there, but if you want to change your mind and come stay at the house, just let me know.’

  ‘I will, thanks,’ Rhiannon said. ‘Just one thing before you go, is it safe to go out alone at night around here?’

  Ula paused. ‘No, not really,’ she answered. ‘I mean, it should be, but I wouldn’t take the chance if I were you, not after dark. Unless you’re going in the car of course. I got you a Chevvie Cabriolet, by the way. Drive around with the doors locked at night and don’t head down to the beach, it can be a real dangerous place when it gets dark. If you want to eat out tonight then try the Café del Rey on Admiralty. You’ll need to take the car, but parking’s no problem. Do you have any dollars? I left you some. They’re in a drawer next to the bed.’

  ‘Is there anything you haven’t thought of?’ Rhiannon laughed.

  ‘I hope not,’ Ula replied. ‘I’ll have Max and Galina on my case if there is. Anyway, I got a few calls coming in here, so I’ll catch you tomorrow, OK? Sleep well and remember, call if you need anything,’ and the line went dead.

  Walking back into the living-room, Rhiannon replaced the radio phone on its base and looked down at the list of numbers Ula had left. With the note were a fold-up street map of Los Angeles and the keys to the Chevvie. Rhiannon picked them up, turned them over in her hand and stared sightlessly down at the map. Then hearing Ula’s voice echoing in her ears, she dropped the keys and went to deadlock the front door. She was probably over-reacting, as common sense told her that nothing was likely to happen to her in a block as secure as this one, but as she turned to gaze around the beautifully benign room she could feel an inexplicable unease working its way into her heart. Her eyes darted into the corners, seeking out heaven only knew what. She was very still and tense. It was as though she was expecting some kind of menace to emerge from the shadows, which was crazy she knew, but the longer she stood there the more convinced she became that something, somewhere, wasn’t right.

  It was a while before it occurred to her that she was allowing journey fatigue to play tricks on her mind and quickly pulling herself together she went into the bedroom to begin her unpacking. Later, she told herself firmly, she would follow Ula’s suggestion and drive to the Café del Rey for dinner – and maybe, if she was awake early enough in the morning, she would begin her day the California way and go for a run along Venice Beach.

  It was just after three in the morning when Rhiannon was torn from a particularly unpleasant and disjointed dream by the sound of the phone. It took her several seconds to orientate herself, then sliding across the bed she fumbled with the light and picked up the receiver.

  ‘Galina?’ a voice at the other end said.

  ‘Mmm?’ Rhiannon responded, still struggling to bring herself round.

  ‘Did I wake you? You’re gonna be glad I did.’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ Rhiannon croaked, ‘this isn’t Galina. Can I give her a message?’

  There was silence at the end of the line, then the echo of the receiver being replaced on the hook.

  Clicking off her end, Rhiannon pulled her hand back under the sheet and lay staring at nothing. Outside, the night was as still as the moonlit objects around her, and the air seemed to breathe in the shadows. The blood was throbbing thickly through her veins; for no reason she could fathom the call had unnerved her. But then the effects of the sleeping pill she had taken pulled her back into a saturnine dreamscape and the next thing she knew it was morning and the telephone was ringing again.

  ‘Hi! I didn’t wake you, did I?’ Lizzy cried. ‘What time is it over there?’

  Rhiannon blinked open her eyes and looked at the clock. ‘Ten past eight,’ she mumbled, pulling herself up from the bed and noticing she had left the lamp on all night. ‘And yes, you did wake me.’

  ‘Haven’t you got the hang of jet lag yet?’ Lizzy laughed. ‘You were supposed to be up about four. Anyway, how’s it going so far? More to the point, how’s Galina?’

  Rhiannon smiled. ‘Galina’s great,’ she answered. ‘She hasn’t changed a bit. Well, she has. She’s crazier than ever, a bit more grown-up, just as naive, twice as beautiful, totally unfazeable and . . . Oh, I don’t know, I didn’t see her for long, but it’s already doing me good to be here. At least I think it is.’

  ‘Any sign of Max yet? Or is he still in jail?’

  Laughing, Rhiannon tucked the receiver between her ear and her shoulder and getting up from the bed walked out to the kitchen. ‘As far as I know he got back last night,’ she answered. ‘She told me he killed his wife, by the way.’

  ‘What, you mean, she told you it wasn’t an accident?’ Lizzy said incredulously.

  ‘No, she said it was an accident, but she said it in such a way that you knew she was lying.’

  ‘No kidding?’ Then laughing Lizzy said, ‘You didn’t waste much time, did you? Have you mentioned anything about an interview yet?’

  ‘Give me a break,’ Rhiannon protested. ‘I only got here last night.’

  ‘But do you think there’s a chance?’

  Rhiannon shrugged. ‘It’s hard to tell without having met Max. I mean, if it were left up to Galina I could almost guarantee she’d give me an interview. Not about Max, obviously, but she’d happily talk about herself and what life’s like as a supermodel. I suppose that’s what she is, do you? A supermodel? Anyway, without being modest about this, she’d do it if for no other reason than to help get my career back on the road.’

  ‘The very least she owes you,’ Lizzy retorted. ‘So, when do you get to visit Babylon?’

  With it being so early in the morning it took Rhiannon’s brain a moment to switch, then understanding, she started to grin. ‘Today, I think,’ she answered. Then suddenly, out of nowhere, she remembered the phone call that had woken her in the middle of the night. She was on the point of mentioning it to Lizzy when she realized that really there was nothing to tell. So leaving it, she said, ‘Have you called Andy yet?’

  ‘Oh God, don’t,’ Lizzy shivered. ‘I’ve been on and off the loo all day trying to pluck up the courage.’

  ‘But you are going to call him before you go?’

  ‘Yes. Now let’s change the subject. Did you talk to Galina about videoing the wedding?’

  ‘No, not yet.’

  ‘But you will.’

  ‘Yes. When I feel the time is right.’

  ‘Well don’t leave it too late,’ Lizzy warned.

  ‘You’re much better at this than I am,’ Rhiannon groaned, opening the blinds to let the sun stream in.

  ‘Are you kidding? You were the one who took all of ten minutes to get her to tell you Max did it. Now all you have to find out is whose palms he greased, or what favours he called in to help him get away with it and you’ll make such a name for yourself you’ll probably go down in history.’

  ‘It was an accident,’ Rhiannon reminded her.

  Lizzy snorted in disbelief. ‘That’s what they always say,’ she responded.

  ‘Well, even if it wasn’t,’ Rhiannon said, ‘the LAPD, or no, it happened in New York, didn’t it? The NYPD didn’t seem able to prove it was deliberate, or premeditated or whatever they were after, so I don’t reckon much to my chances, do you?’

  ‘As a matter of fact, I do. The NYPD aren’t best chums with Galina. You are. And call me old-fashioned, but I reckon best chums tell each other a whole lot more than they’re likely to tell a cop.’

  Rhiannon was about to disagree when she suddenly saw that Lizzy might have a point. ‘Especially’, she said, her mind racing on ahead, ‘if the police never questioned her.’

  ‘What do you mean? They had to question her. I mean, how could they not?’

  ‘At the time of the shooting Galina was in hospital right here in LA,’ Rhiannon informed her. ‘Meaning that after the police verified her whereabouts they probably never spoke to her again. I mean, she could hardly be a witness, could she, when she was the other side of the States all tucked up in a hospital
bed?’

  ‘I suppose not. But they must have asked her at some point if Max had ever pillow-talked about killing his wife.’

  Laughing, Rhiannon said, ‘Maybe they did ask her, and maybe Galina lied.’

  ‘What was she in hospital for?’ Lizzy asked.

  ‘She was mugged.’

  Lizzy was quiet for a moment. ‘Seems like it was a bad night for the women in Max Romanov’s life,’ she commented. ‘One gets herself shot, the other gets herself mugged.’

  ‘Mmm, I was thinking the same thing myself,’ Rhiannon responded. ‘But if I’m going to find out what really happened I’ll need to take it in stages. First, I’ll try Galina out with the idea of an interview, just her. Like I said, she’s almost bound to go for it, because, loyalty aside, the Conspiracy people will grab the free publicity with both hands – providing I can get a slot for it of course.’

  ‘You shouldn’t have any problem there,’ Lizzy assured her.

  ‘No, probably not. Anyway, then I’ll see how Galina takes to the idea of me videoing the wedding. There’s no question that she’ll have to get Max’s agreement, if not outright permission, on that, and my guess is the best I can hope for is that he’ll give the go-ahead providing it’s only for my private use. If that turns out to be the case, I’ll have to see how moral I’m feeling when it comes to the crunch – or, more to the point, how broke. The jackpot, of course, would be if he agreed to the wedding being shot and gave a joint interview with Galina in which he allowed me to ask questions about his first wife’s death. If I got that I’d start believing in pots at the end of rainbows and lamps where genies hang out. Still, at this stage anything is possible and temporarily misplaced optimism would be a much more constructive way, I think, of describing my pessimism.’

  Lizzy chuckled. ‘I’ll take a bet with you now’, she said, ‘that you’ll win him over. With Galina on your side I don’t see how you can fail.’

  ‘I wish I had your faith,’ Rhiannon replied. ‘And I hope you realize that if I do succeed, then the NYPD notwithstanding, I’ll have got what virtually every other journalist, chat show host, novelist, biographer and amateur detective in the entire United States has been after ever since the charges were dropped.’