by Laurel Pace
The big, black limousine rolled into sight at precisely the appointed time, a phantom emerging on the single road leading up to the shipyard. Its dark windows and slow movement reminded Dani of a funeral car, a comparison that made her shiver in spite of the bright sun sparkling off the water. The car stopped well to the far side of the bridge leading to the anchored aircraft carrier Yorktown, a good fifty yards from where Dani stood. Dani watched the chauffeur alight, circle the car and open the rear passenger door. For several moments, nothing stirred inside the dark cavern of the car. Then a white gloved hand emerged, clamping itself onto the chauffeur's wrist like a great pale claw. Sapphira climbed stiffly from the car and then straightened herself. Across the distance, she looked at Dani, slowly walked a few feet and then stopped.
She was waiting for Dani to come to her, just as everyone had for the eighty-odd years of Sapphira Whyte's life. Not this time, Sapphira. Today, you come to me. Dani waited, not moving as she watched the erect statue of a woman thrown into relief against the immense gray aircraft carrier in the distance.
Sapphira turned her head and looked toward the York-town, hesitating for a small but significant moment. Then she turned back to face Dani. When she finally took a step, Sapphira looked as if she were pulling her feet out of the cement beneath them. The old woman walked with the unhurried gait of the conscious aristocrat, slowly traversing the expanse of drive separating them. She stopped a few feet short of Dani, lifting her chin ever so slightly to indicate that she would come no farther.
"You know now. What else is there to say?" Sapphira's jaw was tight beneath the transparent skin, rigid as a mummy's.
"I believe there's still a lot to be said," Dani countered. "How could my father have kept this secret from me?"
The old woman laughed, the sound of dry leaves rustling in her breast. "The same way he kept his affair secret from everyone else. Most people only see what they choose to. But I knew what was brewing between him and your mother. Richardson, of course, claimed it was only a friendship. Dan Blake was away so often pursuing his adventures, one would have suspected he occasionally forgot he even had a wife. Richardson never cared for sailing that much, never was a competitor like Dan. I suppose he and your mother discovered they had quite a bit in common. One thing led to another." Her pale eyes drifted across the harbor, drawn to some unseen point in the distance.
"They had an affair." Dani felt almost relieved to at last get that distasteful phrase out of her mouth.
"Yes. I don't believe it lasted very long, actually. Both of them were too loyal to Dan Blake to deceive him comfortably. When your mother realized she was pregnant, I imagine they both panicked. Richardson and your mother knew they had been playing with fire and were in danger of being badly burned. They decided to end the relationship at that point. Fortunately, Dan Blake was willing to believe you were his child."
"Everyone was, I imagine," Dani remarked. A burdensome sadness had settled over her, tinged with a new-found sympathy for the thwarted lovers.
Sapphira nodded slowly. "Oh, yes. Richardson married right away, to a perfectly hopeless woman who loved him even less than he loved her, I might add. Less than six months after his wedding, Dan Blake was killed at sea, but then, of course, it was too late."
"He never thought of divorcing his wife and marrying my mother?" Dani asked.
Sapphira regarded her in a way that made her look much older than her eight-plus decades, that made Dani feel much younger than her twenty-eight years. "Have you never heard of doing penance for one's sins? Richardson had sinned against his best friend, Dan Blake, and he had to punish himself. Denying himself the woman he loved was the cruelest, most fitting way he could find. That's part of being a romantic, I suppose, suffering grandly, and Richardson was a romantic to the core." Her grooved lips curled in a mirthless smile. "You might as well know that's how he came to attach such significance to that foolish little pin."
"The Bandeira Branca pin?"
"When they ended the affair, your mother insisted on having some memento she could always keep close to her, to remind her of Richardson. He gave her part of the pin and kept the other part for himself."
"That's why he gave me the pin," Dam murmured, her voice so low she was surprised that Sapphira heard her.
"He also wanted you to have something else after his death." Sapphira hesitated before snapping open her black leather purse and pulling out a sealed piece of folded paper. "I must confess I am not happy giving you this, but since you now know, I suppose it can do no additional harm. For all his waywardness, I did love Richardson and would want to honor his wishes."
Dani slit the seal with trembling fingers and opened the letter.
My dearest Dani,
When you read this, I will no longer be able to see you, to talk with you and to share in your life. I pray you will not think too ill of me and forgive my weakness. I have always loved you deep in my heart, as the father I should have been to you. I wanted to give you my name, to be able to take pride in your achievements, to ensure your happiness. Please understand that only love and respect for Dan Blake's memory prevented your mother and me from bringing the truth out into the open. I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive me and know that you will always be my sweetest, best-loved daughter. With my abiding love,
Richardson
A tiny droplet of water spattered onto the velum page, weaving a pale blue smear through the neat, uniform letters. Dani felt her throat swelling with grief, with the great store of emotion she would never be able to share with Richardson Whyte, the forgiveness for which his still heart had yearned.
"If he had only told me, I would have kept his secret to my death." Dani's voice was full of ragged emotional edges. She shook her head as she carefully refolded the letter.
Sapphira seemed slightly embarrassed by such unabashed tears. "I don't mind telling you we all counseled him against such a move—his sister, Adele, even Derek, they all agreed with me that any acknowledgement of the affair could only lead to difficult complications."
Dani regarded the woman standing in front of her, wondering if she had ever experienced any emotion other than pride. "You would have had him deny his own child?"
Sapphira drew herself up in an attempt to appear insulted. "Rest assured, he has provided well for you. At your birth, he earmarked a special investment for you. When his will is opened next week, you will not be disappointed. The house will be yours."
Dani stared at Sapphira, too dumfounded to comment.
"Yes, his house on the Battery," Sapphira repeated, misinterpreting Dani's silence. "It's quite valuable, really. You've no account to feel slighted."
"You think I only care about my father for the property I'll inherit from him." Frowning, Dani shook her head. "You don't understand at all, do you?"
Sapphire's thin lips tightened into a formidable line. "What is it you want, then? If it's more money, it can be arranged. In return, I would hope we could reach some sort of agreement that you would continue to protect Richardson's name. He escaped scandal during his life. There is nothing to be served by exposing his folly now that he is gone."
Dani felt angry heat suffusing her face. Her unflinching gaze connected with the old woman's cold eyes. "You don't care about Richardson's memory. All you're interested in is saving face."
"I've made you a reasonable offer." Sapphira's tone was as hard and intractable as granite.
"I'm not interested in your offer." Dani's mouth felt thick, caked with an insulted fury that made her want to choke. "I won't be bribed, Sapphira, not by you or anyone else." Turning on her heel, she rushed to her car, leaving the ramrod figure standing alone in the shipyard.
Chapter Fourteen
Ken focused on Derek Cannaday's long, bony fingers, watched the way they clamped around each arm of the chair, pressing deep indentions into the tan leather. So far, those fingers seemed to be the only reliable barometer of Derek's anger. Now that he thought about it, Ken hadn't really expe
cted him to shout and swear and bluster. No, Derek's anger was the quiet kind that seethed from every pore like a slow-acting venom. From across the desk separating them, Ken could almost feel the livid fury building beneath the controlled exterior.
"I warned you, Ken." Derek spoke deliberately, measuring each word. "This is the very worst thing that could have happened. Do you realize the position your irresponsibility has put me in?"
"What would you have wanted me to do? Not tell the police I had seen Bea Lawes only minutes before her death? That's called 'withholding information,' not the kind of misbehavior the police take kindly to. No, thanks, I'm more concerned with staying on the right side of the law than in being in Sapphira Whyte's good graces." Ken met the hard, level eyes that were fixed on him like bayonets. If Derek intended to play a war of nerves, Ken was determined to meet him on equal ground. "And don't talk to me about irresponsibility, Derek. You and I both know that if the Whyte family weren't so obsessed with keeping Richardson's skeleton locked in its cupboard, Bea Lawes might still be alive today. For God's sake, Richardson might even be alive." He heard his voice rising and quickly checked its modulation. Lose his temper and he had lost this battle with Derek.
"That's preposterous!" The tapering fingers flexed around the chair's arms.
"I don't think it is, Derek. Look at how difficult it's been even to talk with any of Richardson's relatives. His aunts, his sister, even his niece have all closed their doors in my face. If I hadn't accidentally stuck that envelope in my pocket last night, I still wouldn't have any proof that Richardson had ever had an affair."
Derek's aquiline nose flared as he drew a short breath. "I'm surprised that you've allowed this sort of sordid business to distract you so easily."
Ken lifted his hands in despair. "How can you sit there and talk about a valuable clue as if it were no more than tabloid gossip?"
"Because it is cheap gossip—"
Ken cut in. "Then why did Bea Lawes see fit to go to Richardson's office in the middle of the night and take those letters? And why did someone want them so badly, he was willing to kill her for them?"
Derek pinched the armrests and then suddenly released them. "You don't know that. You said yourself there were other things in her briefcase."
"Yes," Ken conceded evenly. "But why would anyone want those letters, too?"
Derek's restless fingers latched on to the edge of the desk. "Maybe the murderer didn't want to waste time sorting through the contents of the briefcase and simply took everything."
"You don't believe that any more than I do," Ken shot back. He had soft-pedaled his views to accommodate Sapphira and her coterie long enough; now that the body count had risen to two, he was not prepared to listen docilely to any more nonsense.
Derek was silent for an unnervingly long moment, leading Ken to wonder if the sleeping volcano were about to erupt. "Perhaps I'm wrong and you're right, Ken," Derek said at length.
The unexpected admission caught Ken off guard. "What do you mean?"
"Sam Butler was here this morning, asking questions about the investigation you've been conducting behind his back. You'll be interested to know that he shares some of your suspicions about the murderer's motives, especially after last night." Something about Derek's dramatic pause gave Ken an uneasy feeling. "He's beginning to believe it's a case of common blackmail, and that you've put yourself in a very compromising position."
"Get to the point, Derek," Ken demanded impatiently.
The thin lips twitched, the telltale sign of repressed anger straining for release. "Dani Blake is now a prime suspect in both murders."
The statement was so unexpected, so totally ridiculous, Ken was momentarily at a loss for words. "That's the most harebrained, half-baked notion anyone could suggest!" He realized he was sputtering, but he was unable to contain bis indignation. Dani had been through hell in the past few hours; the thought that Butler now intended to victimize and harass her was intolerable.
Derek's calm agreement only rankled Ken more. "That's what I thought at first, but after Butler laid bis case out, I began to follow his line of reasoning. You know, much of the testimony you gave last night has strengthened Butler's feelings about Miss Blake."
Ken jumped up from the chair. "This is insane!"
Derek regarded him skeptically. "Is it? Richardson never said a word to me about having a child, but you seem convinced Dani is his unacknowledged daughter. If that is true, might she not have harbored resentment toward him? He was, after all, a rich man. By comparison, her means are rather modest. You mentioned your suspicions about Stephen Lawes earlier in our conversation. Might not Dani fill his role equally well? She was the last person to see Richardson alive, certainly had easier access to his office than Lawes. After her extortion note failed, she confronted Richardson face-to-face. He resisted, and she killed him to cover her plot. Then she set out to obliterate all evidence linking her to Richardson. This childhood picture you've seen was on the yacht. Who knows what other incriminating things Richardson might have kept secreted there? Dani destroyed that possible source of evidence, after conveniently dispatching you and then engineering your rescue to cover her deed."
"Dani didn't knock me out aboard the Bandeira Branca!" Ken almost shouted.
"She didn't? Butler says you claim not to have seen your assailant." Derek maintained his unruffled pose. His hands were now relaxed, looped easily over each armrest. "With the Bandeira Branca gutted, she moved on to remove evidence from Richardson's office. Here Butler's theory begins to get rather circumstantial. Possibly she devised a way to trick Bea into removing the offending papers from the office before you could find them. Then she got rid of her in the same way she eliminated Richardson. The letters have now disappeared, and along with them, another damaging clue."
Ken slammed his fist against the polished wood desk, desperate to put an end to the obscene scenario Derek was constructing. "Dani Blake is a decent, honorable woman. She's incapable of the sort of cold-blooded brutality you've just described."
"This isn't my theory, Ken." Derek lifted an eyebrow, staring at Ken's red-and-white knuckles pressed against the polished mahogany. "Sam Butler is the person you need to convince that Dani Blake is innocent. I'm merely repeating what he told me. But be forewarned. Associating with a murder suspect is not the best way to maintain credibility with the police."
"Dani did not murder anyone," Ken insisted through clenched teeth.
"I'm sorry, Ken, but as far as Butler is concerned, you've constructed a very convincing foundation for this case. He's simply chosen to insert a suspect you would never have chosen into the critical slot. You may not like the direction your investigation has taken the police any more than I do, but I warned you about getting in over your head. Oh, yes, Ken, I can see how badly you wish the police would just forget Dani Blake and leave things as they were. Now perhaps you can understand how the Whyte family has felt all along." Derek's fingers quivered reflexively on the arms of the chair. "You've botched things, Ken—for yourself, for Dani, for all of us. Also, you've now incriminated yourself in a case of breaking and entering. Fortunately, I think I've persuaded Sapphira not to press charges in return for certain assurances from you."
"Don't threaten me, Derek." Ken leaned across the desk, the better to stab his opponent with each word. "I used a key to enter Richardson Whyte's house. That's not breaking in. Whyte personally gave me the key, as a tacit sign of his trust when he hired me for the job. Our contract was up for renewal at the end of this month. It didn't terminate upon his death. I had every right to enter that house."
Derek pushed up from his chair. A heat field of anger seemed to emanate from his entire body as he stood face-to-face with Ken. "But you are terminated as of now. You're no longer authorized to conduct any activities on behalf of Richardson Whyte's estate."
DANI HURRIED ALONG Queen Street, cutting her way around more leisurely pedestrians who blocked her hasty progress. The tumultuous events of the past twelve ho
urs had skewed her sense of time; she had almost forgotten her afternoon appointment with Theo Boynton at the Old Exchange, and heaven knew what else had slipped her mind. Never in her life had she felt more off balance, less in touch with herself. When she chanced to glimpse her image floating across the windows of the shops lining the street, she was almost shocked to discover that her appearance had not also undergone a radical transformation.
And now she wasn't even sure she could turn to Ken. An emotional pang gripped her when she recalled how she had rebuffed his attempts to comfort her, withdrawn from him, pushed him out of her home. She had been afraid of letting him see so deeply into her heart, exposing such raw, fierce pain to his scrutiny. Yet now, another ache had joined the chorus of hurt throbbing inside her, a gnawing longing to have him hold her close and whisper that everything would be all right.
Theo was waiting for Dani at the entrance to the Old Exchange Building. Word no doubt traveled fast through the private enclave of the Whyte family and their relations, but apparently not fast enough to have reached Theo before their appointment. As she shook hands with the ingratiating young man, Dani felt certain he was still ignorant of her emotionally charged conversation with Sapphira that morning.
"As you know, we've reserved the Great Colonial Hall for the event." Theo ushered Dani into an immense, columned ballroom, replete with tall, recessed windows and striking Palladian arched doorways.
Dani nodded automatically, but after a few minutes, she realized she had registered scarcely a word he had said about the hall's historical background. Reminding herself to pay attention, she pulled a pad and a ballpoint pen out of her shoulder bag. She jotted a few notes as Theo showed her where the dance band's platform would be set up and asked her opinion on various ways to keep traffic flowing comfortably. Fortunately, Dani was so accustomed to appraising unusual party locations, she could rely on instinct to get her through. By the time they had circled the room, she had decided where to place the buffet tables, counted electrical outlets for wanning trays and area lights, and plotted an unobtrusive route between the ballroom and the service area.
