The lab owner was busy with some customers when she finished. They gathered up the prints. She waved and thanked him before they left. He waved back, incurious.
In the car, she pulled one out. “There. That’s the necklace.”
“Dios mio, Autumn.” Rennie was struck by the photo, by the composition and attention to detail, but mostly by the sheer eroticism. “You’ve turned her into someone, something bigger than life.”
She stiffened. “You don’t like it?”
“It’s wonderful. No, it’s more than wonderful, it’s magnificent, a masterpiece. I’ve never seen anything like it.”
At his blunt admiration, she relaxed. “I was right, though. It is the same necklace, isn’t it?”
“We’ll have to compare it to the one in the Museum to be sure, but yes, you’re right. It does look like the same one.”
She frowned. “I knew it. Do you think the police will realize from the proofs where the jewelry came from?”
“I don’t know.”
“I’ll have to tell them, won’t I?”
He wanted to say no. “Yes.”
“Rennie, do you think there’s any chance Fran borrowed it for her?” she asked hesitantly. “He and Dani Huertole are on good terms.”
“No.” Jolted back to reality, he glanced at his watch. He had to talk to his brother about that very real fear Autumn was voicing. “Certainly not. Don’t mention anything like that to anyone. It’ll give them the wrong ideas about Francisco. Listen, Autumn, we need to go. It’s one thirty and Fran’s expecting us at his office.”
She didn’t believe him. Her eyes gave her away. She knew Francisco could have borrowed the jewelry for Sarita, but being Autumn, she didn’t call him a liar. “Fran will have heard about Sarita.”
He turned the key. “Yes.”
“I still can’t get over how closemouthed he was about her.”
Except to him.
Sarita had told Francisco about every detail of her affair with Rennie, but she’d also told him she’d dumped Rennie.
So Francisco made sure that Rennie knew he was bedding Sarita.
Anything big brother could do, little brother could do and better. That had been Fran’s philosophy since grade school.
Rennie hadn’t bothered to enlighten Francisco about his and Sarita’s relationship because Fran wouldn’t have believed him. And he hadn’t told his brother about Sarita’s appalling appetites because Fran would find out soon enough.
He had advised Francisco not to get emotionally involved.
Fran hadn’t listened. Francisco never listened to anybody.
****
Rennie opened the door for Autumn and followed her slim figure into Agustin Huertole’s campaign headquarters.
Downtown on Peachtree Street, the office took up space that had been, successively during the past twenty years, a shoe shop, a music store, a deli, and a pub. Desks and work tables lined the front lobby area where several volunteers huddled round a television. The mansion where Sarita had been found flashed on its screen.
Autumn flinched. She must be remembering. He touched her arm and called to his brother in the rear of the group. “Francisco.”
Francisco, pinched and pale, broke away. “Autumn.” He hugged her and turned to Rennie. “You know about Sarita?”
“Yes, we’ve heard.”
“I can’t believe it.” Francisco ran a hand through his hair, further mussing curls that were normally arranged just so.
He couldn’t have anything to do with Sarita’s death. He was annoying sometimes, but he wasn’t a criminal. If he’d somehow got hold of that jewelry and let Sarita use it…
Hold off accusing anybody. The jewelry might not be the same. And Francisco and Sarita’s affair had been over long before Autumn took those pictures.
Francisco cleared his throat. “We’ve been trying to find out more ever since Gus called and told us about her.”
Gus Huertole. Here was another man close to Dani.
Hope flared, unreasoning and anxious.
Francisco wasn’t the only man devoured by Sarita. Gus Huertole could easily have been hooked in, and he would have had as good an opportunity as Fran to borrow the jewelry. A better opportunity since his wife was custodian.
Yes, Huertole was, all around, a better candidate than Francisco. He was an attractive, powerful man. And Sarita specialized in attractive, powerful people.
Rennie didn’t know how afraid he was till his guts relaxed like a thousand pounds had been lifted. “Did Gus know Sarita?”
Francisco’s nostrils flared. “Gus had met her. Come back to my office.”
Someone flung open the front door. Frigid cold swept the office.
Danielle Huertole burst in, breathless and hair wild from the December winds. She ignored everyone except Francisco. She grabbed his arm. “Where’s Gus? I have to see him.”
She looked ill, more so than at the pizza restaurant the past Saturday. The sculpted planes of her face were gaunt beneath the skin while the fine eyes were recessed and red-rimmed. Her skirt was wrinkled, her scarf askew, its blue-green dapples clashing with a navy blouse far too dressy for the maroon knit suit.
Like she’d climbed out of bed and thrown on the first things to hand.
Francisco pried off her fingers, patted her shoulder. “Gus isn’t here, Dani. He’s meeting us at the museum around two thirty, don’t you remember? What’s wrong?”
Her shoulders slumped. “Nothing,” she muttered. “Nothing that can be fixed now. Late. It’s too late, all too late.” She turned and flew out the door without looking back, leaving astonished workers staring after her.
“Is she all right?” Autumn asked, at the same time Rennie asked, “What’s wrong with her?”
Francisco wiped a hand over his eyes. “Who knows? She’s been uptight this past week. I guess with the exhibit opening and Gus’s announcing for Governor and everything else going on, it’s been too much. She and Gus had a big fight this morning. When he called to tell me he’d be late and would meet us at the museum, I could hear her screaming in the background. It’s got me worried. Gus’s campaign won’t get off the ground if he and Dani can’t pull it together before the real pressure starts.”
As if remembering his position as Gus Huertole’s head cheerleader, he glanced toward the people still clustered in front of the TV.
Rennie read his anxiety. “They didn’t hear you.”
“Good.” Francisco jerked his head toward the back. “Come on into my office.”
What did the Huertoles have to argue about? Sarita?
Maybe his theory wasn’t so farfetched. Implicating Gus Huertole would absolve Francisco. Besides Autumn’s safety, his brother was his most pressing concern.
“Have they said anything else about Sarita on the news?” Autumn asked as they headed toward the back. “How she died or why?”
Francisco shook his head. “Her mother and stepfather were in the Bahamas for the week. They came back and found her strangled.”
“They don’t know when it happened?” Rennie asked.
“She’d been dead several days, according to one report.”
“She was alive Friday.” Autumn shuddered. “I saw her, Fran. When I took the proofs out to her Friday morning. She was so bright and happy. The whole thing’s so terrible.”
Francisco stopped short at an office door. “You didn’t—she didn’t say anything?”
Autumn looked at him blankly. “What about?”
Francisco motioned her to go in before him. “I don’t know. Meeting someone, maybe. Being threatened by anyone.”
“No, she was bubbling over, so pleased with the proofs, so full of plans. I can hardly believe she’s dead.”
“If she’s been dead several days, Autumn may be one of the last people to see her alive,” Rennie said. “She’s already talked to the police. They’re supposed to interview her in depth tomorrow.”
Francisco looked at Autumn with sharpened interest, wh
eels churning behind his handsome features.
Rennie’s fears returned.
Whether Francisco had taken that jewelry for the photo shoot or whether it was Gus Huertole, he would be scurrying big time trying to cover his butt or his employer’s.
No matter which, Rennie wasn’t about to let Francisco embroil Autumn to save himself or Gus. She was an innocent, caught up accidently in something to do with Sarita’s murder.
Francisco, whether he took or helped Gus take the jewelry, was no innocent. He knew the risks.
And if he left them in the dark, deliberately exposing Autumn to danger…
Rennie’s hands bunched. I’ll beat that good-looking face to a pulp. He loosened his fists. Come on, man. You don’t know anything for sure.
Fears for Autumn were overwhelming his common sense. He had to get hold of himself.
The first thing was to find out what Francisco knew, what he’d done. And he would have to dig for it without Autumn. Keeping her safe didn’t mean betraying Francisco. Not unless he had to give up his brother to protect her.
Okay, if he had to, he would. Francisco and Sarita’s parting had been stormy. She’d ended the affair in a humiliating way that had devastated Francisco, but he still couldn’t see Francisco murdering Sarita.
No matter. If Francisco knew anything at all about Sarita’s murder or the jewelry, he would have to tell.
“I can’t find out anything about what happened to Sarita except what’s on the news,” Francisco was saying as he paced the small office. “Our usual sources have dried up. I’ve tried Victoria, but she doesn’t know anything either.”
Boxes of literature and envelopes took up most of the space, while a battered desk covered with a tangle of phones and three poured plastic chairs took up the rest. Francisco stopped to push a chair aside. “God, this is so unbelievable.”
“To all of us.” Autumn sat down in one of the uncomfortable chairs.
John Kinsellen stuck his head in. “Say, Fran, do you have a minute? Oh, sorry. Didn’t realize you had company.” He recognized Rennie and Autumn. “Hi guys. Some week, huh?”
“Have you heard anything else about Sarita, John?” Francisco asked.
“Nope. Police are being real closemouthed.”
“Yeah, I’ll bet,” Francisco muttered. “This is one case they won’t want to botch.”
“I dropped by to see you about these new ads. Gus thinks they need to accentuate his family life more. Can you spare a couple of minutes?”
Francisco hesitated. “Sure.” He started to the door. “I’ll be right back, people. Oh, before I forget, Autumn, Iris called here looking for you. Something about insurance papers you have to sign. She sounded hysterical. I told her we’d be at the High Museum after two so she’s going to try to catch you there.”
“Poor Iris. I’ve had my cell off. Thanks, Fran. She’s speedy. I only spoke to her this morning.”
“You’re lucky to have her to chase all that around for you,” Rennie said absently. He wanted to be upfront with Francisco but that might not work. Might be better to dance around, start with the photographs and go from there.
“I’m sure Iris is anxious to get back to a regular job,” Autumn said.
“And you, too.”
She breathed deeply. Her eyes crinkled. “Maybe.”
He perched on the edge of Fran’s desk. The cold weather had put color in her usually pale cheeks, and she looked so happy and fragile it hurt.
Was it a dream? Had he spent last night and this morning in bed with her? Had she taken him into her body, made him soar until he thought he would die from rapture?
Warmth filled him.
That wouldn’t do. He swallowed. “Autumn, would you mind if I spoke to Francisco alone for a moment?”
Quicksilver surprise told him she wanted to refuse, but being Autumn, she agreed with a smile. “I’ll get a fresh cup of coffee when he comes back and try to call Iris. How’s that?”
He wished he could express how glad he was that she was so uncomplaining. When she realized he could never live up to her standards, she was going to be hurt and maybe angry.
And maybe gone. An outcome too terrible to think about.
He got up and went over and brushed her forehead with his lips. “I love you.”
She flashed her wonderful smile. “Don’t forget it.”
When Francisco returned, she left with a murmured excuse.
Rennie closed the door behind her.
How to begin? In the end, he plunged in. “The police know about you and Sarita, Francisco.”
His brother’s face emptied. “Did you tell them?”
Rennie couldn’t read any shock or fear. “I didn’t have to tell them anything. The investigator we spoke to this morning asked if I was related to you. So they’ve started digging into her past. They’re bound to find out about you mouthing off when she gave you the brush-off.”
Francisco’s muscles tensed. He swallowed nervously.
So he wasn’t as unconcerned as he seemed.
“How’d you hear about that? My mouthing off, I mean?”
“Sarita. She told me you said you’d like to see her dead.”
The blankness transformed into anger. For big brother’s benefit?
“Christ, Rennie, I never said that. Oh, when we broke up. I was so damned mad that I may have said some things she took that way. But I didn’t mean them. I was upset because of what she did. You didn’t tell the police, did you? I don’t want them getting the wrong idea.”
“Tell the police? You think I’d do that to you?”
The anger went out of Francisco. He sat down, put his head in his hands. “I could feel it coming. Sarita dumping me, I mean. It happened when I went with the Huertoles down to the Islands. Not long after I got the job with Gus. Sarita’s stepfather has a house down there so she flew in for a week of pattycake. I knew something was wrong soon after she got there. Sure enough, the night before we came back she ended it.”
Rennie already knew what had happened. Sarita had gotten Francisco in bed, caressed and seduced him until he was out of his mind, then called in her airplane pilot and made Fran watch as she mounted him.
She’d enjoyed telling Rennie about that, explaining piously how she’d thought Fran should learn from a real man what a woman likes. She’d intended for Rennie to share his brother’s pain and humiliation, but he’d learned Sarita’s tricks long ago.
Francisco hadn’t.
He’d ached for Fran. Still did.
And Sarita had known he would, damn her.
He cleared his throat.
What happened between Francisco and Sarita, or him and Sarita didn’t matter. Francisco had to protect himself.
“Listen, Francisco. You didn’t care when Sarita dumped you. You knew from the beginning it wouldn’t last.”
“That isn’t true.” Fran sat up, his eyes bleary. “I did care, Rennie. I thought we had something more than sex going. Oh, yeah, maybe I subconsciously knew, but it was still…” Dull red blotched his complexion. “Out of the blue, she ended it. She up and ended it without even telling me why.”
Would he have to spell it out? Was Francisco still so hung up on Sarita he didn’t realize he was in trouble?
Rennie moved in, gripped his brother’s shoulder. “You and she both knew it wouldn’t last.” He pronounced each word precisely, drilling it in. “You may have said a few things but there was absolutely no bitterness afterward. It was expedient for both of you to call it quits.”
“Expedient? What do you mean?” Understanding sunk in. Francisco went pale. “They won’t think I… Oh.”
The brothers stared at one another before Francisco jumped up. “You don’t think I’d hurt Sarita, do you?”
“It doesn’t matter what I think. The police are the ones who matter. There were no hard feelings between you and Sarita,” Rennie said doggedly.
Francisco licked his lip, finally looking as scared as Rennie felt. “We tried, but in
the end we both decided it wouldn’t work,” he said slowly. “We didn’t quarrel, if that’s what you’re asking. I may have said a few things, but she was pretty snide about my bed manners, calling me a two-bit Romeo without the equipment to back it up.”
So Sarita’s words still rankled.
“Forget what she said. Just remember you got over the break-up. You and she were still on good terms.”
“All right.” Francisco straightened his hair. “Besides, she said those things so I’d lose my temper and give her an excuse to break it off. I cooled off fast once I realized that.”
“I’m not asking you to tell me anything about what was said.” He knew too much already.
Sarita, gleeful at how she’d cut Francisco down, had repeated everything she’d said, every sneering innuendo, every hateful taunt about his masculinity. She had loved describing how Francisco cried when he watched her screwing another man, how he’d fought the pilot afterward.
Yeah, Rennie could imagine how it had gone. He’d seen her manipulate men until they exploded. The blood and violence turned her on.
Francisco hadn’t known that. Afterward she’d sought out Rennie and pretended she wanted him to tell Francisco she was sorry, that she’d been carried away in the heat of the moment and hadn’t meant her cruel words.
But Rennie was wise to Sarita and her ways.
The real reason Sarita had told Rennie about the breakup was to let Rennie know that Francisco was in love with her, and that she had destroyed him.
Francisco had been her payback for Rennie walking out on her.
Rennie shivered. Sarita had led him a long way down the path to hell. He’d wanted to help her, show her she was better than what she’d become, encourage her to change. Instead, he’d ended up in her cozy little sexual carousals. He was the one who’d changed.
At first, he’d assumed her self-esteem was the big problem. Sarita, darling of the critics and adored by the public, wanted everyone to love her. All her life, she’d wanted everyone to love her and couldn’t stand it when someone held out. She’d do anything to make sure he fell into line.
But her low self-esteem was a symptom. One morning Rennie woke up to the stench of several sweaty bodies still hung over from alcohol and drugs, and wondered what he was doing. Sarita couldn’t change because she didn’t want to change. He didn’t like her or himself any more. He left and never went back.
Intimate Portraits Page 21
