The Burnt Orange Sunrise

by David Handler

  “There’s something personal I need to ask you about, Spence.”

  “Absolutely. Fire away.”

  “Carly told me she heard you entertaining someone in here last night.”

  Spence reddened, but said nothing.

  “The strange part is that she swears she didn’t hear anyone come in or out of this room all night long.”

  “What was she doing, spying on me?” Irritation had crept into his voice.

  “No, on her beloved Acky. You just got caught in the crossfire.”

  “Oh, I see.”

  “Carly also mentioned hearing footsteps up on the third floor. I didn’t know about the trapdoors at the time. But now that I do I’m sitting here thinking this must be how your late-night visitor got in and out of here, am I right?”

  Spence thumbed the light brown stubble on his square jaw for a long moment before he said, “Look, this is extremely personal…”

  “I’m well aware of that. I’m also somewhat surprised by your behavior, Spence. What with you telling Mitch how deeply involved you’ve gotten with a certain unnamed East Coast lady.”

  “I am involved.” He glanced at the love letter he’d been writing. “Very involved. It’s complicated.”

  “I’m cool with complicated,” she said. “Complicated is fine by me. Just as long as it’s the complicated truth. Give it up, Spence. Is she anyone I know?”

  Spence got up and held his hands out to the fire for warmth. Then he turned to face her, sighing. “Look, she’s Natalie Ochoa, okay?”

  Des stared at him blankly. “Okay …”

  Spence seemed stunned by her response. “You don’t live in the New York media market. Her name doesn’t actually mean anything to you, does it?”

  “I’m afraid not,” Des said. Outside, she could hear the harsh scraping of Jase’s plow as it cleared the parking lot, his truck’s engine roaring. “Give me a boost, will you?”

  “Natalie anchors the five-o’clock news on Channel Four. She’s rated number one in her time slot. She’s so popular that the network is grooming her to take over their morning show. Natalie’s the complete package, Des,” he exclaimed, a warm glow coming over his face, “she’s beautiful, smart, classy. Not to mention Latina, which hooks her up with the fastest-growing demographic base in the nation. She’s very, very hot in network news circles right now. She’s also very, very married.”

  “Hence your reticence regarding her name?”

  Spence nodded. “We’ve been seeing each other for six months or so. We have to be real careful or it’ll end up in the gossip columns, which could really hurt her image. She and her husband are definitely planning to separate. It’s over between them. But for now, it’s just a real mess. And it’s weighing heavily on my mind, what with my own career thing getting thrown into the mix. That’s what I was just writing her about. I’m supposed to relocate to the West Coast next month. Natalie’s future is here in New York. She has zero interest in moving back to L.A, where she started out. I don’t know what we’ll do. I just know … it can be a real mess sometimes. This whole love thing.”

  “I’m with you there. Although I’d drop the word sometimes.”

  Spence sat back down in the armchair, studying Des in guarded silence. “You don’t actually think I have anything to do with these deaths, do you?”

  Des tried a new approach on for size. “Are you kidding me, man? You’re my prime suspect.”

  Spence’s eyes widened in dismay. “I’m what?”

  “Real deal, Spence,” she assured him, nodding her head slowly up and down. “I’ve been waiting and waiting for you to come clean with me about who was in here with you last night, and you’re not. Hell, man, Stevie Wonder could see that you’re not being straight with me about it. And if you’re not being straight about that, then I have to assume you’re not being straight about anything else. I’ve got three people dead, Spence, and you’re withholding valuable information. That means you win the grand prize. When the Major Crime Squad folks arrive you get to take the all-expenses-paid trip to Central District Headquarters in Meriden. Congratulations.”

  Right away, Spence’s smooth composure gave way to panic. “You mean I’ll be arrested?”

  “Brought in for formal questioning.”

  “My God, will I need a lawyer?”

  “That’s entirely your decision.”

  “Does the … will the news media find out about this?”

  “I imagine they’ll be all over it, what with Ada being so famous and Astrid’s such a landmark. It makes for quite a story.”

  “Do you have any idea what this could do to my career?”

  “That’s not my concern. The ball’s in your court, Spence. If you don’t want to talk, I can’t force you to. I have to respect your rights.” She got to her feet, not particularly fast, and said, “Come on, we may as well join the others until the chopper gets here.”

  Spence stayed put, his hands clutching the arms of the chair. “Wait, there’s more I can tell you. I want to help, okay? I didn’t kill anyone, I swear. Why would I? I came up here to help Ada, not strangle her with a phone chord. And I hardly knew Norma and Les. I hardly know any of these people.”

  “You’ve known Hannah for years,” Des said to him sternly.

  “Yeah, okay, that’s true,” he admitted. “We did go through Panorama’s internship program together. But Hannah’s strictly a friend. Someone who I have no romantic feelings for whatsoever. Besides, she’s with Aaron, as you know perfectly well.”

  “I do know that. Hannah’s gotten herself caught in a messy love triangle. It occurs to me that maybe she was trying to send Aaron a message last night by having herself a visit with some other man. Is that possible?”

  “No, it’s not possible,” Spence insisted. “That didn’t happen.”

  “Well, someone dropped in on you last night. Am I at least right about that much?”

  Reluctantly, he nodded his head. “She has to be real careful because of Norma’s zero-tolerance rule. Any staff member caught fooling around with a guest is automatically gone. Norma was really obsessed about it, I guess because this place used to be known as a cathouse.”

  Des sat back down, narrowing her eyes at him. “Just for the record, are we talking about Jory?”

  “We are. And, believe me, I didn’t initiate it. It was all her.”

  “Spence, I’m not doubting on your animal magnetism, but are you telling me that Jory jumped your bones right out of the blue?”

  “Last night she did.” Spence shifted uneasily in his chair. “But we’re not exactly total strangers. Jory and I go back a few years. Twelve, actually. The summer when I turned sixteen I stayed here with my parents for a couple of weeks. Jory was working as a chambermaid in those days, and I couldn’t take my eyes off her. She was an older woman, all of eighteen, and extra-spicy. The girl was hot. Major boobage, if you know what I mean.”

  “Yeah, I’m catching what you’re pitching.”

  “Anyway, to my great surprise and delight, she was interested in me, too. We ended up having sex together on a blanket in the woods. She was my first, as a matter of fact.”

  “And were you hers?”

  “Not a chance. She could have—and did have—pretty much any guy she wanted. Quite honestly, I was surprised as hell to discover she was still working here when I arrived from New York on Tuesday. I figured she’d be married by now, have her own house, a couple of kids.”

  “So you two haven’t stayed in touch?”

  “Well, I did see her occasionally when I was at Yale,” he conceded. “A buddy of mine, Pete Willet, sailed out of the Dorset Yacht Club, and we’d come out here every so often to kick back. If Jory was free, she’d scrounge up a girlfriend for Pete and we’d party out on the Sound together. Jory works hard for a living. She likes to rock and roll when she gets the chance.”

  “So when the college boy got him the itch, he’d give the chambermaid a call. Does that about cover it?”

>   “I wouldn’t portray it that way at all,” Spence said defensively. “Nobody got used. It was a mutual-consent kind of a deal. Good times. Good sex. Well above average, actually. Jory wasn’t looking for anything meaningful with me. She was just looking for humpage. She’s really a lot like a guy in that regard.”

  Des smiled at him sweetly. “Is that right?”

  “Not that I mean to plunge myself into the quicksand of sexual politics,” he added hurriedly. “I’m just trying to give you my sense of things.”

  “How about giving me your sense of last night, Spence?”

  “I couldn’t get to sleep,” he recalled, letting his breath out slowly. “I was freezing cold, and missing Natalie like crazy, when out of nowhere I hear footsteps and Jory’s sliding right into bed next to me, peeling off her clothes, reaching for me. And I’m like, ‘Jory, what the hell are you doing?’ And she’s like, ‘Just for old times’ sake, okay? I’m so lonesome and blue.’ Des, I was totally up-front with her. I told her I’m seriously into somebody. And she said, ‘That’s okay, so am I.’”

  “Who is she seeing?”

  “She didn’t say.”

  “You weren’t curious?”

  “At that particular moment, I couldn’t have cared less—not that I’m trying to be offensive.”

  “You’re doing fine, Spence. Well above average, actually. How long did she stay with you?”

  “A couple of hours.”

  “And you say this was all her idea?”

  “I swear it was. I was swamped with work from the moment I got here. I barely had a chance to say two words to her. I asked her how she’d been, but that’s all. I didn’t hit on her. And I sure didn’t invite her up to my room. I’m involved with Natalie, remember?”

  “Right, you’re involved with Natalie,” Des said back to him. “Did Jory tell you anything at all about this man who she’s involved with? What he does for a living? How they met?”

  Spence shook his head. “Mostly, she talked about Jase.”

  “What about Jase?”

  “How dependent he is on her. How she feels responsible for him, and frets over him day and night. She keeps hoping he’ll meet a girl and settle down on his own. Lately, she’s been trying to fix him up with the weekend chambermaids and waitresses. But the guy hasn’t so much as gotten out of the batter’s box, let alone to first base. I guess he’s kind of shy around the ladies. Jory asked me if I’d give him some pointers while I’m here, man-to-man. She’s getting kind of anxious, I guess, because if he doesn’t break away from her soon, chances are he never will.”

  “Does Jase know about you and Jory?”

  “I think he must. He’s always glowering at me. And he was really busting my chops this morning when we were out working in the driveway. My sense of things is that he sees me as some hotshot who’s been taking advantage of his sister. Which, as I said before, is not true. Jory is just as responsible as I am. More so, last night.”

  “You said she left you after a couple of hours.”

  “Yes.”

  “By way of the trapdoor again?”

  “She seemed pretty familiar with the drill, to tell you the truth. I’m guessing she’s dropped in on plenty of guys over the years.”

  “I see,” Des said, figuring that it was most likely she whom Mitch and Carly had heard up there in the night, not Norma. “What did you do after Jory left?”

  “Well, I didn’t fall asleep, I can tell you that. I felt so incredibly guilty. I still do, because I’m in love with Natalie. Jory and me, that shouldn’t have happened. But it did. And I let it. And I liked it. And I …” Spence hesitated, his jaw muscles tightening. “I kept thinking, hey, it’s not like Natalie isn’t climbing into bed every night with her husband, Joel, right? And you have to figure they’re still partaking of the humpage sometimes, don’t you? It would be dopey to think otherwise, wouldn’t it?”

  “I suppose that’s one way of looking at it,” Des responded, noticing that Spence was digging the fingernails of his right hand so deep into the palm of his left that he was about ready to draw blood. The smooth young studio executive did not have it so totally together after all. When it came to his love life, he was a tortured mess of emotions. Was he in control of these emotions, or were they running the show? She wondered. “After Jory left, did you hear anyone coming or going out in the hall?”

  “I didn’t hear anybody.”

  “And where were you this morning when Ada was attacked?”

  “Right here,” he replied, stabbing the arm of the chair with an index finger for emphasis. “I was talking to Natalie on my cell phone when I heard Hannah scream. Natalie could hear her over the phone. She asked me what was happening. Go ahead and call Natalie if you don’t believe me. She’ll back me up. I was on the phone with her at the time of Ada’s death.”

  “Okay, that’s not actually what I’m hearing from you, Spence.”

  He frowned. “What are you hearing?”

  “That you were on the phone when Hannah found Ada’s body. Technically, you could have strangled her before you slipped in here to call Natalie.”

  “Well, yeah, okay,” he allowed readily enough. “I can see your point. But why would I do it? What possible reason would I have for killing Ada Geiger? Or the others? I’ve just landed a huge promotion. I’m in love with a beautiful woman. Why would I want to get dragged into any of this?”

  Des didn’t answer Spence, for the simple reason that she didn’t have an answer. Not unless, somehow, he’d gotten himself dragged into it against his will. Or unless every single word he’d just told her was a carefully scripted fabrication. Which was certainly possible. But if Spence was being reasonably straight with her, then he was right. He had so many positive things going on right now. Why get dragged into this? For Jory, whom he could apparently sleep with anytime he wanted to? Where was his motive? What was in it for him? For that matter, what was in it for Jory? True, she stood to gain fifty thousand dollars from Norma’s death. Not exactly chump change, but was it worth murdering the woman for?

  No, not a whole lot of sense here. Not yet.

  Spence was looking at her searchingly, trying to follow where her mind was going. “Why would I do it?” he repeated.

  “I wish I had some answers for you, Spence,” she replied quietly. “But I don’t. All I have is more questions.”

  It seemed eerily quiet down in the taproom, considering how many people were crowded in there around the kerosene space heaters. So quiet that Des could hear the tick-tock of the antique wall clock behind the bar, punctuated by the occasional scrape of Jase’s plow outside on the pavement of the parking lot. It took Des a moment to realize what was missing.

  There was no background music.

  Teddy wasn’t playing the piano in the Sunset Lounge. He was seated at the bar, sipping a Scotch and looking very sad. Aaron sat on the stool next to him, chewing halfheartedly on a sandwich. Isabella was sprawled on the bar before them with a saucer of milk, offering up her soft white belly for a rub. The big cat was getting no takers. No one was paying any attention to her. No one was saying anything. They were all just sitting there, trying not to go insane with fear.

  The three women, Carly, Hannah and Jory, all looked up at Des apprehensively as she and Spence came in the door. Des felt as if she’d just barged into a hospital waiting room with word of whether the patient’s cancer had spread or not.

  “Jory, I’m going to need to ask you a few more questions,” she said, flashing her a reassuring smile. “I have to clarify some things.”

  “Anything I can do to help, Des.” Jory glanced uncertainly over at Spence, whose own eyes were glued to the carpet. “When would you like to do it?”

  “Right now, if you don’t mind.”

  “Sure thing.” Jory collected the empty sandwich platter and started for the door with it. “Are you hungry, Spence?”

  “I sure am,” he replied, moving over toward the bar.

  “I can make some
more sandwiches, if you’d like.” Jory’s eyes lingered on him.

  “That would be great,” he said, stubbornly refusing to look at her.

  Jory stuck out her bulldog chin and headed for the kitchen. Des followed her, noticing that Jory was one of those women who had two walks—wiggly for when a man was walking behind her, plain vanilla for when a woman was.

  There was a loaf of sliced whole wheat bread on the kitchen table, which was crowded with sandwich fixings—a big hunk of baked ham, a wedge of Swiss cheese, sliced radishes, tomatoes, lettuce, pickles, jars of mayonnaise and mustard. Jory went right to work on the ham with a carving knife, shaving off thin slice after thin slice, her movements practiced and skilled.

  “It’s funny, I was so afraid to open the refrigerator this morning,” she chattered at Des as she worked. “I didn’t want all of the food in there to spoil. But it finally dawned on me that it’s the same temperature out here as it is in there—so what’s the difference, right?”

  The girl was definitely running at the mouth, Des observed, taking a seat at the table. Major ill at ease.

  “So how can I help you, Des?” she rattled on, slathering four slices of bread with mayo and mustard. “What else can I tell you?”

  “Why you lied to me,” Des replied quietly.

  “When did I do that?”

  “You told me you never left your cottage last night. We both know that’s not true. You were in Spence’s room.”

  Jory blushed, her round cheeks mottling. “I suppose he bragged to you all about his great big conquest.”

  “Actually, he was very reluctant to give it up. I had to squeeze it out of him.”

  “How did you manage that?”

  “By threatening to take him in for questioning.”

  “That would do it, all right.” Jory finished making two ham and cheese sandwiches, passed one over to Des and immediately started building two more. She offered her nothing in the way of information. Not a word.

  “Jory, I’ve got three deaths to account for,” Des said, attacking her sandwich. She’d eaten nothing all day, and was famished. “I could care less about you and Spence keeping each other warm in his room last night. But I need the real deal from you. Why you lied to me. What else you didn’t tell me. And I need it right now.”