Always Time To Die sk-1

by Elizabeth Lowell

  "My mother, Maria, had two living children." Winifred bent Sylvia's frail arm to a four-count beat and held the position. "Sylvia was Maria's first child. I was her last. There were two miscarriages and a stillbirth between us."

  Before Carly could ask a question, there was a knock on the door. Josh walked into the suite without waiting for permission to enter. The expression on his face reminded Carly of how she'd felt when Winifred had first opened the pot of vile-smelling cream and gone to work on her sister. Carly's nose had finally stopped noticing. Josh wasn't that lucky.

  "God, what a stink," he said through his teeth.

  Winifred ignored him.

  "Good morning, Governor Quintrell," Carly said quickly, getting to her feet.

  "Family photos?" Josh said, glancing at the various stacks.

  "Yes. Miss Winifred has been-"

  "Airing all the dirty laundry," he cut in. "It's what she does best."

  "What do you want?" Winifred asked. "I'm busy."

  Josh glanced at the pale, slack flesh held between her dark hands. "My wife, son, and I are leaving this afternoon."

  Carly thought she heard Winifred say "Hallelujah" under her breath.

  "I take it that you're going through with your so-called family history project," Josh said, gesturing to the photos.

  Winifred focused on him with hard, dark eyes. "You take it right."

  The skin on Josh's face tightened. "You can't delay even a few months?"

  "I'm in my late seventies. The Senator's finally dead. I'm through waiting."

  Carly eased toward the door. She'd write about the quarrels of the dead and the living, but she'd really rather not have a front-row seat to the harangue.

  "Excuse me," she murmured.

  "Stay where you are," Josh said.

  Carly froze more at his curt tone than at the order itself.

  "My aunt won't listen to reason," Josh said to Carly. "For your sake, I hope you will."

  She looked up at Josh and saw the Senator all over again in the ice blue of his son's eyes and the hard, impatient line of his mouth. This was a man accustomed to power. To getting his way.

  "I don't know what you mean, sir," she said evenly.

  "Turn off your recorder."

  Her eyes widened and her hand went to her waist in a protective motion.

  "Please," Josh said.

  She prayed that the governor didn't know anything about her high-tech machine. Her thumb depressed the pause button. The status lights flickered and went on standby.

  In five seconds the recorder would come back on.

  "It will come as no news that I'm running for president," Josh said,

  "but until I make a public announcement, I don't want a recording of my intent."

  Carly relaxed. "I understand. I won't say anything. And congratulations, sir. It's an honor to be chosen by your party for the highest office in the land."

  He smiled automatically. "Thank you. I haven't been chosen yet, but I'm confident I will be."

  Winifred dipped more salve and began working the smelly stuff into Sylvia's other arm. Despite the new voice in the room, she lay slack, unresponsive. Her blank eyes gazed out over the shimmering mystery of the swimming pool.

  "The next months will be difficult for me and my family," Josh said, holding Carly's gaze. "The other side will be looking for every bit of dirt it can find to smear me with."

  She nodded. Mudslinging was the least attractive part of running for public office.

  "Once the primaries and the election are over, it won't matter," Josh said, "but I have too many people depending on me to throw it all away on the whim of a spiteful spinster."

  With an effort Carly kept herself from looking at Winifred.

  "My aunt refuses to delay publication of her so-called family history until after the election," Josh said.

  This time Carly did glance at Winifred, who was working in salve without pause, as though the conversation had nothing to do with her.

  "Isn't that correct, Aunt Winifred?" Josh asked.

  "Yes." The old woman's voice was as curt as his. "Carly said it will be ready by April. There's nothing you can do to stop me." Winifred looked up. Shadows made her face more angular than usual, and her eyes very black. "I made a will and Carly's pay is in it. So even if I die before my next breath, the Castillo family history will be written and published."

  Josh made an impatient gesture. "Dramatic as always." He turned back to Carly. "If you use anything about the Senator, me, my wife, or my son that isn't available from public records or approved of in writing by me, my lawyers will make your life a living hell."

  Shocked, Carly backed up a step.

  "I see you understand," he said. "I can't stop you from writing a pack of lies, but I can stop you from making it available to my enemies. And I will."

  Josh left as suddenly as he had come. The door closed firmly behind him.

  Winifred capped the salve with a decisive motion. "You're right."

  Carly blinked. "Excuse me?"

  "We need more than Castillo women. I'll make up a list of names."

  "Names?"

  "Of the Senator's local women. Some of their kids might be the governor's kin. We couldn't leave them out of the family history, could we? Wouldn't be right." Winifred's eyes were as black and empty as the night.

  Carly looked at her employer and wondered what she'd gotten herself into.

  Get out of Taos or you'll be the one screaming.

  Chapter 18

  TAOS

  TUESDAY AFTERNOON

  DAN PUT ANOTHER SHEET ON THE GLASS BED OF THE SCANNER, PUNCHED THE BUTTON, and waited for the machine to do its magic. From overhead came the sounds of paper being delivered or supplies being moved. Cold air settled down the stairway; the cellar door had been opened to remind the employees working on the first floor that there was a big hole next to the door. The chill made his leg ache.

  He knew he should just forget about getting anything useful done and go back to his rental to read the latest dispatches from the geopolitical train wreck. His body, not his brain, was on medical leave. His boss was waiting for an assessment on the political situation in Colombia, where drug money had transformed some warlords into politicians and financed private armies. Colombia wasn't the only nation lurching closer to becoming a failed state, which was a polite description of the kind of anarchy that meant rape, murder, disease, and ruin for anyone who couldn't get out.

  It had happened before. It would happen again. Bang-bang and skeletal babies for the TV minicams, the roll call of global disasters that fed the public's "right to know."

  So what else is new?

  The scanner flashed and transformed another piece of the past into electrons sandwiched between microscopically thin slices of silicon.

  I really should get back to work.

  Yet the thought of the small adobe house, its leaky plumbing, and its relentless stream of documents to be digested, annotated, and directed to somebody who cared didn't appeal to Dan. But then, nothing did. He'd awakened restless, irritated, and out of sorts. An hour of rehab exercises hadn't made a dent in his bad temper. Neither had ten miles of jogging and walking.

  He saw Carly in every bit of sunlight, heard her laughter in the breeze, and ached every step of the way. It pissed him off almost as much as it worried him.

  "I'm too old for wet dreams," he muttered, turning the paper sideways.

  "Excuse me?"

  Dan whipped around, his whole body poised, ready to fight or flee. "Now who's sneaking up?"

  Carly froze at the foot of the stairs and told herself she wouldn't back up no matter how fierce Dan looked. "Sorry. The door up there was open because they needed paper and Gus told me you were in the archives so I thought it would be all right if I went through more microfilm."

  Dan sorted through the tumble of words. "Go ahead. Is Winifred feeling better?"

  "I guess so."

  "Haven't you seen her today?"

/>   "Yes. This morning." Carly hesitated. She wanted to talk to someone about Governor Quintrell's threat-promise, actually-but didn't know if Dan was the one.

  Then there was the phone call. She didn't want to talk about that. Her stomach pitched even thinking about it.

  "What's wrong?" Dan said, coming toward her quickly. "Another dead rat?"

  "What? Oh. Um, no, not exactly." A screaming phone call isn't a dead rat, is it?

  "How close to exactly was it?" he asked.

  She grimaced. "Someone called in the middle of the night."

  Dan went still. "And?"

  "Breathing, screaming, sobbing, and an invitation to get out of town before I joined the chorus."

  "Not good. Male or female?"

  She shrugged. "Whispers and screams and sobs aren't real gender-specific."

  "Why didn't you call me?"

  "To whisper, sob, and scream?" Her smile was as pale as her skin. She didn't like remembering the screams. She really didn't like to think about what might have caused them.

  "That room doesn't have a lock on it," he said grimly. "You should have called."

  "I shoved a chair under the door."

  He let out a breath. "Well, you aren't entirely naive."

  "Gee, thanks, but if getting used to threats and gory rats passes for sophistication in your circles, then I'll be as naive as I can for as long as I can."

  He smiled slightly and touched the strand of hair she was winding around her index finger. "Did you get the number of your admirer?"

  She let go of her hair as if it had burned her. "Automatically recording an incoming number isn't on that phone's agenda. It doesn't even have numbers on it. Incoming calls only."

  He shook his head. "Keep your cell phone handy."

  "I always do." Her hand crept back up to the strand of hair and started winding it again.

  "What else happened?"

  She blinked. "Am I that transparent?"

  Dan didn't want a conversation about how he arrived at conclusions when other people were still wondering what hit them, so he just waited.

  "Can you think of any reason Governor Quintrell wouldn't want a family history published?" Carly asked after a few moments.

  Dan laughed without humor. "Oh, yeah. I can think of a few beauts."

  "Are we talking statute of limitations here, legal issues?"

  "Best estimate? Yes."

  "The Senator?"

  "His life was a scandalmonger's dream, but that's old news. He's dead."

  "That's what I was wondering," she admitted. "You can't, uh, slander or libel a dead man, can you? Even a public figure?"

  "Nope. Especially a public figure."

  "What about a living public figure?"

  "That's a lot trickier."

  "I was afraid of that. Well, damn."

  Dan waited for Carly to tell him what was wrong. Instead, she stopped twisting the strand of hair, went to the microfilm files, selected a roll, and walked to the reader. As much as he enjoyed watching the sway of her denim-clad hips beneath the hem of her Chimayo jacket, he'd rather she kept talking.

  He knew trouble was coming down on one Carolina May. He just didn't know what or where or when.

  And sometime during his long, restless night, he'd realized that he wasn't going to let her face it alone. When it started raining shit, he'd be there to help her. He didn't like that fact, but he knew himself well enough to stop struggling and make the best of a situation he'd never asked for.

  The temptation of finally doing some of the things with her that he'd stayed awake thinking about had helped make up his mind to aid her. Or at least sweetened the prospects quite a bit. Which meant a change of tactics was in order.

  "So the governor told you to back off," Dan said.

  Her head snapped up. "How did you know?"

  "Your questions and body language, the combination of anger and worry in those beautiful, smoky gold eyes."

  Carly wondered if her chin hit the desk or if it just felt like it. The words and the caressing tone of his voice shocked her as much as it made her heart beat faster. "Now I know how the stories about alien body-stealing start."

  Dan smiled.

  The contrast between harsh black beard stubble and the beauty of his unexpected grin squeezed her heart. He was his mother's son, with a smile that could light up winter.

  "God, don't do that," Carly said huskily. "I'll drool and embarrass myself."

  "Don't do what?"

  "Smile. You have to know you're gorgeous when you smile."

  The corners of his mouth curved up. "Nobody ever mentioned it before now."

  She shook her head sharply, like she was throwing off cold water. Red stained her cheeks. She fell as much as lowered herself onto a chair. "Right. Pardon me while I sit down and take both feet out of my mouth."

  Dan came over, sat on his heels in front of her, and said, "Need any help?"

  She laughed despite her embarrassment.

  He touched her flushed cheek with a tenderness that made her breath fill her throat.

  "It's okay," he said. "I don't mind knowing that I'm attractive to you. In fact, I like it."

  "Oh, come on," she said, looking at his jade green eyes and the dark thickness of his hair. Her hands itched from wanting to feel that hair between her fingers. As for his mouth.. .no, don V go there. "You have to be used to women tripping you and beating you to the floor."

  He shook his head.

  "Then you must have been living in a monastery," she said.

  "You're going to make me blush."

  "I'll sell tickets," she retorted.

  He smiled again. "I like you, Carolina May." He brushed a kiss over her startled lips. "I like you a lot. Want to see if something comes of it?"

  "You don't waste any time, do you?"

  "No." His smile vanished. "I'm living on borrowed time."

  She was too shocked to speak.

  "We all are," he added. "Most people just don't notice." He took her hands in his. Her fingers were cold. He rubbed them lightly between his palms. "Tell me about Governor Quintrell."

  The warmth of Dan's hands and the intensity in his eyes were another kind of caress. She'd been intrigued by him from the first glance. And it had been way too long since a man made her feel like a woman.

  "The governor." Her voice was too husky. She cleared it. "He doesn't want anything in the family history that he doesn't approve of in writing."

  Dan's musical whistle was as unexpected and alluring as his smile. "Slander, libel, and lawyers?"

  "Yes. And I don't even know the difference between slander and libel."

  "Slander is defaming through speech. Libel is defaming through writing or photos."

  "Are you a lawyer?"

  "Nope. Disappointed?"

  She smiled slightly. "Relieved. The worst date I ever had was a lawyer. The second-worst, too. Do you think Governor Quintrell put that rat on my pillow and then made a threatening call when I didn't bolt?"

  "The call, possibly. You can download all kinds of sound effects from the Net and play them back anywhere, anytime. But the rat…" Slowly Dan shook his head. "I don't think so. I'm not saying the governor isn't mean enough, but people notice him wherever he goes, even at home. He wouldn't risk getting caught with a dead rat in his pocket."

  "He could have had somebody do it for him."

  Dan thought about the bodyguards he'd seen in the kitchen. One of them certainly could have pulled a rat from a live trap, gutted the rat, and dropped it on Carly's pillow. Yet even as he thought about it, he shook his head.

  "Not likely," Dan said.

  "Why?"

  "It would give the errand boy a hold on the governor."

  She thought it over, then nodded. "Pragmatism, not ethics, is that what you're saying?"

  "Politicians are a pragmatic lot. They have to be." Dan stood up, wincing slightly.

  "Your leg," Carly said.

  "Did the governor say anything else to
you?"

  "You know," she said, standing up, staying close to him, pushing his personal space the same way he'd pushed hers, "whatever there is between us won't go far if you keep ignoring simple questions."

  For a moment his eyes were those of a stranger again. Then he muttered something under his breath, sighed, and said, "I did a lot of PT this morning."

  "PT? Physical therapy?"

  "Yes." It could also mean physical training, PT of a very specialized type. But he didn't want to explain that to the little historian who had innocence and female interest simmering in her eyes. "It makes the leg stronger and it hurts like a bitch."

  "Which volcano were you climbing?"

  "The wrong one. Carly, I want to help you."

  She looked like she was going to pursue the subject of where and how he'd been injured. Then the corner of her mouth quirked in a half smile. "Help me, huh? Never heard it called that before."

  He snickered and shook his head. "Damn, but you're getting to me. I thought nothing could, not anymore." Before she could ask what he meant, he kept talking. "What did the governor say to you?"

  "That if I published anything without his permission, his lawyers would make my life a living hell."

  Dan's eyebrows rose. "Just like that?"

  "Yeah. He wasn't feeling warm and fuzzy when he said it. I've got it recorded, if it matters."

  "It might. I'll listen to it while we have dinner."

  "Tonight?" she asked.

  "Sure. Unless you're doing something else?"

  "Going through my notes over cheese and crackers doesn't count as something else."

  "Did Winifred feed you breakfast or lunch?" he asked, remembering the day he'd met Carly, how hungry she'd been.

  "I happen to like cheese and crackers. And peanuts and raisins."

  "Sounds like e-rations. Compact and survives well without refrigeration. Easier, more reliable, and more nourishing than snake."

  "Were you a soldier?"

  "I'm assuming from your presence here in the archives that you're not going to back away from Winifred's history."

  Carly took the change of subject without missing a beat. Around Dan, mental flexibility was required. "I signed a contract. I'll honor it unless and until Miss Winifred tells me to stop."

  He laughed curtly. "Don't hold your breath on that one."