Nine Lives

by Sharon Sala

  Meanwhile, Cat was sitting on the side of the bed with her head reeling. She thought about going into the kitchen and making some coffee, but she feared her stomach was still too upset to tolerate anything but water.

  She thought about what Flannery had said. She knew, if she intended to get anyone in the police department interested in what she had to say about Marsha’s disappearance, she would have to go through Missing Persons, even though it seemed all wrong to her. Still, being pissed wasn’t going to help find Mimi.

  She picked up the receiver and called the police again, and this time she asked to be connected to Missing Persons.

  Adam Bradley was a nineteen-year veteran of the department and was known for his bulldog attitude toward closing cases. Nothing bugged him more than a case going cold without a resolution.

  He’d come to work this morning nursing his bum knee and a toothache. He had an appointment with the dentist later in the day, but for now, he was going through the motions. When his phone rang, he answered with his usual gruff bark.

  “Missing Persons…Bradley.”

  “I need to report a missing person,” Cat said.

  Bradley reached for his pen and pulled a pad of paper closer to the phone.

  “What’s the name?”

  “Marsha Benton.”

  “Address?”

  Cat rattled it off.

  “What does she drive?”

  “A new Silver Lexus. It has a vanity plate that says ALLMINE.”

  “Okay…got it. And what’s your name?” Bradley asked.

  “Cat Dupree.”

  Bradley made a note, trying to figure out why the name was familiar.

  “Why do you think she’s missing? It’s December. Maybe she just went home early for the holidays.”

  Cat felt nauseated and lay back on the mattress to keep from falling out of bed. She didn’t like the sound of this man’s voice any better than she had Flannery’s attitude and almost hung up. But then she thought better of the notion and kept talking.

  “She’s missing because I’m convinced her boss killed her, and she didn’t go anywhere for the holidays because I’m all the family she has.”

  Bradley’s heart thumped, and his pen shifted on the paper.

  “You know for a fact she’s dead?”

  “I haven’t seen the body, if that’s what you’re asking,” she said. “But I had lunch with her the day before she disappeared. She’d been crying. She told me she’d been having an affair with her boss, and she was pregnant. He wanted her to get rid of the baby. She wouldn’t…couldn’t. She said—and these were her words—he’d said something to her about ‘six feet under.’ I spoke to her the next day. He’d fired her. She was on her way to an appointment with an obstetrician, then she was coming to my house. She never showed up. She never called.”

  Bradley was writing as fast as Cat was talking.

  “Where did she work?” he asked.

  “Presley Implement and Machines.”

  “Who is this boss she’s having the affair with?”

  “Mark Presley.”

  Bradley voice rose an octave.

  “The owner?”

  “Yes.”

  There was a long moment of silence. Cat could hear the sound of pen scratching on paper.

  “Detective…are you still there?”

  “Yeah. I’m here. Just finishing up some notes. Here’s the deal. I have to verify your statements regarding her firing and the relationship she supposedly had with her boss.”

  “But you’re going to take this seriously…right?”

  Bradley frowned. “I take everything seriously, ma’am. You need to come down to headquarters and sign the complaint.”

  “I’m in bed. I have a fever, and I’ve been throwing up.”

  Bradley didn’t want the exposure.

  “I’ll be in touch.”

  Cat rolled over, replaced the receiver on the cradle and then staggered into the bathroom. She managed to stay upright long enough to shower. She came out later, weak and shaking. Whatever bug she had was still lingering, so she popped a couple of pills for fever and crawled back in bed. Within minutes she was asleep again. She dreamed, but not about Mimi or the attack that killed her father. This time she dreamed about a pirate with a gold hoop in his ear and a devilish smile, who stole kisses when no one was looking.

  After a half dozen phone calls, Bradley knew that Marsha Benton, who’d once been Mark Presley’s personal secretary, had, indeed, been fired. He also knew that the manager at her apartment hadn’t seen her in several days, which was unusual because her apartment was directly above his, and he always knew when she was home.

  He’d run a make on her car and found a report that a car matching the description of hers had been found abandoned on a Fort Worth bypass. It had been stripped of everything, including the tag, but he was running the VIN number he’d gotten from the DMV to see if it matched the one on the wrecked vehicle. It changed nothing other than adding a new supposition to why Marsha Benton wasn’t where she belonged. Maybe the car had quit on her and she’d been abducted, and her troubles with Mark Presley were nothing more than coincidence.

  Still, Bradley wasn’t a man who jumped to easy conclusions just to close a case, and he had taken Cat Dupree’s claim of an affair and pregnancy just as seriously as the discovery of Benton’s car. In his experience, people had killed for less.

  He’d tried to get in touch with Mark Presley at the company, only to be told that Mr. Presley was not at the office and was, in fact, planning to leave the state for the holidays.

  No big deal. If Presley wasn’t available at the office, he would just have to be available at home. He got his notebook, his overcoat, a to-go cup of coffee, and headed for the parking lot. It was time to pay a visit to Mr. Presley.

  Mark Presley was packing when the maid came to tell him there were detectives from the Dallas police department downstairs.

  Penny came racing out of the bathroom, naked except for a pair of bikini panties. Her hair was wrapped up in a towel, and her face was covered with a mint facial mask. When she saw the maid was still in the room, she shrieked.

  “Get out! Get out!”

  The maid dashed out as Penny turned on Mark and nailed him with a look.

  “Detectives! Why would detectives want to talk to you?”

  Mark stifled a curse. Penny had a tendency to scream at the least little thing.

  “Honey…I have no idea. Go ahead with your facial. I’ll be right back.”

  “But what if—”

  He walked out before Penny went ballistic.

  His stride was unhurried, his shoulders back, his chin up. He showed no fear because he had no fear. Whatever the police had to say, he was ready for them.

  Detective Bradley and his partner, Ed Frost, were waiting in the foyer of the Presley mansion. There were empty chairs visible through the door that led into the library, but they hadn’t been invited in any farther than where they were standing. The opulence of the place was obvious. Amber-veined marble formed the newel posts of the winding staircase that led to the upper stories, while matching tiles of the same marble covered the floor in the entryway.

  A massive chandelier hung from a large gilded chain about halfway down from the eighteen foot ceiling. The scent of warm spices wafted through the air, giving visitors the impression that fresh cookies and warm wassail awaited. From where Bradley and Frost were standing, they could see into three large rooms and in each room stood a fully decorated Christmas tree, each with its own theme.

  Ed pointed to the tree in the far corner of the room on their right.

  “Would you look at that?” he muttered. “That’s a ten-footer if it’s an inch.”

  Bradley nodded. “Yeah, and look at those gold-colored ornaments.”

  Ed snorted softly. “In this house, they’re most likely real.”

  Bradley eyed them curiously, then elbowed Ed as Presley appeared at the top of the stairs.

&
nbsp; Ed straightened up and resumed his business face, as did Bradley, and waited for Presley to grace them with his presence.

  Mark Presley had not had his decisions questioned for years, and his demeanor showed it. He descended the stairs with the behavior of a royal. He was a long way from the mechanic’s kid who missed out on his childhood dreams. He’d set new goals for himself and surpassed them a dozen times over, and still it wasn’t enough. It would never be enough. And these detectives were crazy if they thought they were going to take him away from all he’d created.

  As soon as his foot hit the last stair and not before, he acknowledged their presence with a nod.

  “Gentlemen, please come with me. We’ll have our conversation in the library. There’s a nice fire in the fireplace that will offset the discomfort of the weather today.”

  Bradley and Frost followed.

  Mark walked all the way to the fireplace, then turned abruptly, placing one hand on the mantel and gesturing toward the sofa with the other.

  “Please. Have a seat. Can I get you something to drink? Coffee? Tea?”

  “No, thank you,” Bradley said, and pulled a notebook from an inside pocket of his coat as he sat. “Mr. Presley, we’ll get straight to the point. We’re investigating the disappearance of Marsha Benton. We understand she—”

  Mark interrupted quickly, letting surprise color his expression.

  “Marsha is missing? That’s terrible! I hadn’t heard.”

  Bradley frowned.

  “As I was saying…we understand she’d been working for you for several years and that you’d recently fired her. Is this true?”

  Mark never broke eye contact.

  “Yes. She’d been with me for years. I hated to lose her.”

  Frost spoke up next.

  “Then why is she no longer working for you? We’ve been told she was fired.”

  Mark took his hand from the mantel and moved to a large easy chair opposite the sofa. When he sat down, he leaned forward, elbows on his knees. The gesture was open and inviting, as he meant it to be.

  “That’s true. I did fire her.” Then he glanced up at the doorway, as if making sure they were still alone, and slightly lowered his voice, making their conversation even more intimate. “It was a shock, to say the least. She’d been with me for…oh…I don’t know…going on nine years, I think. Absolutely priceless when it came to organization. Always on top of everything concerning my work and travel. She’s going to be hard to replace.”

  “So if she’s so great, why replace her?” Bradley asked.

  Mark’s voice softened yet again.

  “It was a shock, and embarrassing, I tell you. Completely blindsided me.”

  “What did?” Bradley asked.

  Mark grimaced slightly. “We were working late last week, and out of the blue she began coming on to me. At first I thought she was kidding, although that kind of humor was definitely out of place, but she persisted.”

  “I told her I was flattered, but that my wife and my marriage meant everything to me, and that I wasn’t interested.”

  Bradley stifled a snort. He’d already researched enough of Presley’s background to know he was anything but faithful to his wife. Still, that wasn’t proof of any kind of crime.

  “How did she take that?” Bradley asked.

  Mark shook his head, as if in concern.

  “She was upset…started crying and saying that she’d loved me for years and couldn’t stay quiet about it any longer. At that point I suggested that perhaps she would be happier working at one of the other corporate offices.”

  “And…?”

  Mark acknowledged Frost’s interruption.

  “And she would have none of it. She began to disrobe, which shocked me. I told her to get her things and get out, that she was no longer needed in my company.”

  “So she offered you a freebie and you fired her?”

  Mark frowned. The detective was doing little to disguise his sarcasm. He stood up. “I don’t like your tone.”

  Bradley stood up as well. “Yeah, and it’s been years since I believed in fairy tales. All fantasies aside, when was the last time you saw Miss Benton?”

  “Three days ago, when I let her go,” Mark said.

  “What do you have to say about the fact that there are claims she was pregnant with your child?”

  It was to Mark’s credit that the shaft of panic he felt didn’t show. How in the hell had they come by that bit of information?

  He stood his ground and tempered his urge to scream at them.

  “I am not even going to give that gossip the dignity of an answer.”

  Bradley pressed the issue by rephrasing it. “So your answer is…it’s not true?”

  Mark lifted his chin and glared at both men.

  “I think we’re finished here. If you have any other questions about this unfortunate matter, you will ask them through my lawyers, Walters, Walters and Hale.”

  Frost arched an eyebrow as he made a note. It figured that Presley would have the biggest law firm in the state on retainer.

  Bradley was a big man in every way. Tall, heavyset, and with a big mouth, to boot. He shut his notebook and dropped it back into his pocket, then moved until he was standing about a foot away from Presley, well aware that he towered over the man.

  “If we have any other questions for you, you have the freedom to have your attorney present, but if need be, you will be the one answering.”

  At that moment Bradley could tell he had made an enemy. If there was ever a way that Presley could bring him down, he would do it.

  Mark tilted his head sideways, as if deflecting the warning.

  “See yourselves out. I have no more time for this. My wife and I are spending Christmas in Tahoe, and I need to finish packing.”

  “Leave a number with your lawyer as to where you can be reached…just in case,” Bradley ordered, then turned his back on Presley and nodded to his partner, and they both walked out without a backward look.

  Mark was furious. This wasn’t happening. Not to him.

  He grabbed the telephone and called Ken Walters, his lawyer, who was, to Mark’s dismay, in court and unavailable.

  “You tell him to call me the moment he gets out,” he said, then hung up just as Penny entered the library.

  “What’s been happening? Why were the police here? What did they want to talk to you about?”

  He figured the more truth he told, the less likely it would come back and bite him in the ass.

  “Marsha Benton is missing. They wanted to know when I’d seen her last.”

  Penny’s mouth dropped. She liked Marsha.

  “Oh no! How awful! Why didn’t you tell me she was missing?”

  “Because I didn’t know it,” he said.

  “But…wasn’t she at work today?”

  “No.”

  “And you didn’t think that was strange?” Penny said.

  “No.”

  “Why on earth not? I can’t remember her ever missing a day.”

  “I didn’t think it was strange because, a couple of days ago, I fired her.”

  Penny actually paled. “Why on earth? She was invaluable to the company and a—”

  “She acted inappropriately toward me. I offered her a chance to work at one of the corporate offices in another state. She declined. I fired her. End of story.”

  A dark flush swept up Penny’s neck and onto her face. “I don’t believe it!”

  “Believe it or not, it’s what happened,” Mark said, then folded his arms and glared at his wife. “I have to say, I am more than a little shocked that you have so little faith in my word. I would hardly make something like this up. It was embarrassing enough without you calling me a liar. What on earth would I gain by admitting that an employee was infatuated with me?”

  Penny saw the anger in Mark’s eyes and knew she’d stepped over a line. Still, there was a part of her that found it difficult to believe Marsha Benton would do something so ou
trageous. She’d always been the epitome of professional. And, while Mark didn’t know it, she was well aware of his indiscretions.

  “Yes, well…I’m sorry to hear she’s missing. I sincerely hope she’s all right and hasn’t met with some kind of accident.”

  Mark shrugged. “Accidents happen every day. Now, are we going to Tahoe or not?”

  “Yes, we’re going,” Penny said.

  “Are you finished packing?”

  “No.”

  “Then I suggest you get to it. I have the corporate jet scheduled for early afternoon take-off. I want to get there before dark.”

  “All right. I won’t be long,” Penny said, and started for the stairs. Then she paused in the doorway and looked back. “Are you coming?”

  Mark stuffed his hands in his pockets, jingled his change in frustration, then followed his wife up the stairs.

  Unaware of Mark Presley’s plans, Cat was making plans of her own, but first, she had to get well. It was another day before she could get out of bed or tolerate anything in her stomach that wasn’t liquid. When she woke up the next morning and the bed wasn’t spinning, she showered, then headed for the kitchen.

  She made coffee without conscious thought, going through the motions and hoping she could hold it down. She got cream from the fridge, sniffing it cautiously to make sure it hadn’t gone bad, then set it on the table and reached for a spoon.

  She stirred her coffee, then began picking up some of the clutter that had accumulated during the time she’d been sick. She added to the pile of the newspapers on the counter, along with several days’ worth of mail, which scattered, completely covered her answering machine. It wasn’t until she began sorting through the mail that she saw the red blinking light indicating waiting messages.

  Frowning, she punched the button. There was one from her dentist, reminding her of an appointment that she’d missed while she was sick. There was someone who’d hung up without leaving a message, and one from Art, then silence. She was about to delete them all when she realized there was one more, someone taking his own sweet time before talking.

  She reached for her coffee and took a slow sip, waiting for it to hit her stomach. When it didn’t come up, she tried another sip, then another, and finally she began to feel human, alert enough to realize the message was playing, and she was hearing noise, but no voice.