Alex looked at each sketch again in turn. Then she looked at Mark. And Elizabeth. And a light went on in her head. She’d heard Mark and Elizabeth arguing, but she hadn’t processed their words, not until just now.
She and Nick had been standing together, viewing the sketches that had been expertly framed under her supervision. She’d looked at them until they’d made her dizzy, but she’d never really seen the pieces lined up in a sequence. Had she seen them presented this way, she might have noticed a pattern.
Seeing the sketches on the wall side by side, everything suddenly became clear. The pieces of the puzzle finally fit together as her life began to fall apart.
Pacing up and down the gallery, reinspecting each sketch, Alex began to see what she hadn’t wanted to see all along. Nick’s eyes met hers the exact moment she made the connection. The moment when she’d seen what he’d apparently been trying to show her for months now, what he couldn’t bring himself to tell her in person, the portrait of a husband’s betrayal.
The man in the sketches was Mark, the woman Elizabeth Diamond. She’d been blindsided and blind where her husband was concerned. The collection on the gallery walls revealed their torrid affair, down to Mark’s well-defined naked body, Elizabeth’s dangerous curves, and the last flawless baguette in the diamond bracelet Mark had bought for his mistress, not for his wife’s birthday. The bastard. His actions for the past five months now made sense. Well, she was done making excuses for his bad behavior.
She turned to look at Mark, a monster she didn’t even recognize anymore. He was still standing with Elizabeth. The truth hit her like a freight train. She wobbled on her new sparkly silver heels and would have fallen if Nick’s powerful arms hadn’t steadied her.
Alex felt the sickness come on fast. She broke away from Nick, ran into the restroom, closed the stall, and retched violently into the toilet. How long had Elizabeth known? From the very beginning, she guessed. No wonder she’d been so smug and quick to accept the sketches. She’d recognized herself and Mark as the subjects. It was all a big joke to her.
Had Mark known too? Were they really so heartless they could flaunt their sordid relationship right in front of her and in front of all these decent people? Still shaking, Alex walked back into the gallery, to Nick.
“I have to get out of here,” Alex managed.
“Let me take you,” Nick offered.
Her eyes, fixed like daggers on her husband, caused Mark to look up. When he saw her expression, he froze. Alex looked over at Elizabeth, back to Mark, and let them know she knew.
Elizabeth turned to Alex, raised a glass, and nodded in confirmation in a to-the-victor smile, her diamond bracelet sparkling on her wrist, her eyes gazing up at Mark. It was her sultry look, the smile on her lips, and the possessive way she looked at the man by her side that told Alex everything.
She hadn’t realized Mark even knew Elizabeth. That explained all the early morning meetings, the late nights, the receipt for the diamond bracelet that had represented so much hope for her about their marriage. False hope.
If he’d bought his mistress the bracelet, maybe he’d paid for her breast implants, too. Elizabeth had it all—her husband, her diamond bracelet, and great boobs. All this time, Alex had been worried about big-breasted Olgas, when Mark obviously preferred his women sleek and smooth, young and beautiful, arrogant and calculating.
Alex was having a meltdown. She laughed hysterically. If she weren’t in public, she would have grabbed her own breasts and taken their measure. What was wrong with them? True, she had been shortchanged in the breast department, but Mark had always said good things came in small packages.
“Alex, are you all right?” There was genuine concern in Nick’s voice as he put his arm around her protectively.
“No, I’m furious. Maybe a little in shock. I’ve got to get out of here. Nick, please take me out of here right now.”
“I could kill your husband for hurting you,” Nick said angrily, reacting to Alex’s devastated face. Several patrons registered alarm as they overheard Nick’s threatening words.
Elizabeth was enjoying the spectacle. She saw Alex and Nick heading for the door. She had to do something to keep Nick there. She had one more card to play. She stepped to the microphone on the makeshift podium. “I’m Elizabeth Diamond, owner of the Diamond Gallery on the Beach, and I want to thank you all for coming. As the program for the benefit and the sales for tonight’s art opening have indicated, Dominick Anselmo may have disappeared for a while from the art scene, but his talent hasn’t. Dominick, would you come up here? We have a surprise for you.”
Nick and Alex froze in place. Nick looked at Alex with a puzzled expression.
“You’d better stay and hear what she has to say.” Alex paled. “Go ahead, I’ll be fine.”
She coaxed an unwilling Nick toward the podium. Alex had looked forward to this moment for a long time, to the surprise she had planned for Nick, but her heart was no longer in it.
“I want to welcome you all to the private showing and sale of Dominick Anselmo’s latest masterpieces,” said Elizabeth. “Dominick Anselmo is finally back where he belongs. And I hope he’ll be happy to know that the bulk of the proceeds from the ticket sales and monies raised tonight will benefit a new shelter, a rehabilitation and health building in Jacksonville Beach—the Samantha Bennett-Anselmo Residential Center, to be named in honor of the artist’s beloved late wife—who tragically lost her battle to ovarian cancer only three years ago.”
The gallery erupted in applause.
Nick looked at Alex, and his teary eyes asked a silent question. Alex nodded. And that one look told her everything. She’d made the right decision. All the treachery, all the deceit had been worth it in the end. She would just have to learn to live with herself and without Mark. And Nick, who would probably never speak to her again.
“Nick, won’t you join me at the podium and accept this check on behalf of myself and the Diamond Gallery on the Beach as the first installment for the new project? I hope this will be the beginning of a lasting relationship with the Diamond Gallery and the local, regional, and national art community. Maybe I can even convince you to become our artist in residence.”
Alex choked. What Elizabeth didn’t know was that Nick didn’t even have a residence. Or did she? Was that remark a veiled reference to Nick’s current living arrangements? Maybe she’d let him move into the gallery. Definitely not. If she’d discovered Nick Anselmo was homeless, she wouldn’t have given him a chance.
She glared at Elizabeth. How could that venomous woman take all the credit when it had been Alex’s idea to donate proceeds for the new building? One hundred percent of Alex’s share was going toward construction of the new residential center. Now that Nick knew about the shelter, she was sure he would donate his share of the profits to the project. Elizabeth wasn’t putting up one cent of her own profits. Well, credit wasn’t important. Nick’s reaction to the announcement was.
When he’d first discovered she’d displayed his sketches at the gallery, he’d been angry. Now she knew why. He had been trying to protect her. But in this case, the end justified the means. When Nick looked down at the amount of the check, he was overwhelmed.
“Thank you,” Nick said, hugging the podium, and hesitating while he collected his thoughts. In the old days, you couldn’t have dragged Nick Anselmo away from a microphone. He had been the life of the party.
Today, he was uncomfortable in his suit, uncomfortable in his skin, and uncomfortable in the spotlight. He didn’t wear his fame well.
“Only one other person in this room knew my wife,” he began reverently, his eyes fixed on Alex, holding her gaze like he was clinging to a life raft. “I wish you all could have known her. She had a heart as big and open as the sky. There wasn’t anything she wouldn’t do for you. When she walked into a room, the world got a little brighter. And when she looked at you, well, she made you feel like the most special person in the world. When she left this earth, i
t was the darkest day in my life.”
Alex thought Nick was going to break down, but he kept talking.
“Sam would have loved this tribute. She would have been touched and proud and humbled by it. And so am I. She knew suffering, and she understood when others suffered. I am honored and thrilled to be here, and I appreciate your confidence in me. I thank you for purchasing my work and for your generous donations to this worthy project. I never intended for these works to be displayed, but this has turned out to be the show of my life. Thank you. And a special thanks to Alexandra Newborn for making it all happen. Please take the time to view her work, which is also on display here. She is a very promising new talent, worthy of your notice.”
Elizabeth bristled at the obvious snub, but she joined Nick at the podium and thanked everyone, promising the audience they could look forward to more Nick Anselmo events in the future, and that Nick’s work would remain on display in the gallery for the next month.
Nick stepped away from the microphone. Patrons crowded around him, engulfing him. Everyone wanted to talk to the man of the hour, to touch him, to find out what else he was working on, and learn more about his next career move. Cameras flashed, reporters followed him, and women fawned over him as he pushed through the throng and edged toward Alex, who almost ran out of the gallery.
Chapter Seventeen
Day of Reckoning
With sickening clarity, Mark realized what was going on. It was the first time he’d seen the sketches, but he realized evidence of his infidelity was plastered across the walls of the Diamond Gallery. Thanks to the large press turnout, photos of these sketches would be released all over the world. Eventually, his children would see them—as if he weren’t feeling bad enough already.
He could kill that lawn man, or pseudo-painter, or whatever he was. He would kill the man for humiliating him in public and for causing Alex pain. What was his game? And what was he to Alex? At the moment, he wasn’t too happy that Bitsy was rubbing his wife’s nose in his treachery.
When he first learned the location of the gallery opening, he’d panicked. Alexandra and Bitsy in the same room was his worst nightmare. He wasn’t even aware they’d met. He’d gone to Bitsy’s to try to stop it, to warn her, hoping to head off disaster at the pass.
But after an argument, he and Bitsy had succumbed to their passion—like they always did—and ended up in bed together—well, on the couch. He was addicted to her; she was hard to resist. Each day he craved her more. It wasn’t love exactly; it was more like lust, excitement, danger, a ritual where he lost himself in her body because she offered a way to forget all that was wrong in his life.
He’d lost his job, and he’d had to borrow from the girls’ college fund to feed his sexual fantasies and keep Bitsy interested. He knew Alex would never forgive him for any of it if she ever found out. Now his day of reckoning was at hand. He spent less and less time at home with his wife and daughters. He was ashamed of his behavior, but he couldn’t help himself. Bitsy did things to him that would make his wife blush.
But he hadn’t realized the extent of Bitsy’s manipulation. By the time he’d turned away from his argument with Bitsy to find his wife, she had already left the gallery. Nick Anselmo was gone, too. Somehow, everything was spiraling out of control. He was determined to end this sick obsession with Bitsy once and for all, tonight, and then try his damnedest to get his wife and his life back.
Chapter Eighteen
A Gathering Storm
Nick raced after Alex and grabbed her hand, insisting she let him drive back to the soup kitchen, which was right down the street.
“We need the keys to this car,” he ordered the valet, fishing the ticket and two dollars from Alex’s slim glittery handbag. He was embarrassed he didn’t even have the money to tip the valet. Nick hung on to Alex as she tried to struggle out of his grasp while the valet fought the rain to get to the wall of keys.
The storm that had been heading northwest, away from Jacksonville, must have taken a sudden turn. It was brutal outside. The turbulence in the atmosphere matched Alex’s mood perfectly.
As the valet tossed the keys to Nick, Alex broke free and started running toward the beach. Tree limbs were flying, and glass had shattered in storefronts. Lighted signs became dangerous projectiles smashing into buildings. It wasn’t safe for anyone to be out on the streets. He needed to protect Alex. It was his fault she was out in the first place.
Nick grabbed Alex around the waist and lifted her into the passenger side of the car.
“You’re not going anywhere without me,” he demanded, rounding to the driver’s side.
****
The rain was coming down in torrents now, soaking Alex’s new blue silk dress and her $300 shoes. She wished she’d worn a raincoat and thought to loan Nick one of Mark’s overcoats. Her umbrella had turned inside out, useless in this wind.
She allowed Nick to drive her car because she was in no condition to, for a number of reasons. She was drunk and distraught and no longer thinking straight. Nick drove a few blocks and parked the car in the soup kitchen parking lot. She stumbled out and promptly threw up again. Nick held her hair while the convulsions racked her body. She leaned her head back and drank in the rain to rinse out her mouth.
Excusing himself for a minute, he went inside the soup kitchen to get her some wet paper towels and tried to clean her up. She pushed him away.
“They’re closing for the night, advising everyone to evacuate to the shelter in the city,” Nick said.
“Then you’d better get going.”
“I’m not leaving you like this,” Nick insisted. “You should get away from the beach and drive across the bridge while it’s still open. Go into town.”
“What about you? Where will you go?”
“Don’t worry about me. I know all the safe places to stay. I’m more concerned about you.”
“I’ll be fine.”
“You don’t look so good.”
“Thanks.” She laughed as she wiped her mouth. She didn’t feel so good either.
Nick held her for a minute until the lights at the soup kitchen blinked out one by one, leaving the night darker and more frightening than ever. There was nothing to light the way now but the moon and the stars, which were barely visible through the threatening clouds.
She looked up into Nick’s eyes. He really was a beautiful man. Overcome by the effects of the Champagne, she wanted to kiss him. She wanted him to keep holding her. She loved the feel of his arms around her, the way he made her feel protected and safe.
But then all the anger at her husband and his tramp came flooding back. Alex pulled away from Nick and walked from the shelter toward the beach. Nick stayed close behind, trailing her like a shadow.
Canceling the city fireworks display hadn’t stopped the local kids on the beach from putting on their own spectacular show. The last of the Fourth of July revelers had long since turned in, their spent fireworks scattered on the sand. An orchestra of crickets reached a crescendo. The music of the night was playing in full force. The surf pounded.
Alex shivered, and Nick wound his arm around her as they walked in silence on the hard sand. He held Alex’s shoes in his other hand, and as they neared the water’s edge, Alex felt the cool sensation of wet sand between her toes. She inhaled the sweet salty air and turned her face up into the blinding rain.
A million thoughts crowded her mind, but she couldn’t give voice to any of them. Nick seemed to read the unspoken jumble.
“I’m sorry, Alex.”
“For what?”
“My sketches. I never meant for anyone but you to see them.”
“Why did you give them to me?”
“I did it for you. I wanted you to find out this way instead of walking in on them one day. They’ve been to your house, inside your bedroom.”
Alex absorbed the news like she’d been struck by a thunderbolt. What if the girls had been home? How could Mark have been so careless and brazen? He’d
taken another woman to their home, into their bed, even when the lawn man was right outside. But to Mark, the lawn man had been invisible, not worthy of his notice.
“There’s no easy way to learn your husband’s cheating on you,” Nick reasoned.
“I guess not.”
“How did you catch them?”
“I do, or rather Reed’s does, Elizabeth’s front lawn, and her beach house is almost next door to the soup kitchen. After we, uh, talked that first morning at your house, and I saw your husband drive away, I noticed his car parked at Elizabeth’s house later that morning and every morning after that. Pretty hard to miss that flashy red sports car. I saw them walking along the beach and dining at the café near the soup kitchen. They went to out-of-the-way places. Places where they would never notice a man like me.”
“Do you think they were in love?” Alex bit her lip and braced for the answer.
“In lust is my guess. Their relationship was hot and heavy, but those kinds of things burn out fast.”
“I don’t think I care if it burns out. I’m so angry I could kill him. I swear, if he were here right now, I would kill the bastard.” And she meant it. “But I’m angrier at myself for being so stupid and clueless, for letting them make a fool of me. I had my suspicions, but I ignored them. How could I let him do this to me, to our children? And how could he sleep with another woman after he’s touched me? That would explain why he hasn’t been interested in sex, at least not with me.” Instantly, she regretted sharing something so personal with Nick.
Nick placed his fingertips on Alex’s lips.
“Don’t talk, and don’t blame yourself, bella.” They continued to walk hand in hand in the sand and the surf, not caring the rain was drenching them. She was hoping the salt spray would wash away all the sins—of Mark the father, of Mark as her lover, of all their holy matrimonial vows.
Alex was inebriated. At this rate, she was going to pass out on the beach and Nick would have to carry her back to the car.
Groundwork for Murder Page 11
