She sighed under her breath. Unfortunately, because Arch was at the ATN bureau with Tony, she could not go over there this morning and start asking leading questions about the news footage transmitted last Wednesday. The questions would have to wait until Arch left for Capri; there was no alternative but to talk to Tony tomorrow.
In the meantime, she now had nothing to do until she met Arch and Tony for lunch, and she felt a sudden surge of frustration, loathing the thought of having to kill time until then.
Rome was a most familiar place to her; she had visited it so many times in the past, and, in any case, she was hardly in the mood to go sightseeing. Besides which, she had done that years ago, and had had the best guide there was—Andrew Wells.
Her father loved Rome in much the same way she loved Paris—he felt a spiritual affinity for it—and so as a child she had seen the Eternal City through his eyes. ‘Rome is the cradle of civilization,’ he had told her when she was twelve, old enough to understand one of his history lessons as they had tramped around the city. He had taken her down the Spanish Steps below their hotel, to the Trevi Fountain, the catacombs, the Borghese Gardens, St Peter’s Church, Vatican City and the Sistine Chapel. There was not much she had been allowed to miss as a child; her father had seen to that on their different visits over the years.
Sometimes, when she returned to places she knew well, she enjoyed visiting old haunts that held a special meaning for her, but not today, not on this trip. The mystery surrounding Charles Devereaux filled her mind, as it had for the past five days, and she recognized this was the way it would be until she arrived at the truth.
Once again letting out a sigh of frustration, Nicky went through into the bathroom to take a shower, deciding as she did that she would buy some shoes after all. Why not turn the white lie into a verity? Her mother had a favourite boutique on the Via Veneto, and she would stop by there before heading over to the ATN bureau.
***
As it turned out, Arch did not ask any questions when she arrived at the bureau at one thirty, carrying a shopping bag of shoes. He merely glanced at it and winked at her.
Tony was as tanned and handsome as ever, and his usual exuberant, affectionate self. After hugging and kissing her, he introduced her to his new secretary, Jennifer Allen, and other members of the staff she had not met before. Then she, Arch and Tony retreated to the latter’s private office to chat and catch up.
Nicky and Tony were old friends from the early days, when she had started at the network and he had been based in New York. Tony and Arch dated back even further than that, to the time they had both been in their first jobs at another network.
‘It’s like old home week,’ Tony said as the three of them trooped out of the office and went around the corner to lunch at Tony’s favourite trattoria. ‘The best in Rome,’ he explained as he ushered them inside. Over drinks they continued to catch up with each other’s news, and lunch was a wonderful, breezy affair, full of warmth and camaraderie, plenty of laughter, joking around, shop talk, and industry gossip.
Much to her relief, Nicky found herself relaxing completely with Tony and Arch. She felt at home with the two men; they were colleagues, and were all on the same wave length, and she enjoyed every minute of being with them. So much so, she actually forgot about the Devereaux problem for a short while. For the first time in several days she was like her old self.
But thoughts of Charles came rushing back to trouble her soon enough. The minute she was alone in her suite at the Hassler, in fact. And that evening, as she was getting ready for dinner, she made a decision. She was going to confide in Arch after all. She needed a sounding board, someone to whom she could unburden herself, and someone who would bring both an open and an analytical mind to the discussion.
***
‘Well, aren’t you the beauty,’ Arch said as he strolled into her suite in the Hassler at a few minutes past eight.
‘Thank you,’ she said and gave him a faint smile.
After kissing her on the cheek, Arch stepped back and nodded approvingly as he regarded the cream silk suit she was wearing. ‘Now that little number is the epitome of elegance,’ he said, and nodded again.
‘Pauline Trigère made it for me.’
Arch glanced down at her feet, appeared to be studying her high-heeled cream silk pumps, before saying, in an amused tone, ‘And tell me, Nicky, did Miss Trigère also make your shoes?’
Nicky had to laugh. ‘No, she didn’t. I bought them this morning. On the Via Veneto.’
‘Pretty expensive shoes, I guess, when you take into consideration the price of the air ticket from London to Rome.’
‘You know very well I didn’t come to buy shoes,’ she shot back. ‘Although shoes I did indeed buy. I’ll tell you why I came here in a minute. Now, would you like a glass of white wine? I ordered a bottle, just in case. But if you don’t, I can easily order something else from room service.’
‘Thanks, the wine’ll be great.’
‘Why don’t you sit down over there, and I’ll bring you a glass,’ Nicky said, walking over to the console near the window. She poured wine into two crystal goblets and carried them back.
Arch, who had remained standing, touched his glass to hers silently, took a sip, and finally seated himself on the sofa.
Nicky took the chair opposite him, and after a quick swallow of wine, she put the goblet on the table and leaned against the cream brocade of the chair back.
Arch said, ‘So, why are you in Rome, Nick?’ His eyes held a probing expression.
Nicky did not at first respond. After taking a deep breath, she said, ‘I think Charles Devereaux is alive and well and living in Rome. That’s why.’
Arch sat up on the sofa with a jerk, almost spilling his wine as he did. He was so thunderstruck his jaw dropped. He was speechless. Eventually, he said, ‘I know you wouldn’t say that unless you had some real evidence. What is it? What’ve you got? Shoot.’
‘Last Wednesday night I saw Charles Devereaux on television,’ Nicky began, and then slowly, precisely, leaving nothing out, she told him everything that had happened since then.
When she had finished, Arch muttered, ‘I tend to agree with Philip Rawlings. It’s just not enough for me, Nick, I’d—’
‘Let me show you the pictures,’ she interrupted, getting to her feet, hurrying into the bedroom, and returning with the photographs. Seating herself next to Arch, she leaned forward and spread them out on the coffee table.
Pointing to one of them, she said, ‘This is my Polaroid of the man in the news footage.’ Moving on to the next, she continued, ‘And this is the larger photograph which Dave took. The third is the one of Charles, which I doctored up. I darkened the hair and added the moustache.’
Arch studied all three photographs very carefully. ‘There’s a strong likeness, a very strong likeness, in fact. Yes, I think you’re right, Nicky. These three pictures could be of one and the same man.’ He turned to her and finished, ‘The guy on our news footage could very easily be Charles Devereaux, no doubt about it.’
Relieved to hear him say this, Nicky exclaimed, ‘Thank God you agree with me, that you don’t think I should be in a padded cell!’
Arch said, ‘Who, you? Never, honey, you’re one of the sanest people I know.’
‘Thanks, Arch.’ She touched his arm lightly, affectionately. ‘I appreciate you saying that. I began to feel a bit peculiar at Pullenbrook this weekend.’
Bringing his hand up to his face, Arch rubbed his chin, looking thoughtful. ‘Answer me this, Nicky. Why would Charles want to fake his own death, and disappear?’
‘I’ve no idea.’
‘Usually people only do that if they’re in some kind of trouble. You know, financial trouble, for instance.’
‘Charles didn’t have money problems. I know that from his will. Anyway, people do disappear for other reasons.’
‘Such as?’
‘If they’ve done something criminal, if they are criminals.’
Arch exclaimed, ‘Jesus Christ! You’re not suggesting Charles was a crook, are you?’
She shrugged. ‘I don’t know whether I am or not… but I am giving you reasons why people melt into thin air and start a new life… such as murderers, drug traffickers, arms smugglers, big-time swindlers… and the like.’ Nicky rose, and walked over to the window, where she stood looking out. Eventually she turned around and gave Arch a long stare, and said, ‘How well does anyone know another person? Truly know, I mean. There are secret parts to all of us, parts we don’t always know well ourselves.’
‘Yes,’ Arch murmured and lifted his glass to his mouth, at a loss for words.
Nicky said, ‘Maybe he was homosexual. Maybe he wanted to escape me and our marriage.’
Arch gaped at her. ‘Only you have the answer to that!’ he exclaimed, and asked, ‘Was he?’
‘No.’
‘That was a very weak no, honey.’
She was silent as she slowly walked back to the chair, where she sat down. ‘It was a weak no, that’s true, but it didn’t mean anything, I wasn’t implying anything. You know as well as I do that there are men who have often hidden their homosexuality even from themselves for years, and then they suddenly come out… that’s all I meant, when I brought up homosexuality. And if you’re asking me if Charles showed any homosexual tendencies in our sex life, the answer to that is a categoric no.’
‘Still, he could have been… in the closet?’ Arch lifted a brow questioningly.
‘Anybody can be anything, I suppose, but I’m absolutely certain Charles was straight.’
‘I have to agree with you. I didn’t know Charles well, but he struck me as being a pretty tough sort of guy. Maybe a bit ruthless. He wasn’t the sort to vanish without a trace just because he was afraid to break off his engagement. He’d have done that no matter what the reason, Nicky, if he’d wanted to do it. If he did disappear, it was for a reason that had nothing to do with you.’
‘I came to that conclusion myself. Finally.’
‘I’m stumped,’ Arch muttered.
‘What do you mean?’
‘Why? Why would a man like Charles drop off the face of the earth?’
‘Don’t you think I’ve asked myself a thousand times since last Wednesday?’ She shrugged wearily. ‘I just don’t know.’
‘Perhaps it wasn’t him on our news footage.’
‘Arch!’
‘Well, what do you want me to say, for God’s sake! It seems to me Charles Devereaux had no possible reason to walk away from his life. Therefore, he must have committed suicide.’
‘I don’t believe he’s dead,’ Nicky said quietly but with vehemence, focusing on Arch intently. ‘Not here, not inside.’ She paused, pressed her hand against her stomach. ‘My gut instinct tells me that he’s alive, and that he dropped out of sight for a very, very serious reason. A reason so bizarre that you and I couldn’t possibly imagine what it is. And that’s why I haven’t been able to come up with an answer. Why no one else has.’
Arch looked at her alertly but made no comment.
Nicky now spoke slowly, to give even greater emphasis to her words. ‘We’re lacking some information, Arch. There’s something about Charles that we don’t know, and that’s why we’re at a loss. He vanished for a reason that’s not apparent, that’s not in the least obvious. Not to us, anyway. And believe me, it’s no ordinary, everyday reason.’
‘Do you mean he had, has, some sort of secret?’
‘Yes, maybe. But whatever it is, neither his mother nor Philip have an inkling of it, and I certainly don’t.’
‘Hell, Nick, I don’t know what to say…’ Arch shook his head, and lifted his shoulders helplessly.
Bending forward, her eyes levelled on him earnestly, Nicky said, ‘Listen, Arch, Charles came to Rome, to Continental Europe. He didn’t go to Australia or Africa or… Polynesia. So obviously he wanted, or needed, to be in Europe, had to stay here.’
‘There’s another point. If he is alive, what’s this dude using for money? How’s he living?’
‘He could have been stashing money away in Europe for years. He did a lot of business in France and Spain—wine business—and even here in Italy from time to time,’ Nicky explained. ‘He probably had a Swiss bank account. In fact, that’s more than likely. Yes, I’m certain he did. You never knew this, but Charles was always something of a financial genius, even when very young. Of course he inherited money, but aside from that he made his own fortune, and in a variety of different ways. Stocks and bonds, real estate, to mention only a few things. And he turned his wine importing company into a real gold mine. Money and its management and manipulation were never problems to him.’
‘He left everything to his mother, didn’t he?’
‘Everything that was visible, and in England. How do I know what he got out over the years? Or the deals he made in Europe?’ She nodded, as if confirming something to herself. ‘Charles would have no problem living, and living pretty damned well, Arch.’
‘I guess you’re right. Do you think Charles had, and still has, a secret life?’
‘Again, I don’t know… but the indications are there, aren’t they? A man doesn’t do what he did without a truly compelling motive.’
Taking another tack, Arch asked, ‘When you came to Rome what was your plan, Nicky? I mean how did you aim to find him?’
‘I didn’t really have a plan, Arch. I just decided to come to the source of the film. I was going to talk to Tony about the footage, show him those pictures.’ She gestured to the photographs on the coffee table. ‘I intended to ask Tony if he’d ever seen that man knocking around Rome, and if he had, and knew his haunts, I was going to go and look for him. If Charles is living here, he’s obviously doing so quite openly, quite freely. The reason he was captured on film is because he was outside in the square with the crowds that night… not hiding away somewhere.’
‘Yes, that’s true. On the other hand, you’ve so little to go on, honey. It’d be like looking for a needle in a haystack.’
‘I said that to myself only the other day.’
‘Does Clee know that you’re here?’
‘Yes, of course.’
‘Did you tell him why?’
‘No. When I spoke to him on the phone, I said I was here on business.’
‘I don’t think Clee would be too happy if he knew you were roaming around looking for Charles Devereaux. I think he’d be pretty damned mad. After all, you two seem to be very heavily involved.’
‘Yes, we are. But that doesn’t mean he runs my life, or that I have to ask his permission about anything,’ Nicky said in a firm voice. ‘I’m a very independent woman. Nobody tells me what to do, or when or how to do it. I’m my own person. That’s the way I was brought up, as you well know. So Clee doesn’t come into play. What I’m doing in Rome is my business, Arch, and only mine.’
‘All I meant is that Clee wouldn’t relish the thought of you investigating Charles’s disappearance.’ Arch gave her a long, very direct look. ‘Hasn’t it ever occurred to you that it might be dangerous? Charles Devereaux doesn’t want to be found, honey. I’ll bet my bottom dollar on that. You could be opening a real can of worms.’
She nodded. ‘Maybe.’
‘Tell me something. What are you going to do if you do find him, Nick? Take him to task for running out on you? Chastise him and walk away? Or turn him in to the authorities?’
Nicky’s mouth tightened but she said nothing.
‘Are you still in love with Charles Devereaux?’ he asked, deciding to confront her with this possibility. ‘Is that why you’re hell-bent on tracking him down?’
‘No, it isn’t. I’m not in love with him. I haven’t been for a long time.’
‘Then why are you doing this?’
‘Because I have to get to the truth, Arch, to know what really happened. And why. I’m a reporter, remember, and training will out, as they say. Besides, I want to close the chapter on Charles
Devereaux, and get on with my life… with Clee.’
‘Close it now, Nick. Stop this. It’s a waste of time, in my opinion.’
Nicky stared across at Arch. There had been anxiety in his voice and she saw at once how serious he was. He was worrying about her again, as she had guessed he would. ‘Perhaps I should do as you say,’ she murmured, wanting to pacify him, to put his mind at rest. ‘I suppose it would be wise to let it drop. There’s only the remotest chance that I might find Charles. And as you said, even if I did, what then?’ She sighed lightly. ‘You’re right, Arch, as you so often are.’
He smiled at her, and a look of immense relief flooded his face. ‘Go to Paris, Nick. Promise me you’ll go to Paris tomorrow.’
‘Yes, I will,’ Nicky said, and reached for her glass of wine. What did one more white lie matter in the scheme of things?
***
‘Let’s go and sit in Tony’s office, it’s more comfortable there,’ Jennifer Allen said, ushering Nicky into her boss’s inner sanctum. ‘Can I get you anything, Miss Wells? A cup of coffee, perhaps?’
‘Nothing, thanks, Jennifer, and please call me Nicky.’
The young woman smiled at her. ‘Thanks, I will.’
‘So Tony won’t be back until late this afternoon?’ Nicky said, lowering herself onto the low-slung Italian leather sofa.
‘He said about five or six o’clock,’ Jennifer answered, taking a chair next to Nicky. ‘He went to Vatican City, and after the meeting there he has a lunch. And after that he’s got to go to the dentist.’
Nicky pursed her lips and nodded, wishing now that she had spoken to Tony on the phone earlier.
‘Can I be of help in any way?’ Jennifer asked, impressed by Nicky and wanting to please one of the superstars of the network.
‘No, not really. I’d hoped to speak to Tony about a piece of news footage that was transmitted from here last Wednesday, a week ago today, in fact.’
‘Oh, the segment on the shooting incident at the political rally,’ Jennifer exclaimed. ‘That’s the footage you’re referring to, isn’t it?’
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