Chapter Seventeen

The door opened a crack and a heavy-set Mexican woman peered out.

"We're looking for Cecilia Kirk," Brent said.

"She's asleep. What do you want?"

Joe stepped forward. "We're actually looking for Elise Riddisee. Ms. Kirk picked her up at St. Jude's hospital earlier this morning. I'm Elise's husband, Joe Urgulano."

The maid's eyes widened. "Wait here."

A few minutes later the door opened again and a curvy woman with green eyes and a head of thick blonde curls stepped out. "Good morning, gentlemen." She smiled in a way that suggested their arrival was not unexpected. Her gaze fell on Joe, and the smile became more genuine. "How nice to see you again, Joe." She extended a hand.

He took her hand cautiously. "I'm sorry, I don’t remember..."

"I was at your wedding, although I'm not surprised you don't remember me. You only had eyes for Elise that day."

Joe nodded slowly. "I think I remember you. Her friend from the theater, right?"

Cece beamed. "Yes, Elise and I became friends during my brief, and I'm afraid rather futile, attempt at community theater." She laughed. "She was always so helpful to me, no matter how bad I was. My husband used to say that I should stick to theater patronage rather than theater performance, but Elise had faith in me." She noticed Brent was shivering. "Are you gentlemen cold?" She opened the door wide. "Please come in. You woke me out of a dream, and I've completely forgotten my good manners."

The two men stepped into an entrance of dark wood paneling and black marble floors. They looked around, taking in the high ceilings bordered with intricately carved molding. A wrought iron chandelier hung from the center of the small room, but was unlit, the primary sources of light being the faintly glowing wall sconces and the soft light of early morning filtering through the windows on either side of the door. Cece looked the men up and down. "You two boys look like you've been up all night."

"We have been," Brent said.

"And who are you, dear? I didn't catch your name."

"Brent Conner. We're sorry to have woken you up."

Cece gave a catlike smile. "This seems to have been a bad night for getting any rest."

"So we're at the right place then? You did pick Elise up from the hospital?" Joe asked.

"Yes, poor thing. She always hated hospitals. She said it has something to do with a bout of anemia as a child and those hospital vampires drawing blood all the time."

"So she's here now?" Joe craned his neck, trying to look behind her.

"Good lord, no." Catching the expression Joe's face, she tried to reassure him. "I did my best to convince her. I certainly have enough room for her and I thought for sure our old friendship would prevail." Cece pushed a curl out of her eyes. "But she was very emotional and would have none of it. She told me to take her to someone else's place. She said that she felt safer there than with me. Can you imagine?"

"Where did you take her?" Joe demanded. "Back to Sylvia Lobo's place?" He had slipped his keys into his jacket pocket, but he took them out and looked ready to make a dash for the door.

"With all those wild people? No, she was adamant about that-- there were too many people in and out of there for her taste. From the sound of it, I don't think I would've taken her there even if she wanted me to."

"So where did you take her?"

"I'm afraid she asked me not to tell."

"Oh, hell!" Joe slapped his forehead. "Everywhere I've gone tonight I've run into people who know where she is and won't tell me." He took a step toward her. "Please. I'm tired. I'm hungry. Elise is going to have a baby, and I don't even know where she is. I won't say it was you who told me. Just tell me where she is so I can go talk to her."

Cece gave him a reassuring smile. "I’m so sorry. I had no idea it was you who might be looking for her, or I would've tried harder to make her come here, but she swore you knew about all this."

"If you can call finding a note on the kitchen counter 'knowing' about it."

"That was a dirty trick, wasn't it?" Cece agreed. "Elise is planning to stay where I took her for at least a couple of days. Why don't you come in the kitchen and let Lupe fix you some breakfast? I've got several guest rooms, each with its own bathroom. You can take showers, get some sleep, and when you wake up I'll call her. I’m sure we'll be able to straighten this whole mess out. So how about it? It would be an honor to have a famous artist and his friend as guests in my home."

The men looked at each other. "How do we know you're not going to scare her into running away again?" Joe asked.

Brent nodded. "It would really be better if we just wrapped this thing up right now. Better for her, better for you, and just better all around."

Cece gazed at them solemnly. "I'm on your side, believe me, but based on my conversation with her, I don't think this is the right way to go about it." She smiled as if seeking to calm a couple of agitated children. "I'll handle this very discreetly. I won't even tell her you're here. I'll tell her I threw you completely off track and that there's no way you'll be finding her without my help. But of course, I'll tell her she should reconsider what she's doing. I'm sure she'll come around. I can be very persuasive." She put her hands on her hips and sighed. "So come on. I would love the honor of having you as my guests."

The two men gave each other dejected looks, their resolution faltering. "Well," Brent said, "Since we have no other good leads at this point, I guess you've got yourself some house guests."

Joe nodded wearily. "But there's no need to feel honored. Really, I'm the one that's honored. You've got a nice place here, Cece."

Cece clapped her hands. "So you'll stay? Oh, good." She turned toward one of the three pointed archways leading out of the foyer and motioned the men to follow her. They walked past oil paintings in gloomy Old Masters style, dark bookcases full of dusty tomes, and bunches of dried grasses and flowers in heavy silver vases while she kept up a cheery monologue about how lonely the house had been since her husband died. "So few of our old friends want to come and see me," she said as they entered the kitchen. "And the ones who do drop by seem to think I'm not properly sorry he's gone. You don't know who your real friends are until someone dies."

The maid had followed them into the room, and now Cece turned to her. "Lupe, dear, make up a pot of coffee for these gentlemen, and fix them..." she turned to Joe and Brent. "What would you like? It's morning, so omelets would be good. But maybe you'd prefer French toast? And Lupe makes delicious cinnamon apple pancakes." She turned to Lupe, who had begun spooning coffee into the coffee maker. "Do you have everything you need to make those cinnamon pancakes?"

Lupe nodded without looking up from her work.

"Good." She turned back to the men. "You two just sit back and relax. Lupe will take good care of you." She headed back toward the hallway. "I'll go upstairs and make sure the guest rooms are presentable. Do you have any bags with you?"

Brent stood up. "I'll bring them in." He held his hand out to Joe for the keys, then let Cece lead him back to the front door.

Cece watched while he brought in the bags, then directed him up the stairs. "There's three rooms on your right," she instructed him. "Pick one for yourself, and Joe can have whichever of the others he likes."

Brent trudged up the stairs and looked around. The first room was decorated in blue, with an iron frame bed and walls covered in scenes of ships being tossed about in storms. It had a window overlooking the street and after admiring the view for a moment Brent set the computer on the desk, dropped his bag beside the bed and sat down. He bounced on the mattress a little, then threw himself backward onto the feather pillows and closed his eyes. After a few minutes he got up, exhaustion weighing heavier on him for having rested a moment, and went to put Joe's duffel bag inside the doorway of the next room, larger than his own, full of dark mahogany furniture and paintings of bloody hunting scenes. Satisfied, he made his way down the stairs.

The smell of French roast coffee hit him as he entered the kitchen and he sat down at the breakfast table to find a steaming mug already waiting for him, with cream, sugar, and silver spoons set out on a tray in the center of the table. Joe was sipping his coffee, exchanging a few quiet words with Cece. They barely glanced up as Brent sat down. "I picked a room for you," Brent said. "It's green. But if you don't like it, there's another one down the hall."

"If it's got a bed, it'll do."

"Oh, you'll like the green one," Cece told him. "It's the largest guest room I have, although the one at the end of the hall is closer to mine, which could be more convenient."

"Like I said, I don't much care, so long as I have a place to lie down."

"There could be advantages to being closer to my room." Cece's eyes lit up as if she was about to make a pert remark, but Brent interrupted.

"Breakfast smells delicious. Nice of you to go to all this trouble for us."

Cece made a terse reply about the duties of a hostess, then stood up. "I suppose I should be off to bed. Make yourselves at home and sleep as late as you like. If there's anything you need, just ask." She made as if to touch Joe's shoulder then seemed to think better of it and headed down the hall.

"Did I say something wrong?" Brent asked.

"I thought you knew better than to interrupt someone, especially when they're doing you a favor."

The warm aroma of cinnamon and apples drifted from where Lupe was working over the skillet. Finally she brought two plates over. "If you want more, let me know."

"Thank you," Joe said, reaching for his fork.

"This looks delicious," Brent added.

Lupe said nothing and went to the sink where she began washing the cooking utensils.

The men dove into their pancakes, pausing only to let Lupe refill their coffee. When there was no longer even syrup residue on their plates, Joe leaned back in his chair and rested a hand on his stomach. "Best breakfast I've had in a long time."

"Thank you, Lupe," Brent said. "It was delicious."

Lupe looked up shyly from scrubbing the skillet. "Are you going to bed now? Is there anything you want?"

"No," they reassured her, and Brent added, "I think for right now, at least, we have everything we need."