At breakfast, Cece was nowhere to be found. Joe prodded Petra for information but got only noncommittal responses. They went to Cece's empty studio, paced amid the paintings of roses, irises and sacred mountaintops, then returned to the main house. While Petra was occupied kneading bread dough, they searched room by room, going through the formal dining room with its heavy dark furniture, the dim, imposing library, the black and white formal parlor and the den full of antique vases and figurines.
Giving up on finding Cece on the first floor, they started up the stairs. "Think she's in her room?"
"Don't know where else she'd be."
"Should we just walk in on her?"
"I don't like it, but I don't see that we've got other options at this point."
At the end of the hall was Cece's closed door, and Joe put a hand on the knob. He tried to turn it, but found it locked.
"Knock," Brent said, but then grabbed him by the sleeve. "Wait. Maybe it would be better if you acted like you want to apologize for last night."
"I'm not an actor," Joe whispered.
"Just try."
Joe composed himself then tapped at the door. "Cece, I know you're in there."
A muffled voice answered.
"I can't hear you. Why don't you let me in so I can talk to you?"
"Go away. I'm not feeling well today."
Brent rolled his eyes and indicated that Joe should continue.
"I wanted to tell you I'm not mad about last night." He glanced at Brent and took a deep breath. "I guess you just surprised me. I can be a little shy sometimes. Anyway, I came to apologize."
"You don't have to lie to me, Joe." Cece's voice was directly on the other side of the door now.
"Can I come in and talk to you, please?"
There was a long silence, then they heard Cece fumbling with the lock. As soon as the door was open, both men both pushed their way into the room and Brent shut the door behind him. Cece scowled. "What's this all about?"
"We want you to call Elise," Joe said. "Now."
"I already did. She wasn't there."
"Maybe she's back," Brent said. "Why don't you call again?"
"And do it on the land line this time so I can listen on the other end." Joe added.
"I can't let you do that." Cece backed toward her nightstand. "Elise might hear you and--"
"You let me worry about that."
Cece shook her head. "Either I call alone, or I don't call at all."
Joe had her trapped against the nightstand now. He grabbed her by the wrist so she couldn't get away, and reached around her for the phone. "If you won't let me listen on the other line, then you're going to call with me standing right here. What's the number? I'll dial it for you."
"I'm not giving you that number, and I don't have it memorized. It's in my contacts list on my cell phone."
"Where's your cell phone?" Brent asked. "I'll get it for you."
Cece's eyes widened in panic. "I don't remember."
Joe grabbed Cece by both shoulders and steered her to the wall. "Why don't you just admit it? You've been stringing us along. You don't have Elise's phone number, or if you do, you haven't been calling. You just want to keep us here for your own personal reasons, and you don't care if I find my wife or not."
"Why should I care?" Cece blurted. "She told me she was never going back to you." She turned to Brent. "Or you, either." She looked up at Joe, her eyes wide and pleading. "What's so wrong with wanting you for myself? I can make sure you never have to work for money again. You'll have nothing to worry about except your art. Wouldn't you like that?"
"You don't get it, do you?" Joe's grip on her shoulders tightened and Cece winced. "This isn't about money or art. This isn't something you can buy. This is about me needing to see my wife and hear her tell me to my face that she doesn't love me and isn't coming home with me. Then, and only then, will I leave her alone." He gave Cece a shake. "Now, are you going to tell me where she is?"
Cece shook her head, cringing as Joe's fingers dug deeper into her shoulders.
Joe shook her again, harder. "I'm going to ask you again. Where is she?"
Brent leaned over Cece, too. "We can do this all day, you know. I don't have a job any more. Elise is probably long gone from wherever you took her to. We have nothing better to do than hold you against this wall. We can even take turns."
"I'll scream. My girls will call the police."
Brent shoved his hands in his pockets and glanced at Joe. "Think we should gag her until she's ready to talk? Maybe we could tie her to a chair or something while we look for her cell phone."
"You can't do that!" Cece said. "I get panic attacks-- I could die."
"You won't die," Brent stripped a bed pillow of its case. "Think this would work for a gag?"
"I'm serious, you can't do this," Cece stammered. "I won't be able to breathe. I'll faint."
"Then why don't you tell us how to find Elise?" Joe said through clenched teeth.
Cece bit her lower lip. "I took her to stay with her friend from the ballet-- Lamia Scopuli. North side of town."
"Oh, hell," Brent said. "I should've guessed she'd look her up."
"Who is she?" Joe asked.
"A friend of hers. They were roommates for awhile." He turned back to Cece. "What's the address?" He fumbled on the nightstand for a pen and something to write with.
"I don't remember," Cece said. "It's the Mariner apartments off the interstate, though, near the beltway."
"Apartment number?"
"I don't know. I dropped her off in the parking lot. I think it's upstairs, though, on the left."
"That's not very helpful. Phone number?"
Cece looked away. "I don't know."
"You mean all this time you didn't even have her number?"
"You say you knew I wasn't calling anyway."
Joe let her go but the intensity of his scowl kept her cowering against the wall. "It's bad enough you lied about calling, but you didn't even have the number so you could."
He moved to grab her again, but Brent put a hand on his arm. "Come on, this may be enough. Let's not waste any more time."
"If it's too late," Joe warned Cece, "I'm holding you responsible. Do you understand?"
Cece nodded.
"Come on," Brent said again. "Yelling at her may make you feel better, but it's not like we didn't suspect this anyway. Let's get out of here."
Chapter Thirty-Two
Joe was sitting at the kitchen table, peacefully eating a ham sandwich, when he heard Cece come home and go upstairs to her room. A few minutes later, she wandered into the kitchen wearing a red velvet robe. "Don't you like to eat regular meals? I would've been happy to have Petra cook you a proper dinner this evening, but you and your friend took off again, like last night." She frowned at Joe's sandwich. "At least Brent said he was going out to eat. From the looks of things, I'd say you haven't eaten since lunch."
"I haven't." Joe crunched a potato chip, then reached for his glass of coke. "I got in early, but I wasn't hungry until now."
Cece called for Lupe. "Bring me a glass of the Margherita di Cascia Pinot Noir. And bring one for Joe, too. In fact, just bring us the bottle."
Joe tried to protest but Cece silenced him with a motion of her hand. "This is an excellent vintage, and if I don't share it with you, who will I share it with? They say it's not good for a person to drink alone."
Joe sighed. "You know, Cece, for all your talk about how lonely you are, I find it hard to believe you couldn't get plenty of company if you wanted it."
Cece ran a hand through her curls. "You flatter me. I know how you men are, though. You like the young ones."
"You're hardly old," Joe pointed out.
Cece fussed with the collar of her robe, exposing her cleavage. Before she could speak again though, the maid set a glass in front of her. She set a glass in front of Joe too, opened the wine and poured a little for each of them. Cece took a sip. "Thank you, Lupe. You can leave the bottle on the table." After Lupe left, Cece leaned toward Joe. "This is an excellent vintage that I picked up in France on my last vacation. I brought home several bottles, much to the dismay of the customs agent."
Joe took a sip of his wine, then set the glass back on the table. "It's fine, but it doesn't go with my potato chips."
Cece put her elbows on the table and rested her chin in her hands. "So tell me why it is you think I should have no trouble finding a man," she said, returning to their previous topic. "You think I'm still pretty?"
Joe looked down at his plate. "I'm sure there are plenty of men who find you attractive."
"Do you find me attractive?"
"That's not the point." Joe pushed the remainder of his sandwich and chips away and stood up. "I'm tired. If you'll excuse me--"
"Don't go," Cece said, jumping to her feet. "We won't talk about me any more. That was completely inappropriate, and I'm sorry. Please sit down."
"I'm not mad at you. I'm just tired. I've had a busy day."
"Well, you could at least tell me how your search for Elise is going. Have some more wine. Please."
Reluctantly, Joe sat down and reached for his glass. "My 'search,' as you call it, isn't going anywhere. You're the only lead I've got, and you aren't talking."
Cece's mouth dropped open in surprise. "Am I really your only lead? I thought with all your comings and goings, you must have other clues."
"No, we don't. Brent and I have been visiting old friends to pass the time. Other than that, we're waiting on you."
"I'm doing all I can."
Joe tossed back the rest of his wine and reached for the bottle. "No you aren't Cece. In fact, you've been about as unhelpful as you could possibly be, stringing us along, making us think you're going to get us in touch with Elise, when day after day nothing happens."
"Can I help it if she refuses to see you?"
"Why don't you just tell me where she is and let me see for myself if she'll talk to me or not?"
Cece held out her glass for Joe to top it off. "I can't do that. A promise is a promise."
"Maybe so," Joe said. "But what are any of us really gaining by all this? You're stuck with two extra mouths to feed and the disruption to your household. Brent's about to lose his job, and I'm climbing the walls." He leaned across the table. "You're doing no one any favors by keeping this stupid promise of yours, if you even made one at all."
Cece sipped some wine to keep from having to speak for a moment. "I think that's the most words I've heard out of you since you arrived. And maybe you're right-- maybe I could be doing more to help. But we women have to stick together, especially since she was there to give me her emotional support when I was going through my own difficulties."
"Like when your husband died? Kind of unusual circumstances, don't you think? I mean, the man had never been sick a day in his life."
"Some people drop dead just like that, you know. Aneurysms, heart problems, things like that."
"Except that no one ever could find evidence of any 'things like that.' Odd."
"Yes, it was." Cece met Joe's eyes steadily.
Joe sucked down the rest of his wine. "This has been an interesting conversation, as always. I'm going to bed now." He headed toward the stairs, but heard the patter of Cece's footsteps behind him. "What do you want?"
Cece paused, one foot on the bottom step. "I just wanted to make sure Lupe got your room ready for you."
"I'm sure it's fine." He started back up the steps.
Cece hurried after him. "Why are you mad at me?"
"I'm not mad at you, Cece," Joe said, turning down the hallway toward his room.
"You are too mad at me," she said, chasing him to his doorway. "Surely you don't believe those awful rumors about me?"
"What happened between you and your husband is none of my business. I just want you to quit interfering between me and my wife." Joe stepped inside the room, turned around and placed a hand on the door. "Good night, and thank you for your hospitality."
"You're certainly welcome. May I come in and make sure you've got enough towels?"
"I'm sure I have plenty."
"I'd feel better if I checked. I want to make sure my maids are doing their job." She pushed past Joe before he could protest again and disappeared into the bathroom. When she reappeared, she had taken off her robe, revealing a red silk nightgown. She walked across the room and then sat on the edge of the bed. "So tell me," she said, leaning back a little and gazing up at Joe, who was standing in the middle of the room with his arms folded across his chest. "Has this room been okay for you? Not too cold or too hot, is it? Have you had everything you needed? Enough pillows, blankets, things like that?"
"Everything's fine."
"Oh, good. I worry, you know, since I don't have many guests and my maids aren't used to it." She looked around the room, as if she hadn't ever examined it closely before. "Kind of a big room. Don't you get lonely?"
"Not really. Now, if it's all right with you, I'd like to get some sleep."
Cece stood up and put her arms around his neck. "Let's you and me quit playing games. You must be lonely without your wife, and I've been lonely, too." She grasped a loose lock of his hair and twined it around a finger. "Let me take your mind off things for awhile."
Joe reached grabbed Cece by the shoulders and pushed her away. When she tried to move toward him again, he held her at arm's length. "Stop this. You're making a fool of yourself."
"Don't be such a prude. Elise left you. You aren't obligated to her now."
"This isn't about Elise," Joe said. "I just don't want to."
Cece paused, a hurt expression on her face. "I thought you liked me."
"I do, but not that way."
"Maybe if you just gave me a chance..." she made to put her arms around him again.
Joe took a step back, caught his ankle on the bed and fell onto the mattress. "You have got to be the most persistent woman I've ever met." He tried to push her off him as she attempted to seat herself on his lap. "Why won't you believe me when I tell you no?"
Just then there was a tap at the door and Cece jumped to her feet as Brent pushed open the door and stepped into the room. He looked from Joe to Cece and back again. "I hope I'm not interrupting anything."
Before Cece could speak, Joe jumped up. "Cece was just saying good night."
Cece smiled primly at Brent. "Yes, and good night to you, too."
Brent took in Cece's slinky attire. "Looks like you might get cold running around in that."
Without a word, Cece went into the bathroom, then stormed back out, pulling her velvet robe about her as she hurried away down the hall.
Brent went to the door, peeked into the hallway, then came back in and shut the door behind him. "Can I say 'I told you so' now?"
Joe sat on the bed and ran a hand across the top of his head. "If you must."
Brent hesitated a minute, then pulled up the desk chair and sat down. "I don't think I will. You seem traumatized enough as it is."
"I knew she was pushy, but not like that."
"Kind of a cute getup she had on," Brent observed. "I can envision the two of you together, you know. I'm surprised you were able to resist."
Joe was about to make a smart remark, then realized Brent was teasing him. "Why don't you go knock on her door and tell her how attractive you think she is? Make her evening."
"No, I don't do much for her, I'm afraid."
"Maybe now that I've turned her down, she'll reconsider."
"I hope not." Brent loosened his tie. "What have you been up to tonight, besides fending off our hostess?"
"I went to see an old friend. My old probation officer, actually."
"What for?"
Joe gave an embarrassed shrug. "Guilt, I guess. Here I've been a model member of the community all these years and now in two days I've been guilty of assault, trespassing, theft, drug possession, and breaking and entering. I needed to talk to someone about it, get it off my chest."
"Maybe you should've gone to see a priest instead."
"I thought about it, but Ott understood where I was coming from. I didn't have a real dad around when I was growing up, and Ott was like a father to me. It's because of him I didn't end up dead or in prison. He straightened my head out. Not too many guys like that out there, especially working as probation officers."
"So you feel better now?"
Joe shrugged. "I guess so. Not that he did me any good."
"What do you mean?"
"After I saw him, I came back here and broke into Cece's study."
Brent let out a whoop. "Go forth and sin no more."
"I don't suppose you want to know what I found out."
"Did you find out where she is?"
"No."
Brent turned away with a small shrug, as if to say that anything else was beneath his concern.
"Cece was once suspected of murder."
Brent leaned forward in his chair, suddenly all attention. "Her husband?"
Joe nodded. "Very mysterious circumstances. And he left everything to her, cutting out his mother, sister, and a child from a previous marriage."
"I thought something wasn't right around here."
"Doesn't relate to our case of course," Joe went on, "But it gives us an idea what kind of woman we're dealing with."
Brent nodded. "We were wrong to trust her for even a minute."
"I think she's harmless enough, but she was obviously lying through her teeth when she said she was a lousy actress. Judging from her little performance with us, I'd say she's Academy Award material."
"We'll put a stop to that," Brent said, standing up. "Maybe she can get away with murder, but she's not getting away with this. We're still on for tomorrow, right? We're going to insist that she let you listen on the other line when she calls Elise?"
"That's still the plan," Joe agreed. "I'm not sure what I’m going to do when she tells me I can't, but one way or another, we're going to get this resolved."
"It'll work out," Brent said. "Even if we get nothing out of her, at least we'll be able to cross this lead off our list and move on." He took a few steps toward the door. "Well, good night. I just wanted to drop in and check we were on the same page."
"Glad you did, or I might never have gotten Cece off of me."
"Happy to be of service."
"I know it's none of my business, but where were you tonight, anyway?"
"I met with an old friend. She has some good connections and she's going to try and find out if Elise has any travel plans coming up."
"How soon do you think we'll know something?"
"That depends," Brent said with a small look of annoyance.
"Depends on what?"
"On whether or not she remembers anything in the morning. Selene is a sweet girl, but she's become a drunk."
"I haven't." Joe crunched a potato chip, then reached for his glass of coke. "I got in early, but I wasn't hungry until now."
Cece called for Lupe. "Bring me a glass of the Margherita di Cascia Pinot Noir. And bring one for Joe, too. In fact, just bring us the bottle."
Joe tried to protest but Cece silenced him with a motion of her hand. "This is an excellent vintage, and if I don't share it with you, who will I share it with? They say it's not good for a person to drink alone."
Joe sighed. "You know, Cece, for all your talk about how lonely you are, I find it hard to believe you couldn't get plenty of company if you wanted it."
Cece ran a hand through her curls. "You flatter me. I know how you men are, though. You like the young ones."
"You're hardly old," Joe pointed out.
Cece fussed with the collar of her robe, exposing her cleavage. Before she could speak again though, the maid set a glass in front of her. She set a glass in front of Joe too, opened the wine and poured a little for each of them. Cece took a sip. "Thank you, Lupe. You can leave the bottle on the table." After Lupe left, Cece leaned toward Joe. "This is an excellent vintage that I picked up in France on my last vacation. I brought home several bottles, much to the dismay of the customs agent."
Joe took a sip of his wine, then set the glass back on the table. "It's fine, but it doesn't go with my potato chips."
Cece put her elbows on the table and rested her chin in her hands. "So tell me why it is you think I should have no trouble finding a man," she said, returning to their previous topic. "You think I'm still pretty?"
Joe looked down at his plate. "I'm sure there are plenty of men who find you attractive."
"Do you find me attractive?"
"That's not the point." Joe pushed the remainder of his sandwich and chips away and stood up. "I'm tired. If you'll excuse me--"
"Don't go," Cece said, jumping to her feet. "We won't talk about me any more. That was completely inappropriate, and I'm sorry. Please sit down."
"I'm not mad at you. I'm just tired. I've had a busy day."
"Well, you could at least tell me how your search for Elise is going. Have some more wine. Please."
Reluctantly, Joe sat down and reached for his glass. "My 'search,' as you call it, isn't going anywhere. You're the only lead I've got, and you aren't talking."
Cece's mouth dropped open in surprise. "Am I really your only lead? I thought with all your comings and goings, you must have other clues."
"No, we don't. Brent and I have been visiting old friends to pass the time. Other than that, we're waiting on you."
"I'm doing all I can."
Joe tossed back the rest of his wine and reached for the bottle. "No you aren't Cece. In fact, you've been about as unhelpful as you could possibly be, stringing us along, making us think you're going to get us in touch with Elise, when day after day nothing happens."
"Can I help it if she refuses to see you?"
"Why don't you just tell me where she is and let me see for myself if she'll talk to me or not?"
Cece held out her glass for Joe to top it off. "I can't do that. A promise is a promise."
"Maybe so," Joe said. "But what are any of us really gaining by all this? You're stuck with two extra mouths to feed and the disruption to your household. Brent's about to lose his job, and I'm climbing the walls." He leaned across the table. "You're doing no one any favors by keeping this stupid promise of yours, if you even made one at all."
Cece sipped some wine to keep from having to speak for a moment. "I think that's the most words I've heard out of you since you arrived. And maybe you're right-- maybe I could be doing more to help. But we women have to stick together, especially since she was there to give me her emotional support when I was going through my own difficulties."
"Like when your husband died? Kind of unusual circumstances, don't you think? I mean, the man had never been sick a day in his life."
"Some people drop dead just like that, you know. Aneurysms, heart problems, things like that."
"Except that no one ever could find evidence of any 'things like that.' Odd."
"Yes, it was." Cece met Joe's eyes steadily.
Joe sucked down the rest of his wine. "This has been an interesting conversation, as always. I'm going to bed now." He headed toward the stairs, but heard the patter of Cece's footsteps behind him. "What do you want?"
Cece paused, one foot on the bottom step. "I just wanted to make sure Lupe got your room ready for you."
"I'm sure it's fine." He started back up the steps.
Cece hurried after him. "Why are you mad at me?"
"I'm not mad at you, Cece," Joe said, turning down the hallway toward his room.
"You are too mad at me," she said, chasing him to his doorway. "Surely you don't believe those awful rumors about me?"
"What happened between you and your husband is none of my business. I just want you to quit interfering between me and my wife." Joe stepped inside the room, turned around and placed a hand on the door. "Good night, and thank you for your hospitality."
"You're certainly welcome. May I come in and make sure you've got enough towels?"
"I'm sure I have plenty."
"I'd feel better if I checked. I want to make sure my maids are doing their job." She pushed past Joe before he could protest again and disappeared into the bathroom. When she reappeared, she had taken off her robe, revealing a red silk nightgown. She walked across the room and then sat on the edge of the bed. "So tell me," she said, leaning back a little and gazing up at Joe, who was standing in the middle of the room with his arms folded across his chest. "Has this room been okay for you? Not too cold or too hot, is it? Have you had everything you needed? Enough pillows, blankets, things like that?"
"Everything's fine."
"Oh, good. I worry, you know, since I don't have many guests and my maids aren't used to it." She looked around the room, as if she hadn't ever examined it closely before. "Kind of a big room. Don't you get lonely?"
"Not really. Now, if it's all right with you, I'd like to get some sleep."
Cece stood up and put her arms around his neck. "Let's you and me quit playing games. You must be lonely without your wife, and I've been lonely, too." She grasped a loose lock of his hair and twined it around a finger. "Let me take your mind off things for awhile."
Joe reached grabbed Cece by the shoulders and pushed her away. When she tried to move toward him again, he held her at arm's length. "Stop this. You're making a fool of yourself."
"Don't be such a prude. Elise left you. You aren't obligated to her now."
"This isn't about Elise," Joe said. "I just don't want to."
Cece paused, a hurt expression on her face. "I thought you liked me."
"I do, but not that way."
"Maybe if you just gave me a chance..." she made to put her arms around him again.
Joe took a step back, caught his ankle on the bed and fell onto the mattress. "You have got to be the most persistent woman I've ever met." He tried to push her off him as she attempted to seat herself on his lap. "Why won't you believe me when I tell you no?"
Just then there was a tap at the door and Cece jumped to her feet as Brent pushed open the door and stepped into the room. He looked from Joe to Cece and back again. "I hope I'm not interrupting anything."
Before Cece could speak, Joe jumped up. "Cece was just saying good night."
Cece smiled primly at Brent. "Yes, and good night to you, too."
Brent took in Cece's slinky attire. "Looks like you might get cold running around in that."
Without a word, Cece went into the bathroom, then stormed back out, pulling her velvet robe about her as she hurried away down the hall.
Brent went to the door, peeked into the hallway, then came back in and shut the door behind him. "Can I say 'I told you so' now?"
Joe sat on the bed and ran a hand across the top of his head. "If you must."
Brent hesitated a minute, then pulled up the desk chair and sat down. "I don't think I will. You seem traumatized enough as it is."
"I knew she was pushy, but not like that."
"Kind of a cute getup she had on," Brent observed. "I can envision the two of you together, you know. I'm surprised you were able to resist."
Joe was about to make a smart remark, then realized Brent was teasing him. "Why don't you go knock on her door and tell her how attractive you think she is? Make her evening."
"No, I don't do much for her, I'm afraid."
"Maybe now that I've turned her down, she'll reconsider."
"I hope not." Brent loosened his tie. "What have you been up to tonight, besides fending off our hostess?"
"I went to see an old friend. My old probation officer, actually."
"What for?"
Joe gave an embarrassed shrug. "Guilt, I guess. Here I've been a model member of the community all these years and now in two days I've been guilty of assault, trespassing, theft, drug possession, and breaking and entering. I needed to talk to someone about it, get it off my chest."
"Maybe you should've gone to see a priest instead."
"I thought about it, but Ott understood where I was coming from. I didn't have a real dad around when I was growing up, and Ott was like a father to me. It's because of him I didn't end up dead or in prison. He straightened my head out. Not too many guys like that out there, especially working as probation officers."
"So you feel better now?"
Joe shrugged. "I guess so. Not that he did me any good."
"What do you mean?"
"After I saw him, I came back here and broke into Cece's study."
Brent let out a whoop. "Go forth and sin no more."
"I don't suppose you want to know what I found out."
"Did you find out where she is?"
"No."
Brent turned away with a small shrug, as if to say that anything else was beneath his concern.
"Cece was once suspected of murder."
Brent leaned forward in his chair, suddenly all attention. "Her husband?"
Joe nodded. "Very mysterious circumstances. And he left everything to her, cutting out his mother, sister, and a child from a previous marriage."
"I thought something wasn't right around here."
"Doesn't relate to our case of course," Joe went on, "But it gives us an idea what kind of woman we're dealing with."
Brent nodded. "We were wrong to trust her for even a minute."
"I think she's harmless enough, but she was obviously lying through her teeth when she said she was a lousy actress. Judging from her little performance with us, I'd say she's Academy Award material."
"We'll put a stop to that," Brent said, standing up. "Maybe she can get away with murder, but she's not getting away with this. We're still on for tomorrow, right? We're going to insist that she let you listen on the other line when she calls Elise?"
"That's still the plan," Joe agreed. "I'm not sure what I’m going to do when she tells me I can't, but one way or another, we're going to get this resolved."
"It'll work out," Brent said. "Even if we get nothing out of her, at least we'll be able to cross this lead off our list and move on." He took a few steps toward the door. "Well, good night. I just wanted to drop in and check we were on the same page."
"Glad you did, or I might never have gotten Cece off of me."
"Happy to be of service."
"I know it's none of my business, but where were you tonight, anyway?"
"I met with an old friend. She has some good connections and she's going to try and find out if Elise has any travel plans coming up."
"How soon do you think we'll know something?"
"That depends," Brent said with a small look of annoyance.
"Depends on what?"
"On whether or not she remembers anything in the morning. Selene is a sweet girl, but she's become a drunk."
Chapter Thirty-One
Alone in Cece's house, Joe moved silently through the empty rooms. At the kitchen door he paused and listened. Hearing nothing, he stepped inside, adopting the brisk attitude of a man merely looking for a snack or glass of water. Seeing that there was no one to impress with his study in casualness, he stopped and listened again. Down a short hallway to the right came a faint noise. Quietly, he followed it, moving down the hall as the sound clarified into singing-- an off-key Spanish song in the high, thin voice of one of Cece's maids. Joe peeked around the corner and found Lupe sorting and folding laundry as she took it from the dryer. An ironing board nearby suggested she would be in the utility room for awhile.
With a satisfied smile, Joe returned to the kitchen as silently as he had come. After making a quick tour of all the downstairs rooms, he headed up the stairs, then did checked each guest room as he moved down the hall. Finally he found himself outside Cece's room. He placed a hand on the knob and turned, breathing a sigh of relief to find it unlocked.
It was a large room with high ceilings and heavy, red-upholstered furniture. A small claw-footed lamp on the bedside table had been left on, casting black shadows off Cece's high-backed easy chair, ornately carved vanity and hulking four-poster bed with its tapestry curtains. A light from another room drew Joe into the bathroom, but after a quick look around at the marble, mirrors and deep jacuzzi tub, he lost interest.
The next door to catch his eye was the closet-- an enormous walk-in, full to the ceiling with clothes, shoes and handbags. This wasn't what Joe was looking for either, and he returned to the main room. Almost as an afterthought, he opened the nightstand drawers and rifled through their contents, but found nothing more interesting than an inspirational book, some aspirin and a box of throat lozenges. He was on the point of leaving when he noticed yet another door. This one locked.
He hurried back to his room, returning a few moments later with a thin metal wire on a wooden handle-- a lock picker's tool. After jiggling it patiently in the lock and fiddling with the knob, the door finally swung open. He put the tool in his back pocket and after checking that the blinds and curtains were drawn, he turned on the light.
The room was small and intimate, made smaller by the presence of a heavy roll-top desk along one wall and two wing-back chairs with ottomans on the other. One wall held a painting of a much younger Cece, dolled up for an evening on the town. The fourth wall was a solid mass of bookshelves. Joe's main interest though, was the desk. It opened easily with his lock pick, revealing a desk calendar, ledgers, pens and notepads in front of an array of pigeonholes stuffed with papers and envelopes. Most of it was the ordinary bills and records of running a large home, along with dues and meeting reminders for a few clubs and charities that Cece was involved with. Nothing here implicated Cece in anything worse than a bad spending habit. With a sigh, Joe closed the desk and locked it, then started on the side drawers. He had just unlocked the first one when he heard a sound in the bedroom and jumped to turn off the light.
In the darkness, he inched his way to the door and silently turned the lock, keeping his ear pressed against the door and listening to the footsteps as they moved across the room. They disappeared in the direction of the bathroom and closet, and Joe wrestled with the urge to bolt. But before he could make a decision, the steps came back, this time accompanied by a voice humming a little tune-- the tune he had heard downstairs in the utility room. It was just the maid, putting clothes away. Relieved, Joe waited in the darkness for minutes that felt like hours, stretching the limits of his patience until he finally felt certain she wasn't coming back. Then he turned the light back on and returned to the desk.
The first two drawers revealed nothing more interesting than what had been in the desk, but the deeper bottom drawer was more intriguing. With growing interest, Joe flipped through a few albums of newspaper clippings about Cece's life. A few of them were reviews of plays she had been in with Elise. What interested him more though, were a series of later articles, all dealing with the death of Cece's husband, the fight over his inheritance, and the lingering mystery of just what had caused his death in the first place.
With a satisfied smile, Joe returned to the kitchen as silently as he had come. After making a quick tour of all the downstairs rooms, he headed up the stairs, then did checked each guest room as he moved down the hall. Finally he found himself outside Cece's room. He placed a hand on the knob and turned, breathing a sigh of relief to find it unlocked.
It was a large room with high ceilings and heavy, red-upholstered furniture. A small claw-footed lamp on the bedside table had been left on, casting black shadows off Cece's high-backed easy chair, ornately carved vanity and hulking four-poster bed with its tapestry curtains. A light from another room drew Joe into the bathroom, but after a quick look around at the marble, mirrors and deep jacuzzi tub, he lost interest.
The next door to catch his eye was the closet-- an enormous walk-in, full to the ceiling with clothes, shoes and handbags. This wasn't what Joe was looking for either, and he returned to the main room. Almost as an afterthought, he opened the nightstand drawers and rifled through their contents, but found nothing more interesting than an inspirational book, some aspirin and a box of throat lozenges. He was on the point of leaving when he noticed yet another door. This one locked.
He hurried back to his room, returning a few moments later with a thin metal wire on a wooden handle-- a lock picker's tool. After jiggling it patiently in the lock and fiddling with the knob, the door finally swung open. He put the tool in his back pocket and after checking that the blinds and curtains were drawn, he turned on the light.
The room was small and intimate, made smaller by the presence of a heavy roll-top desk along one wall and two wing-back chairs with ottomans on the other. One wall held a painting of a much younger Cece, dolled up for an evening on the town. The fourth wall was a solid mass of bookshelves. Joe's main interest though, was the desk. It opened easily with his lock pick, revealing a desk calendar, ledgers, pens and notepads in front of an array of pigeonholes stuffed with papers and envelopes. Most of it was the ordinary bills and records of running a large home, along with dues and meeting reminders for a few clubs and charities that Cece was involved with. Nothing here implicated Cece in anything worse than a bad spending habit. With a sigh, Joe closed the desk and locked it, then started on the side drawers. He had just unlocked the first one when he heard a sound in the bedroom and jumped to turn off the light.
In the darkness, he inched his way to the door and silently turned the lock, keeping his ear pressed against the door and listening to the footsteps as they moved across the room. They disappeared in the direction of the bathroom and closet, and Joe wrestled with the urge to bolt. But before he could make a decision, the steps came back, this time accompanied by a voice humming a little tune-- the tune he had heard downstairs in the utility room. It was just the maid, putting clothes away. Relieved, Joe waited in the darkness for minutes that felt like hours, stretching the limits of his patience until he finally felt certain she wasn't coming back. Then he turned the light back on and returned to the desk.
The first two drawers revealed nothing more interesting than what had been in the desk, but the deeper bottom drawer was more intriguing. With growing interest, Joe flipped through a few albums of newspaper clippings about Cece's life. A few of them were reviews of plays she had been in with Elise. What interested him more though, were a series of later articles, all dealing with the death of Cece's husband, the fight over his inheritance, and the lingering mystery of just what had caused his death in the first place.
Chapter Thirty
Dinner over, Selene leaned her head on Brent's shoulder, picking with her fork at her dessert-- a torta de kore made with lemon, pomegranate, and other fruits. She had moved her chair next to his after they finished their second bottle of wine and just before she ordered a snifter of Benedictine. When Brent asked if she wouldn't prefer a cup of coffee, she ordered coffee, too, but still insisted on getting her liqueur.
"Aren't you going to drink your coffee?" Brent asked.
Selene's sleepy eyes searched the table for the cup, but failed to find it. "Won't do me any good anyway."
"I told you not to drink so much."
"What are you, my mother?" Selene turned an unfocused gaze on him. "It's no wonder Elise ran away from you, if this is how you treat a girl these days. Always saying what to do and what not to do, never letting a girl make any decisions of her own..." She settled herself back on his shoulder. "Good thing I broke up with you. I would've gotten bored."
"I didn't bore you as a friend."
"Friendship is different. Besides, I wanted you for more than that. You knew it, too."
Brent took her hand. "I guess I did. It was wrong of me to pretend like I didn't."
Selene shrugged and reached for her snifter. Finding it empty, she looked around for the waiter.
"Can you take you mind off the liquor long enough to listen to me for a minute? I need to ask you a favor."
Selene struggled to sit up. "So we finally get to the real business of this evening's entertainment."
"I wanted to see you for your sake, not just your connections."
She adopted a look of tipsy unconcern. "I don't know why you think I'd believe that, but whatever. Let's get to the truth of the matter."
"I was hoping you could help me out. Elise got her identity changed and if I give you the data I have on her, I was wondering if you could find out if she's planning to go anywhere. In particular if she's planning to leave the country."
"How would I know something like that?
"Your husband is a consul and your father used to be the CEO of a major airline and is still a principal shareholder. Are you saying you don't know anyone who could find out if she's bought a plane ticket or arranged for a visa?"
Selene brooded in silence for a few minutes. "I suppose I could make a few phone calls, but I really couldn't care less if you found this girl or not. It's obvious she doesn't give a damn about you."
"Maybe not, but I give a damn about her."
"Must be nice to have someone who cares," Selene sniffed.
"As if you don't," Brent pointed out. "Your husband adores you, by your own admission. You say you have other men who like you pretty well, too. You don't sound like you're hurting for men who care."
"Do you?"
"Do I what?"
Selene met his eyes unsteadily. "Do you still care about me?"
Brent smiled. "I think you've had too much to drink. Would you like me to take you home? You know I can't let you drive in this condition."
She shook her head. "What would my husband think if I came home late with a strange man? Have the waiter call a cab."
Brent spotted the waiter and motioned him over. Selene looked up and tried to order another Benedictine, but Brent stopped her. "She doesn't need anything else."
After he had given the waiter his card and they were alone again, Selene turned a sullen pout on him. "Spoilsport."
"I don't want to be here all night watching you drink. Go home and drink, if that's what you want to do."
"I probably will. Nothing else to do around there."
They sat in silence for a few minutes, until the waiter reappeared with the receipt. Brent signed then helped Selene to her unsteady feet. He guided her to the waiting area near the front door where they would be able to see the cab when it arrived. "Thank you for agreeing to help me," he said, adjusting her coat and guiding her to an upholstered bench by the window. "I know I'm putting you in a potentially compromising situation. And thank you for your company."
"Oh, sure," Selene said. "You got what you what you wanted." She gave a drunken imitation of her most seductive sidelong look. "But I haven't gotten what I want yet. If my husband wasn't at home tonight, I'd invite you over. You're acting uptight, but I bet you're still a lot of fun once a girl gets you alone."
"You've had way too much to drink, or you wouldn't be talking like that."
"How do you know? I've always thought you were fun in bed. If I knew where Elise is, I'd tell the lucky bitch what a good thing she's giving up. Too bad she was only using you."
"She wasn't using me, Selene."
"Oh, wasn't she?" Seeing the cab pull up in front of the restaurant, she tried to stand and Brent jumped to his feet to assist her. "I don't need your help," Selene assured him, pushing his arm away.
"Well, I'm walking out there with you anyway, since that's where my car is." He guided her down the walkway toward the curb. Just as they neared the cab, Brent stopped her with a tug on her elbow. "Here's the information you'll need." He slipped a piece of paper into her hand. "Call me as soon as you find out something. And thanks for meeting me tonight. I really needed to talk to someone, and you're still a great listener."
"Thanks for the crumbs from your table." The cool air seemed to have sobered Selene up a bit, and leaned forward and gave him a quick kiss on the lips. "Call me sometime, since you don't seem to mind being a girl's toy. Maybe my husband will be out of town and we can have some fun."
"Aren't you going to drink your coffee?" Brent asked.
Selene's sleepy eyes searched the table for the cup, but failed to find it. "Won't do me any good anyway."
"I told you not to drink so much."
"What are you, my mother?" Selene turned an unfocused gaze on him. "It's no wonder Elise ran away from you, if this is how you treat a girl these days. Always saying what to do and what not to do, never letting a girl make any decisions of her own..." She settled herself back on his shoulder. "Good thing I broke up with you. I would've gotten bored."
"I didn't bore you as a friend."
"Friendship is different. Besides, I wanted you for more than that. You knew it, too."
Brent took her hand. "I guess I did. It was wrong of me to pretend like I didn't."
Selene shrugged and reached for her snifter. Finding it empty, she looked around for the waiter.
"Can you take you mind off the liquor long enough to listen to me for a minute? I need to ask you a favor."
Selene struggled to sit up. "So we finally get to the real business of this evening's entertainment."
"I wanted to see you for your sake, not just your connections."
She adopted a look of tipsy unconcern. "I don't know why you think I'd believe that, but whatever. Let's get to the truth of the matter."
"I was hoping you could help me out. Elise got her identity changed and if I give you the data I have on her, I was wondering if you could find out if she's planning to go anywhere. In particular if she's planning to leave the country."
"How would I know something like that?
"Your husband is a consul and your father used to be the CEO of a major airline and is still a principal shareholder. Are you saying you don't know anyone who could find out if she's bought a plane ticket or arranged for a visa?"
Selene brooded in silence for a few minutes. "I suppose I could make a few phone calls, but I really couldn't care less if you found this girl or not. It's obvious she doesn't give a damn about you."
"Maybe not, but I give a damn about her."
"Must be nice to have someone who cares," Selene sniffed.
"As if you don't," Brent pointed out. "Your husband adores you, by your own admission. You say you have other men who like you pretty well, too. You don't sound like you're hurting for men who care."
"Do you?"
"Do I what?"
Selene met his eyes unsteadily. "Do you still care about me?"
Brent smiled. "I think you've had too much to drink. Would you like me to take you home? You know I can't let you drive in this condition."
She shook her head. "What would my husband think if I came home late with a strange man? Have the waiter call a cab."
Brent spotted the waiter and motioned him over. Selene looked up and tried to order another Benedictine, but Brent stopped her. "She doesn't need anything else."
After he had given the waiter his card and they were alone again, Selene turned a sullen pout on him. "Spoilsport."
"I don't want to be here all night watching you drink. Go home and drink, if that's what you want to do."
"I probably will. Nothing else to do around there."
They sat in silence for a few minutes, until the waiter reappeared with the receipt. Brent signed then helped Selene to her unsteady feet. He guided her to the waiting area near the front door where they would be able to see the cab when it arrived. "Thank you for agreeing to help me," he said, adjusting her coat and guiding her to an upholstered bench by the window. "I know I'm putting you in a potentially compromising situation. And thank you for your company."
"Oh, sure," Selene said. "You got what you what you wanted." She gave a drunken imitation of her most seductive sidelong look. "But I haven't gotten what I want yet. If my husband wasn't at home tonight, I'd invite you over. You're acting uptight, but I bet you're still a lot of fun once a girl gets you alone."
"You've had way too much to drink, or you wouldn't be talking like that."
"How do you know? I've always thought you were fun in bed. If I knew where Elise is, I'd tell the lucky bitch what a good thing she's giving up. Too bad she was only using you."
"She wasn't using me, Selene."
"Oh, wasn't she?" Seeing the cab pull up in front of the restaurant, she tried to stand and Brent jumped to his feet to assist her. "I don't need your help," Selene assured him, pushing his arm away.
"Well, I'm walking out there with you anyway, since that's where my car is." He guided her down the walkway toward the curb. Just as they neared the cab, Brent stopped her with a tug on her elbow. "Here's the information you'll need." He slipped a piece of paper into her hand. "Call me as soon as you find out something. And thanks for meeting me tonight. I really needed to talk to someone, and you're still a great listener."
"Thanks for the crumbs from your table." The cool air seemed to have sobered Selene up a bit, and leaned forward and gave him a quick kiss on the lips. "Call me sometime, since you don't seem to mind being a girl's toy. Maybe my husband will be out of town and we can have some fun."
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)