A Moment in Time (39 page)

"Bye, Mother," Valerie said and hung up the
telephone.

She put her head in her hands and massaged
her forehead as if to wipe away the worries that her mother's
telephone call had brought on.
Life is never simple,
she
told herself,
but can't there be days with little reprieves?
She lifted her head again and looked down at Elvis, spread out in
his bed beneath the desk.

"Elvis," she said. "We need a vacation. Just
the two of us." Elvis wagged his tail in response. "Wait. Not so
fast. On second thought," she said, "make that the three of us.
You, me, and Wyn. Oh, scratch that! What am I thinking? Make that.
. . what? The eight of us. You, me, Wyn, the four wolfhounds, and
Mina, the cat. How does that sound, Elvis? A vacation for eight.
Maybe on some nice quiet, sunny island with no telephones or faxes,
no pagers or cell phones, no E-mail, no TV. Just us animals."

She leaned down and gave him a few strokes,
then straightened back up. "I like the idea, Elvis," she said. "I
like it a lot, and I think you will, too."

Wyn paced in the library, the dogs watching
him idly, the cat perched in regal solitude on a high-backed
baroque chair. He had already called Dexter Willingham IV, his
lawyer in Palm Beach, and had a long discussion with him about
finalizing the divorce.

Willingham had been relieved because,
although he could have billed for many more hours if the case had
been dragged out, he was utterly sick and tired of Arielle Conrad
and her screaming tantrums. She had even approached him at a grand
charity function, pointing her finger and shouting obscenities at
him in front of dozens of white-tied and ball-gowned grandees in
one of Palm Beach's finest ballrooms. He had spoken to Myron
Goldman, Arielle's lawyer, a number of times about the situation,
but Goldman seemed incapable of controlling his client.

The whole process could be virtually over by
the end of the week if all went well. Neither Wyn nor Willingham
anticipated any problem in instantly resolving the case. However,
the telephone hadn't rung in the last hour, and Wyn was beginning
to get nervous.

What if Arielle had changed her mind about
something, and decided to throw some final wrench into the process?
She might hold out for more when she discovered that he was ready
to settle.

Santo walked into the room on virtually
silent feet, and Wyn caught sight of him out of the corner of his
eye. "Where've you been, Santo?" he asked. "I haven't seen you all
morning."

"I overslept," Santo said honestly. "I know
that if you need me, all you have to do is call the cottage, so I
guess my usual mental alarm clock just didn't go off this morning.
I'm sort of under the weather."

"You have the flu or something?" Wyn
asked.

"No," Santo replied. "Just. . . like a little
cold or something."

"I happened to notice that you've been out
late a lot recently," Wyn said with a smile. "You found somebody up
here that's hot to trot?"

Santo averted his eyes, then turned his gaze
to Wyn. "Aw, not really," he said. "Just been working out a lot.
Gone to a couple of bars with some of the guys from the gym. You
know, just shooting the shit."

The telephone rang, and Santo hurriedly
picked up the receiver. "Stonelair," he said.

He listened for a moment. "Please hold," he
said. He turned to Wyn. "It's Dexter Willingham for you," he
said.

"I'll take it," Wyn replied, sighing with
relief. He took the receiver from Santo. "Hey, Dex," he said.
"What's going on? I was beginning to get a little worried."

"I've spoken to Myron Goldman," Willingham
said, "and he foresees no difficulty bringing this to a very quick
close. The only problem at this point is that he can't seem to
locate Arielle."

"What do you mean, he can't locate Arielle?"
Wyn asked.

"Exactly what I said," Willingham answered.
"She's not at home. In fact, no one picks up at all. He said he'd
made some phone calls, but so far he's had no luck. He'll get back
to me as soon as he's spoken with her."

"Aw, shit," Wyn said in exasperation. "This
could take forever, knowing Arielle."

"Or it could take an hour, Wyn," the lawyer
replied reasonably. "She could simply be at the hairdresser or out
shopping. Who knows? We'll probably find her in very short
order."

"I hope so," Wyn said, "because I want to get
this over with."

"I understand, Wyn," Willingham said, "and
I'm glad you've reached that decision. However, our hands are tied
until we've located Arielle."

"I realize that," Wyn said with a sigh. "I
think I'll make some calls myself, Dex, and you let me know the
minute you hear anything."

"Will do," the lawyer said. He chuckled then.
"Don't worry about it, Wyn, if she's in Palm Beach, we'll find her
in the next hour or so. You know how small this town really
is."

"That's for sure," Wyn replied. "Okay, Dex.
I'll talk to you later."

Wyn hung up the receiver and stared off
toward the pool for a few moments, wondering where he should call
first to try to locate Arielle.

"Trouble?" Santo asked, looking over at his
boss.

Wyn turned to him. "They can't find Arielle,
and we need to get hold of her right away. Wouldn't you know it? I
decided to go ahead and get this divorce business over with, and
what happens? Arielle suddenly does a disappearing act."

Santo stared at Wyn, his mind thrown into a
maelstrom of conflicting thoughts.
Should I tell him that I know
where Arielle is? No
, he immediately decided,
because then
Wyn would wonder how I know, and I certainly don't want Wyn to know
that I've met with her behind his back.
And what about
Arielle's little plot? He'd have to get hold of her as soon as
possible to let her know what was going on. That would put a stop
to it. Or would it? He really didn't know.

"What's wrong with you?" Wyn asked. "This is
what you've wanted me to do, and now that I've done it, you don't
have anything to say?"

"Sorry," Santo said, clearing his throat. "I
was just wondering where she might be. This is good news, though. I
think it's the smartest thing you've done in a long time."

Wyn nodded. "Well," he said, "I guess you
could say that Val, you know, the vet, had something to do with
it." He smiled, almost sheepishly.

"What do you mean?" Santo asked, trying to
act as if he didn't have any idea that there might be a budding
relationship between his boss and the veterinarian.

"Oh, come on, Santo," Wyn replied. "You know
I've been seeing her."

Santo nodded. "Yeah, I knew that, but I just
thought it was, like, real casual."

Wyn looked at him with a serious expression.
"It's more than that, Santo," he said. "Much more."

"Well," Santo said, "I guess congratulations
are in order, huh?"

"Maybe," Wyn said. "Anyway, I'm going to get
on the telephone and see if I can help dig up Arielle. If you think
of anything, let me know."

"I will," Santo said. "I'm going down to the
stable, check on things there, but I'll give a call if anything
comes to mind."

"See you later," Wyn said.

Santo turned and left the room, trying not to
hurry, heading down to the stable where he would try to get hold of
Arielle in privacy.

Wyn watched him leave. What's going on with
him? he wondered.
He hasn't been acting like himself
lately.

Chapter Twenty-Six

Tiffani jerked and missed a key on the
computer's keyboard.
Damn!
she thought.
The creepy
bustard's done it again. Scared the life out of me. Except this
time, I'm already nearly jumping out of my skin.
She quickly
planted a big smile on her fuchsia-painted lips and turned around,
thrusting her large breasts out and giving her long, curly hair a
big swing, a habit she'd developed, certain that men found it
irresistible.

"Hi, Santo," she said, forcing cheer into her
voice. "How are you?" She was chewing gum and popped it.

Santo returned her smile with the mere
semblance of one and that was an effort. "Okay, Tiff," he replied.
"You doing all right?"

"Yeah," she said. "I've got tons of typing to
do. A lot of checks to get ready for signing and stuff." She paused
for a moment, considering her next move. "Are you going to be
working in here today?"

Santo shook his head. "That's why I came by,"
he said. "I've got a lot of stuff to do, too, and I wondered if you
could hold the fort down today."

"Sure!" she said gaily, almost shuddering
with relief.
How good can my luck get?
she thought. "I'd be
glad to. I'm way behind on paperwork, so I'll be right here except
to maybe run out and get a sandwich or some¬thing later on."

"That's cool," he said. "Oh, yeah, if Mr.
Conrad calls down here for me, tell him I'll call him right back.
Okay? Then you give me a buzz at my cottage. I'm going to be
working over there."

"Yeah, I'll do it for sure," she said,
thinking that he was acting pretty odd. The creepy giant never left
his post, and while she was working at the stable that usually
seemed to be his post. Maybe the boss had him doing something else?
Maybe he and the boss had a fight?

Oh, well, who cares,
she decided.
He'll be out of the way, and that's the best news I've had all
day. I'll just have to watch out for old man Reinhardt, but that
shouldn't be much trouble. He's always in a world of his own. Never
even speaks to me, just nods. I'll be able to help Teddy out, and
nobody will ever know the difference. Except Teddy.
My
Teddy.

"See you later," Santo said, then went back
out the door.

"Yeah, sure," Tiffani said. "See you." When
she was certain that he was gone, she picked up the telephone
receiver and dialed a number.

In the privacy of his cottage, Santo quickly
punched in the number on his cell phone. Once. Twice. Three times.
Four.
Nada. Fuck
. He was about to press the end button when
she answered.

"Hello?"

"It's Santo," he said. "Maybe it's time we
had a little talk."

"I was hoping you would see it my way,"
Arielle said.

"I'm not sure I do," Santo replied, "but I
want to discuss it. Something's come up."

"What do you mean?" she asked.

"Wyn's going to settle," Santo said. "He's
already contacted your lawyers about it, but they haven't been able
to reach you."

"I guess his little girlfriend brought on
this sudden change of heart," Arielle said.

"Yeah."

"So now that he's found somebody he wants,"
she went on, "he's finally willing to get rid of me."

"You could say that."

"Listen, Santo," she said, "could you get
away from there now? I want to talk to you in private."

"What about Lolo?"

"He's over at the polo grounds. He might be
back soon so we'd have to meet someplace."

"You mean you don't want him involved?" Santo
asked.

"No way," Arielle said. "He can't handle it.
I'm very disappointed in him. I thought he was more of a man." She
paused, then added, "Like you."

"What've you got in mind?" Santo enjoyed her
obvious flirting.

"We'll talk about it when I see you," she
replied. "Can you get away?"

"Sure."

"I know a place between Saratoga Springs and
Albany," she said. "We'd have privacy there. Nobody in the world we
know would see either one of us."

Santo listened as she gave him the name and
address of a motel. "I can be there in less than an hour," he
said.

"Good," Arielle said. "I knew I could count
on your help, Santo."

"I don't know," he said, "but I'm willing to
discuss it."

"See you in an hour," she said and hung
up.

Santo depressed the end button on his cell
phone and flipped it shut. He felt life stir in his groin and
smiled as he headed out to the garage.

Valerie had just finished examining George
and Jesse, two Labrador retrievers, and giving them Lyme disease
vaccinations. She was filling in their charts and sipping coffee
when the telephone jangled.

"Yes?" she said, still focused on a
chart.

"Val," Tami said teasingly, "guess who's
holding on line four?"

"I don't have any idea," Valerie replied. "Is
it friend or foe?"

"Oh, it's definitely friend," Tami said
conspiratorially. "In fact, I would say it's probably a whole lot
more than that."

Tami hung up, and Valerie pressed the line
four button. "What can I do for you, Mr. Conrad?" she asked.

"Ask not what you can do for me, Doc," Wyn
retorted, "but what I can do for you."

"The possibilities are infinite, I'm sure,"
she said with a laugh, "but did you have something specific in
mind?"

"Indeed, I did," he replied. "I want to wine
and dine you again tonight at my humble abode, then see what
happens from there. If you're not already bored with my company,
that is."

"I'm certainly not bored with your company,
Mr. Conrad," she replied, "but why don't you come over to
my
humble abode for a change and let me show off my culinary
skills?"

"Because I have something special in mind,"
he said, "and I think we ought to do it here at Stonelair. Besides,
I'd like to cook for you since I know you'll be tired after a long
day at the office."

"Why, thank you, Mr. Conrad," she
replied.

"How about eight?" he asked.

"I think I can fit that into my schedule,"
she said.

"I'll see you then."

"Okay, bye." She hung up the phone and
squeezed herself with her arms. "This is what they call dreamy,
Elvis," she said, looking down at him. "I hope you've felt it at
least once in your life. Dreamy, dreamy—"