Close to You (18 page)

Keith pulled the seatbelt tight across his lap, laid his head against the back of his chair and closed his eyes as the plane began to taxi down the runway. He could think of a few of Eliza's personal needs he'd love to take care of for her. While the plane made its slow ascent, he fantasized about how Eliza would respond to any overtures he might make. With Mack McBride cheating on her and out of the picture, Eliza must be feeling vulnerable. This could be a good opportunity.

But Eliza knew he was married and knew Keith was awaiting his first child. Everything he knew about her suggested that she wouldn't be the kind of woman who would consider getting involved with a married man. Nor had Eliza ever shown any attraction to him.

But you could never tell. There was something about being on the road. People did things while they were traveling on assignment, things that would never happen in New York at the tension-filled Broadcast Center. Inhibitions came down in the freewheeling atmosphere. Many an internecine liaison “happened” on the road.

Afterwards, there was no honor in talking about it. The motto was, What goes on the road, stays on the road.

Road rules. No rules.

The golden lights in the pink-and-cream-colored high-rise condominiums that dotted the edge of Sarasota Bay were starting to blink on as Samuel Morton drove homeward on Ringling Boulevard. The sky at sunset over the Gulf of Mexico was a melding of rose, purple and blue hues. If an artist were to paint a picture of it, the painting's beholder would be skeptical the depiction was accurate, so unlikely was it that such a vivid, magical spectacle could occur naturally. But many evenings in Sarasota, it did.

The southwest Florida city was an incredibly beautiful place to live, with much to enjoy besides the world's whitest sand beaches and breathtaking sunsets, and Samuel had never regretted moving down from the North. Sarasota was a cultural cornucopia. The Asolo and Florida Studio Theaters provided first-rate dramatic productions. The strains of Beethoven, Bach and Puccini filled the Opera House. The Van Wezel Performing Arts Center staged Broadway shows, touring national celebrities, musical comedy, dance companies and orchestras. Shaped like a giant lavender sea-shell, the locals affectionately referred to the Van Wezel as “the purple cow.”

The Ringling Museum of Art, Florida's official state art
museum covered a sixty-six-acre estate that included the art museum, circus galleries, a charming rose garden and Ca'd'Zan, John and Mabel Ringling's thirty-room Venetian mansion. Works by El Greco, Velasquez, Rubens and Van Dyke hung on the art museum's walls.

The city attracted artists, actors, dancers, painters, musicians, authors and Northerners like Samuel who wanted to escape. They hated the winter months in colder climates and longed to get away to warmth, wide beaches, soothing water, great shopping and excellent dining. Though the summer months were long, warm and humid, the heat was tempered by afternoon or early-evening thunderstorms. Sam infinitely preferred the tradeoff of staying inside in the air-conditioning in July and August, to dealing with the cold, ice and snow of Northern winters.

Until now.

The “big” season would be beginning again in earnest next month, and the population of the city would swell as many of the retired residents returned from summering up North. The thought of being barraged with invitations to charity fundraisers, theater and gallery openings, galas, receptions, balls, banquets and cocktail parties on the circuit overwhelmed Sam.

He wasn't up to it this year.

Sam put his foot on the brake when he reached the causeway leading to Siesta Key and his car waited in line with all the others as the hinged bridge opened to permit a high-masted schooner to sail through. In the dimming light the white sailboat skimmed peacefully through the placid bay water. Sam could see a woman and man on board. The breeze was blowing back the woman's long hair. The man had a drink in his hand. It was a serene picture.

But Sam knew things weren't always as they seemed. He wondered about the prosperous, attractive couple on that boat. Were they really happy? Samuel certainly wasn't. Yet anyone watching him, tanned, well-dressed and driving home with the convertible top down, would look at him
and think he had the world by the tail. Instead he was wracked with anguish.

It was time to get away for a while. He had to.

His parents still kept their pied-à-terre in New York. He could stay there, in the city he enjoyed so much. The firm would just have to do without him. Samuel wasn't much good at the practice of contract law right now, he hadn't been for months. Always preoccupied, he had been going through the motions and Leo had been carrying things. He knew his brother was worried about him, and Samuel was certain Leo would understand when he heard that Sam wanted to take a leave of absence from the firm. In fact, Leo would probably be relieved not to see his dour puss around the office for a while.

The bridge came down and the cars drove on. As he crossed the causeway, Samuel looked out at the mesmerizing expanse of water and felt somewhat soothed. A decision had been made.

The Houghtons had agreed that KEY News could spend the day with them Saturday, taping them as they tried to do the things couples who were together all week long did on the weekends. Sensitive to the fact that the Houghtons might want to sleep in on their first morning after a week apart, Keith had agreed that they wouldn't come to their apartment until eleven o'clock.

Keith was almost embarrassed by how well he had slept without Cindy by his side. She was always getting up several times during the night to go the bathroom and, when she came back to bed, she tossed and turned, sighing heavily until she fell back asleep. He pretended to be asleep, not wanting to start any conversation that might lead to unpleasantness. Nonetheless, his night's rest was constantly interrupted.

Now he rolled over happily in the king-sized bed and checked the clock, seeing that he had time to go down to the hotel gym before breakfast. What a treat! He had let his exercise routine go, too, over the last months, sensing that Cindy would be resentful of the time he spent working out while her body was going to seed. A good strong run on the treadmill, if he could manage it, would be just the
thing. Maybe he could pound the improper thoughts of Eliza from his mind.

The gym walls were glass. When he approached and saw Eliza striding on the treadmill, dressed in a pair of black bike shorts and an exercise bra, it was too late to turn back. She had spotted him and waved.

Eliza wore no makeup, yet still she was beautiful.

He got on the treadmill beside hers and they began to run together.

“I thought we got some good sound in the interview on the plane last night, didn't you, Keith?” Eliza said between halting breaths.

“Definitely. We'll get his side of things today.”

“What else are we going for?”

“Hanging around the house, going to do some errands together. I told them to do whatever they would normally do. I think they are going out to dinner and a movie tonight.”

“Lucky.”

“Come again?”

“They're lucky,” said Eliza, without breaking her stride. “That sounds like a great day to me.”

Keith wasn't sure exactly what to say in response. Was she letting him into a tiny window on her soul? Was she telling him she yearned for an ordinary life, that the thought of just spending a day doing routine things with someone she loved was so appealing to her? Could Eliza possibly be looking for something from him?

Impulsively he switched off the machine, and went over and pulled Eliza from her treadmill and kissed her urgently on the mouth. She pushed him away. The alarmed expression on her face told Keith everything.

Augie picked a fight with Helene just so he could storm out of the house. That was easy enough since she was pleading another one of her headaches.

Angrily he got into his van and drove the few miles to Eliza's neighborhood. He cruised around until well past midnight, watching as surrounding homes darkened one by one. Several lamps were on in Eliza's house, though he noticed no activity behind the windows. Finally, the lights inside went out as their timers clicked off, leaving only the outside front-door light glowing in the September night.

He backed his van into the driveway, pulling it all the way to the end and then turned the vehicle onto the grass behind the kitchen. No one would be able to see it from the road. He left the van running.

Augie was taking a big chance and he knew it If Eliza had an alarm system, he would have to get out in a hurry. His plan was to let himself in and quickly check for alarm panels at the back, garage and front doors. If he found one, or if a screeching siren blared, he'd get right out and be well gone before the police could get there.

The latex gloves did not slip easily over his sweaty palms. Once he got them on, he pulled the copied key from
his pocket and grabbed the flashlight from the front seat. He gingerly slid the key into the back-door lock. The knob didn't turn.

Damn!
The key must be for the front door. The front door with the bright light hanging over it. The door facing the street.

He snapped off the flash light and walked around the side of the house, careful to keep close to the building. When he reached the corner, he stood for a while, hidden behind a large evergreen, and collected his thoughts.
Easy does it.

After ten minutes, no cars had driven by. There were no lights on at the Feeneys' across the street. With those three little kids, the parents were probably exhausted and in as deep a sleep as their children were. It paid to know your customers.

Augie came from his hiding place and hurried to the front door. This was no time for fumbling. He used all his powers of concentration to slide the key into the lock.

The brass knob twisted and the door opened. Augie stepped right in and closed the door behind him. He switched on his flash light and scanned the walls on either side of the doorway. Nothing.

Then he hurried to the rear of the house, training the beams of yellow light on the walls around the back door and the door to the garage. The walls were bare. He was probably safe, but he had to act fast.

He headed directly upstairs and quickly found the master bedroom. The first place to check was the bureau. He opened the top drawer and hit immediate pay dirt. He grabbed the leather jewelry box, not stopping to open it, and dropped it into a pillowcase that he stripped from one of the pillows on the bed. The flash light scanned the darkness. No television or VCR.

Eliza's walk-in closet was illuminated the moment the door opened by a light in the ceiling. He rifled through the racks of clothes. He could tell these were expensive duds, but he wasn't inclined to bother with them. There was no real money to be made by bringing them to a resale shop.
And wouldn't he look like an ass doing it? An ass and suspicious as hell.

His gloved hand felt a protrusion coming from the wall. Though he had no skill at lock-picking, he gave the safe handle a try anyway. Unexpectetly, it opened. His heart raced as he anticipated the booty.

The safe was empty.

Augie retraced his steps from Eliza's bedroom to the hallway and down the staircase. In the dining room, he found a mahogany case containing sterling-silver flatware and serving pieces. He greedily emptied the silver into the pillowcase. A large silver bowl filled, with flowers sat in the middle of the dining-room table. He dumped the flowers and grabbed the bowl. He hoped it was sterling.

A glare flickered on something as his light flashed in the direction of the living room. He followed the light to the round table that was decorated with at least two dozen picture frames. He swept them all into the bag. He would check if they were silver plate or the real thing later.

Enough with the pillowcase. He went to the kitchen and laid it by the back door. He tried to see if he could open the door out to the backyard from the inside. He could. Augie left it ajar, walked over to the refrigerator and opened the door. Sometimes people hid things in there. He rifled through the freezer.

Nothing.

Augie continued on to the den where he disconnected the big-screen television, a DVD player, a VCR and another tape deck of some kind. Since Eliza had a kid, a video camera had to be around somewhere, too. He found it in the paneled closet.

In four trips back and forth he carried all of the loot out to the van and pulled away. He checked his watch. Nice haul for thirty-five minutes' work.

Later he carelessly discarded all the photographs, knowing he would make a pretty penny on the silver frames. They were all sterling.

Somehow they had gotten through the rest of the shoot. Now Eliza was going to have to decide whether she could still work with her
FRESHER LOOK
producer.

Keith had been mortified the moment he saw the expression on her face after he had kissed her, knowing instantly that he had stepped over the line. He had apologized profusely, begging Eliza for forgiveness. Tears had welled in his eyes and his voice cracked as he explained that he was under so much pressure right now. There was friction at home with the new baby coming. The last thing he could afford was to lose his job.

Eliza had told Keith to forget about it. She understood. It was just one of those things. They hadn't brought up the subject the rest of the tension-filled time they were in Dallas.

At the airport back in New York, a car was waiting to drive her home and she didn't offer, as she might have done at other times, to drop off the producer and cameraman. She was eager to get home, she explained. That was true. She wanted to be there when Katharine and Paul arrived with Janie.

Now the limousine was pulling off onto the Saddle River
Road exit on Route 17 and Eliza was trying to figure out what to do. She felt sorry for Keith and didn't want him to be irreparably harmed by a momentary lapse in judgment. But she
was
the
Evening Headlines
anchorwoman. If word ever got out that Keith had pulled that stunt and she had stood for it, her own standing would be diminished.