Deadly Embrace (10 page)

This new information was confusing. Marnie and his dad. A couple.
It didn't seem possible, and yet she wouldn't make it up.

"Uh ... Mrs. G., you shouldn't talk about my mom that way," he
ventured.

"Why not?" she said defiantly. "It's the goddam truth. You didn't
know her, Mikey, but believe me, she
was
a tramp. She tricked
Vinny into marryin' her."

"Don't say that."

"
Everyone
knows about the way she carried on behind Vinny's
back," Marnie said, her eyes narrowing vindictively. "The story goes
that
she
set up the robbery with a boyfriend she had on the
side, an' it backfired on her. So here's the truth—
she's
the one responsible for Vinny bein' in a wheelchair. I can blame
her
."

"I... I can't believe that."

"Well, it's true. Beats me why your dad didn't fill you in.

"I gotta go," he said restlessly, trying to keep a check on his
emotions. Mamie seemed so secure in her knowledge, and yet Vinny
hadn't told him shit about any of it.

"Sorry I hadda be the one t' tell you the truth," Marnie said,
reaching up to touch his cheek with her long, painted nails. "Y'know,
I'm very fond of you, Mikey, an' I hate to see you hurt, only it's
better you know, isn't it?"

Why
? he wanted to yell.
Why would I want to know that my
mom was a tramp who set my dad up
?

But he didn't say a word. Instead he turned and walked off down
the street, leaving Mamie standing there.

He couldn't go back inside. As far as he was concerned, the
funeral was now over.

Dani was right about never seeing Emily again. They searched for
months, failing to come up with any leads. Sam even took a trip out
to the ranch to find out if Dashell had abducted her. Dani wanted to
go with him, only Sam didn't think it was a wise idea, and rightly
so, because what he discovered when he got there shocked him. The
ranch was abandoned, everyone gone, the place in complete disarray as
if they'd left in a mighty big hurry. Even the horses were gone.

"What do you think happened?" Dani asked when he got back and told
her what he'd found.

He was as puzzled as she was. "Dunno," he said. "All I can say is
it was dead creepy out there. I'm glad you weren't with me."

"Should we tell the police?" she ventured, her active mind
imagining all kinds of terrible things.

"Tell 'em
what
?" he said irritably. "They're not interested
in findin' out shit. Emily's just another missing person to
them."

And as usual, he turned to the bottle—his one solace since
Emily's disappearance.

Dani couldn't stop him from drinking, although she tried. He
refused to listen to her, preferring to wallow in his own misery. The
problem was that he seemed content to stay there, which meant that
she had to spend all her spare time looking after him, making sure he
got to his job on time, cooking him meals, cleaning his apartment,
and washing his clothes. He wasn't an abusive drunk—he merely
became maudlin, talking about Emily nonstop.

Eventually he got fired from his job, and after that his drinking
really
escalated. Dani didn't know what to do. Fortunately,
she still had her job, and since she was rarely at her small
apartment, she gave it up—saving on the rent because now she
had to support both of them. She slept on the couch at Sam's place,
while he stayed in the bedroom. She didn't mind. Sam had saved her
from a life of purgatory, and now it was her turn to save him.

One day she decided it was time to go through Emily's things, pack
them up, and get them out of Sam's sight. She'd noticed that at night
he kept on picking up one of Emily's sweaters or her old robe,
holding it close to his face and rocking back and forth. It simply
wasn't healthy, so after work she purchased a large traveling bag,
brought it back to the apartment, and began filling it with Emily's
things.

"What're you doing?" he demanded, attempting to stop her.

"Emily's not coming back," she said, determinedly shoving him away
as she continued packing.

"Yes, she
is
. I know she is," he argued. "She wouldn't
leave me like this. Not my Emily."

Dani shook her head. "I don't think she's coming back, Sam." His
miserable expression forced her to add, "But you
know
_#
what? We'll keep her stuff. I'll put everything in
the bag and store it in a closet. How's that?"

"Do whatever you want," he said, giving up and reaching for the
bottle.

In the bottom bureau drawer, hidden under a pile of underclothes,
she discovered a journal. Scrawled across the front of the book were
the words private—Do not open.

Her heart started pounding. Could this book contain a clue to
Emily's disappearance?

She agonized over whether she should read it or not. Was it right
to read someone else's journal? Yes, if that person was your missing
sister, it certainly was.

The following day she took the journal to work. She didn't tell
Sam, in case there was something in it he shouldn't see.

On her break she sat in the tiny dinette where the maids spent
their time off, and began reading. She soon discovered that the
journal was not about days and weeks and months, it was a rambling
continuation of random thoughts. Mostly Emily wrote about
Sam—how much she loved him, how good he was to her, and how
happy she was that he'd rescued her and Dani from the ranch.

Dani turned to the most recent entry, hoping for a clue.

Emily's words ended there.

Dani closed the journal, tears streaming down her cheeks. She was
full of mixed feelings. It wasn't as if Olive had ever been a true
mother to her, but to suddenly discover that her real mom had died
giving her life was a terrible shock.

When she got home that evening, Sam was huddled in his favorite
chair, gazing at a picture of Emily he kept in a tarnished silver
frame.

She decided not to tell him what she'd found out; the important
thing was to get him sober.

She went over to him and put her arm around his shoulder. "You've
got to stop doing this," she said quietly.

"Stop doing what?" he responded belligerently.

"Stop mourning Emily. She's gone, and we have to start
afresh."

"How d'you suggest we do that?" he asked, slurring his words.

"First we've got to get you better," she said. "There's an
organization I found out about at work called Alcoholics Anonymous.
If you'll go to a meeting, I'm sure they'll be able to help you."

"Why would I go?" he said blankly. "I've nothing to live for."

"You've got me, haven't you?" she answered softly.

"You? You're just a kid."

"I'm sixteen," she said earnestly. "I've been working for the last
three years, so I'm certainly not a kid."

"Yes you are," he mumbled.

"Please," she begged. "Do it for me. And if not for me, for Emily.
She loved you so much, and seeing you like this would break her
heart."

"Okay, okay, I'll think about it," he said reluctantly. She kissed
him on the cheek. "Thank you."

* * *

"Excuse me!" Dani gasped, blushing a bright red.

It wasn't the first time she'd walked in on a hotel guest in the
buff. But this was different, this was two women making out in the
shower of penthouse number one, a suite reserved for the hotel's
directors and high rollers when they were in town.

"I'm s-so s-sorry," she stammered, hurriedly backing out of the
bathroom, quite shocked.

It wasn't
her
fault she'd interrupted them. There'd been no
DO NOT disturb sign on the door. If people wanted privacy they should
at least activate the security lock.

"Wait!" one of the women called out.

Dani paused outside the bathroom door, wondering if she was about
to get fired.

After a few moments the woman emerged, wrapped in a fluffy white
towel. She was in her forties, with dyed blond hair and trampy
features. The towel ended at the top of her thighs, and her legs were
sturdy and pale. She didn't seem at all embarrassed.

"You!" she said to Dani. "You didn't see nothin', right?"

"N-no, ma'am," Dani replied, still stammering.

"'Course you didn't," the woman said, picking up her alligator
purse from a table beside the large double bed. "Nothin' you would
ever wanna repeat to anyone, right?"

"Absolutely not," Dani assured her, attempting to recover her
composure, although she was still quite shocked. Two women together.
It wasn't normal.

"Here," the woman said, fishing three ten-dollar bills from her
wallet and thrusting them at her. "Thirty bucks for you."

"It's... it's not necessary," she said, refusing to accept the
money.

"Yeah, it is," the woman said, pressing the bills into her hand.
"I'm here for a week, an' I require personal maid service, so,
honey—you're it."

"I am?" she gulped.

"Yeah. I'll call the hotel manager an' fix it. My husband does
business with this hotel, so they're inclined to give me anythin' I
ask for. An' personal maid service is the order of the day." A ribald
chuckle. "Only, don't get no fancy ideas. My old man arrives tomorra,
an' just 'cause I indulge myself, don't mean
he
can. So keep
your pretty little paws to yourself, your mouth tightly closed, an'
everythin' will be hunky-dory."

Dani was speechless.

"We're in business," the woman said, hitching up her towel, which
was in danger of falling. "I got two suitcases need unpacking. Get
everythin' pressed, an' book me a hairdresser to come up to the
suite. Oh yeah—an' have room service deliver ice, two bottles
of their best champagne, an' a tray of goodies to snack on." She
clapped her hands. "Get goin', sweetie. I need my blue silk dress
ready to wear tonight, an' make sure there's not a crease in
sight."

"I have other rooms to clean," Dani said, completely awed by this
forceful woman.

"Are you
listenin'
t' me?" the woman said, her voice
rising. "One phone call an' you're all mine. I'm makin' that call
now."

"Yes,
ma'am
."

"Call me Mrs. Giovanni. I don't dig that 'ma'am' crap."

"Yes, Mrs. Giovanni."

Marnie grinned. "
That's
more like it."

* * *

Mrs. Giovanni did as she promised, called the hotel management and
arranged for Dani to work as her personal maid now and whenever she
was in residence.

Soon Dani began looking forward to her visits; it was certainly
better than having to clean a series of anonymous hotel rooms while
fending off various male guests' advances.

Mrs. Giovanni was quite a woman. Loudmouthed and demanding, she
drank a lot and spent money like it was going out of style. Her
female lovers came and went, a new one every trip.

"Our secret," she informed Dani after several vodkas and a lengthy
session with a zaftig Latina singer. "You keep your mouth shut, an'
one of these days I might do some-thin'nice for you."

A couple of months and three visits later she took a long,
appraising look at Dani and said, "Y'know what, cutie? You're too
pretty to be a maid. How about I get you into the chorus of the show
downstairs?"

"Excuse me?" Dani said, busy unpacking a shopping bag full of
cashmere sweaters that Mamie had recently purchased.

"You're wasted here, even I gotta admit
that
."

"
I am
?"

"Dunno why I'm helpin' you when I should be locking you away in a
room so my old man don't get a peep at you. Not that he can get it up
anymore. I'm gonna introduce you to Lou, the guy who runs the show
downstairs. Do you dance?"

"Uh ... no."

"That's okay, you'll learn."

"I'm not sure I can, Mrs. Giovanni."

"Oh, for God's sake," Mamie snapped. "We're talkin' opportunity
here. I'm givin' you a chance, so for crissakes, take it. That's
unless you'd prefer slavin' away as a maid all your life?"

"I ... I'd be happy trying something new," Dani said
hesitantly.

"You got a boyfriend?"

"No."

"Who's that kid I see picking you up in the back?"

"That's Sam, my sister's husband."

"Uh-huh. Well, okay, I'll call Lou—get you in to see him
tomorrow."

Lou had taken one look at her and told her that if she could
dance, he'd hire her.

"I can't," she admitted.

"Then take a class," he said, thinking that with looks like hers,
who needed talent?

Willing to learn, she threw herself into dance class and soon
excelled. When she came back to see Lou, he was duly impressed.
"You're hired, honey," he told her. "A coupla weeks rehearsal an'
you're out there."

Sam was not happy about her joining the chorus line at the
Estradido Hotel. 'You was better off doin' your other job," he
complained.

"I'm making more money now," she reasoned. "That's good for both
of us, isn't it?"

"I suppose so," he conceded, still not pleased.

He'd been going to AA meetings for several months, and the
meetings seemed to be helping him. He'd quit drinking, and after a
few months of sobriety he'd even managed to get his old job back.