If I Can't Have You (45 page)

Adriana studied the frail but still pretty woman with curly white hair wisping about her head, trying
to remember who she was. She had blue eyes that twinkled when she smiled. Pink lace gloves covered her hands and an exquisite pink-and-white cameo had been pinned at the neck of her frilly, pale pink dress. She was lovely.

Of course. Janet Julian. Adriana laughed inwardly. How could she have forgotten the sweet movie star of the thirties whom she’d visited several times?

Adriana began to smile, and white light flashed before her eyes. She clutched the windowsill as a vivid image of a dying woman flashed through her mind. There were no pretty pictures on the stark, sanitary white walls. The smells of alcohol and pine cleaner assaulted her.

In an instant, the vision was gone. But the dizziness remained.

“I’m sorry,” Adriana apologized, massaging her temples. “I seem to have developed a horrible headache.”

Janet set a tray containing two frosty glasses on the bedside table, then moved slowly toward her.

“Just sit a moment, dear. I’ll call one of our doctors.”

Adriana shook her head. “No. I’ll be fine. Please, just stay with me for a while.”

“Of course I will. Come. Sit down and have some lemonade.”

Adriana took hold of the woman’s arm and allowed her to lead her to a chair next to the bed. She slumped into the pretty floral cushion that softened the wooden seat. Taking the glass that was offered to her, she took a slow, tentative sip, then set the glass back on the tray and closed her eyes.

Why am I here?
she asked herself.
Why do I feel so confused?

She could hear Janet moving about the bedroom, her sweet voice humming a tune as she opened and
closed a drawer, then walked toward Adriana and sat on the edge of the bed.

Adriana opened her eyes, and watched Janet flip open a photo album. “I so enjoy looking at these old photos,” she said, turning the pages slowly. “They bring back many fond memories.” She glanced at Adriana and smiled. “I’m glad you’ve asked Charlie and me to help with the movie you’re producing.”

Movie?
What movie was Janet talking about?

“No one today knows the thirties better than Charlie,” Janet continued, “and what he can’t remember, well, perhaps I can help fill in the blanks. It’s about time someone made a movie about Trevor Montgomery.”

A movie about Trevor?

Adriana closed her eyes again and tried to think, willed herself to remember what was going on.

Bits and pieces came to her. A call from William Castle asking if she’d be interested in coproducing a film about Trevor Montgomery. Consulting with screenwriters. Sitting in on auditions with nearly a dozen actors who weren’t half as wonderful as Trevor. The minute flashes of memory churned in her brain and made her head ache. Again she pressed her fingers to her temples and hoped the haziness in her mind would clear.

Taking the glass of lemonade, she sipped on the cool, tangy drink, and watched Janet as she studied the pictures.

“Charlie took these photos in the thirties. Actually, they were taken in thirty-eight, when I was filming
Break the Night
with Trevor.”

Adriana sat up, looking closely at the photos Janet was flipping through. At least one thing was clear in her mind. Her passion for Trevor Montgomery. Her friends had laughed at her obsession, but she didn’t care. No one understood how precious he’d always seemed to her, how real, especially in her
dreams and in the visions that came to her without warning—visions that warmed her heart and soul.

“Trevor was different before we started filming that movie,” Janet said.

“In what way?”

“It’s common knowledge that he drank—a lot—and that there were many women in his life.” Janet’s eyes flickered toward Adriana. “He was a very wicked man, and I suppose I shouldn’t have been in love with him, but I couldn’t help myself. When I came out of the hospital that first time, he’d changed. He seemed happier. He said there was a special woman in his life, although none of us ever met her.”

Adriana found it difficult to believe Janet’s words. She considered herself an expert on the life of Trevor Montgomery, and she’d never heard a story about him having just one special woman. Perhaps that was something Janet had dreamed up to soothe her feelings after Trevor rejected her. Janet had a history of slipping into a fantasy world. Still, Adriana didn’t want to discourage Janet’s words.

“I don’t know much about that year of his life,” Adriana told her. “All I’ve ever read said he stayed in Santa Barbara when he wasn’t filming or attending special functions. Is there more you can tell me?”

“I’ll tell you everything I possibly can. The only reason I agreed to talk with you about this is because I know you want his story to be completely factual,” she stressed. “No innuendo.”

“You mean about Trevor possibly murdering Carole Sinclair?” Adriana asked.

“Why, no. I’d never heard that story,” Janet declared. “Everyone knows that Carole committed suicide. You
are
aware of that, aren’t you, Miss Howard? Carole Sinclair swallowed a bottle of sleeping pills along with too much champagne.”

Suicide?

Nausea suddenly overwhelmed her, and she gripped her stomach as another image flashed through her mind. A battered and slashed body. Platinum hair, and Carole Sinclair’s frightened—but dead—eyes. A bloodstained knife. And Trevor Montgomery lying at Carole’s side. Just as fast as the memory came, it was gone, but the horror remained in Adriana’s mind.

Murder?
No, it was impossible. She’d never read anything about a murder. Why, then, had that image come to her so vividly?

Janet’s cool fingers touched her arm. “Are you sure you wouldn’t like me to call the doctor?”

“No, please. I’m fine.” Adriana said, closing her eyes for a moment as she took a deep breath.

When she looked at Janet again, she smiled faintly, not wanting to worry the lady. “I’m feeling a little better, Miss Julian.”

“Mrs. Beck, please,” Janet corrected. “I haven’t used the name Julian in nearly sixty years. Charlie and I were married not too long after Trevor disappeared. But, I’m talking far too much about myself. I know you have an appointment to rush off to, so please, tell me again what it is you’d like me to help you with.”

Appointment?
Again she couldn’t remember. It was the Fourth of July and she always spent the day at Sparta, but today was different. Why?

Suddenly she remembered the phone call from London. The collector wanted to look at Valentino costumes, and he was going to be in California for just one day. Of course. It was all coming back now. She’d had to make the trip in to her shop in Hollywood, and she’d decided to visit Janet at the same time, to try and learn more about what happened the night Trevor Montgomery disappeared.

A flood of relief washed through her as her remembrances collided with each other. The pain in
her temples and behind her eyes was subsiding.

“Miss Howard?”

Adriana looked into Janet’s worried eyes.

“Would you like some aspirin?” Janet asked.

“No. No thank you. I’m tired, that’s all. I should have stuck with running my memorabilia business instead of coproducing this film, too. It’s been one headache after another, especially the star.”

“I’ve read so much gossip about that Mr.
Dorn
,” Janet said, shaking her head. “I’m sorry, Miss Howard, but he’s not at all like Mr. Montgomery. I honestly can’t see why he was hired for the part. He’s much too pretty.”

“Yes, I always felt that way, too. The Trevor Montgomery I knew was taller. His shoulders were broader...”
Adriana’s words trailed off when she saw the frown on Janet’s face.

“You couldn’t possibly have known him, Miss Howard.”

Adriana laughed nervously. “Of course not,” she said, covering her mistake. “I just imagine that he was taller.”

Another vision swept through her mind. Dark circles under bloodshot eyes. A harsh—but sensuous, whiskey-tasting—kiss in the pounding ocean waves. Bronzed skin that felt warm and wonderful to the touch.

A tear slid down her cheek, and Adriana hastily wiped it away.

Maybe she was losing her mind. She’d seen visions of Trevor before, but they’d never seemed so real.

A light tap on the doorjamb made Adriana instantly turn her head. Charlie Beck was walking toward her with the aid of a cane.

“Janet told me you’d come by,” he said, shaking Adriana’s hand. He once again gripped his ivory
handled
cane as he looked deeply into Adriana’s eyes. “She said you weren’t feeling well. Is there anything I can do?”

“I think it’s just a mild case of exhaustion. Your lovely wife’s been kind enough to keep me company until my headache goes away.”

“Then I won’t be imposing if I join you for a bit, at least till the charcoal’s hot?”

“No, dearest,” Janet said. “We’d love your company. We were talking about that actor—Paul
Dorn
. You remember, the one who’s going to play Trevor Montgomery in Adriana’s new movie.”

“Yes, I know the one.”

Charlie pulled a low wooden chair close to the bed and sat down slowly, leaned forward and rubbed his knees.

“I had the radio playing earlier,” he said, glancing from his wife to Adriana. “I heard the oddest story about Mr.
Dorn
being arrested for fraud and embezzlement. Is it true?”

“Every word of it,” Adriana remarked, suddenly realizing how easy it had been to answer Charlie’s question. The memory was clear. All of the haziness had seemed to clear just as her headache was going away. “Actually, he
and
his agent,
Jim
Paxton, were arrested. It’s going to slow production down, but I’d been looking for an
excuse to find another person to play the Trevor Montgomery role.”

“Why?” Charlie asked.

“Mr.
Dorn
just didn’t fit the part. His Southern accent was too strong, and we were considering doing a voice-over. It took several weeks to find Mr.
Dorn
, but I’d rather double that time rather than hire someone who isn’t close to perfect. It’s a shame Trevor didn’t have a son who’d followed in his acting footsteps.”

“He might,” Janet threw in. “We don’t know what happened to him after he disappeared. He could
have gone to another country, fallen in love, and had several children.”

“I suppose we’ll never know, though. I wish there was some way we could give the movie a happy ending, but I want to tell the truth—nothing else.”

“Then end it by telling the world that he was a hero,” Charlie said.

“A hero?” Adriana had always imagined Trevor playing that role, she’d dreamed of him doing heroic things, but all she’d ever read about was his drinking, his womanizing, and his very wicked ways. “I’d love to end the movie that way. But I have nothing to base it on.”

“Tell the world that he saved my life,” Janet said, then hesitantly continued. “I tried to kill myself once. It was a long time ago, and I didn’t want anyone to know—except Charlie.”

Adriana watched Janet reach a hand out to her husband, and saw the tenderness in both their faces as Charlie squeezed her fingers.

“I realize your movie isn’t about me,” Janet said, “but I’d like to tell the truth, so people will see that special side of Trevor that Charlie and I got to see that last year.”

“If you feel like sharing, I’d love to hear the story, and I’ll make sure you have the opportunity to read the screenplay before we start to film. I told you I needed your help.”

“I don’t honestly know where to begin,” Janet said. “Of course, I’m sure you’ve read all the stories about the party the night before Carole died.”

Adriana nodded, and Janet continued, her eyes glazing over as she stared out the open window.

“Carole left the Trocadero early, but most everyone else stayed until nearly dawn. Charlie was going to take me home, but he got a phone call and had to leave, so Trevor took me home.” Janet frowned. “No, that’s not quite right. We went to my house
and I packed a few things to take to Sparta for the Fourth of July weekend, then we drove to Trevor’s place in Santa Barbara. He said he had a letter to write to a friend.”

“A letter?” Adriana asked. As far as she knew, Trevor Montgomery had never written letters. She’d never found any in the house—to or from anyone.

“I don’t know who it was to,” Janet continued. “It must have taken him an hour or so to write, and then we left for Sparta. When we got there, Trevor seemed terribly preoccupied. He spent a lot of time with Harrison, reminiscing about old times. He seemed happier that night than he’d been in a year, as if he knew something good was about to happen.”

“But you don’t know what?”

“I just assumed it had something to do with the woman he said he was in love with,” Janet said. “Of course, the happiness disappeared the moment Charlie showed up at Sparta.”

“I’m the one who told them about Carole,” Charlie said. “The phone call I’d gotten at the Trocadero was a tip that the police had found a movie star dead in Santa Monica. I didn’t say a word to Janet about it—I figured I should check it out first.”