Mysterious (12 page)

"What time is it?" the deep husky voice beside her asked.

"I don’t know and I don’t care."

"Shameless," he pronounced lazily, "that’s what you are."

"Only with you." She tucked herself into his side, her head resting in the crook of his arm and her leg thrown over his.

"Is that so?" He tried to infuse a teasing doubt into his voice, but failed. He just felt plain too good, too contented.

"That’s so." As if he were a pillow, she snuggled deeper into him, pressing against him until she was cushioned exactly right.

Rotating his head toward the bedside table where his watch lay, he gave it a cursory glance, then noticed her charm bracelet lying nearby.

Rolling over abruptly, he scooped it into his hands. "Tell me about this bracelet."

"I already have. I told you that my mother and dad gave it to me and I told you about the key."

"I know, but tell me what these other charms are for. This one, for instance." He held up a tiny golden football.

"When I was a junior in high school, I went steady with one of the captains of our football team."

"Steady! I’m impressed."

She giggled happily and pointed to one that had the number sixteen engraved on it. "That was for my sweet sixteen birthday."

"I bet you were really something when you were sixteen," he mused.

"And this"—she pointed to another—"is my zodiac sign."

"Aquarian, an ever-changing personality. I can certainly vouch for that. Along with an ever-changing name."

She put her mouth against his ear and whispered, "Shut up."

"Nice," he murmured, and held up a tiny pennant. "What’s this?"

"My school emblem."

"Where? Where did you grow up and go to school?"

"Virginia. And that’s enough about me. I want to know more about you."

"Uh-uh." His hand delved under the sheet, to the flat silkiness of her stomach. Gently kneading the flesh, he worked his way down until his fingers hovered at the sensitive hollow between her legs. "I can think of a lot better ways to spend our time than talking about myself."

"No," she protested weakly. She pushed his hand away and raised up on one elbow. "I really want to know."

"What?"

"What kind of jobs did you have when you were young? For instance, did you deliver newspapers?"

He reached for her. "I sold maps to the homes of the stars."

"Stars? But there aren’t any movie star homes in St. Paul."

"Exactly." Pulling her halfway under him, he leaned down to her mouth. She made a small sound deep in her throat, and excitement quickened in him as he tasted the instant hunger for him he found there.

He took one richly erotic breast and squeezed it, loving the way it filled his hand and felt so soft and round beneath his fingers. The nipple beckoned, and his mouth closed over the enticing bud and began a hard sucking pressure, then harder until he heard her moan with wild pleasure.

She burned for him. Grasping his hair with her hands, she pulled his head against her. "That feels so good," she whispered. She felt him laugh, his hot breath blowing against her delicate skin.

It was fantasy. It was reality. Hot pulsing magic and hard shuddering need. Sweet soaring senses and wanton quivering flesh.

Sensing the beginning of her climb, Jerome raised up and plunged roughly into her. He felt her close tightly around him and the hot velvet orifice begin its contractions. Underneath him she turned into a clawing, biting wildcat. Her cries bathed him in heat and he went out of control. Thick and swollen, he pounded into her, knowing that never had he fit so well into a woman before.

It began again, the rippling squeezes and releases of the muscles inside her that surrounded him and drew him into a world where there was nothing but sensations of flowing hot honey and molten gold.

#

The next morning, in the vault area of the small bank Richard had chosen, Jennifer reached into the long rectangular safety deposit box and pulled out a standard-size manila envelope, eight-and-a-half by eleven, plain and unmarked. Instead of opening it herself, however, she handed it to Jerome.

"Please," she whispered. "You look."

Without preamble he ripped the end of the envelope off and upended the contents onto the table. A smaller envelope fell out, the kind one receives from the drugstore with developed pictures in it. He pushed back the flap and a pack of photographs slid into his hand.

One after the other Jerome whisked through them, then he handed them to Jennifer. "What are they?"

Sifting through them, she murmured, "These are the pictures that Richard and I took on our trip to Switzerland."

Jerome shook his head. "It doesn’t make sense that Richard would rent a safe deposit box merely to store pictures of you and him. Look closely at them. There must be something special. Some clue in at least one of them."

"You’re right. But at first glance there doesn’t seem to be anything at all in these pictures that’s out of the ordinary. I remember the circumstances under which every one of these pictures were taken, and there is nothing here that shouldn’t be." She smiled down at the images. "Richard and I had a good time on the trip. And I– "

"You what?"

"I miss him."

"I know you do, honey. It’s only natural. From what you’ve told me about him, he sounds like a good man.

"He was. And he was smart. Which is why I’m pretty sure that these pictures aren’t just a red herring, because I’m the only other person who knew about this box. Whatever Richard put here is valuable enough to kill for."

"Perhaps the answer lies in the negatives or even in the envelope itself," Jerome said. "But my money says there’s a microdot someplace on either the pictures, the negatives, or the envelope. Maybe two. At any rate, I have a friend who works in a laboratory who will analyze this for us." His arms went around her and he pulled her close into him until he could feel every curve and bone in her body imprinted against him. "Don’t worry," he whispered. "We’re a long way from being licked."

It was a raw day. A cold north wind sliced between the buildings, piercing through to Leo’s arthritic bones like a long gray needle. Still, it never occurred to her to turn the stand over to someone else. She needed to be here. And the electric heater behind the counter offered some relief, as did her layers of clothes and the gloves with the fingertips cut out of them so that she could count change.

A dark blue car pulled to a stop in front of the newsstand and a man she had never seen before climbed out. He was not quite six feet, Leo judged, but he was big-boned and well-muscled, and instantly she knew this man wanted more than a newspaper. She was right.

"Hello," he said, giving her what she concluded was his best ingratiating smile. "Nice day today, isn’t it? A little cold, of course, but still, it’s a nice day."

She nodded solemnly.

"You’ve got an excellent location here," he complimented her, and craned his neck so that his view encompassed one-hundred-and-eighty degrees, including the condominium across the street.

Leo said nothing, waiting for him to realize that exchanging pleasantries with her was not going to make her chatty.

"I bet you see a lot of life from here." He swiveled back around and fastened black eyes, the color of a storm cloud, on her. "Like the comings and goings across the street."

She remained silent.

"I’d like some information."

"Who would?"

"I’m with the St. Paul Police Department."

"Then you’ve got some identification."

The subtle expression that passed fleetingly across his face showed Leo that he was busy reevaluating her, but he flipped out a badge. It read CHARLES BREWSTER, LIEUTENANT, ST. PAUL POLICE DEPARTMENT. "Now, as I was saying, I need some information." He slipped the badge back into his coat pocket and brought something else out for her to see. It was a picture—a picture of a beautiful dark-haired woman. "Have you seen this person coming and going around here, perhaps into the building across the street?"

Leo studied the picture carefully. She had recognized it immediately, of course. It was a picture of the woman who was staying with Jerome Mailer. She handed the picture back to him. "No. I’ve never seen this person before."

"Are you sure?"

"I’m positive."

"But you’re in a position to see everything here. Think hard."

"I’ve already answered your question, Lieutenant. Now, if that’s all, I’ve got a business to run here."

The look he gave her was hard, shrewd, even calculating. "I have a feeling there’s more to you than meets the eye. Perhaps your background would warrant looking into. In the meantime, maybe your memory will improve. I’ll go for now, but I’ll be back."

"I’m sure you will, Lieutenant Brewster."

As Leo watched him get into his car and drive away, she knew that the hard chills she had begun to experience had nothing whatsoever to do with the weather. What would she do if Brewster were able to discover her secret?

#

Jennifer hung up the phone and shut the phone book. That was the last of the hospitals, and Richard wasn’t at any of them. It had been a long shot, but the possibility that Richard could still be alive had begun to niggle at the back of her brain. Logic told her it just wasn’t possible, but she couldn’t seem to let the thought rest. Why had there been no report of his murder? And what had happened to his body?

She pulled the lapels of Jerome’s velour robe closer around her. She could hardly think of her brother lying cold, lifeless, and alone somewhere. After her husband had been killed, Richard had been the one to insist that she move in with him. Not all young men in his circumstances, a popular young bachelor, would have done so. But Richard wouldn’t have it any other way. They had been very close. She supposed it wasn’t any wonder that now her brain wouldn’t completely accept the fact of his death.

Her glance strayed toward the corner of the room, where she had stacked away the boxes that held all the parts of Jerome’s train set. He had seemed genuinely pleased with it, saying he would set it up again as soon as they had solved their problem. It was her problem, really, she thought. She had brought it with her, and as a result, they hadn’t had a chance for a normal relationship. Would they ever? she wondered.

The buzzing of the apartment intercom startled Jennifer out of her thoughts. Jerome came striding in from the other room, fresh from a shower and wearing a towel slung low over his hips. He crossed to the intercom. "Yes? Who? Oh, hell! Yes, of course. You might as well send him up peacefully. You really can’t do anything else, can you?"

"Who is it?" Jennifer questioned, unable to keep the anxiety out of her voice.

Jerome was standing by the intercom frowning, but her question spurred him to action. "Just a guy named Eugene. Nothing to worry about. You let him in while I throw on some clothes."

"Walt! Who is Eugene?" Jennifer looked around. She was speaking to an empty room.

A few minutes later, with more than a little apprehension, Jennifer opened the door, then stepped back in alarm. A huge mountain of a man stood before her. He literally filled the doorway, and he was eyeing her suspiciously. "Is Mr. Mailer in?" His voice sounded like a volcano about to erupt. She took another step back.

"Uh..."

"Mr. Jerome Mailer," the hulking mountain prompted.

"Are—are you Eugene?"

The heavily built man dipped his head in acknowledgment of the fact, and Jennifer looked on in awe. Taking all the laws of physics into account, that action had to be impossible. The man had no neck!

"Eugene." Jerome spoke from behind her, now dressed in slacks and a shirt. "Come on in." As the man lumbered into the room, Jerome performed the introductions. "Jennifer, this is Eugene. Eugene, Jennifer."

Jennifer just barely managed to control the start of surprise she felt that he had given this dangerous-looking man her name.

The huge man dipped his head in her direction once more. "Ma’am."

"What can I do for you, Eugene?" Jerome asked.

Evidently the big man wasn’t one for chitchat. He came right to the point. "Dinner tonight at the St. James’s. Sami says you’re to be there."

Jerome swung his amused gaze to Jennifer’s confused countenance. "Tell her we’ll be there."

Eugene left and Jerome shut the door behind him.

"Who is that man?" Jennifer demanded.

"Eugene? He’s Sami’s bodyguard."

"She has a bodyguard?"

"Officially Eugene has been her bodyguard for the last twelve years. Unofficially more years than that."

"I don’t understand. What kind of woman is she that she needs a bodyguard?"

He hesitated. "It’s a little hard to put labels on Sami. You’ll see for yourself tonight."

"No, I won’t. I’m not going to that woman’s house." She crossed her arms over her chest, prepared to take a stand. The last thing she wanted to do was go to dinner at the home of one of Jerome’s girlfriends.

"Look, I’m sorry, but we have to go. She’s managed to find out about you, and believe me, she won’t stop until she’s met you."

"Uh-uh! No way. Besides, I don’t want to bring anybody else into this. Believe me, the fewer people who know about me, the better."

"I thought that way, too, at first. But now I’ve changed my mind. If we give you high visibility, the people who are after you won’t be able to try something without making a lot of noise. And no one knows more people who can make noise than Sami."

"I suppose it might work. I don’t know. I guess it depends on how desperate they are. But at any rate, it’s irrelevant, because I don’t want to meet this Sami person and that’s final."

"You don’t really have a choice," Jerome pointed out gently. "We’re not going to hurt her by refusing."

"What is it with you and this woman?" She felt like screaming and pulling someone’s hair— preferably not her own.

"She’s my best friend and we’re going."

Best friend, ha! Jennifer thought stormily. She began to chew on her thumbnail. "What did you mean when you said we have to go? You make it sound as if it’s a royal summons."