Nobody Knows (10 page)

Gideon was keenly aware that he was out of place here. A fish out of water. “Yes. I have a ring I’d like you to take a look at.”

“Certainly, sir. Please, come over here.” The jeweler gestured to the counter at the side of the store. A blue velvet pad sat on top of the sparkling glass. With his callused hand, Gideon pulled the ring from his pocket and placed it on the pad. The jeweler picked it up, turned it in his hand to examine it, then held it up in the air, where the rubies caught the light. “This a beautiful ring, sir. Very beautiful.”

“What is it worth?”

Leslie Sebastien knew exactly what it was worth. He had designed and sold it. The question was, where had this old guy gotten it?

In her room at the Inn by the Bay, Cassie didn’t bother unpacking. It didn’t make sense to put things in the dresser drawers when there was the distinct possibility that they might have to check out quickly and change locations. Best just to pull things out of her duffel bag as she needed them. She did, however, hang up a few shirts and the yellow slicker she had brought and threw her rubber boots into the bottom of the closet. Glamour clothes.

Kicking off her shoes, she instinctively switched on the television set, clicking the remote control until she found the KEY affiliate. She still had some time to kill before the local six o’clock news began, and she could get the lowdown on how the area was gearing up for Giselle. She dialed down for room service, ordering some wine along with her turkey club. Let Leroy and Felix go to that restaurant on St. Armands Circle that Leroy had been raving about. Cassie had no desire to join them for dinner.

She flopped down on the king-size bed and picked
up the telephone. On the off chance that the attorney representing her might still be in his office, Cassie dialed the number for the KEY News legal department in New York.

“Glenn Jones.”

“It’s Cassie Sheridan, Glenn, just checking to see if there’s anything new.” Like a little kid, she found herself squeezing her eyes shut and crossing the fingers of her free hand.

“Look, Cassie, we talked about this, didn’t we? These things take time. Stop worrying, will you?”

The lawyer was right about the time part. The pretrial antics had been dragging on for months as Cassie and KEY News lost their motions on getting the suit dismissed for one reason or another. “Easy for you to say, Glenn. You’ll still have your job and your house no matter how this suit turns out.”

In addition to being a crackerjack attorney, Glenn was a good hand holder, adept at soothing his clients’ frayed nerves. “Yes, you’re right. I will have my job because we are going to win this case. Anyone can file a suit about anything, Cassie. On our side is the fact that Pamela Lynch is a public figure. That makes her fair game for the report you gave. We’ve talked about all this before.”

“But her daughter wasn’t a public figure,” Cassie said. “Maggie Lynch was just a young woman who had the misfortune of not only being raped but having the event broadcast on the national news. She couldn’t take it.”

Glenn’s tone was serious. “Cut it out, Cassie. As your attorney and as your friend, I’m telling you, stop
feeling sorry for yourself, and stop blaming yourself. If we can’t settle this thing and we end up in court, you are going to be called on to testify. You better get your head on straight. You reported the news. Nothing more.”

Cassie didn’t respond.

“Okay.” Glenn filled the void patiently. “It might have been better if you hadn’t said her name. Reporting the name of a rape victim can be actionable. But we can argue that even if you hadn’t mentioned Maggie Lynch by name, people would have figured out who you meant. Pamela Lynch has only one daughter. If that daughter was the reason the FBI director named someone to the Fugitives List, the public has a right to know that.”

To hear Glenn tell it, it made sense. Cassie listened as the attorney continued. “The company has to stick with you, Cassie. First of all, one of their executives, namely Range, forced the story on the air. Second, this could set a bad precedent for all media firms, scaring them off stories and leaving them much more vulnerable to lawsuits. There are some First Amendment issues here, and KEY needs to fight this case and win.”

“Okay,” she answered, mollified for the time being. “You’ll keep me posted on what’s happening?”

“Promise. Where are you, anyway?”

“In Sarasota, Florida, waiting for a hurricane.”

“Swell. Well, hang in there, Cassie, and stop worrying. We have things under control up here.”

As she placed the receiver back into the cradle, there was a knock on the door. Cassie got up and grabbed her purse, taking out a few singles for the waiter with
her room service tray. Heading straight for the red wine, she filled her glass and took a generous swallow, followed by another. Pointing the remote at the television, she raised the volume and watched the story of the little kid who had found a human hand on the beach that morning.

THE TURKEY
sandwich lay untouched on its plate, but the wine had all been swallowed when the phone rang. “Cassie, it’s me. Leroy.”

“Hi.” What did he want now?

“I just heard that the Boys Next Door are playing on the grounds of the old Ringling estate tonight. I called and, no surprise, they want all the publicity they can get. It’s never enough for these guys. Let’s go.”

“Come on, Leroy.” Cassie was exasperated. “You know damn well we won’t be airing that on KEY. It’s just another concert. There’s no news in that, no matter how big the band is.”

“Yeah, I know that and you know that. But
they
don’t know that. It’ll be fun. We’ll go through the motions of shooting something, and then we can eat, drink, and be merry. And, if it will make you happy, I’ll pitch it to
KEY to America.”

“I didn’t know you were a fan of the Boys Next Door,” she said. “I thought boy bands appealed to my thirteen-year-old daughter and her friends, not to grown men.” Could she try any harder to alienate Leroy?

He ignored the slight. “Get ready. We’ll meet down in the lobby in fifteen minutes.”

A welcome breeze blew in from the bay, cooling the guests gathered on the mottled marble terrace at Cà d’Zan. There was some major league wealth assembled here tonight, thought Cassie, observing the designer gowns and heavy jewelry. She fingered the platinum wedding band, channeled with diamonds, that she still wore on her left ring finger. She supposed she should stop wearing it, but tonight she was glad that she hadn’t taken it off yet. Dressed in black pants and a T-shirt, she was self-conscious, but she had come to Sarasota to cover a hurricane, not a society party.

A thirty-something man approached the KEY crew. His white linen shirt was opened almost to his belt buckle. Heavy gold chains were spread across his chest hair. Suddenly, Cassie felt better about her own attire.

Leroy shook hands with Sarge Tucker and made the rest of the introductions. “This is our correspondent, Cassie Sheridan, and our cameraman, Felix Rodriguez.”

“Nice to meet you. Glad you came,” said the band
promoter, pumping Cassie’s hand enthusiastically. “The boys are ready for a great show.”

“So, how is it that the band is playing here?” asked Cassie.

“Sarasota’s my hometown,” answered Sarge. “They only have one more concert on this tour, scheduled for Tampa tomorrow night. We were able to fit this stop in because it’s so close and because I asked them to do it for me. These guys have hearts of gold. So, anyway, make yourselves at home and let me know if there’s anything I can do for you while you’re here tonight.”

“As a matter of fact, there
is
something I’d like to ask you for, if it’s not too much trouble,” said Cassie, thinking the night shouldn’t be a total loss. “My daughter, Hannah, is a big Boys Next Door fan. Any chance I can get an autographed picture of the band for her?”

“Sure thing,” Sarge answered. “I’ll be sure to get you one by the end of the evening.”

ETTA WAS
glad she had volunteered to staff the reception desk. She wanted to be busy and keep her mind off the upcoming surgery. After she had checked off the arriving guests, she planned to excuse herself, drive home, and get to bed early. With a little luck, if the surgery went well, this might be the last time that driving after dark would be worrisome for her. Dr. Lewis said that after the operation the night lights of the highway shouldn’t bother her anymore.

Think of the devil
. Dr. Lewis stood before her, looking quite dashing in his tuxedo. Etta craned her neck to
look for his escort. She didn’t see one. “Good evening, Dr. Lewis.”

By the blank expression on his face, Etta realized that the doctor didn’t place her. She was a bit hurt but quickly rationalized. He had hundreds of patients. How could he remember all of them? Just as long as he recognized her tomorrow morning in the operating room. “Etta Chambers, Dr. Lewis. You’re doing my cataracts tomorrow.”

“Oh, yes, of course, Etta. Good to see you.” He didn’t bother trying to make any more small talk. Once his name was marked off the guest list, he turned and left.

Etta was tempted to stay and keep an eye on how much the doctor drank. She didn’t want a surgeon with a hangover slicing into her eyes in the morning.

“
YOU CLEAN
up nice, fella. You didn’t have to get all dressed up just to drive us up here.”

“No problem, Webb.”

“I don’t know how long we’ll be here, Jerry. You don’t mind sticking around, do you, buddy?”

I don’t have much choice, do I?
thought the marina owner as he helped his passengers off the boat. Instead he answered, “No, Webb, I don’t mind. I’ll be waiting here for you whenever you all are ready to leave.”

“And, Jerry, I found baby powder all over the floor of the head. You’re not letting anyone else use my boat, are you, big fella?”

“No, of course not, Webb. If it got around that I let people use my customers’ boats, I wouldn’t have much of a marina.” Jerry offered the first thing that came
into his head. “Maybe something just fell out of the cabinet.”

Webb was not mollified. “My kids have been out of diapers for quite a while now. I don’t keep powder in the cabinet. And don’t forget, Jerry,” he said, turning away. “I decide who to loan my boat to.”

Jerry watched the backs of Webb and Lou-Anne and the other couple, introduced to him as Gloria and Van, as they ascended the steps from the dock to the terrace at the back of the recently refurbished Cà d’Zan. Jerry already knew Van; the guy had recently contracted to dock his boat at the marina. The woman, Gloria, sure was stacked.

The lights inside the Mediterrean Gothic-style mansion shone through the pastel-colored leaded glass windows, bathing the bedecked party guests in a flattering glow. It was quite a scene, Jerry thought, like something out of a movie.

Jerry saw Webb stop to talk to a guy lugging a big camera and watched as Webb pointed to Gloria. The man hoisted the camera to his shoulder and pointed it in the direction of the shiny gold dress.

Jerry climbed back onboard the boat and opened the cooler he had stashed in the hold. Pulling out a Budweiser, he flipped the top and settled back to wait until he could go up there and get some of the good stuff. Why should he be the only one not drinking champagne?

GLORIA REVELED
in making her entrance up the grand marble steps. She was so glad Merilee was out of the
picture tonight. Now Gloria could be the belle of the ball. She felt like Cinderella in her shimmering golden gown, and she could tell she was making an impression by the heads, both male and female, that turned in her direction.

“You’re knockin ’em dead, sweetheart,” Van whispered in her ear. “You’re absolutely glowing.” Her escort squeezed her arm too hard.

Yes, Cinderella was a good comparison, she thought. Gloria had been feeling like a scullery maid since Merilee had become Webb’s little pet. Merilee had been getting all the attention. Gloria had grown sick and tired of being second banana.

She smiled and laughed and sipped champagne from a fluted glass, aware that Brian Mueller was training his camera on her. Gloria wanted to shine in the video Brian was taking of her, knowing that these would be the opening shots for
Velvet Nights in Venice
, the movie that would get her career back on track. Gloria nuzzled Van’s neck for the camera’s benefit.

“Nice touch, baby,” said Van.

“My pleasure.” She smiled up at him.

She supposed Van Jensen had been a friend. He was rooting for Gloria, and he told her so, often. Though Merilee and Van had steamy chemistry on the set, they’d never seemed to get along when they put their clothes back on. Van didn’t seem at all upset that Merilee was missing.

Gloria valued loyalty. She took Van’s hand and decided that when they shot the hot scenes that were to be the meat of
Velvet Nights in Venice
, she wouldn’t just go through the motions. She was going to show Van
her appreciation and make sure he had an especially good time.

HE REALLY
was Superman, Brian congratulated himself, serving two masters at the same time. Brian shot his pictures at every possible opportunity while letting Tony think he was shooting only for the Suncoast News piece.

“Hey, did you see who’s over there?” Tony was ogling. “That’s Cassie Sheridan from KEY News.”

Brian made no comment.

“I’m going to introduce myself.”

Good
, thought Brian,
now I can get some more stuff for Webb
.

WHILE FELIX
, at Leroy’s instruction, was perfunctorily shooting some video, Cassie helped herself to the passing trays of shrimp, skewered chicken, and quiche. As she reached for another piece of shrimp, a man beside her commented on her ring. “That’s a beauty.”

“Why, thank you.”

“I should know, I’m a jeweler. Leslie Sebastien,” said the man, extending his hand.

Cassie switched her glass to her left hand and shook his right one. “Cassie Sheridan.”

“You look somehow familiar,” he said, staring at her.