Remember (28 page)

Bringing his hand up to his face, Arch rubbed his chin, looking thoughtful. “Answer me this, Nicky. Why would Charles want to fake his own death and disappear?”

“I’ve no idea.”

“Usually people do that only if they’re in some kind of trouble.

You know, financial trouble, for instance.”

“Charles didn’t have money problems. I know that from his will.

Anyway, people do disappear for other reasons.”

“Such as?”

“If they’re depressed—which he wasn’t. Or if they’ve done something criminal, or if they are criminals.”

Arch exclaimed, “Jesus Christ! You’re not suggesting Charles was a crook, are you?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know whether I am or not—but I am giving you reasons why people melt into thin air and start a new life .

. . people who are murderers, drug traffickers, arms smugglers, big-time swindlers …” Nicky rose, and walked over to the window, where she stood looking out. Eventually she turned around and said, “How well does anyone know another person? Truly know, I mean. There are secret parts to all of us, parts we don’t always know well ourselves.”

“Yes,” Arch murmured and lifted his glass to his lips, at a loss for words.

Nicky said, “Maybe he was a homosexual, and wanted to escape me and our marriage.”

Arch stared at her. “Only you have the answer to that!” he exclaimed, and asked, “Do you think he was?”

“No, I don’t. Not at all.”

“No indications?”

“No.”

“That was a very weak no, honey.”

She was silent as she slowly walked back to the chair, where she sat down. “It was a weak no, that’s true, but it didn’t mean anything, I wasn’t implying anything. You know as well as I do that there are men who have hidden their homosexuality even from themselves for years, and then they suddenly come out… .

That’s all I meant when I brought up homosexuality. And if you’re asking me if Charles showed any homosexual tendencies in our sex life, the answer to that is a categoric no.”

“Still, he could have been—in the closet?” Arch lifted a brow questioningly.

“Anybody can be anything, I suppose, but I believe Charles was straight.”

“I have to agree with you. I didn’t know Charles well, but he struck me as being a pretty tough sort of guy, maybe even a bit ruthless. He wasn’t the sort to vanish without a trace just because he was afraid to break off his engagement. He’d have done that no matter what the reason, Nicky, if he’d wanted to. If he did disappear, it was for a reason that had nothing to do with you.”

“I’ve finally come to that conclusion myself.

“Why?” Arch muttered. “Why would a man like Charles drop off the face of the earth?”

“Don’t you think I’ve asked myself that a thousand times since last Wednesday?” She shrugged wearily. “I just don’t know.”

“Perhaps it wasn’t him on our news footage. It seems to me Charles Devereaux had no possible reason to walk away from his life.

Therefore, he must have committed suicide.”

“I don’t believe he’s dead,” Nicky said quietly but vehemently, looking at Arch intently. “Not here, not inside.” She paused, pressed her hand against her stomach. “My gut instinct tells me that he’s alive, and that he dropped out of sight for a very, very serious reason. A reason so bizarre that you and I couldn’t possibly imagine what it is. And that’s why I haven’t been able to come up with an answer. Why no one else has.”

Arch looked at her keenly but made no comment.

Nicky now spoke slowly, to give even greater emphasis to her words.

“We’re lacking some information, Arch, there’s something about Charles that we don’t know. And that’s why we’re at a loss.

He vanished for a reason that’s not apparent, that’s not in the least obvious. Not to us, anyway. And believe me, it’s no ordinary, everyday reason.”

“Do you mean he had, has, some sort of secret?”

“Yes, maybe. But whatever it is, neither his mother nor Philip has an inkling of it, and I certainly don’t.”

“Hell, Nick, I don’t know what to say … ” Arch shook his head and lifted his shoulders helplessly.

Bending forward, her eyes leveled on him earnestly, Nicky said, “Listen, Arch, Charles came to Rome, to continental Europe. He didn’t go to Australia or Africa on-Polynesia. So obviously he wanted, or needed, to be in Europe, had to stay here.”

“There’s another point. If he is alive, what’s he using for money?

How’s he living?”

“He could have been stashing money away in Europe for years. He did a lot of business in France and Spain—wine business—and even here in Italy from time to time,” Nicky explained. “He probably had a Swiss bank account. In fact, that’s more than likely. Yes, I’m certain he did.”

“I see what you mean.”

“You never knew this, but Charles was always something of a financial genius, even when he was very young,” Nicky confided.

“Of course he inherited money, but aside from that he made his own fortune, and in a variety of ways. Stocks and bonds, and real estate, to mention only a few things. And he turned his wine-importing company into a real gold mine. Money and its management and manipulation were never problems to him.”

“He left everything to his mother, didn’t he?”

“Everything that was visible, and in England. How do I know what he got out over the years? Or the deals he made in Europe?” She nodded, as if confirming something to herself. “Charles would have no problem living, and living pretty damned well.”

“I guess you’re right. Do you think Charles had, and still has, a secret life?”

“Again, I don’t know—but the indications are there, aren’t they?

A man doesn’t do what he did without a truly compelling motive .

” Taking another tack, Arch asked, “When you came to Rome, what was your plan, Nicky? I mean how did you aim to find him?”

“I didn’t really have a plan, Arch. I just decided to come to the source of the film. I was going to talk to Tony about the footage, show him those pictures.” She gestured to the photographs on the coffee table. “I intended to ask Tony if he’d ever seen that man knocking around Rome, and if he had and knew his haunts, I was going to go and look for him. If Charles is living here, he’s obviously doing so quite openly, quite freely.

The reason he was captured on film is that he was outside in the square with the crowds that night—not hiding somewhere.”

“Yes, that’s true. On the other hand, you’ve so little to go on, honey. Does Clee know that you’re here?”

“Yes, of course.”

“Did you tell him why?”

“No. When I spoke to him on the phone, I said I was here on business.

” “I don’t think Clee would be too happy if he knew you were roaming around looking for Charles Devereaux. I think he’d be pretty damned mad. After all, you two seem to be very involved.”

“Yes, we are. But that doesn’t mean he runs my life, or that I have to ask his permission about anything,” Nicky said in a firm voice. “I’m a very independent woman, nobody tells me what to do, or when or how to do it. I’m my own person. That’s the way I was brought up, as you well know. What I’m doing in Rome is my business, Arch, and only mine.”

“All I meant is that I’m not sure Clee would relish the thought of you investigating Charles’s disappearance . Hasn’t it ever occurred to you that it might be dangerous? Charles Devereaux doesn’t want to be found, honey. I’ll bet my bottom dollar on that.”

She nodded. “Maybe.”

“Tell me something. What are you going to do if you do find him, Nick?

Take him to task for running out on you? Chastise him and walk away?

Turn him in to the authorities?”

Nicky’s mouth tightened but she said nothing.

“Are you still in love with Charles Devereaux?” he asked, deciding to confront her with the big question. “Is that why you’re hell-bent on tracking him down?”

“No, it isn’t. I’m not in love with him. I haven’t been for a long time.”

“Then why are you doing this?”

“Because I have to get to the truth, Arch, to know what really happened. And why. I’m a reporter, remember, and training will out, as they say. Besides, I want to close the chapter on Charles Devereaux, and get on with my life—with Clee.”

“Close it now, Nick. Stop this. It’s a waste of time, in my opinion

.

” There was deep anxiety in his voice and she saw how serious he was.

He was worrying about her again, as she had guessed he would. “Perhaps I should do as you say,” she murmured, wanting to pacify him, to put his mind at rest. “I suppose it would be wise to let it drop. There’s only the remotest chance that I might find Charles. And as you said, even if I did, what then?” She sighed lightly. “You’re right, Arch, as you so often are.”

He smiled at her, and a look of immense relief flooded his face.

“Go to Paris, Nick. Promise me you’ll go to Paris tomorrow.”

“Yes, I will,” Nicky said, and reached for her glass of wine.

What did one more white lie matter in the scheme of things?

“Let’s go and sit in Tony’s office, it’s more comfortable there,” Jennifer Allen said, ushering Nicky into her boss’s inner sanctum.

“Can I get you anything, Miss Wells? A cup of coffee, perhaps?”

“Nothing, thanks, Jennifer, and please call me Nicky.”

The young woman smiled at her. “Thanks, I will.”

“So Tony won’t be back until late this afternoon?” Nicky said, lowering herself onto the low-slung Italian leather sofa.

“He said about five or six o’clock,” Jennifer answered, taking a chair next to Nicky. “He went to Vatican City, and after the meeting there he has a lunch. And after that he’s got to go to the dentist.”

Nicky pursed her lips and nodded, wishing now that she had spoken to Tony on the phone earlier.

“Can I be of help in any way?” Jennifer asked, eager to please one of the superstars of the network.

“No, not really. I’d hoped to speak to Tony about a piece of

news footage that was transmitted from here last Wednesday, a week ago today, in fact.”

“Oh, the segment on the shooting incident at the political rally,” Jennifer exclaimed. “That’s the footage you’re referring to, isn’t it?”

“Yes, I was wondering if all of it was sent, or whether there might be some spare footage left over?”

Jennifer shook her head. “No, there isn’t, Nicky. We passed everything to New York.”

“I see.”

“Are you sure I can’t be of help? You look worried.”

Nicky forced a laugh. “I’m not. Only curious, actually. And maybe you can help after all.” As she spoke, Nicky opened her handbag and took out the three photographs, she handed only two of them to Jennifer. “The man in these pictures was caught on that news footage, just a face in the crowd. I had the frame frozen at the network and these pictures taken of him, because—” “Why? Is he important or something?” Jennifer cut in.

“In a way, but only to me. About a year ago, in New York, I was working on a piece. This man was one of the key figures involved,” Nicky said in a cool voice, having worked out a suitable story in advance. “Then he disappeared, and I’ve not been able to pull the special together without him. I’ve been wanting to contact him ever since. To interview him. Seemingly he’s living in Rome. I thought Tony might know him, that he might be a local character, one who mixes with the international crowd.

I was hoping Tony might suggest a few places I could look for him.

Bars, restaurants.”

Jennifer had listened carefully, and now she glanced down at the photographs she was holding. She shook her head after a few seconds, and handed them back. “No, I don’t think I’ve ever seen him around.

But—” She paused, looking thoughtful, then shook her head. “No, I don’t know him.”

“But what?” Nicky pressed. “You were about to say something.”

“I thought, for a minute, that he looked slightly familiar, but no .

.

. no, I can’t place him.”

Putting the photographs back in her handbag, Nicky smiled at her and said, “A pity. Well, never mind.”

The two of them walked through into the outer office, and Nicky headed for the door, realizing there was no point in hanging around the Rome bureau. “Tell Tony I’ll call him later, and thanks, Jennifer.”

“Sorry I couldn’t be of more help.”

Nicky went down the corridor to the elevator, pressed the button and stood waiting. The elevator arrived, and she was about to step inside when she heard her name being called. Pivoting, she saw Jennifer rushing down the corridor toward her.

“I’m glad I caught you!” Tony’s secretary cried as she came to a halt.

“I’ve just realized why that man’s face seemed a bit familiar to me.

Could I look at the photographs once again, please?”

“Yes, of course,” Nicky said, her heart skipping a beat as she opened her purse and took out the pictures.

Jennifer peered at the larger one, which Dave had taken, and nodded her head. “I’m pretty sure this guy was on the same plane as I was last Thursday.”

“A plane? To where?” Nicky asked.

“Athens. I went there for the weekend. This guy was standing next to me at the carousel, waiting for the baggage. He helped me get my bag off.” She passed the pictures back to Nicky.

“Are you sure it was the same man?” Nicky’s voice was suddenly an octave lower, very quiet.

“Yes. He was very polite. Gentlemanly. And he had a beautiful voice .” Hardly daring to breathe, Nicky asked, “What nationality was he, do you think, Jennifer?”

“English. He was an Englishman.” that afternoon Nicky flew from Rome to Athens.

The flight time was only an hour and a half, and around five o’clock the plane landed at Ellinikon Airport. As soon as she had cleared customs, Nicky found a porter to help her with her luggage and within minutes they were standing outside in the suffocating heat, waiting in line for a taxi.

The drive into Athens did not take long, just half an hour, but by the time she arrived at the Grande Bretagne hotel in Syntagma Square Nicky felt exhausted. The cab had not been very well airconditioned, and August was a stifling hot month in Greece.

Her suite overlooked the Acropolis, and it was large and roomy.