The Last Maharajan (Romantic Thriller/Women's Fiction) (14 page)

Only when she set her bag on the bar next to him did he look at her, over his right arm.

“You’re back.” He didn’t act surprised. He didn’t act angry. He acted as if he quite expected it but could have gone his entire life without seeing her again.

“I’m back.” She slid up onto a stool. “There are some things you said and I need to understand what you meant.” She reached into a pocket and without pulling it out, played with each angle of the recorder until she found the on button.

“Yeah, like what?” He took a drag off his cigarette and blew it out up over his head.

“Well, first off, why exactly did you and Sandy split?”

“And, that would be your business, how?”

“Come on, Clive, it’s, as you said yourself, ancient history. How can it hurt you now?”

Clive was on his third or fourth drink and beginning to eye the bartender for another. Euly couldn’t help to think how the past must have contributed to his current demise, his daily alcoholic lunch. She felt sorry for him and disgusted all at the same time.

“Euly. You have no idea what you’re asking.”

“All I’m asking is for you to come clean. Tell me what split you guys up. It’s been, what, nearly forty years and you can’t talk about it, still?” She couldn’t understand. “Look, Clive, Bill and I were unfaithful to the point of being ridiculous but it’s over. That was only ten years ago and even I can talk about that. He screwed around on me and it hurt so I hurt him back. How can your story be any different? What could possibly be so bad?”

Clive rubbed a hand over his entire face.

“Lord, you’re just not going to give up on this one, are you?”

Euly shook her head and stared hard into his eyes and held his gaze. She wasn’t about to lose their connection.

“Another, Clive?” The bartender wasn’t helping his condition any and poured him another drink. He asked, “More ice?”

“No, I’m good.”

He almost seemed to forget she was there. When she adjusted her position, he tipped his head in her direction.

“So.” Her question swung high in the air.

“So, so.” He frowned. “I can see why you got a divorce. You say you got married again, did you?”

“Look Clive, you can insinuate all you want but it’s not going to change the reason why I’m here. Just tell me. I’ll leave right after that. You won’t have to deal with me ever again.”

“Didn’t you say you were writing a memoir?”

“I’m changing the names to protect.”

“It wouldn’t be me you’d need to protect.”

“Now, see, that’s what I’m talking about.

What does that mean?”

“Just what I said.” He knew he had baited her and took a long slow drag from his cigarette. He blew a gray stream just as long in front of him. It traveled until it hit the back wall of the bar and tumbled within itself.

“You love this toying with people don’t you? You know, screw you, Clive. I don’t need your stinking side of things. There are others who remember you and Sandy. They’ll tell me what they think happened and I’ll use their information, whether it’s true or not. It’s my flipping story. I’ll tell it the way I want.”

“You sure are sparky, Euly. Why didn’t I ever get any of that?” He patted her thigh.

“Quit, Clive.” She swiveled her legs away from him. “Cut it out.”

“Why’d you stand me up back then?” And that was it, the whole reason he wasn’t giving her what she wanted now.

“Well, for one, you were more like my uncle than a guy I would date.”

“No, that’s not it. You were always a flirty little thing with me. I wasn’t too old for you. So, what was it?”

“I don’t know, Clive.” Air fluttered from her lips. “I just couldn’t bring myself to. It seemed taboo or something. I don’t know.”

“Taboo, huh?”

“I guess.” Euly lowered her eyes and unraveled the memory – the phone call, her acceptance and then not showing up. But, she had accepted and felt guilty for it.

“You were next on my list, kid. I wanted you so bad.”

“Clive, please.”

“Let’s go to the hotel. Who would know but us?”

“Answer my questions, Clive.” Euly’s lips curved up.

She could’ve added,
that’s why I’m here. No other reason than that!
But she didn’t. She let his question lay open. She allowed him a shred of hope. Enough of a shred for him to bite.

“The game’s afoot, then?”

“Something like that.” She couldn’t believe she was letting him believe she’d have sex him for the information but there she was doing just that. He smiled at her.

“Okay. Cool. Let me buy you a drink first.”

CHAPTER THIRTY

Euly wiped her nose and sniffed. The phone rang and startled her and although she was worried it might be Clive, she picked up the phone anyway.

“Hello.”

It was Geoff. He was telling her she sounded like she was getting a cold. He was telling her they needed to talk about the separation – how they needed not to do anything rash, to think about everything that was happening in their lives, maybe even go get counseling. He seemed worried but the knock on the door startled her.

“Crap.” She whispered it, forgetting Geoff was listening. He asked her what was wrong. When she said it was nothing he didn’t believe her and kept pressing her to tell him.

“It’s nothing. I just wasn’t expecting it. That’s all.” She didn’t realize she was still whispering and when he broached that point, she lashed out at him but still held her whisper. “Look, is this an interrogation or something? I don’t need this, Geoff.”

Whoever stood on the opposite side of the door, knocked again.

“I’ve got to go. I’ll call you…” Before she could finish, Geoff’s end of the line went dead. “Dammit.”

She looked through the peephole but saw no one. With her back against the door she could feel her body shaking. Her left hand involuntarily made its way up to her mouth but rather than chew at a nail she rocked her thumbnail hard in-between a bicuspid and an incisor to the point of making a dent in it.

Her head thronged in pain--the crying, the worry and, now, this thing with Geoff. She fumbled into her luggage. An old thin tube of Anacin peeked through the mesh compartment. Geoff had left it there from a weekend trip to Seattle they'd taken, right after his knee surgery a couple years back.

She quickly unzipped the compartment and pulled out the tube. The cap was difficult to turn but she managed, even with shaking hands. For some reason, the pills didn’t look right. They looked like the old style of aspirin, without a coating for easy swallowing.

Still, Euly popped two into her mouth. They tasted tart and bitter. She filled a glass with water and shook her head once to help guide the pills down her throat. The headache felt like it might accelerate into a full-blown migraine so she emptied out one more pill into her palm and took that one too.

She made her way back to the door and looked again through the peephole. Whoever had knocked, had left.

Balancing her rump on the edge of the bathtub she watched the water filling the tub. A soak would help her relax. While she waited, the small room filled with mist.

Not waiting for the tub to fill, she dipped one toe in and laid back. The warm water rushed over her stomach and breasts, finally pouring up and over her shoulders, reclining fully and placing her feet onto the faucet wall, raised, straight-legged at an angle.

But, then, a moment of dizziness enveloped her. It was a singular whoosh. Her head began to feel thick and uncomfortable. The sound of water filling ricocheted within the room, almost too loudly.

She sat up but crumbled back instantly into a reclining position. She was finding it difficult to breath.

The dizziness remained but now a buzzing began deep inside her ears.

She began to breathe heavily. Her breathing quickened and her chest felt tense. She tried to sit up again lifting her arms above her head, trying to stretch out her ribcage but instead felt the dizziness overtake her, crumbling yet again, lying in the tub. Her legs weak and useless, flopped openly held up only by the sides of the bathtub.

Trying to normalize her rugged breathing, Euly sucked back deep pockets of air, holding them but nausea set in.

Feeling as if she was being held down, she struggled to get up. But, the water splashing against the walls of the tub echoed in her head like a bongo throughout the tiny room. She flopped her arms over the sides but then only hung there.

The nausea gripped her again and she fell back into the tub lying back.

Her eyes wanted to close. A helpless feeling to sleep wrapper around her as she lay there, the water running, but an irresistible urge to close her eyes took over, like a gripping around the neck, and as she sank lower, Euly fell unconscious.

CHAPTER THIRTY ONE

Enaya closed her car door and looked up just as a man pushed his way, hard, out from the lobby doors.

He stomped across the parking lot and got into his car. He started the car but didn’t pull out right away instead, he just sat there.

She thought she recognized him – his curly hair, his lanky features – a slim long nose and dark eyes but she couldn’t place from where. So, Enaya let it go and headed into the hotel.

Enaya sat in the lobby reading her mystery novel, while she waited for her sister to return from God knows where she was. Then, she thought maybe Euly was in the shower or possibly wasn’t in her room at all but decided she had a little extra time today to sit and read. The lobby stirred with bodies coming in, checking in, finding the elevator, leaving the lobby. Luggage racks wheeled in and out, the door chimed each time the sensors recognized a void splitting their connection, People talked and laughed, the phones rang for reservations or room service or the valet and there was a television set tuned to a news station for those waiting for the shuttle or taxi. The place was anything but suited for a nice quiet afternoon spent reading. Enaya closed her book and breathed out. She stuffed it into her purse and sat with her hands folded in her lap, watching the anthill of activity in the hotel.

A nervous call came down to a reservation agent. She spoke quickly and waved someone over – a man wearing a hotel nametag on the breast of his suit. The female agent hung up then picked up the receiver again and spoke anxiously to another hotel employee.

“Immediately.” Was all Enaya could make out the woman saying. She saw the woman roll her eyes.

The man waited next to her and they spoke in hushed tones covering their mouths. They seemed to try and break the tension with quiet nervous laughter. The man seemed to think of something and went into the office behind the counter. He resurfaced with a leather bound notebook. As he flipped through it, the woman looked on.

When the phone rang again they both jumped. She answered it then handed it over to the man. The man while still on the line signaled to the woman to make another call.

Enaya was used to the noise of the city – the early morning garbage trucks, traffic buzzing outside humming like electricity and, of course, the sound of sirens wailing in the distance. Today’s siren began like a mosquito in your ear. It grew slow and with a rhythm she’d become accustom to. As it neared its sound became more frantic as if the mere closeness of it meant some unspoken doom was lurking by. When she saw the lights flashing down the road at the intersection she expected to see it streak by the window and out of sight to somewhere else. But, when it slowed in front of the hotel, she knew.

As the ambulance wheels bumped over the lip of the parking lot, the man in the car pulled out and nearly backed into the row of cars behind him. But the ambulance pulling up in front of the lobby distracted her.

She watched as the EMTs open the back of the ambulance and pull out a gurney. She watched the hotel employees aiding them – telling them the floor number. The male agent whispered something to one of the emergency people and they headed to a service elevator. Then, they were gone. The agents tried to collect their composure. They looked around the lobby at the people visiting or waiting or just plain watching and smiled at each trying to quell the worry they were seeing in their guests eyes.

“Everything’s okay.” The man said and pressing his hands down as if it was a room full of dogs not people. Enaya looked at some of the people looking at the others between them, she knew it wasn’t okay. Someone was either sick, injured, or worse. The busy hotel eased and people stopped talking hoping to hear something, anything of what might have happened. The female agent picked up a remote controller and increased the TV’s volume. It was a signal for everyone to go back to what they were doing. The professionals were there. They would handle things now.

Enaya needed to take a more proactive stance. She knew the employees wouldn’t tell her anything so she pulled out her cell phone and dialed Euly’s cell. Enaya only got her message to leave her information, which she did. Her cell didn’t switch over quickly like one that is turned off or already in use. It rang five times before switching to the answering service. Euly’s phone was on.

After a few minutes, Enaya got up and went over to sit in a thick chair by the lobby phone and dialed her sister’s room but again she didn’t get an answer. When the room’s phone switched over to the hotel’s operator, the female agent at the counter picked up. But, Enaya hung up before she said anything. She looked over to see if the agent had seen it was her but she hadn’t. At the same time, the service elevator made a sharp ping and the doors opened. There was a body on the gurney, a woman, with oxygen strapped over her face. Enaya noticed an IV in her arm. They worked fast. They rolled the gurney through the lobby fast and out through the doors. The manager came from behind the counter and followed them. He talked momentarily to one of the EMTs. Heads nodded in agreement while the ambulance doors remained open waiting for the EMTs to get in.

For Enaya, it was involuntary. She stood when the manager walked in his quick slapping steps away from the counter and toward the door. It was as if someone else were telling her what to do – to follow him and watch. That’s when she looked at the woman lying on the gurney and although it was shadowy inside the mobile hospital room, she could recognize her sister anywhere.

“Oh my God. Euly!”

The man turned to the door behind him. He and the EMT put out their arms to hold her back.

“That’s my sister.”

CHAPTER THIRTY TWO

“Moon, what do I owe the pleasure?” Belle’s, her voice filled with raspy effort. The edginess of quiet anger brimmed each word. Still, Belle didn’t try to hide her tone.

“What the hell are you trying to pull?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Please. Look, you sent your daughter on a wild goose chase. Why is it so difficult for you to be truthful with them? If my Micaiah was alive today…”

“Don’t get all holier than thou with me, Moon. Even though you may think it, you’re not perfect.”

“I’m not going down memory lane with you today, Belle. I don’t have time. I’m calling to tell you that you’ve put your daughter into such a state that she broke into my house and went rummaging through my personal things. Is that what you’d intended? These girls are all you have, all you’ll ever have, and you treat them like toys. Is this the memory you want to leave them with?”

“Get off my ass, Moon. You always acted as though you were better than I was. One thing you’ve got to remember is that Ray left you for me. Don’t you forget. He tired of you.”

The silence thickened.

Belle remembered the events much the same way Moon did but neither could sort out what had transpired more than fifty years before. It had become an amalgam of different stories, his, hers, theirs. It had been told and retold so many times no one was sure of the facts any longer. It had seemed Belle’s breathing stopped, something she couldn’t afford, as she waited for a retort.

When Moon spoke the words flowed through the line with a pain that was palpable. “Well, maybe that’s so. You need to talk to your daughter. Enough said.” The skirmish ended with a click like that of a book being closed. Her ear cupped the phone like a child’s to a seashell.

CHAPTER THIRTY THREE

“Are you all right, Mom?” Geoff recognized Belle’s agitated state and worried for her lungs to hold out.

Belle wiped her face with the back of her hand trying to recover. “You’re back.” Her words whispered with jagged syllables, she looked around trying to locate the phone and to set the receiver back onto it.

Geoff stood in the doorway.

“I’ll get it. You okay?” He walked over to her and took the phone and set it down for her.

“Fine. It’s nothing.”

“Have you heard from Euly? She hasn’t called me in two days. I was wondering if you’d heard anything from her.”

“No.” She wasn’t about to reveal any of what Moon had told her.

“I’m starting to worry. I’ve called her cell but there’s no answer.”

“I’m sure she’s fine. You know how she gets.”

“Yeah, but I don’t like it.”

“You married a writer, Geoff. They’re an odd bunch.”

“You can say that again.”

“If she calls me I’ll let you know. Likewise, honey, if she calls you first, let me know. Deal?”

“Deal. So, how are you today?”

“I’ve been better. Today it’s my heart.”

Artis came in, grabbed Belle’s wrist, found a pulse and looked at her watch. She counted to herself, made a mental note and patted Belle’s hand. She smiled. On the computerized chart she keyed in the information and reviewed at a tape that had printed out on one of the monitors.

“You feelin’ okay, honey? You spiked a little.”

“It was nothing. I just felt a little anxious.”

“Okay. You let me know next time you start feeling a little anxious. We can help with that, you know. It’s a medical center.” She smiled with her red-painted lips and soft round eyes. “Okay. I’ll leave you two alone.” She winked at Geoff.

“Anxious?”

“It’s nothing.”

He knew Belle, if she closed the subject on something you didn’t dare bring it up again.

“You need anything, Belle? I can run out and get whatever you want.”

“It would be nice if you would get my drawing pad out of my closet there, dear. It’s up on the second shelf.”

“Sure thing.”

When he opened her closet, a wave of Belle’s scent wafted out and it stopped him. He stood unmoving for too long. His throat caught and his eyes burned.

“The second shelf, dear. Don’t you see it?”

“Yep. Right there.” As he reached up he wiped his eye on his shirt sleeve. He couldn’t let her see. He coughed once. “This one, right?” He held it up over his head without turning to her. “Anything else?”

“That should be it. My pencils are here in my drawer.”

He closed the closet and Belle’s scent was enveloped in the antiseptic stark odor of the hospice.