Vegas Sunrise (38 page)

“Go to hell.”

“You said that already. Are you going to check it out?”

“Why? I'm certainly never going to show those pictures to anyone, so what is the point?”

“You'll always wonder if you don't. It looks to me like Sage was dead to the world and Miss Hot Pants Celia was just POSING him for the camera. He doesn't have his eyes open in any of the pictures. I think Jeff took the pictures. What do you think of that, Fanny?”

“I think you're a little late. I already figured that out myself.”

“Attagirl, Fanny. So, what are you going to do?”

“I think I'll show the pictures to Celia. It's possible she was hoping to drive a wedge into this family. Maybe it was her intention to pit Birch against Sage. Blackmail. I don't know, Ash. Maybe I'll hide the pictures and wait to see what happens. I like to think about things before I rush into something, unlike you.”

“You're gettin' feisty again, Fanny. I'm liking what I'm seeing and hearing. See you around, old girl. So those golden hairs aren't yours after all. Tsk, tsk.”

Daisy jumped into Fanny's lap as she burst out laughing.

“We'll deal with Celia when the time is right, Daisy. We have other things to do right now.” Fanny hugged the little dog, a feeling of peace settling over her as she drove out to the desert to the small house she called home.

 

Celia Thornton threw her canvas bag into the backseat of her newly leased BMW. She uncapped a bottle of mineral water and drank deeply. The hot lights she'd worked under all day had taken their toll on her skin and her mouth. She drank greedily from the bottle. She couldn't wait to take a shower and moisturize her skin, especially her face. She'd done well, and the end was in sight, as was a very generous paycheck.

The engine turned over. Foot on the gas pedal, lights switched on, she was about to pull into traffic when she felt hands on her throat. She slammed on the brakes as she tried vainly to see who was behind her.

“Thought you'd pull a fast one, huh? That kind of behavior doesn't work with me, Mrs. Thornton. What did you do with my keys, and where are those pictures?”

Celia went limp so that Jeff's hands would relax their hold on her throat. “What are you talking about?” she managed to gasp. “You saw me when I left. I didn't take your damn keys, and I didn't take the pictures. What the hell are you saying, Jeff?”

“I'm saying someone entered the penthouse and took them. You were the only one there. I don't give a hoot in hell about the pictures, but I do care about my keys and my father's aviator wings.”

Celia wiggled in her seat till she was turned and facing Jeff. “Look somewhere else, Jeff. I didn't have time to do what you're accusing me of. Go through my bag. Why would I want your stupid keys? I would like the pictures though. If they fall into the wrong hands, there could be a lot of trouble. When did you notice they were missing?”

“This morning. Fanny Logan called and wanted to meet with me downstairs, and when I got there she was in the ladies' room. She wanted to have breakfast and talk, but she got a call and had to run off to the medical center. I was kind of suspicious, so I went to the center, and, when she wasn't looking, I went through her bag. I also went through her car. She seems to be a very trusting person because the car wasn't locked. Needless to say, I didn't find either the keys or the pictures. So that brings me back to you. Besides, Fanny is the one who gave me my father's wings. What would she want with my keys?”

“Well, I didn't do it. Maybe she took them as an afterthought once she saw the pictures. She wouldn't want you to have the wings if you're the kind of person who has pictures like that. Think about it before you go off half-cocked. I thought there was only one key to the penthouse.”

“I thought so too. Obviously I was wrong the way I was wrong about Room 719. I have to give the Thorntons credit, they know how to cover their asses. There is a pair and a spare to everything that has a lock. I want those keys. They're mine. Those wings belong to me. They're my good-luck charm.”

Celia's trilling laughter sent chills up and down Jeff's arms.

“Don't tell me someone as educated as you are believes in good-luck charms. That's too funny for words. I don't give a damn about your stupid keys. I knew I never should have let you keep those pictures. I was right. You're sloppy. When you're sloppy things go wrong. I had you down as a tight-assed perfectionist. Man, was I wrong.”

“Shut up, Celia. I need to think. Why would Fanny Thornton set me up?”

“It's Fanny Reed, Jeffrey,” Celia said sweetly. “She's probably onto you. The whole damn family is probably onto you. You don't belong. It's that simple. Fanny's children overrode her decision. Everyone is laughing at you behind your back. I hear the talk. Get it through your head. You aren't good enough for them just the way I'm not good enough for them. At least I landed on my feet and have a job that pays some decent money. I'm earning it, too. All you do is collect a paycheck. It's charity they're handing out to you.”

“I don't give a good rat's ass about that crap. Money is money. If they're laughing, they'll be laughing out of the other side of their faces in a few more weeks. You, on the other hand, Celia, have everything to lose and nothing to gain. That was an incredibly dumb thing you did with Sage. I'm embarrassed to have had a part in it.”

“That's pretty funny coming from you. You were the one with the pictures in your possession. That makes you as guilty as me if we're placing guilt. If you're right and Birch's mother has the photos, she isn't going to let anyone see them. There are no negatives because they're Polaroids. She'll never show them to Birch because Birch will not believe Sage wasn't fooling around with me. He'll take the view that pictures don't lie. Fanny won't confront Sage. I think I'm in the clear here. At least for the time being. You, on the other hand, have a problem. If I were you, and this is just my opinion, I would hit those tables and get as much money as I could. I'd take that little operation of yours and head out to the desert, where no one knows you. I'm glad you stopped by, Jeff. I feel a lot better. Don't ever do it again. If you do, I'll shoot first and ask questions later. I bought a gun, and I have a permit to carry it. I'm Mrs. Birch Thornton, and I work for the family. You're from the other side of town, and all you're doing is taking up space and collecting a check. Who do you think the police will believe? Trust me when I tell you Fanny is not going to buck her kids again. You need to ask yourself something, Jeff. If Fanny did take the pictures and the keys, what did she do with them? Where would she put them to keep them safe? Work on that. Now get the hell out of my car. You're stinking it up.”

“Bitch!”

“Bastard!”

 

Sunny's head lolled to the side. “I can't keep this up, Harry. What number are we on?”

“Two thousand nine hundred and forty-one. I thought I heard something.”

“You're hearing the wind in the trees. What did we cook for Christmas dinner? I forget.”

“I forget, too. What did you give me for a present?”

Sunny laughed hysterically. “A wool scarf. Did we get married? How did I look in my gown in the wheelchair?”

“Like a bride. Your dress was all puffed out, and you couldn't see the chair at all. Jake had on a tuxedo, and Polly was wearing a red dress trimmed in white fur. She looked as pretty as you. Jake shook my hand and said he'd always take care of both of us.”

Sunny started to cry. “Did he really say that, Harry?”

“He did. I love him, Sunny. I love Polly, too. I'd give everything I own, which is almost nothing, to be able to be a real father to them. Do you think they know that, Sunny?”

“Hell yes they know that. They're my kids, Harry. They understand. God, what if we never get to see them again? What number are we on?”

“Three thousand nine hundred and thirty-six. We're going to see them again. I know we are. What did I give you for a present?”

Sunny sighed. “Earmuffs. Neither one of us was very original. If we get out of this, I'm going to get you a present that will blow your socks right off your feet. I have to go to sleep, Harry. I really do. Just for ten minutes. You wake me up, okay?”

“I need you to talk to me, Sunny. We have to talk to each other. That's how we stay awake.”

“Oh, Harry . . .”

“If you go to sleep now, you'll never wake up. Listen to me, Sunny, I'm talking to you. Salute me. Show me some respect. gave you an order, and you're deliberately disobeying me. I'll have to punish you.”

“That's a joke. You can't do anything worse than this to me.”

“Let's have a little respect, Sunny.”

“Dad, I'm so cold I can't feel any part of my body. I can't count anymore because my tongue isn't working. I can't see, and I can't feel. I did everything you said, and nothing is working.”

“It is working. You're alive. I want you to stay that way. just hang on a little longer. Try singing.”

“Come off it, Dad. If I can't count, how do you expect me to sing? I don't know any songs. I have to go to sleep.”

“If you go to sleep, Sunny, the next time you open your eyes you'll be standing next to me. jake will be sending you notes in balloons like he sent me. Is that what you want?”

“No. Dad, help me. I wish Mom were here.”

“I wish she was too, kiddo. All you have to do is hang on a little while longer.
I want your promise to try. You never broke a promise. The Sunny I knew was always as good as her word.”

“Not like you, huh? You always made promises and forgot about them.”

“I know, and I'm sorry. I don't want you to be like me.”

“I don't want to be like you either. I want to be like Mom.”

“I want you to be like your mother, too. Sing, Sunny. As loud as you can. Make Harry sing, too. Promise me.”

“Okay, Dad.”

“Harry, we're going to sing now. Really loud. My mother would want me to sing. Dad says it will help. I don't want Jake sending me balloons like he did for Dad. Can you sing, Harry?”

“First you want me to count, then you want me to cook and shop and buy presents and now you want me to
sing!
Make up your mind, which is it?”

“We're going to sing. Let's do ‘Ninety-nine Bottles of Beer.' At the top of our lungs. Don't ask me why we have to be loud. Dad said loud. It was a direct order.”

“Oh, okay. We have to follow orders or things don't work. You start!”

“Okay, here goes. Ninety-nine bottles of beer . . .”

 

The wind shrieked and howled in Sage's ears. Would he ever hear normally again? Now he was hearing other sounds, like someone singing off-key. It would be just like Mataxas to be serenading Ruby as they rode along on the snowmobiles. His guts churning, his eyes straining to see into the distance through the swirling snow was taking its toll. How much longer could he continue. He'd had no sleep the night before. All he could say for himself was that he was alive. He knew the others weren't faring any better. At least Birch, Libby, and he had youth on their side and were in reasonably good physical shape. He wondered who would be first to call a halt until the snow let up. He wouldn't, that was a given. Birch would search till he dropped. So would Libby. Metaxas didn't know the meaning of the word quit. Sage had to assume his men were of the same caliber. Ruby adored Sunny and considered her the daughter she'd never had. Ruby would go till she dropped, too.

“We're all here for the long haul,” Sage muttered to himself. He flashed his lights and tapped his horn twice. The sudden silence was overwhelming. He shook his head to clear it. Beer! Who the hell was singing about beer! He could use one, though. In the time it took him to blink, Sage was off, the snowmobile skimming over the small mountains of snow in the direction he thought the sound was coming from. None of the rescue party would be singing because it took too much energy.

“Go get her, Sage!”

“I'm going, Dad, I'm going.”

“See you around, kid.”

“Dad, wait.”

“You don't need me anymore. You did good, Sage. Really good. I'm damn proud of you.”

Later he would think about these strange conversations. He pressed his hand on the horn and kept it there. For one brief second he took his hand off the horn to flick on the light. He shouted then, his voice carrying on the wind, fighting with the blaring horn.

“Sunnyyyyyyy!”

The moment Fanny pulled into her driveway she knew something was wrong. Daisy leaped from the car, her barks sharp and shrill as she ran first to the kitchen door, then to the front door and finally back to Fanny, pawing her legs, backing up and running to each door.

Her legs wobbly, Fanny opened the trunk of her car, where she rummaged for the tire iron. She hefted it a couple of times to get the feel of it before she advanced to the front door, her breathing ragged-sounding. Earlier she'd locked the door, but it was open now, the knob turning under her hand. The moment the door swung inward, Daisy raced through the house, her bark sharper and more shrill than before. To Fanny's ears it meant intruder, intruder in our midst.

Her house was a shambles. There was no other word to describe the interior. The cushions on the sofas and chairs had been slashed, furniture overturned, lamps leaning drunkenly against the walls. Only a few shards of jagged glass on the large-screen television remained. The VCR was halfway across the room. Carpeting was ripped loose at the corners and pulled back. The bookshelves were empty of books and plants, the contents scattered everywhere. The pictures that had once belonged to Sallie were ripped into shreds, the canvas strips hanging loosely from the ornate frames Sallie had treasured.

The kitchen was a total disaster, the canisters upended, flour, sugar, and coffee everywhere. A lone tea bag hung from one of the blades on the overhead fan. The refrigerator door stood open, ice cubes melting, the contents of the bottles and jars spilled on the floor. An empty milk carton clung precariously to the open door. Canned soups, packaged goods, cleaning supplies were piled high in a corner. All Fanny could do was shake her head in despair as she headed for the master bedroom.

The mattress of the king-size bed was half-on and half-off the bed, the sheets wadded into a ball. The down comforter was empty of the fleecy feathers. Daisy sneezed as a feather landed on the end of her nose.

Fanny stood still, her eyes raking the total chaos. Her closet doors were open, shoes strewn everywhere. Her clothing as well as Marcus's was slashed and gouged, some items still on the hangers, some on the floor. Her jewelry was scattered over the dresser, hanging lopsidedly from the open drawers.

Everything on top of the vanity in the bathroom was on the floor—her cosmetics, Marcus's shaving gear, her blow-dryer and curling iron. Bars of soap, washcloths, and perfume bottles filled the toilet bowl. The lid of the toilet tank was in two pieces, half in the shower stall, the other half in the bathtub.

Tears rolled down Fanny's cheeks. Whoever had done this was filled with rage. Uncontrollable rage. That someone was looking for something. And that something was probably what was in her purse.

She had to get out of here, and she had to get out of here now. She called to Daisy, who was chasing a trail of feathers across the floor. The little dog looked at her before she pounced on a feather, trapping it with her paws. The second time Fanny called her, the dog trotted over to her and waited to be picked up.

“This is not good, Daisy. Only someone who is full of hate could do this. We're going to stop at the bank and put this stuff in our safety deposit box. Then we're going back to the hospital. Today is Friends of Animals Day, so that means you can make the rounds with Nurse Fisher. I'll visit with Marcus. Hey, they might even let him see you through the glass.” Fanny continued to jabber to the little dog as she picked her way through the debris. Her keys were still in her hand. There didn't seem to be any point to locking the door. She shoved the keys into her pocket and drove away without a backward glance. This was just someplace where she used to live. It was a house. Once she'd told Marcus she loved it because it had no memories and that they would build their own as they went along. She would come back to pack up what was left of her belongings and never return. Never, ever.

It was after two when Fanny turned Daisy over to Nurse Fisher, who immediately decked her out in a tiny straw hat and a small straw basket full of lollipops for the children in the pediatric ward. Daisy knew the drill and trotted off happily, knowing the children would end the visit with her favorite biscuits. “I'll be in ICU. Call me when you want me to pick her up,” Fanny called out.

To the charge nurse on the ICU floor Fanny said, “Have they finished with my husband's tests?”

“Yes, Mrs. Reed. They brought Mr. Reed back fifteen minutes ago to a private room at the end of the hall. You can stay as long as you like. However, he is sleeping right now.”

Fanny nodded. “Perhaps I'll just sit here for a little while and have some coffee until he wakes up.”

“I'll fetch it, Mrs. Reed.”

Fanny sat and smoked, her mind in turmoil. She should call the police and report the ransacking of her home. Thank God she'd stopped at the bank. Ash's wings and the hateful pictures were safe for now.

“So what are you going to do, Fanny? This is about as serious as it gets. I wish to hell you had listened to me. Oh, no, you had to go and involve that kid in your life and the kids' lives. Do you see now what he's capable of? Take my advice and get him out of the casino. You need to do it today. Pay him off. Give him the money for his contract and boot his ass out of there. Call Clem if you don't have the guts to do it. Or else, have Neal get the bouncers to do it. If that doesn't work, call the police.”

“Stop it, Ash, you're making me nervous. I refuse to live in fear. This is your fault. You should have told me he was a . . . troubled person.”

“He's not troubled, Fanny, he's crazy. He was the kind of kid that set cats on fire when he was little.”

“I don't want to hear that. Stop it, go away. You should have told me what he was capable of instead of keeping everything a secret. This is your fault, Ash, not mine.”

“No. You need to listen to me. I paid a fortune in shrink bills for that kid. His mother refused to believe there was anything wrong. The only reason she agreed to take him at all was because I threatened to cut off their monthly checks. He's smart, you can't take that away from him, but that's all he is. He's cruel and sadistic. Don't you remember, Fanny, you found the shrink bills and wanted to know what they were for? I lied and said I was going. You believed me. Christ, I didn't want anyone to know I had a kid like that. You should have let well enough alone.”

“Don't blame me, Ash. If you'd been honest with me, this wouldn't be going on now. I'm living it, so you don't need to tell me how serious this is. The person who destroyed my home is a person filled with sick rage. I didn't have a clue, Ash. I just assumed because he was your son he would be as normal as our children. I just didn't know.”

“What is past is past, Fanny, and it can't be changed. For me to say I'm sorry isn't going to help matters. You know I'm sorry. If I could turn the clock back I would, but I can't. What I do regret is you never gave me credit for doing anything right. You homed in on all the negatives, and there were a lot of negatives, but there were some damn good positives, too. Our kids remembered those positives these past hours, and they're alive now because of it. I'll be so damn glad when you finally get your life straightened out, Fanny.”

“Ha! No one will be happier than me when that happens. Marcus is alive. I guess I owe you one for that.”

“Nah. You knew it all the time. Things just kind of piled up on you. He's gonna be okay, Fanny. Time is all he needs. And you. It pains me to tell you this, but you really should fix yourself up a little. You look a little ragged around the edges.”

“Really.”

“Thick in the middle, too.”

“What else, Ash?”

“You look like Grandma Moses with those glasses on your nose. Spruce up a little. Give old Marcus some incentive to get well.”

“Are you trying to tell me something, Ash Thornton.”

“Hell yes. You need a do-over.”

“Go to hell, Ash.”

“When was the last time you SIZZLED, Fanny?”

“None of your business.”

“I'm just trying to help.”

“For your information, I'm one of those people who simmer and smolder.”

“Smolder's good. I like smolder. It brings to mind banked embers that explode into raging fires.”

“Take back that Grandma Moses bit.”

“Look in the mirror, baby.”

“Marcus likes me the way I am.”

“Yeah, sure. He's flat on his back. What other choice does he have? Wait till he's up on his feet.”

“If I could blow your socks off, I can do the same for Marcus. Hit the road, Ash.”

“Ahhhh, what a memory that was.”

“Daisy! How'd you do? Did the kids love you? Of course they did. How about the seniors? Did they love you too?”

“They wanted to keep her. Daisy let each one of them pick her up and hug her. She gave kisses to everyone. She did her job, Mrs. Reed. Tonight all the seniors will have something to talk about over dinner. See you next month, Daisy.”

“Okay, big girl, let's see if Marcus is awake. He's in his own room, so maybe they won't kick us out. No barking.”

Marcus still looked pale, but when he opened his eyes they appeared less glassy and more focused.

“Woof.”

“Daisy!”

At the sound of her name the little dog leaped from Fanny's arms to jump on the crisp white spread. She bellied up to Marcus and started to lick his face.

“Marcus, you recognize Daisy?” Fanny said, her voice breathless with wonderment.

“It's pretty sad when the first kiss I get is from a dog and not my wife.”

“Oh, Marcus, you know us. They said . . . I thought . . . Move over, Daisy.”

“Mrs. Reed! You can't bring a dog in here!” a nurse in crisp white said angrily.

“Who said I can't?”

“Well . . . I . . . Dr. . . .”

“Phooey. We're here and we aren't leaving.”

“Germs . . .”

“We don't have any germs, and we brushed earlier. With baking soda.”

“Well, I never . . .”

“I want them to stay,” Marcus said in his new croaky-sounding voice.

“And we want to stay. If we leave, Marcus will get upset. He shouldn't get upset,” Fanny said as she smothered her husband's face with kisses.

“Doctor will have something to say about this when he finds out.”

“So go already and tell him,” Fanny said.

“Marcus, do I look like Grandma Moses? You scared me out of my wits.”

“Kinda. You look different.”

“You mean haggard? Maybe sloppy? Tired?”

“Kinda. You look like I remember. I had so many bad dreams.”

“I never remember my dreams. Do the doctors know you're . . . you know, with it? Did they talk to you? Did you answer them? They said you . . . were having some difficulty.”

“Don't know. Can't remember. I remember the dreams. Ash was in all of them.”

“Ash!”

“I'm tired, Fanny.”

“Of course you are. We'll leave now and come back tomorrow. Sleep well, Marcus. I love you.”

A smile touched the corners of Marcus's mouth as he drifted into sleep.

“C'mon, Daisy, time for us to find a new home.” Fanny's step was lighter, her heart less heavy when she strode past the nurses' station, Daisy in her arms. Marcus was alive and well. He'd smiled at her, called Daisy by name. “Thank you, God.”

“Mrs. Reed, Mrs. Reed, Doctor said . . .”

Fanny laughed aloud. “Ask me if I care what Doctor. Whatever-his-name-is said. My dog did more for my husband than all those tests you put him through. Guess what,” she called over her shoulder, “I'm bringing her back tomorrow and the day after tomorrow. If you don't like it or Doctor Whatever-his-name-is doesn't like it, look for another job.”

“Attagirl, Fanny. Kick ass and take names later.”

“Did I do good, Ash?”

“Damn good. Hole up at the casino. Do what you did when you barred Simon from the premises. Pay Jeffrey off and get him the hell out of there.”

“Okay, Ash. Marcus is going to be just fine. Just fine. I wish I could tell you how happy that makes me. My world is right side up again. I owe you another one for that.”

“Nah. Take care of yourself, Fanny.”

 

At the casino, Fanny asked for the keys to the suite of rooms kept for what Ash had always called visiting royalty. Translated it meant high-rollers or, as Sunny put it, a luxury comp for someone who was prepared to drop a half million bucks in a high-stakes poker game.

Fanny dropped the card key into her purse. She rummaged for a minute until she pulled out the crackly envelope she'd taken from her safety deposit box. Jeff Lassiter's contract. The amount of the cashier's check made her wince. She was cutting her losses. Big time. She sought out Neal and spent ten minutes huddling with him. “It's not that I don't want to confront Jeff, Neal. I'm afraid of what I might do if I find myself face-to-face with him. Take some Security people with you and escort him from the premises. Under no circumstances is he permitted in this casino or hotel ever again.”