Voice of the Heart (110 page)

Passing over the question, Francesca bent forward, smiled reassuringly. ‘
You
seem to have forgotten one thing, Nicky. Katharine adores you. You’re her dearest love.’

‘Want to bet?’ Not waiting for an answer, he took their glasses to the refectory table near the window, refreshed their drinks, returned to his seat. He tried to relax, slumping down on the sofa. He wished he could put Katharine out of his mind, knew this was an impossibility. Suddenly he sat bolt upright and fixed his vivid blue eyes on Francesca, his expression alert. ‘I wonder… I wonder…’ he began softly, and paused, reflecting.

‘What is it?’ she asked, watching him closely.

‘Is it possible that she is
not
deranged at all? Is this an
act
? And a very clever one at that?’

Taken aback, Francesca exclaimed, ‘Don’t be ridiculous! She’s positively batty at times. Flipped out.’

‘She acts as if she is, and perhaps that’s what she wants
us
to believe. But remember, Katharine
is
an actress. A consummate actress. Know what, Frankie, she might just be putting it on.’

Francesca’s hazel-amber eyes stretched wider in her face, and she paled. ‘If that’s the case then she’s behaving in the most disgusting manner. We’ve both been out of our minds with worry. And why would she want us to think she’s crazy?’

Nick rose, paced the floor, stopped abruptly. ‘Not guilty by reason of insanity,’ he intoned. ‘Murderers
have
got away with murder by using that plea. It
excuses
everything they’ve done. They hide behind their so-called insanity. Could she be doing that? In order to behave any way she wishes, and without having to take responsibility for her actions.’

‘Nicky!’ Appalled, Francesca drew back on the sofa, regarded him apprehensively. ‘Oh God, Nicky, that’s a horrendous idea, and frightening.’

‘Isn’t it just…’

***

He could not decide whether to call Victor Mason or not.

It had struck Nick earlier that Victor was the one person who could enlighten him on two points, and he had been on the verge of picking up the telephone an hour ago. But Francesca had come back into the living room at that precise moment, carrying a tray of smoked salmon sandwiches and a bowl of fresh fruit and had insisted they both eat.

Nick eyed the clock on the oak mantelpiece above the huge open stone fireplace. It was eleven-twenty, therefore eight-twenty in Santa Barbara. He was hesitating for a couple of reasons. Katharine might return at any minute; Victor had his own problems to contend with at the present, so that Nick was reluctant to disturb him. Lynn Mason, Victor’s wife of a year, had been taken ill, and two days ago Vic had told him the prognosis was not good. The specialists had diagnosed leukaemia. Poor bastard, Nick thought, he has such lousy luck in his private life.

Francesca came in briskly, wearing a camel-coloured cape over her cream sweater and matching pants. ‘I’m going to
take Lada for a walk, Nick. We can have coffee when I get back. It’s brewing.’

‘Okay. Stay in the grounds.’

‘Naturally. Come on, Lada.’

The dog was curled up in a bah next to Nick on the sofa. She jumped down obediently and trotted across the room. Nick watched Francesca leave, his eyes thoughtful. Victor frequently asked about her. She never mentioned his name. She must think about him sometimes though, Nick thought, and stood up. If he was going to call the ranch he had better do so immediately, while he was still alone. He hurried to the desk, lifted the receiver.

Victor himself answered a few seconds later, after several brief rings. ‘Rancho Che Sarà Sarà.’

‘Hello, Vic, it’s Nicky.’

‘Hi, old buddy. Jesus, this is mental telepathy. I was just about to call you.’

‘Oh! Everything okay out there?’ Nick cut in worriedly. ‘How’s Lynn?’

‘She’s a bit better than she was yesterday.’ Vic sounded subdued but calm. ‘The medication is helping, and we’re seeing a big improvement. The doctors are very hopeful, think they’ve checked this, got it under control.’

‘That’s wonderful news. Give her my best love.’

‘I will, Nicky. As I was about to say, I had my hand on the ’phone to call you, when Jake arrived. He drove down from L.A. to spend a few days with us. He’s a sight for sore eyes.’

‘I know what you mean. There’s nobody like Jake, and it’ll do you both good to have some company. I’ll come out myself as soon as I can. Listen, Vic, Jake is one of the reasons I called tonight.’

‘Oh really. Why?’

‘I wanted to check something out with you—a chance remark he made in front of us both recently. I felt he’d clam up if I called him, tackled him head on. But look, I’m
jumping the gun. I have a question first. Have you got a few minutes?’

‘Sure, kid. Shoot.’

‘Do you remember when Katharine and Beau Stanton separated?’

There was a small silence at the other end of the line, where, three thousand miles away, Victor Mason was instantly filling with dismay. ‘Sure I do, Nicky,’ he said.

‘
Okay
. I don’t know whether you recall this, but around then you told me Beau Stanton blamed Mike Lazarus for some of their problems, that he thought Lazarus was a bad influence on Katharine. Remember?’

Oh Jesus, he’s found out before I could tell him, Victor thought. He said slowly, ‘Yes, I do. But Beau didn’t say anything to me about Lazarus. That was my opinion. Beau and Lazarus were still very pally in those days. Lazarus was a constant visitor, always hanging around with them. I got the feeling that he idolized Katharine, had put her on a pedestal. Before Katharine and Beau split up I used to needle Beau a bit, you know, about the megalomaniac coming between them. But I must say Beau never took the bait.’

‘I want to clarify another thing. When I was out on the Coast three months ago, for the Bellissima board meeting, Jake started to tell me something about seeing Kath and Lazarus at La Scala. They were having a cosy tête-à-tête one evening last year when she was dubbing at Twentieth. You cut him off, changed the subject. I decided not to press then, and I let it drop. Now I want to know more about that night. I thought you might fill me in, but listen, since Jake’s at the ranch I might as well speak to him one to one. Put him on, Vic, please.’

Victor said regretfully, ‘You don’t have to talk to Jake, Nicky. I was there with Lynn that evening. The three of us saw them. I could have killed Jake when he mentioned it to you in September. I thought it wiser you didn’t know. I didn’t want him to open a can of worms, particularly since it might
have been an innocuous date. I’ve been kicking myself for the last hour. I wish I’d told you myself, alerted you three months ago. It might have prevented the situation devel—’

‘What situation?’ Nick demanded shakily. He gripped the receiver tighter. ‘What are you talking about, Vic?’

‘Isn’t that the reason for your call? I thought you wanted to discuss Katharine’s association with Lazarus,’ the actor answered, sounding confused.

‘
What association
?’ Nick asked, his voice rising.

‘Jesus, Nicky, don’t tell me you don’t
know
. I thought you’d found out about them—’

‘I only started to suspect something tonight,’ Nick cut in sharply. ‘Tell me what you’ve heard, Vic.’ Nick’s hand shook as he groped for a cigarette.

Vic said: ‘Charlie Roberts came over to see Lynn earlier this evening. You know they’ve always been close friends. He’s holed up down here, writing furiously. Lynn was teasing him about his secret, hush-hush project, asking him why he was being so mysterious. Charlie said he guessed it wouldn’t matter if he told us, since it was going to be announced to the press on Monday anyway, and there had already been a few leaks in Hollywood in the last twenty-four hours. Apparently Charlie is writing a screenplay for Monarch. He’s on the last few pages of the final draft. Plans to deliver it early next week. Lazarus is very much involved with this picture, and
he
insisted it be kept under wraps until
he
gave the okay to announce it to the trades. And Charlie told us—’

‘Katharine’s going to star in it, is that it?’ Nick interjected swiftly, in an uneven tone.

Victor sucked in his breath. ‘Yes. But there’s more, Nicky. Jesus, this is the lousy part… the screenplay Charlie’s been writing… it’s an adaptation of
Florabelle
, kid.’

‘
Florabelle!
My novel?’

‘Yes, Nicky.’

Nick closed his eyes convulsively. ‘It’s not possible,’ he
began, the words strangling in his throat. ‘
It’s just not possible.
’

‘Yes, it is, Nicky. I reacted like you when Charlie told us. I was speechless. I couldn’t believe you’d agreed to the sale, not to Monarch, knowing how we both feel about Lazarus, after all the things he did to me back in the ’fifties. That’s why I was about to call you. Jake’s arrival delayed me for a few minutes. Then
you
rang
me
. When I heard your voice I was sure you’d got a whiff of it. Obviously, you neither approved the deal, nor knew about it. So, how in the hell did it happen?’

Nick groaned into the receiver. ‘When I sold the novel to Kort Productions I didn’t make the usual option deal, with the property reverting to me if Kort didn’t pick up the option and go ahead with the film. Kort bought the novel
outright
. Motion picture, television and all dramatic rights—the whole enchilada. Kort, therefore, has total and absolute control, can do what they want with it. Make it, shelve it, resell it to anyone, or any company, they wish.
They
, of course, being Katharine O’Rourke Tempest, since she
is
Kort Productions,’ he finished with mounting bitterness and anger.

‘I don’t know how she could do this to you, Nicky, go behind your back, make a deal with that bastard, a man she knows you detest, not to mention my feelings about him. It’s inconceivable, goddamn it!’ Victor exclaimed heatedly.

‘But we know she’s done it. And she and Lazarus are a team, working the angles together. I’ve reason to believe she’s over at his house this very minute, concocting God knows what else.’

‘Jesus, Nicky, I’m sorry about this development. Not only with the book but for you personally. It goes without saying you’ve got some serious problems there. Trouble, I’m afraid. Big, big trouble.
Capisce?
’

‘Yes.’ Nick drew on his cigarette nervously, then said, ‘I can handle
them
. Listen, did Charlie tell you who’s going to direct?’

‘Alexander Vagasy’s been signed. No casting, other than the lead.’

‘Try to find out as much as you can. That’s the front door closing. I’d better hang up. Thanks, Vic, thanks for everything. I’ll get back to you tomorrow.’

‘Hang in there, be alert. And look to yourself, kid.’

‘I read you loud and clear, old buddy.’ Nick replaced the receiver as Francesca flew through the doorway looking agitated.

‘Nicky, a black Rolls is pulling in through the gates. She’s back.’

He nodded, his hand resting on the telephone. He blinked, trying to marshal his swimming senses. He was unable to speak.

Francesca flung her cape on a chair and hurried into the living room. ‘My God, what’s wrong? You’re as white as a sheet. You’ve had some sort of shock…’ She stopped in mid-sentence, moved closer to the desk, her eyes searching his face.

‘I have,’ he said grimly. ‘The biggest shock of my life.’ He rose, went to the tray of drinks on the refectory table, poured himself a large cognac and turned to Francesca. ‘Want one?’ His voice was tight and bleak and she noticed that his hand holding the bottle trembled.

‘Yes, please,’ Francesca replied, unable to take her eyes off Nick. He looked ghastly, even ill. ‘Nicky, what’s happened?’ she whispered, filled with sudden alarm. ‘Who have you been talking to? You’ve obviously been on the ’phone whilst I’ve been walking Lada. Not Lazarus?’

‘No. I wouldn’t waste my breath. I’ll tell you later.’ Nick headed for the hearth and Francesca joined him, accepting the drink mutely. Then she said, ‘I—’

The door slammed, startling her. They heard the sound of high heels clicking against the bare wood floor in the hall, and they glanced at each other quickly. Francesca noticed a muscle twitching in Nick’s cheek and his eyes were icy.
She remembered an expression of Katharine’s from long ago:
He’s wearing his flat blues
. She shivered involuntarily and she knew something terrible had occurred when she was out and her heart sank.

Katharine stood there, staring at them from the doorway, registering surprise. ‘My darlings!’ she exclaimed, her rippling laughter floating to them on the warm air. ‘What are you two kiddikins doing here? I didn’t expect you until tomorrow.’ She slipped out of her sable coat and floated into the room, dramatically beautiful in wine-red velvet and a blaze of diamonds. As though somehow alerted to the brewing trouble, or perhaps aware of the tension in the atmosphere, Katharine lingered near the refectory table. ‘I think I’ll join you in a nightcap, my darlings,’ she cried, the lilting laughter in her voice undiminished. Lifting the bottle, she poured herself a brandy, called over her shoulder, ‘How could I have mixed the days up? I really
did
expect you on Friday.’

Francesca felt the controlled and deadly anger in Nick, was conscious of his heavy brooding expression and said, with a small nervous laugh, ‘But you said
Thursday
, Katharine. And I confirmed it with you on Tuesday.’

‘Did you, darling? Oh yes, I remember.’ Katharine swung around, edged closer to the fireplace, yet nonetheless kept her distance. ‘You poor things, what did you do about dinner? I fired Mrs Jennings today. Did you manage to rustle something up, Frankie dear?’

‘Yes, I—’

Nick silenced her with a warning look. He stared at Katharine. ‘Where… have… you… been?’ he asked coldly, drawing the words out slowly for added emphasis.

‘I guess I forgot to mention it, when we spoke yesterday, Nicky, but I was invited to a dinner party tonight.’

‘
Where?
’

‘At the Longleys’. You know, in Ridgefield.’

‘
You are a liar.
’