The Charmers: A Novel(39)

“Of course,” he said, holding up his hand again to stop the buzz of comments. “It is not nearly enough to pay for a life. This young woman is here somewhere. We must save her, we must earn that reward.”

He stepped back out of the lights and made his way down the steps, jogging back along the gravel path to the bunker.

From his place in the shadows, Chad watched him go. It was, he thought, the performance of a lifetime. Either the Boss was a born actor, or he was for real.





29

Mirabella

Later, I was back in my bedroom at the Villa Romantica, still hoping Verity would come through the door, when again I thought I heard someone outside.

I clutched a hand to my chest, holding my breath, afraid any small sound might tell an intruder I was there. Yet if he were an expert intruder obviously he would already know that, and also know I was alone.

So where was my dog? Why had Sossy not rushed barking to my side to alert me? Had the Siamese simply gone back to beautifying herself, licking her paws, washing her velvet ears? And what about that friggin’ canary? Wasn’t it supposed to sing? Tell me the way it told the coal miners in those underground tunnels that there was danger around? Even Chad, who’d gone to get me something as simple as a cup of tea was not here when I needed him.

The cream linen curtains billowed inward in a sudden wind. Somebody must have opened the window. I froze, expecting to see a pair of feet, a shadowy figure.

A small art deco lamp sat on the side table. It had a straight copper base etched with a pattern of wavy lines, topped with a bronze parchment shade.

I picked it up. It was heavier than I’d thought and I almost dropped it. That would have taken care of my foot … and what would the Colonel have thought when he found my dead body with one smashed foot? That my killer was a fetishist of some kind? What killer?

I was a fool, I was acting crazy. I told myself to settle down, get ahold of myself, get a grip.… A calm came over me, a sudden resolve. I would not go gently into this night … I was a fighter and whoever it was, I would fight.

I wished I were properly dressed though. In my girly butterfly-printed pj’s I felt vulnerable. I needed my jeans, my shoes on, to be ready for running. The big empty hallway was in complete darkness.

I had no choice. It was now or never. A swift turn of my hand and the door opened without a sound. No one was there. I slid through the crack. With my back to the wall, I edged, like a cat, along the side of the villa.

Minutes passed, how many I could not tell. All I knew was the too-loud noise of my own breathing, the feel of the damp of the grass under my bare feet, the prickle of a thorn from a rosebush that smelled sweetly in the dark. And then the muted roar of a car’s engine.

I slid to the ground, flattening myself so my outline would not show under the glare of its headlights. Dazzled, I peered into the night, saw a convertible.… Oh dear God, thank you, thank you.… It was Chad. And he was carrying a paper cup that I’d bet contained tea.





30

A short while later, I sat on the edge of the bed, hands still shaking as I sipped the tea that by this time was cold.

Chad said, “I have to get back to the Villa Mara.”

“I’m coming with you.” I got up and made for the closet where I knew my jeans would be on the floor, exactly where I’d stepped out of them.

Uncaring of modesty, I simply turned my back, pulled off the pajama bottoms, and tugged on the jeans. Somehow I knew Chad had turned his back too. Ever the gent, I supposed, though I kind of wished he’d sneaked a peek, shown some interest in the feminine side of me, and not merely the detective/novel writer who was no good at real life detecting and had not so much as a clue as to where her lovely friend had gone.

“She must be somewhere at the party,” I said, desperate now because I felt in my bones it was possible someone had really harmed Verity.

He held me by the shoulders. Tea slopped all over my jeans. He said, “I’m going alone. You must stay here where you will be safe.”

“Look what you’ve done.” I dabbed at the wet spot. “Good thing it’s not hot.”

“Get back into bed. I’m better off without you.”

I knew it wasn’t true.

The fireworks that delighted the partiers crashed through the silence. Rockets whizzed, Catherine wheels whirred, red-and-blue lights flickered over our faces, mine anxious, his stony.

I thought of the Colonel, of how he’d helped me search the house for Verity, how he’d helped the Boss summon men to aid them, of the Boss calling the chief of police to the area. The Colonel had held my hand as we walked through the Villa Mara, told me not to worry, he would find her.…

I sat looking up at Chad. With him and the Colonel and the Boss all looking for my friend, I was in good hands. Yet I had to be there. I had to know. I walked out into the hall.

Chad was right behind me, a hand on my shoulder again, a gesture of comfort now.

“Don’t worry,” he said. “It’s going to be alright.”

This time I did not know whether I believed him.

The Russian

The young Russian, all in black, with a long white apron tied around his middle and knotted in front, French waiter–style, hovered with his tray of martinis on the edge of the party crowd. He circulated, restocking every now and then from the bar. He had no fear of being asked why he wasn’t one of the usual waiters. Staff had been imported for this event, so nobody knew who anybody was. Anyone at all, he thought with a grim smile, could have infiltrated the Boss’s party. Anyone at all might have slipped a little something into a woman’s drink. And anyone had. Namely himself, at the orders of the Boss, of course, who could never be seen to get his hands dirty. Plus he paid well. Extra well, sometimes, when extra things were asked for and received.