French Silk(41)

"To him? About a million votes."

"And to us, a minute and a half on network news. Worldwide exposure, Josh." Her anger was full blown now. "Were you, or any of the men on that board of directors, stupid enough to think I'd squander all that free publicity? Did you think I'd be that big a fool? If so, you're the fools. I'm going to milk Jackson's death for all it's worth. It's like a gift. I didn't ask for it."

He turned his head toward the window again, muttering, "Didn't you?"

"What?"

He didn't respond.

"Josh!"

He stubbornly kept his head averted. She pinched his arm hard. "Dammit!" he shouted viciously as he turned his head around.

"Tell me what you said."

"I just wondered out loud whether you might have asked for his death."

She leveled a cold blue stare on him. "My, my. You're getting awfully self-righteous lately."

"I figure one of us should have a conscience."

"You're also very full of yourself. You think I'd rid myself of Jackson just so I could have you?" she asked scornfully.

"Not me. But maybe your own TV show." He leaned forward and whispered, "What about that segment of time after you left my suite that night, Ariel?"

A flicker of alarm appeared in her eyes. "We agreed never to mention that."

"No, you insisted that I never mention it."

"Because of what the police might make out of it."

"Exactly," he said softly.

"It wasn't worth mentioning," she said breezily, dusting an imaginary speck off her black dress.

"At first I thought so, too. Now I'm not so sure. Maybe it was worth mentioning. You said you were going to your room to look for some sheet music."

"So?"

"So, despite what we told the police, we weren't rehearsing and didn't need any sheet music.

"I wanted it for later."

"You came back empty-handed."

"I couldn't find it."

"You were gone about fifteen minutes."

"I searched through everything, and I was trying to do it quietly because Jackson was asleep."

"Or dead. You had plenty of time to kill him. I think Cassidy would be interested to know about that fifteen minutes."

"You can't tell him without implicating yourself."

Josh, trying to reason it through, continued as though she hadn't interrupted. "You certainly had motivation. Besides Daddy being a tyrant, he was in your way. He got top billing, not you. You were no longer satisfied with taking the backseat; you wanted to be in the driver's chair. You wanted the whole ministry. Beyond your greed, you were tired of his constant browbeating about your mediocre voice, about your weight, about everything. So you killed him and used me as your alibi."

"Listen to me, you shithead," she said, reverting to her pre-Jackson Wilde language. "Sometimes I hated him so much I could have killed him. Easily. But he was also the best thing that ever happened to me. If it weren't for Jackson, I'd still be hustling hash for a living, getting my ass pinched by rednecks, and living off the stingy tips they doled out in exchange for a glimpse of cleavage. I'd only be a lifer's sister instead of one of the most recognized women in America, who gets cards and flowers from the president.

"No, I didn't kill him. But I'll be damned before I'll cry over his death or pass up any opportunities it opens up for me. I'm going to fight like hell to keep what I've got."

The limo turned into the curved driveway leading up to the house. Jackson had been wise enough to know that common folks resented conspicuous wealth, so the house befitted an affluent professional, but it wasn't palatial. Josh despised it. Although large and comfortable, it didn't have the quiet elegance of the home his mother had made for them. This was Jackson's house through and through. His stamp was on every room. Josh had hated every minute he'd spent under its roof.

At the moment, however, he hated nothing as much as he hated himself. For while he was contemptuous of Ariel's cavalier attitude regarding his father's murder, he secretly admired it. He wished he could bounce back as easily and as guiltlessly as she. He resented her resilience and gritty ambition, but he was also jealous of them.

"I know you had your own plans for your life, Josh," she was saying. "They didn't jive with Jackson's. Naturally he got his way, and you're still sulking about it."

"You don't know what the hell you're talking about," he said. "All that happened a long time before you came along."

"But I've heard about it, from you and from Jackson. You had some battles royal over whether you were going to become a concert pianist or join the ministry."

"I don't need you to remind me what the quarrel was over."

"Know what, Josh? Your daddy was right. You and I have cut three gospel albums. All of them have gone gold. The Christmas album we recorded last spring will sell like gangbusters after all this publicity. We won't have to spend one red cent on promotion. It'll walk out of the stores.

"This ministry has made you rich and famous, Josh. It's been a hell of a lot more lucrative than if you'd stuck to playing that classical crap. Think about it." The chauffeur came around and opened the door for her. "I'd like to see you stay on at the Jackson Wilde Ministry for your own sake. But if you decide to split, it makes no difference to me."