Broken Serenade (26 page)

    Immediately after hanging up the phone, he took a piece of paper and wrote a note to his wife. He didn’t apologize and didn’t ask for forgiveness. He just
informed her about the current most important events in his life, and about the decisions that he had made. He put the letter in an envelope and abandoned it on the right corner of his desk. Then, he took another piece of paper and wrote down a few ideas for the public statement he was going to make very soon.

    With a
long-forgotten, optimistic feeling that now seemed almost strange to his being, Senator McLean left his library. He walked through the kitchen and spoke to the old house servant in his usual, friendly manner that always infuriated his arrogant wife.  

    “Mrs. Ramirez, there is a blue envelope
on my desk in the library. I don’t want to ruin your schedule, but do you think you’ll be able to take it to my wife? After I leave the house, please. I believe she’s in her bedroom at the moment.”

    “Yes, Mr. McLean
,” the housekeeper answered, ready to oblige. “I’ll do it for sure.”

    With that settled,
Senator Edward McLean walked resolutely toward the exit. He heard the landline phone ringing but didn’t waver. He just couldn’t care less about who called. Mrs. Ramirez picked it up. As he stepped out of the house, Mr. McLean heard the metallic noise of the property’s gates as they were being opened pushing the button from inside the house. Someone was coming, and he wasn’t in the mood for visitors. He just wanted to get out of there as fast as possible.  

    As he opened the door of his black Mercedes,
the headlights of a car that parked dangerously close on the large, circular driveway blinded him. Before he could make it safely inside the privacy of his luxurious vehicle, a tall and robust man climbed out of an old Toyota. He addressed him politely.  

    “Mr. McLean, good evening, sir! I am detective Art Leonard
from Menlo Park Police Department. I would like to ask you a few questions. It won’t take more than a couple of minutes of your time.”

    Initially
, the senator wanted to ask the detective how he had managed to get through his security, but he gave up the thought after seeing his badge.

   
“If you don’t mind the outside, cold air,” Mr. McLean said, “then I can offer you a few minutes.”

    The detective pulled out of his pocket the picture of a young and good-looking woman.
He handed it to the senator.

    “Does it ring a bell
? Her real name is Megan Smith, but she practiced high-class prostitution as
Sunshine
for the mysterious
Amazon Queen
.”

    “I hope she’s not dead
,” the senator uttered visibly distressed.

   
With his long, well-groomed fingers, he gingerly touched the angelic features of the woman in the picture. How could he not remember her? The only virgin he had ever made love to. He had paid an exorbitant price to buy her virginity.
She was worth every penny!
The senator warmed at the memory of her charming presence.

    “No, she’s not dead. In fact, I came to inform you
that she’s the mother of a five-year-old girl.” Detective Art Leonard showed him the picture of the child.

    As his eyes met the little girl’s photography, Edward McLean understood what all was about. The child had his smile, his eyes…
She was his daughter; he could feel it in the pit of his stomach. The emotion chocked him. Afraid that his voice might betray his internal turmoil, the senator handed Detective Leonard the note with his speech of resignation. He didn’t explain anything, he didn’t articulate a word. Quietly, he leaned on his car and ran a hand through his hair again and again.

    “I want to correct my mistakes,” he finally said. “I want to be recognized and treated as her father. I am ready to
pay any amount of money that Miss Smith requests.”

    “She doesn’t want any money from you. All she wants
it’s for you to get involved, use your power and influence, and help her find her little girl. Tiffany has been missing for a few days now. The story is more complicated,” the detective pointed out. “I think you should forget about that public resignation for now,” he added, pleasantly surprised by the senator’s humble attitude. He had come to meet an arrogant, distant, and prideful man. He had found nothing of the kind. Detective Art Leonard had been wrong this time, and amazingly, he felt like celebrating.  

CHAPTER 24

  
 
“
V
ivien is all right, Tim. She’s in my car now,” Clark spoke through the phone. “We’re both here at her place. She’s just a bit shaken, that’s all. The police are leaving now. They’ll come back tomorrow for more investigations. Where are you? How did you learn about it so fast?”

    Timothy Leigh ha
d just lived the longest ten minutes of his entire life. He ignored his brother’s questions. 

    “Clark, I want to talk to her. I want to hear her voice.
Put her through! Now!” he yelled.

    He barely
finished the sentence, and the lovely voice of his beloved woman touched his soul. 

   
“Tee, my love, don’t worry! I’m OK. Where are you?”

    “I’m
on my way to you,” he told her, making a tight, fast turn on one of the adjacent streets. “I’ll be there in… less than a minute.”

    Vivien stepped out of Clark’s car and waited for him on the sidewalk in front of her house. In only seconds, they were in each other’s arms. Timothy examined her face in the bluish light of the street lamp.

    “My sweet love,” he whispered, kissing her tears-filled eyes. “Let’s go inside. You take a few clothes, anything else you need, and you come to stay with me. I can’t bear the thought of you alone in this house anymore.”  

    Clark intervened in their conversation
jovially. He seemed too relaxed for the gravity of the present situation.

    “Hey,
man, you should thank me! I saved your pretty, little girlfriend tonight! And her house also!”  

    Timothy treated him with a glacial glance.

    “I want to talk to you, Clark. Please come inside the house for a minute.”

   
All three of them headed for the back door. Clark had managed to save it earlier, throwing over the fire all Vivien’s flowerpots that had adorned the small and coquette veranda of the back of her house. The front door had been totally destroyed, and now the main entrance was being blocked with boards nailed to the wall by a handy neighbor.

    “What a disaster
!” Timothy exclaimed, staggered by the view. He took careful steps, trying to avoid the shards, humid pot soil, and multicolor pansies scattered everywhere. The image of that burned door stirred up painful memories. Black, hideous scars had damaged its yellowish white paint. He brusquely swung around and lifted Vivien up in his arms. She looked frail, as he had never seen her before. The terror, through which she had lived, seemed to have depleted her of energy. He felt a powerful desire to hold her close and a stringent need to shield her from any bad thing coming her way.  

   
“Open the door!” he ordered Clark. The man obeyed without a word.

    The second they stepped inside, Timothy realized that the interior of the house was intact.
That soothed a bit his emotional turmoil.

    “The nut
case didn’t enter the house,” Vivien mentioned, as if she had read his mind. “I wonder what he wanted and who this person is. Why me?”

    Timothy entered the be
droom before her and inspected every corner of that room. Content that everything was in order, he came back by her side.

    “Don’t rush,” he said
softly, kissing her cold lips and gingerly touching her pale face. “I’m right here if you need me. Take everything you want, but don’t forget that we can come back for more any time.”

    He left her to pack a small bag with strictly necessary cosmetics and changes
, and he followed his brother in the hallway outside her chamber. Fury smoldered inside him.

    A few steps from Vivien’s bedroom door, he
made a dash for Clark, grasped him by his jacket, and pushed him roughly to the kitchen wall.

   
“How come you were around her house again?” Timothy hissed into his brother’s face. “I warned you to stay away from her, didn’t I? Come on! Quickly! Give me a serious reason not to beat the crap out of you!”

    “Hold your temper, Timmy! You’ve lost your freaking mind
, man!” Clark roared between his teeth. “If I hadn’t happened around here, that monster would’ve killed her. It was pitch dark and not a soul in sight.”

    “Only you!” Timothy continued mockingly. “T
he ever so chivalrous Clark! Spare me your puerile lies! Whom did you pay to do the dirty job for you so you could play the hero’s role?”

   “You’re crazy, mate! Are you actually listening to yourself? Do you really think I’m involved in this stupid mess?”

    “All I know,” Timothy said
, loosening his grasp, “it’s that ever since you came to visit a couple of weeks ago, only bad things have been happening. It looks as if you opened Pandora’s Box when you arrived. People started to die around me, the woman I love was attacked, I’m bombarded almost every day with vulgar, threatening emails… Moreover, I received a mysterious phone call on my cell phone today, seconds probably after the incident here. Whatever happened to Vee tonight it’s because of me! Do you have any idea how that makes me feel?”

   
“You were called on your personal phone?” Clark asked, visibly shaken all of a sudden. “By whom?”     

    “How the hell w
ould I know?” Timothy exploded. “It’s a phony number. You can’t call back. All she did – if it were a
she
, the voice seemed distorted on purpose – it was to remind me that I knew how the burned body of a woman looked like. This person knows everything about me, for Christ’s sake! My life it’s an open book for her!”

    “And paranoia got s
uch a good grip of you! Now you’re ready to believe that that low-life psychopath is me!” Clark uttered, extremely disappointed.

    “A
m I so wrong?”

    “You’re making a huge mistake, Timmy! I came here becau
se your name popped up on a suspected hit list. I came to defend you against someone. Someone who hates you and perhaps wants you dead. All I know is that this person doesn’t act alone, but has an entire organization behind her. For one reason or another, this maniac is on your tracks.”

   
“Talking about paranoia,” Timothy chuckled in disbelief.

    “Watch out
, Timmy! I’m not joking, mate! I only hope I can accomplish my mission with none of us six feet under at the end of it.”

    Vivien appeared right behind them.

    “Hey, guys! What’s going on with you two? Holy crickets, you look as if you’re in a boxing arena, ready for a fight.”

    “Let’s go, Vee!” Timothy urged
, taking her by the arm. He picked up the luggage bag from the bedroom’s threshold. Vivien went back and grabbed all the house keys from the little board where she kept them labeled.  

    Clark walked quietly
around his brother and exited the house.

    “Clark,” Vivien called him. “I want to thank you again for everything you’ve done for me tonight. For being here, whatever your reason…”

    “I’m always happy to help a woman in dire straits,” the man answered with a sad smile. He waved his hand without saying goodbye and walked downhearted toward his car. Vivien’s surprised gaze followed him for a few seconds.

    “Did I say something wrong? Did I hurt him without knowing?”

    “No, my sweethe
art, you did not such a thing. You, Vee, can’t hurt a man like Clark. He’s too morally calloused for your most caustic remark.” Timothy changed the topic of conversation immediately. “Let’s go out and have dinner, and then we can beat a retreat to the warmth of my bedroom.” He leaned closer to her scented ear and whispered softly. “I miss you. I want you, Vee… I can’t wait to have you in my bed tonight.”

    Vivien laid
her head on his chest and let out a light, almost inaudible moan. Then she said quickly, as if she remembered something.

    “Let’s invite Clark to the restaurant too.”

    Timothy didn’t have time to voice his disapproval. Vivien was already calling Clark.

    “
Clark, would you like to dine with us tonight?”

    Clark threw
a questions-filled glance toward his brother and instantly formulated the adequate response.

    “Not tonight, Vivien,” he refused politely. “Thank you though,” he said and climbed inside his car.

    Seconds later, his Ford Mustang drove away roughly.

    The two lover
s got into the Mercedes. Starting the engine, Timothy caught a glimpse of his brother’s sporty car executing a sharp and quick U-turn at the first intersection. The Mustang passed them like a thunder and vanished on one of the perpendicular streets. It polluted the air with its roaring noise, as Clark blatantly over-accelerated its engine.