Fair Game (35 page)

Ransom looked at her then, and his face visibly relaxed. “Oh, I don’t like sirens. I always think an ambulance is coming.”

The police car blew past them, screaming shrilly, red and blue light rotating. Meg nudged Ransom, who was still leaning in the door of the car, fixed in the same posture.

“Let’s go,” she said, and walked around to the passenger side of the car.

Ransom got behind the wheel and started the motor, moving quickly to conceal how much his hands were shaking.

“Are you feeling all right?” Meg asked as he left the lot and pulled out into the stream of traffic. Her voice was concerned.

“Why do you ask?” he said, wondering if he would be able to keep up his act as long as he had to; it was obviously showing signs of falling apart.

“You seem... shaky... or something. Are you sick?”

“I haven’t been feeling well lately. Maybe I’m coming down with a bug.”

Meg surveyed him closely. “It’s true, you don’t look so hot.”

“I’m sure I’ll be better with you here,” he said confidently.

“Why? I’m not an antibiotic.”

“You know what I mean.”

“Am I to understand that you missed me?” Meg asked.

“You can understand that, yes.”

“A lot?”

“A lot,” he confirmed.

“How did the trip go?”

“The trip?”

“Your business trip, dummy, the one that took you away in the first place.”

“Oh, yeah, it was fine.”

“Fine. That’s all you can say?”

“I saw a shopping mall, Meg, like a thousand others. They all look the same.”

“Then why did you have to go there?”

“I wanted to check the location and traffic pattern in person, talk to the mall manager about the amount of business he did and the draw from the surrounding towns. It was something I really couldn’t do over the phone.”

“Okay, okay, don’t get testy.” She slid over next to him and put her hand on his thigh. “Exactly how far is this country inn we’ve been talking about?”

He pulled a travel brochure from his pocket and handed it to her. “I got this when I returned the car,” he said. “There’s a place about ten miles from here. Swanleigh.”

“Swanleigh? Aren’t we grand? Will Queen Elizabeth the First and Leicester be there to greet us?” She examined the pamphlet and began to read aloud,describing the hotel’s appointments.

Ransom had consulted a map before he met Meg that day, and found the inn with no trouble. It was located on the end of a country road that fed off a state highway, isolated enough to attract romantics but close enough to the main arteries to attract tourists. The grounds were in full bloom at this time of year, and on weekends the place was usually booked solid.

But for an extra hundred passed over the desk there was always room.

They registered as Mr. and Mrs. Peter Ransom. He didn’t care about using the name; once he eliminated the Fair girl, he would be out of the country in a matter of hours.

But he had to find her first.

They were shown to an airy room on the second floor with a splendid view of the gardens below them. Meg went to the bay window, exclaiming over the flowers. Ransom followed close behind her, circling her waist with his arms.

“Forget the hibiscus,” he said. “Concentrate on me.”

“With pleasure,” Meg replied, spinning around to face him.

When he kissed her, he almost lost his nerve. Was he really about to use her again, this woman who had given him more in the short time he’d known her than anyone else in his life? Why couldn’t he just stay here with her, in this blossom-laden paradise, and take his chances? The police weren’t magicians, and he had covered his tracks.

Then reason asserted itself, and he knew he couldn’t do it. But he could love her one last time.

He undressed her and took her to bed, and Meg sensed the urgency in him, the almost desperate need to imprint her on his mind and body. When they had finished and she turned away, confused, he pulled her back to him, holding her within the curve of his body and drawing her head onto his shoulder.

“Peter, what is it?” she said, looking up at him. “Something’s wrong.”
 

“I just missed you, that’s all.”

Meg subsided uneasily. Something was wrong, different, but she couldn’t put her finger on it.

He drew the sheet down from her shoulders and stroked her naked back. “How is Ashley now?” he asked.

“Ashley?” Meg said.

“Yeah, she’s your friend. I wondered how she was doing.”

“About how you’d expect, I guess.”

“Is she still at the estate in Harrisburg?”

“Last I checked, but I imagine the federal people will be moving her soon.”

“Why?”

“She saw the assassin; it was on the news. I think they’ll want to protect her.”

“Where do you think they’ll take her?”

“I don’t know. Bear Trail Lake, maybe. The Senator’s family has a hunting cabin there, but it was never used much. Very few people know about it. And it’s in the woods, difficult to get to. You can hide out there easily enough.”

Ransom listened, his mind racing. He remembered the cabin from the information in Meg’s computer. He had destroyed all the disks he’d copied before he left his apartment, but he’d studied them so often while planning the hit that he almost had their contents memorized. He visualized the plans for the cabin, its location, the surrounding terrain. It was perfect.

Meg was right. He knew cops and how they thought, and the feds were just souped-up cops who made more money than the average flatfoot.

They would take Ashley to Bear Trail Lake.

He slid his legs over the side of the bed and stood up to put on his pants.

“Where are you going?” Meg asked.

“Downstairs to order dinner.”

“You can do that over the phone.”

“I want to get something really special to surprise you.”

“Come back to bed and surprise me here. I’m sure there are a few things left we haven’t tried.”

In spite of his situation, he had to smile. Meg. This was the last he would ever see of her.

“Indulge me, please,” he said to her. “I want to talk to the chef. This restaurant is famous in the county. I’d also like to select the wine personally. It won’t take long.”

“Oh, all right,” she said sleepily, rolling over in the bed to face the wall and yawning. “I’ll take a nap until you get back.”

“Do that,” he said, slipping into his shirt. He opened the door into the hall and tossed his jacket on the carpet, then came back to sit next to Meg on the bed.

“You still here?” Meg said teasingly, turning to look at him.

“Kiss me,” he said, gathering her into his arms.

“I just did. Many times.”

“Kiss me again.”

Meg complied, and then he held her tightly, his eyes shut, his anguished expression concealed from her as he buried his face in her soft hair.

“Peter, are you sure everything is all right?” she asked again.

“Everything’s fine. Take your nap. I’ll be right back.” He forced himself to go into the hall without looking back, and then picked up his jacket and marched to the elevator, his heart pounding.

It must be done, he told himself. I must leave her now.

When he stepped off the elevator into the lobby, he went straight to the desk clerk who had registered them.

“I’ve been called away on business,” he said to the man. “I’ll be leaving now, but my wife will stay on in the room.”

“Oh, what a shame,” the man said sympathetically. “I’m sure Mrs. Ransom will be very disappointed.”

“I want to leave the car for my wife, so I’ll need to rent a car this afternoon.”

“We have a standing contract with the Avis in Hunterdon, a few miles away. We can make the arrangements over the phone, and then our driver can take you to pick up the car.”

“That will be fine.”

“Would you like me to call them now?”

“Please. I’m in a hurry.”

Ransom watched the man pick up the receiver and begin to punch the buttons on the phone.

* * * *

Meg woke about an hour later and realized that Ransom had not returned. Thinking that he had decided to take a walk and let her sleep, she showered and dressed, then read a fashion magazine. Then she did her nails.

When two hours had passed, she called down to the desk.

“This is Mrs. Ransom in two-fourteen,” she said to the clerk. “My husband and I just came in a couple of hours ago.”

“Yes, Mrs. Ransom.”

“I can’t seem to find my husband. Have you seen him?”

There was a long pause at the other end of the line, and then the man said, “There must be some misunderstanding, Mrs. Ransom. Your husband checked out about three o’clock. He said you would be staying on for a while.”

Meg’s fingers curled so tightly around the receiver that her knuckles whitened. “Did he say anything else?” she said in a taut, barely controlled voice.

“Just that he wanted to rent a car. Our driver took him into town to the Avis there.” The clerk hesitated and then said, “Is there a problem, Mrs. Ransom?”

“No, no, we just got our wires crossed, that’s all. Thank you.”

Meg hung up the phone, feeling faint.

She had made a terrible, dreadful mistake.

Calm down, she instructed herself. Think. Think hard.

Fragments of ideas chased themselves through her head. What could she check? Who did she know who knew him? Calling the business was no good; she’d just get the recorded announcement again. She suddenly seized on the idea of Ransom’s doorman, Julio, a young Filipino who knew her from her visits to Ransom’s apartment.

It was just before five; he would probably still be on duty.

She followed the procedure for making long-distance calls on the hotel phone and called Philadelphia information, getting the number of Ransom’s building. Then she dialed that, her heart banging like a hammer on an anvil in her chest.

“Stratford House,” a male voice answered with a faint Spanish accent.

“I’m calling for Julio, the doorman,” Meg said.

“This is Julio.”

Thank God. “Julio, this is Margaret Drummond, Mr. Ransom’s friend. I’ve been there several times with Mr. Ransom. The last time I visited him, all three of us talked about the racetrack in Manila, remember?”

“Sure, I remember you,” Julio said, but his tone was cautious. He had been a doorman too long.

“Julio, I’m concerned about Mr. Ransom. I haven’t seen him for a while and I’m afraid something may have happened to him. Can you remember the last time you saw him?”

There was a silence while Julio thought about it. “I haven’t seen him for a couple of days, maybe. I can’t remember exactly.”

“Think, Julio. Last Thursday, the day Senator Fair was killed, did you see him then?”

“I think he left here right after noon that day.”

When he was supposedly away already, according to what he had told Meg.

“Did he have anything with him?”

“Overnight bag.”

Meg considered that, then said, “Julio, how long has Mr. Ransom lived at the Stratford House?”

“He moved in about six weeks ago.”

Just around the time I met him, Meg thought.

“Miss Drummond, what’s going on here?” Julio said. “You’re asking a lot of questions, and I don’t want to get into trouble. The residents don’t like me poking into their private business.”

“I understand that, Julio, but this is vitally important. Just a few questions more. Did you notice what kind of hours Mr. Ransom kept? Did he go to the office the same time every day, that sort of thing?”

“Nah, he kept odd hours. He came and went all different times, day and night. I filled in on the night shift a couple of times. I saw him go out two or three in the morning, come back at dawn.”

“Did you ever see him bringing things in or out?”

“What kind of things?” Julio asked suspiciously.

“Anything. Boxes, cartons.”

“Well, he had a couple of big boxes of clothes packed up for the Goodwill last week. I helped him carry them outside for the pickup by the truck.”

Getting rid of his wardrobe? Meg wondered. Why?

“Did he ever have anything delivered?”

“Some computer stuff once.”

“Computer stuff?” Meg said faintly.

“Yeah, I knew what it was from the Apple on the box. That’s what they call them, right? Apples?”

“Right,” Meg echoed, swallowing. Oh, God.

“Miss Drummond, you there?” Julio said.

“I’m here. Julio, I don’t suppose you could unlock Mr. Ransom’s door, check the apartment for me.”

“No, ma’am,” Julio said firmly. “I’ve got the master key, but the super needs a court order to go into one of the apartments without the tenant’s permission.”