Five O’Clock Shadow (15 page)

“The roses are beautiful.”

“I'm glad they got your attention.”

Same old Tom, but he seemed happy to hear from her.

“What if I said I'd like to take you to lunch? 'Fessed up to feeling a little guilty about breaking our date?”

“Sounds like my lucky day.” She could feel Tom relax and slip into his old bantering self. “My choice of place or yours?”

“Mine. I'll meet you at your office at a quarter 'til.”

She hung up, then dialed the in-house library service and asked to have all the issues of the local paper that dealt with the water conservancy project sent over. Especially those from the last six months. Research needed to include local opinion, and there was some indication that all was not well. The project wasn't a popular one and wasn't improving with time. Randy had penciled in several questions in the margin of the proposal, and she would follow up. Starting with Tom. He'd offered to be a mentor, and she planned on giving him a chance.

Besides, the group that MDB was teaming with had its headquarters in El Paso. What better excuse to spend a week on the border looking into Amistad than a little legitimate work? She just needed to let Tom know, not necessarily to get his blessing, but to gain his support, if possible.

Then she dialed the agency that Sam had recommended. She might as well get a feel for what they had to offer. She was curious, and maybe it was important that Sam knew she'd taken his advice. He meant well.

At first the receptionist was reluctant to let her talk with a counselor, insisted, in fact, that she make an appointment. But Pauly persevered, dropped Sam Mather's name, said he'd recommended the agency and she only had a few questions, didn't want to waste anyone's time, especially this time of year. She was finally put through. Ms. Perkins sounded bubbly but older. Her own babies were probably grown and now she had an overpowering need to provide this gratifying experience to others. She rattled off her credentials, which included social worker, minor in psych.

“Am I to understand that you are currently not married?”

Ms. Perkin's voice was friendly, but reserved when Pauly mentioned being single. But Randy had been unmarried…at first. Maybe this was a stumbling block.

“I've been recently widowed.” That sounded stilted. It was still a word that she couldn't get used to.

“Oh. I'm sorry. May I assume that there would be no financial worries then? Anything that would preclude your being able to provide for a child?”

“Financially, I'm comfortable. There would be no problems.”

“We would, of course, need a financial statement.”

“Of course.”

“Our agency is more concerned with quality of care than having two parents. We all know the divorce statistics today. There are just no guarantees.”

You can say that again, Pauly thought to herself but added aloud, “Do you only place babies?”

“Newborns, in fact. All adoptions are completed by five days after birth.”

“Do you match prospective parents with the child in some way?”

“Absolutely. In addition to general physical characteristics, we wouldn't want six-foot parents to have a five-foot son, now would we?” Ms. Perkins paused to laugh good naturedly. “We also match for aptitude. We test mothers here at the facility. We hope to screen for any deformities in the genes someday soon. But right now health records are provided by both parties.”

“It all sounds so complicated. How is the final choice made?”

“The mother herself. She will be given the scrapbooks of several appropriate prospective parents. She bases her decision on what she views as your potential to provide the kind of home she envisions for her baby.”

“A scrapbook?”

“You would be required to put together a pictorial rendering of why you feel you would be a good parent. It's a sales tool. But if you think that's crass, look at it as a way of introducing yourself, showing your potential. They usually include pictures of your house, the baby's room, pets, relatives, anything that will help that mother choose you.”

Fleetingly, Pauly thought of her room at the B&B, of Steve's tattoos and Grams' cosmetic chest surgery. And weren't there snakes in the garage? Pauly felt nervous laughter well up and threaten to burst into sound. She cleared her throat. No wonder Randy chose to take another route. She thanked Ms. Perkins and promised to call back after she'd thought about it.

***

She'd chosen the Rio Grande Yacht Club for lunch, close enough to have walked, but Tom insisted on driving.

“I think I'm going to put it in the by-laws that the partners, minus one, must have lunch together on a weekly basis.”

Tom was kidding but he was attentive, opening the car door for her, pulling out the wicker high-backed chair from the table by the fireplace, ordering two Samuel Adams. She could get used to this.

The waiter recited an incredibly long list of fresh seafood dishes. Tom chose a medley of seafood on a pasta bed; Pauly stayed with the spinach salad. She never ordered anything different. A real lack of risk-taking behavior or imagination— she preferred to think of it as the latter and only when it came to food.

“Noralee says you're jumping right in. Office in order. Staying late.” Tom asked for another twist of ground pepper on his salad before the waiter moved away.

“Just trying to impress.” She grinned and tried not to think of Noralee spying and running to tell.

“Is everything going well?”

“Actually, yes. It was a good idea to get involved.”

“Not too much, too soon?”

“No. Not at all.”

Pauly buttered a slice of homemade wheat bread and watched Tom finish his salad. Was she losing her nerve? She might as well just come out with it.

“Tom, I think I'm ready to do a little field work. The first round of reports on the Rio Grande Conservancy project are due the middle of February and I need to be in on the ground floor of the research, attend a few water board meetings in El Paso, that sort of thing. Oversee the hiring of two additional tech writers. It's getting close to Christmas, but I thought I'd go down this week and set up.”

She couldn't read his expression. Thoughtful, taking his time, then waiting until after the waiter had set their plates in front of them to comment.

“Bet you wish you could change your order.” Tom smiled through the steam that rose from the seafood. And it did smell good, she didn't have to close her eyes to imagine a salty pier jutting out into the ocean, but the calories in the cream-laden sauce weren't inviting. She let him savor a few mouthfuls before she tried to get him back on the subject, the reason she'd taken him to lunch, but, of course, he couldn't know that.

“Is there any reason that I can't just show up on their doorstep? I mean after an introductory call? Or should one of you two set it up for me?”

“Do you really know what you're getting into?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, for example, whose side are you on?”

“I'm not following.”

“Do you think Texas or Arizona, or even California for that matter, should have a claim to New Mexico's water?”

Was this a test? Just a little check to see if her homework was done?

“First of all, a writer hired to report the project findings better be non-partisan.” She paused to smile. “But, secondly, I think this is a landmark case. New Mexico's water rights have never been challenged before. The state has never been pressured into selling like it's being now. Our recommendations will get a lot of attention whichever way they go.”

“Getting involved means a lot to you, doesn't it?” Tom put down his fork.

“Yes.”

“Why? And don't give me some crap about carrying on Randy's work because I won't buy it.”

Pauly tried to figure out what he was getting at. Maybe if she asked him about his relationship with Randy….

“Did you dislike Randy?”

“Dislike might be too harsh a word. He was Archer's friend, old school chum, and as you must know, it was Randy's money that got us started.” That was a surprise, but she tried not to show it as he continued. “Randy was a taker, a user of people, almost flat emotionally—hey, I shouldn't be saying this. I apologize. I'm out of line.”

“No. Please go on. I asked. I need to see him through others' eyes. I've found out that I didn't know him very well myself.”

“I'll admit that I was shocked that you two got married so fast. I don't think marriage would have been what I would have predicted for Randy at any time.”

“Care to share what you thought his future held?” She was curious now.

“Oh, a bachelor life, something sedentary with a stack of books.” He looked away to catch the waitress' eye with a wave of his empty beer bottle, and Pauly knew he was lying. Tom had a good idea of what he thought would happen to Randy and it wasn't research.

“Pauly, I.…” He had turned back, then stopped again as the waitress brought a fresh beer. He waited until she had moved on to the next table. “This project is controversial, you know that. I guess I've thought that some special interest groups might have wished Randy weren't involved, even taken measures to ensure that he wasn't.”

“Including murder?” she asked.

He nodded.

Had he shared this with the police? Or was all this some kind of smoke screen for her benefit? Scare her off the project. She watched as he looked down at his plate, moved some linguini around, then speared a scallop and popped it into his mouth, swallowing before going on.

“There are some special interest groups that are pretty hot under the collar, scared to death that the project could divert water resources, cheat them with a rationing that would severely limit growth in their area, even make industrial expansion impossible. The politics have been just this side of nasty.”

“Who seems to be the most vocal?”

“Representatives from the South Valley.”

“Sosimo Garcia?” She took a sip of beer.

“Congressman Garcia is the leader. Have you ever met Sosimo?”

Pauly nodded, not trusting herself to speak. This was a new wrinkle—a very interesting one. Had Randy been in the process of buying the Congressman's support? Or tying him up politically with potentially dangerous material for blackmail? It put Randy in an unenviable position of knowing too much. And now her. And it could change what she'd suspected about Randy's being a pedophile. Maybe, just maybe she'd been wrong. But no. Before she got too excited, there was still his son….

“Have I lost you?” Tom was leaning across the table watching her intently. Had her face given her away? Registered the misgivings that she felt?

“The project isn't as straightforward as I thought,” Pauly said.

“Exactly. Not when you're talking about life-sustaining resources and a lot of money invested. The Village of Corrales is still hassling Intel Corporation about water rights.”

“You really think someone wanted to get rid of Randy?”

“I feel like I'm telling tales out of school here, but, yes, I think someone wanted to slow down the project. Taking out the lead hydrologist has done just that.”

“Did you share your theory with the police?”

“Umhmmm. They seemed interested, took a lot of notes, anyway.”

“What would the South Valley gain by slowing down the project?”

“Time to investigate on their own, build a stronger lobbying group, cross a few palms with silver. They could even woo industry now and put themselves in a position to have their resources already pledged.”

“You really think the project is a dangerous one?”

“After Randy's death, yes. I'd like to dissuade you from getting involved, but something tells me you might be difficult to sidetrack.”

She smiled. It was true. At some level this information about Sosimo only made her more adamant about finding answers. “So, I'm going to give you the old lecture on being careful, not overstepping bounds. That is, be exceptionally careful not to draw conclusions from any of the research. Let the guys getting paid for analysis do their job. You stick to the recording end of it.”

Pauly thought he was about to say something else then decided against it. She waited, finished her spinach salad and ordered coffee.

“There's one other thing.” Tom paused. “I don't want you to misinterpret this, but Archer prides himself on being able to oil the waters. He's been wining and dining Sosimo and feels he has the congressman where he wants him.” I'll just bet he does, Pauly thought. “It might be best if you played dumb concerning the political side of the water project. I'm afraid it was my idea to share with you. Archer probably wouldn't be too pleased.”

“No problem.”

“And then there's the party. Sosimo is having a little ‘do' this Wednesday, a holiday thing; he does it every year. It's not something we can get out of as representatives of the firm. I think it might be wise if we go together.”

“Pretty slick way to get a date,” Pauly said and they both laughed. But he was right; she knew she'd feel better arriving on the arm of Tom Dougal.
Better
in this case meaning safer.

Chapter Seven

It had been the fifteenth dress that Pauly had tried on, cognac satin above the knee and strapless, from one of Albuquerque's better stores, which made it far too expensive, a designer-exclusive wisp of material that fell perfectly, hiding a too-long waist and pushing up a chest that always needed help to be noticed. She hadn't wanted to wear black, not just because it denoted mourning, but because everyone wore black and the color of this dress matched her hair, seemed to lift the chestnut highlights and warm her skin.

Shoes were a combination of tiny, twisted, two-tone bronze leather straps that caressed her instep and tied around her ankle, tethering her to three-inch squarish, pencil-thin heels which boosted her to a whopping five foot eleven. How could Italian designers turn a few leather straps into something orgasmic? Americans couldn't do that.

The outfit had a little bit of a hooker flare to it, but she thought it would be perfect for Sosimo's party, a real attention-getter. She slicked her usual fly-away, fluffy mass of hair back into a classic bun at the nape of her neck, added diamond drop earrings—real, her grandmother assured her—a faux lynx jacket, and she was ready.

She hadn't seen Steve standing in the kitchen doorway while she primped in front of the hall mirror until she caught his reflection. And just for a moment before he whispered “knockout” she had seen the admiration as his eyes traveled down her backside, lingering a moment first on her legs and then the heels.

“Hot date?” Did he sound a little irked?

“Company obligation, stockholder shindig.” She blotted her lipstick, bronzed peach, and hoped that Steve would wander off before Tom rang the doorbell. But no such luck. Steve seemed rooted until he heard the bell, and then he quickly moved to open the door.

“Well, if it isn't Prince Charming.” Steve bowed obsequiously to usher Tom in. Why was he being such an ass? Pauly moved to intercept any more snide remarks. But Tom, impeccable in tux and topcoat, gallant in spite of his introduction, was shaking Steve's hand. Then turning to her, he said, “My god, you're stunning. The dress is perfect, the designer had to have had you in mind. No one else could wear it.”

Pauly smiled her thanks but barely before Steve added, “Oh, I don't know, I thought I saw the same little number on the corner of Central and Carlisle the other night.”

Tom's eyes narrowed at the obvious reference to the attire chosen by prostitutes. Pauly was appalled. And hurt. Was Steve drunk? One would think—and she hoped Tom didn't—that she was somehow important to this tattooed man who now, on some junior-high level, was marking off his territory by belittling her.

“You're out of line, Steve. I don't deserve that,” Pauly said with just the right amount of frost. Then she picked up her jacket and started towards the door. Tom followed then turned and took a parting shot, “Hey pal, don't wait up for us.” The smirk leaked through his voice.

Jesus, Pauly cursed to herself without looking back, why didn't the two just duke it out in the driveway. But she was more than a little flattered. To say the least, the dress was working, threw two males into an early rut.

***

Albuquerque's South Valley was an enigma. And Pauly would be the first to admit that she could get lost even sticking to the major thoroughfares like Broadway and Isleta Boulevard. But in the center of his constituency, Sosimo's rambling adobe commanded attention. It was a walled fort. There was an entrance manned by armed guards, a winding mile-long drive through manicured lawns, valets parking cars communicating via walkie-talkies with the gate.

“Does it up right, doesn't he?” Tom slowed to pull into a line of cars inching towards the front of the house.

“I had no idea.”

“You'll see everyone who is anyone here tonight. In addition to the company, I can vouch for the food and music, A-plus for both.” Tom stopped and Pauly gathered purse and jacket as a smiling young man opened the door to help her out under the portico ablaze with light.

“Have I mentioned in the last half hour how gorgeous you look?” Tom took her arm as they started up the steps to the front door. “You know I'd like to beat out your tattooed friend for your favors, become the one and only.”

Whatever else Tom was going to say was drowned out by Sosimo's booming welcome, which also saved her from trying to explain why an office romance, even among principals, wasn't a good idea. Pauly paused while the small man took her hand. She was a little sorry that she towered over Sosimo but knew that next to Tom's six foot two frame, they made an attention-catching couple.

“What a beauty you are. Thomas is incredibly lucky.” Sosimo bent over her hand and pressed her knuckles against his lips. His mustache felt stiff and chafed as he murmured, “You do me a great honor.” Then with a wink, he dropped her hand and moved on to welcome a couple in back of them.

Oily-smooth, used to being in control, the patron of all this. Pauly suppressed a little shiver of fear. This was a man who didn't let very much stand in the way of getting what he wanted. Just how much of a threat was the water project? If water was diverted from the South Valley, if his lobbying failed, would it be enough to strip him of his office, get him unseated? Maybe. But the loss of power would be unthinkable. He would not allow that to happen, and to assure that it did not might mean taking drastic steps….

“Awesome, isn't it? I'll be right back.” Tom helped her off with the jacket and walked to a coat check in a cordoned-off area on her left. The room Tom referred to spread out before her, opening to view flanked by two granite pillars. Six crystal chandeliers shot daggers of light across opulent pink marble floors laid in slabs with seams that were almost undetectable. An orchestra filled an area to the back that might normally serve as a sun porch.

As Tom took her arm to walk down the three short steps to the ballroom-sized dance floor, heads turned. Appreciative once-overs from the men, and a few barely veiled jealous stares from women. Pauly was beginning to feel that the dress was one of her best investments, and she began to relax. Tom, the ever-perfect escort, introduced her as a business partner and made sure she met the who's who of New Mexico. He reluctantly gave her up as a dance partner, but not often, and mostly monopolized her himself.

Was she surprised when Sosimo sent a servant to summon her to the study sometime before midnight? Not really. It was something she dreaded, being alone with him, but oddly something that she had expected might happen, a little chat to get to know her better. She thought Tom looked at her questioningly when he realized that the invitation didn't include him. But she smiled and whispered, “Must be anxious to grill the new partner alone.” She barely caught his whispered, “Be careful,” as she turned to follow the young man who was walking back along the edge of the dance floor.

The study had been professionally decorated for Christmas by a florist—or was there a Mrs. Garcia? One hadn't been present in the receiving line; Pauly must remember to ask Tom. But surely this mass of poinsettia, all whites, stacked ten deep around the fireplace and evergreen boughs chained together to loop across mantle and windows and French doors supporting golden angels with trumpets had a designer's touch?

“The room is beautiful.” Pauly took Sosimo's hand as he chivalrously guided her over the threshold, dismissing the servant and closing the big heavy door securely behind them. Pauly tried not to flinch at the solid thud but continued to walk into the room marveling at the deep pile of the maroon carpet.

“Won't you sit with me by the fire?” Sosimo had pointed to two comfortable overstuffed chairs in an old fashioned chintz-inspired floral pattern. Now, that could be the touch of a woman. But that was about all. The fireplace, especially, in floor to ceiling rock was overwhelmingly masculine. She felt dwarfed by the room.

She sat opposite Sosimo and resisted the urge to tug at the short dress which rode high up her thigh. It was just a little more leg than she usually revealed, and wasn't this a business meeting? And he made her uncomfortable. That was the bottom line. Uncomfortable because of his vested interest in the project and almost manic when she thought of the pictures. Plain and simple, she knew too much to be here now, alone, trying to appear the gracious guest, play the naive widow. And he was studying her, brashly letting those small black eyes flit over her face.

“I've given much thought to why I've asked you to meet with me now. I need to be assured that I am doing the right thing.”

Pauly waited. This didn't seem to be an opening to a business meeting. She watched as he stood and then moved to his desk, pulled out the middle drawer, retrieved something and returned to the fire. He hesitated only a moment before placing a narrow black velvet box on the coffee table between them. A jeweler's box, the kind that could hold expensive gifts. Was he going to bribe her? Dangle some bauble in exchange for promises to bend her findings in the water project? Was he about to buy her allegiance?

“I was forced to miss your wedding because of business. A group of congressmen were invited to tour a new power plant in the Virgin Islands, I was asked to go. There are some fringe benefits to government service.” A wry smile. Pauly smiled back. But where was this leading? “My dear friend Randy asked me if I could pick up a piece of jewelry for him while I was there, knowing that there is usually more value for your dollar in the islands. And he had something very special in mind. It was a present for you. Actually, a Christmas present, because he was afraid that he would have to travel over the holidays. And since this would have been your first Christmas together and you would be spending it alone, the gift had to be extraordinary.” His voice was soft; his face showed compassion.

Pauly hoped the incredulity that she felt didn't show. What a bunch of hogwash. How could he be so transparent? Randy asking him to buy an expensive gift? She doubted that. He had made a big deal over giving her his mother's pearls before the wedding. But he had never given her something expensive that he had bought. She realized that Sosimo was holding out the box, expecting her to take it. Well, why not? Why not carry this little farce to its limit.

The box had a gold clasp that could have been fourteen karat; Pauly couldn't tell in the light from the fire. But the case was expensive. If it was a foreshadowing of what was inside, she could be very pleasantly surprised. It took a little pressure to nudge the lid upward but when it sprang free, held open by hidden hinges, Pauly gasped. Nestled in pale gold satin was a diamond tennis bracelet. But not just any tennis bracelet. This one was seven inches of half-carat canary yellow diamonds. Not irradiated, she was almost certain of that, but the real thing, true deep yellow sparkling diamonds of top quality.

“May I?” Sosimo leaned forward and, slipping the bracelet from the box, encircled her wrist, struggling a moment with the clasp. The diamonds danced in the firelight, shimmering along her bare skin. And then she saw the note in the top of the velvet case, a holiday card with embossed gold foil bells in one corner, the kind that might accompany a gift. “Merry Christmas, darling. When you look at this, think of me and I'll be with you.” It was signed simply, “Randy.”

She felt her hands grow cold and shake just enough to wiggle the case. What irony. Like someone telling you to try not to stare at the left eye of the camel…of course she would think of him each and every time. She didn't need, didn't want reminders. So would she keep the bracelet? But how could she turn it down without raising suspicion? Without saying that even though it looked like Randy's handwriting, he would never call her “darling”—or, at least, never had.

But what if it were true? What if he had planned ahead, planned some incredible gift to sweep her off her feet when he wasn't there? A gift of apology, a gift he'd planned to give her two months into their young marriage because he was going to be off somewhere on business? There was a time when she would have believed that. But now? She didn't know what to believe. It was like a giant hand pushing up from the grave to clutch at her throat, suffocating her with memories and anger sparked by unforgivable lies. Who was it who had said that there was a thin line between love and hate?

“It's perfect for you.” Sosimo gently turned her arm so that the firelight caught in the band and exploded into hundreds of tiny winking golden sparkles.

Say something appropriate, Pauly told herself, then get out of there.

“How did you know I love the color yellow in stones? I have an old topaz ring that I've practically worn out.”

“Randy had an eye for detail, he took note of things. I'm only guessing that he may not have always been able to express himself, but Pauly—you were the best thing that had ever happened to him. He said that to me, over and over. He wanted this bracelet to be uniquely yours. I had explicit instructions as to what to look for, right down to the yellow diamonds.”

Could it be true? Randy used to tease her about the topaz ring, made her toss it in a drawer when the band wore through. Who else could have known that she would have picked this very bracelet for herself? Purchased it, that is, if she had had an extra fifteen or twenty thousand in her pocket.

It was uncanny. But only because she'd buried any happy memories of Randy, not allowed herself to think that he might have cared for her. Not after what she'd discovered. And now? How did this bracelet change things? Because it did. And she couldn't help it. Suddenly the spirit of the man she'd spent two months learning to hate filled the room, hovered over her, beamed back at her from a couple dozen twinkling diamonds.

“Did I do the right thing? Perhaps, I should have waited.” Sosimo was leaning towards her. He must have read the confusion in her face. Instinctively Pauly masked her feelings. Then, appearing to struggle for emotional control, she simply nodded, pressed fingers to the corners of her eyes to keep imaginary tears from falling, and swallowed hard. She squeezed his hand and was pleased with her performance when she felt him relax.