Liar's Moon (10 page)

CHAPTER SIX

T
hey were all in Jamie and Leif’s suite—Tiger and Sam, Liz and Blake, and, of course, Jamie and Leif. Tracy entered the room in a slow, simmering boil, wondering if she wouldn’t just erupt and tell them that they should all go to hell.

But no one really noticed her when she came in other than to smile and say good morning and offer her a cup of coffee. They were all sitting around the breakfast table, sipping coffee, and reading various papers with reviews on Jamie’s performance.

Tracy slid into the remaining seat—between Leif and Blake—and accepted the coffee that Sam poured for her.

Leif chuckled softly. “Hey, Jamie, L. Bordon out of Toronto says that you’re a ‘genius.’ How does that sit?”

“Quite nicely, thanks,” Jamie said, grinning, in return.

Tiger gave him a little buff on the back of the head. “Don’t go and become an egotist on us. Ted Bailey of the Chicago paper says that you need to learn some control. Work on that—huh?”

Sam chuckled. “Most of these papers are saying that Jamie’s great—but they’re more into this romance thing between Leif and Tracy.”

There is no romance thing! Tracy wanted to scream. But before she got the words out, Leif turned to her with
the most startling facsimile of a tender grin and reached over to massage her nape. “I knew you didn’t really want it, Tracy, but what difference does it make, huh? None, really.”

She almost slapped his hand away—but Blake spoke up before she could do so, asking wistfully, “Does a ‘romance
thing’ mean that I
can ask her to cut my waffle for me?”

“Oh, Blake, I’m sorry,” Leif said instantly. “I didn’t realize you were struggling there, son.”

Tracy did snap out then, but not in the way she intended to at all.

“I can cut waffles!”

The whole table stared at her, of course. Jamie, with the silliest grin that made her want to slap him; Tiger, she noted, with a knowing smile. And she began to wish that a giant pterodactyl would swoop down and carry them all away.

She didn’t get much of a chance to say anything to Leif; he threw his paper down as she was cutting Blake’s food and said something about packing a few remaining things. Tiger and Sam exited to their own rooms for their things, and Tracy was left with only Blake, her brother, and Liz.

And Liz was still staring at her.

She smiled sheepishly and awkwardly when Tracy caught her gaze and pretended to be interested in folding her napkin. “I don’t suppose that the traffic will be too heavy today. And we’ll be getting an early start.” She looked up at Tracy again. “Have you ever seen Leif’s house in Connecticut, Tracy?”

“Yes,” Tracy murmured, wishing she could deny it.

Blake gave her a wonderful smile. “You’ve been to my house?” He asked her, excited.

“Uh—briefly, a long time ago.” She smiled at Blake, but felt acutely uncomfortable. Liz suggested that, since he had finished his waffles, he run back to Tracy’s room and pick up his things so that they could get going on the road.

As soon as Blake disappeared, Tracy folded her hands on the table and looked pointedly at Liz. “There’s nothing going on, Liz. Well, that’s a lie. Your brother is after something, and I’m not sure what. I did know him years ago—very, very briefly—and things were an absolute disaster. That’s all there is to it.”

Liz shook her head ruefully. “It’s none of my business.”

Tracy smiled grimly and shrugged. “It was a rather well-kept secret, until recently.” She gave Jamie a look that was meant to sizzle, but he was undauntable.

“Tracy—you’re the one making the big deal out of things.”

Liz folded her napkin again. “And all three of you think that somebody else was in on Jesse’s murder, right?” she asked.

“Uh—yes,” Tracy admitted. “You knew that?”

“I know my brother.”

Jamie pushed his chair in. “I guess I’d better get a few things packed, too.”

Liz shivered when he was gone and leaned closer to Tracy. “Tracy, as I said, it’s none of my business, but I can see that you’re upset. Still, I think that you should go along with Leif. If someone did conspire to kill your father, you and Jamie could be in danger, too.”

Tracy took a deep breath and shook her head, touched by the concern in Liz’s silver eyes.

“Leif is after my family, Liz. He’s trying to hang one of them—in more ways than one.”

“What do you mean by that?”

Tracy laughed. “I don’t know really. I just know that he’s suspicious about something and that he intends to use me to get to the bottom of it. That isn’t terribly fair.”

“Whoever promised fair?” Liz sighed. “Tracy, for your safety, play along. A young woman alone is easy game.”

“Oh, I’m wonderfully easy game! For Leif,” Tracy muttered bitterly. “I don’t even know what he’s up to!”

Liz poured herself more coffee and laughed. “All the more reason you should go along with him! You know Leif.”

“No—I don’t.”

“Well, I’ll give you a hint. Fight him, and he growls and fights back like a lion. Say a few soft words, and he’s a kitten. Go along with him and you’ll get him to talk to you.”

Tracy lowered her lashes and sipped her coffee. She wasn’t sure she could manage even a few soft words for Leif
at
this point. But thirty minutes later, when they were all ready to leave, Tracy remembered Liz’s words. She’d been about to insist that she would ride with Liz and Blake when Leif asked the bellhop to pack Tracy’s things in his trunk.

She didn’t protest; she smiled sweetly and demurely slid into the passenger seat of his silver Jaguar.

Tiger and Sam, ahead of them in the souped-up Mercedes, waved that they were starting. Liz and Blake crawled into her powder-blue Rolls and waved, too. Leif turned his key in the ignition. They weren’t really planning on following one another; they would just start off together and meet when they stopped for coffee at a little place just outside of Mystic.

Tracy was silent as they started off. She slid comfortably back in the very plush seat and pulled the rim of her
red and gray felt hat low over her eyes. She sensed that he was watching her—waiting for her to tear into him. She merely smiled, because it was nice to have him be the tense one for a change. She didn’t intend to say a thing; he could wait the entire trip.

“Tracy?”

“What?” She made an elaborate point of yawning.

“Listen, what I’m doing—”

“You’re just going to do anyway, whether I agree with you or not. You just go ahead, Leif. Could you turn on the radio, please?”

“I’ve got tapes. What do you want to hear?”

“Anything but the Limelights,” she said sweetly, closing her eyes once again.

He didn’t reply, but opened the glove compartment and pulled out a tape. She was somewhat surprised that he managed so smoothly, since the Jaguar was a four on the floor, and the car didn’t miss a beat. The tape was a set of Croce ballads, soft and easy.

Tracy kept her eyes closed, determining to feign sleep. Liz had been right, she decided with amusement. Leif was all set to go to battle. Well, she wasn’t going to take up arms—not now.

But “feigning” sleep wasn’t such a wonderful idea. Once they were out of the city, the traffic was light on the highway. Leif drove competently and smoothly. The air was on and the windows were up and the music was like a cushion against her thoughts. She really did fall asleep.

When she woke up, it was to discover herself in a rather precarious position. She frowned as she opened her eyes because she couldn’t see much of anything—her hair was tangled all over her face. She blinked and tugged at the wayward tresses and realized that the car was still and Leif was talking and her head was on his lap and her
fingers were curled over his thigh. His hand was lightly resting on her head and he was telling Jamie that she had conked out as soon as they reached the bridge.

She struggled to sit up, wishing that she didn’t so easily turn to lobster red. Leif’s hand trailed down her back as she sat, and she stared at him with blue fire sizzling in her eyes, forgetting for that moment that she had determined to be sweet. He was laughing—as were Tiger, Sam, and Jamie, who were just outside the open driver’s door of the Jaguar.

“Better brush your hair before we go in,” Leif warned her, but subtle humor was in his eyes.

“Glad to have you with us again, Tracy!” Tiger said. “Guess we’d better get on in and help Liz and Blake hold down a table!”

Jamie winked at her and followed Tiger and Sam.

Tracy started to swear beneath her breath, and Leif burst into laughter. “Careful, luv, your claws are showing.” He reached down to the floor where her hat had fallen, then to her temple, where her hair still fell in disarray. There was something about his gaze, something about his touch that held her still.

“He’s a brat,” she muttered.

“Jamie? Not really; he’s not a bad kid at all. There— tug down that brim of yours and we’re all set.”

Tracy pulled her hat low. Leif came around and opened her door and took her hand when she stepped out of the car. She started to pull it away. His grip tightened and she noted that he was watching the others as they came to the restaurant door. She bit her lip and went rigid, but ceased her useless fight for the retrieval of her hand.

“Leif, I give up. I’m not sure which, but you’re planning on hanging either my mother, my stepfather, or my grandfather. Why the charade for Tiger and Sam?”

He glanced her way, paus
ing to open the door for her. “I’
m not ready to hang anyone.”

“You’re convinced that one of them is guilty—or something.”

“All of them are guilty—of something.”

“You’re not making any sense.”

“I haven’t vindicated anyone. Does that help?”

She laughed suddenly. “Leif, what are you planning— an Agatha Christie finale? We’ll all gather in the grand salon and recreate the crime?”

He smiled at her, his eyes light and silver, and a mystery.

“Hercule Poirot, at your service, ma’am.”

“Oh, Lord, save us,” Tracy murmured, and she went on through the door. He moved his hand to the small of her back to guide her, and she felt a trickle of exciting warmth that frightened and appalled her. She still cared for him, she knew. Still found it terribly easy to fall under his spell.

It was a small family-run Italian restaurant, very dark and quiet. They had a table in a little alcove, and apparently Leif was a valued customer, because homemade wine came their way, and an aromatic collection of pastas and delicacies. They’d really only intended to stop for a snack, but the food was delicious and they lingered a long while over the various courses, coffee, and dessert.

Tracy was quite impressed with Blake’s table manners. For a six-year-old, the little boy was extremely patient in the company of adults. Was I ever good? Tracy wondered, and she knew that she hadn’t been. She hadn’t been that much older than Blake when she had become a terror, rebellious and confused.

Once again, she found herself between Blake and Leif with Liz on the other side of the little boy. She was careful to talk to him during the meal, so he wouldn’t feel left out. But being there, she began to wonder just what she had missed out on in her determination to stay apart from what was—in a strange way—her heritage. They were all so very close and easy together. Jamie was close to Leif, close to Blake, close to Liz, and even to Tiger and Sam. Like family.

She might have felt the same. If only her father had recognized her that night! But then, maybe she couldn’t blame Jesse. She would never have left that night from Leif’s if she hadn’t still been seventeen and legally bound to her mother and stepfather.

One of them might have killed Dad, she reminded herself, but with little conviction. Surely not Leif! Nor Tiger, nor Sam! Twenty-five years of their lives they had given to one another! Much more than many a marriage.

Then who? Cold chills crept over her. Not her mother or her grandfather, and certainly not her stepfather.

Jamie’s mother did it, she decided. And immediately she admitted that her decision was based on the fact that she had never really liked Carol—because Carol had never really liked her.

“Lauren,” she murmured, unaware that she had spoken aloud.

Her father’s last wife. A sophisticated beauty with very little real interest in music. Tracy didn’t think that Lauren would have lasted long with her father had Jesse not died. She had never understood that Jesse’s need was not for an audience, but for the music itself.

An elbow suddenly slammed against her rib. She looked up, startled, to find Leif staring at her.

“No, I don’t think that Lauren is coming in until tomorrow,” he was saying, as if she had asked a question.

“Tracy—your folks will be there today, though, huh?” Tiger asked her from across the table.

“They—will?” That same damned elbow slammed against her again. “They will. Yes, they will!” she stated more firmly.

Sam said something to Tiger about the green lasagna; Tracy slammed her elbow against Leif’s ribs and was rewarded by a sharp gasp and a groan. He leaned over to whisper in her ear. “Claws, my darling! Retract those claws!”