Mysterious (10 page)

People shifted around her. Their voices sounded distant and muffled. She made a giant effort to free her mind from cloying webs of fear. Faces blurred, then focused. Suddenly she stopped, her hand covering her mouth in shock.

Jerome looked back, perplexed. "What’s wrong?"

"We’ve got to get out of here!" she said in a panicky whisper.

"What are you talking about? We just got here."

"Don’t ask any questions. Let’s just go. Hurry!"

She had already turned and was headed out of the building, and Jerome had no choice but to follow. He caught up with her on the steps and grabbed her arm, forcing her to stop and face him. "Jennifer, tell me what’s wrong."

"It’s Brewster, the same man I saw at our apartment that day. I just saw him in the police station."

"What are you talking about?"

She looked back over her shoulder, toward the building, but no one had followed them. "I’ll tell you when we get back to your place," she promised shakily.

#

A fire blazed in the large marble fireplace of Jerome’s living room. Jennifer sat huddled before it. Handing her a snifter of brandy, Jerome positioned himself on the cushion beside her and waited until she took a sip.

"Since you maintain it was Brewster whom you saw, then I’m sure there’s a reasonable explanation for it. You say he wasn’t in uniform, so maybe he’s not a policeman. Maybe he was just there inquiring into something."

"The man is a policeman," she stated flatly. "I feel it in my bones."

"Then I’ll have him checked out. Since I’m mainly involved in corporate law, I don’t know a lot of people in the police department, but I can find someone who does."

"No!" She paused to light a cigarette. "If he found that you were checking on him, he’d eventually find out about me."

"I’d do it discreetly, Jennifer." He reached over, took the cigarette out of her hand, and snubbed it out. "You don’t smoke any more than I do."

"I know," she admitted ruefully, "but I used to, and now when I get nervous, the first thing I want to reach for is a cigarette. And"—one of Jennifer’s brows arched delicately—"on the subject of my being nervous, there’s no such thing as discreet when it comes to things like this. There’s no need to check. He’s a policeman."

"Okay, then, maybe Brewster was the detective sent to your apartment to investigate the murder."

She shook her head. "First of all, he wasn’t investigating anything. He was all alone, going through our things. Everyone, including me, knows that until certain tests are conducted at the scene of a murder, nothing is to be touched."

"I admit that those circumstances are a little out of the ordinary, but—"

"And how do you explain the fact that he was at our apartment just a few nights earlier, having a disagreement with Richard?"

"About what?"

Jennifer looked away. "I don’t know. Richard didn’t want me involved. I was in the next room, but I could hear their raised voices."

"Okay, okay." Jerome held up a conciliatory hand. "For the sake of argument, let’s say that this Brewster is the man who killed Richard. There are other policemen we can go to."

"Are there? How do we know which one we can trust? If Brewster is a crooked cop, who knows who else is?"

Jerome groaned. Jennifer just might have a point.

"Look," Jennifer said, speaking in a low tone. "I know that not reporting this to the police goes against your principles, and you don’t have to be involved any longer. You’ve done more than enough already. I’ll leave. I shouldn’t have stayed this long."

Jerome forced himself to control the panic that had pierced through him at the thought of her leaving him. She couldn’t. He wouldn’t allow it.

Gently but firmly he took her hands in his. "Jennifer, we’ve had this conversation before. You’re not leaving. You’re no longer alone; you’ve got me. We’re a team now."

Jennifer gazed at him with those velvet brown eyes of hers that seemed capable of reaching to his very soul. "My star must have been in the right place the night I walked into that bar and picked you out."

He smiled, brushing her cheek briefly with his knuckles. "Have you told me everything?"

"Yes."

"There must be something else. Think, Jennifer. Why are they after you?"

Her brows drew together. "Because they believe I know who killed Richard?"

"Maybe. But I think there’s something more here. You scoured the newspapers. What reports did you see of the murder?"

"None. Not one. I don’t understand. It’s like it never happened. Someone must be going to considerable lengths to cover it up."

As bad as things appeared, Jerome wasn’t about to give up. In his life he had been down more blind alleys than he could count. He did now what he had always done in the past. He backed up and tried again. "Okay, let’s see what we’ve got. You say the two men who are after you were sent by a man named Wainright, someone you thought you might be able to trust, but now you’re not so sure. You also say that you think Brewster, who is a policeman of some sort, is the man who killed your brother. Is that right so far?"

She nodded, grim-faced.

"Could that mean there are at least two different groups of people after you?"

"I guess so."

"Great, just great. That puts us in the position of having no place to go for help and of having to solve the one big question: Why? They’ve searched your place and mine. You must have something they want."

"Wait a minute!" She uttered a very mild, ladylike curse that had Jerome smiling in spite of the gravity of the situation. "I can’t believe I forgot this!" she exclaimed. Grasping her purse, she delved into it and came out with a glittering gold bracelet.

"A charm bracelet? I’ve seen that once before in your purse."

"I know. I usually wear it. My parents gave it to me when I was sixteen and over the years friends and family have added to it for me. But when the catch broke a couple of weeks ago, I put it into my purse and sort of forgot about it."

He took it from her and studied it. "It’s pretty, but why would anyone be after it?"

"A couple of months ago Richard had this key made in gold from an original he destroyed. It’s to a safety deposit box in a small town about an hour and a half drive north of here. Richard rented it after we came back from our trip to Switzerland. The box is in my name. He asked me to put a brown manlla envelope in it for him."

"Looks like our next step is to drive up to that town and open the box," Jerome said matter-of-factly. "Did any one else know about the safety deposit box or the key?"

"No, I don’t think so."

"Good. Then that gives us some time."

Jennifer remained silent, chewing on her thumbnail. He pulled her thumb away from her mouth. "What’s wrong?"

"They’re just waiting for me to lead them to whatever it is that they’re after."

"Then we’ll have to stay a step ahead of them."

"They’re probably watching us, you know. They might follow us."

He rubbed his fingers across the back of her hand, wishing he could soothe away the worry lines from her face. "We’ll just have to see that they don’t."

"You don’t know these people, Jerome." She shook her hair away from her face, and her eyes were full of concern.

"You’re right, I don’t, but I’m beginning to. And as long as you continue to tell me the truth, I can handle anything that comes up."

Before he could react one way or another, she leaned toward him and kissed him, murmuring, "Thank you." Then she moved away, out of his reach. It had been a light, gentle kiss, but as their lips had touched, it had felt as if a thousand watts of power had jolted through him. Jerome fought the almost desperate need to pull her back to him.

"Jennifer," he said, his tone carefully neutral, "I want us to get away together, someplace where we’ll be out of the center of this pressure cooker that we’ve been living in for days. It’s Friday now. We could leave tomorrow morning and have a couple of days together while we wait for the bank to open Monday morning. Will you go with me?"

Without a moment’s hesitation she nodded. He relaxed the muscles he had been unconsciously tensing. But all he said was, "Good. Good."

Saturday morning Jerome placed a call to the newsstand across the street. "Leo, could you do me a favor?"

"Sure, Mr. Mailer."

"I’ve been feeling a little under the weather and don’t think I should go out. Would you mind bringing me a morning paper up to my apartment?"

Leo hesitated only a second. "I’ll be right up with it." A few minutes later she was at his front door.

"Sorry I had to ask you to come up here, Leo," Jerome apologized as he let her in, "but I need your help and the paper was the only excuse I could think of to get you up here."

"That’s okay," she murmured, showing definite signs of being ill at ease. Wearing her usual many-layered attire, she shuffled into the expensively and handsomely decorated room, looking roughly majestic and as out of place as the antique rocking horse once had.

Jerome offered the older woman his hand. "I appreciate your coming."

With a stiff movement she took it. "I told you I’d help in any way I could."

"I appreciate that. Let’s sit down. Jennifer?" He held his hand out to her, indicating that she should join them. He waited until they were all three seated and then commenced. "I didn’t want to go into any details over the phone, but one of the reasons I asked you up was to find out if you’ve noticed any strangers around."

"Two men. They’ve sublet an apartment catty-cornered to your building. The one to the left of my stand."

"I wonder how they managed that? I thought this neighborhood was filled up and there was a waiting list."

"The story is that an older couple, the Jacobsons, came into some unexpected money and decided to travel for a while. They sublet their apartment to these men."

Without saying anything Jennifer got to her feet and walked to the window. With her arms wrapped around her waist she stared out into the growing light of the day.

Leo’s eyes followed Jennifer’s progress while she gave him the final piece of information. "The lease is in the name of Gardner Benjamin."

"That’s the name of the man Richard saw in Switzerland," Jennifer said dully.

Jerome looked at her worriedly, seeing the fear she was trying so hard to hide. He swiveled back to Leo. "This just underscores our problem. We need to get out of the city this morning without being seen. Can you help us?"

Leo didn’t miss a beat or waste time asking questions. "I’ll borrow a delivery truck from a friend of mine and back it up to the service entrance. We’ll open the doors and all you’ll have to do is step in. Then I’ll drive you to a place I know on the outskirts of town, where I’ll have a car waiting."

He grinned admiringly, but suggested, "Maybe it would be better if you didn’t drive us yourself. This might be dangerous. Isn’t there anyone else who could do it?"

"I’ll do it," Leo said firmly. "Trust me."

"With our lives." Jerome gave a half-laugh.

Leo didn’t laugh at all. But her weather-creased face seemed to alter a fraction, if not exactly soften, it certainly appeared less harsh. "Don’t worry. It’ll be okay." Then the expression vanished, as if it had never been there in the first place, and her voice once more became businesslike. "What else can I do to help? Do you need reservations or a place to stay?"

"No. After Jennifer told me about this place last night, I realized that it’s close to a lake where I’ve done a little fishing. They have a really nice lodge there, plus individual cabins. This time of year there should be no problem renting a room. How long will it take you to set things up?"

"Not long. A couple of hours okay?"

"That’s great. And, Leo, there’s one more thing."

"Yes?"

He handed her a key. "This is to my apartment. Would you mind coming up here a few times a day, turning the lights on and off and such, to make it look as if we’re here and just holed up for the weekend?"

Leo looked at the key in her hand. "You’re giving me the key to your apartment? Are you sure?"

"I’m sure, Leo. You’re Sami’s friend, and therefore, I consider you my friend, or I never would have asked for your help."

Her face showed nothing of what she might be feeling. "I’ll be glad to, Mr. Mailer."

Jerome smiled at her. She was an enigma, but somehow, in some strange way, he knew that he could trust her. He just hoped he wasn’t wrong. His instincts were about all he had going for him at the moment.

#

They had had no trouble renting a two-bedroom cabin situated right on the banks of the lake, and as Jerome studied the sitting room, he decided that it would suit them just fine. Both charming and cozy, it was also fairly isolated from the lodge and the other cabins.

He cast his gaze toward the bedroom Jennifer had chosen. She was in there unpacking. For no reason in particular he strolled toward the room and looked in. She was placing a champagne-colored lace teddy into a drawer. He forced his eyes away from her to take in the rest of the room. The whole cabin, including this bedroom, was furnished in comfortable early American decor. The bed was a four-poster, and the posts rose nearly to the ceiling. At the top a square frame rested, supporting heavy curtain panels in a forest green print. The wide bed was covered with a fluffy comforter in the same print.

Jennifer looked up and saw him. "Hi. I’ll be through in just a minute."

"Take your time." He stared at her for a minute longer, then walked back into the sitting room. Rolling his shoulders, he tried to loosen the knotted ropes of tightness that had been there for days. He felt as if he were a walking time bomb, ready to explode. And to be fair, it wasn’t Jennifer’s fault. No, the fault lay in his reaction to Jennifer. The way she looked, the way she smelled, the way she moved about his apartment—it all excited him beyond belief. His desire for her throbbed through his body constantly, even when he wasn’t with her.