Soft Focus (27 page)

“Because he needs the money?”

“Not the money. He needs the item itself, whatever it is, to get himself out of some very deep manure.”

One could never have too much information before one went into a business negotiation, Elizabeth told herself. “How much do you want from the Aurora Fund to finance your midcourse career change?”

“Don't worry, I'm not going to soak you.” Vicky's mouth twisted. “I've got enough in ready cash in my purse to get to Florida. But I'll need a little help after that.”

“Good grief, you're planning to leave the
country
?”

“I've learned a lot in my career as an adventuress,” Vicky said. “One of the things I've learned is how and where to purchase a new identity. But it will cost me.”

“You think it's necessary to hide under a different identity?”

Vicky closed her eyes for a few seconds. Then she opened them and looked straight at Elizabeth. “Let's just say that as long as that insurance policy exists, I'd rather not have Dawson find me.”

“I see your point. You want the Aurora Fund to help you finance this new identity, is that it?”

“Think of it as an investment.”

Elizabeth pondered the offer for all of two seconds. It really was a no-brainer. “Okay, it's a deal. Tell me what you know about Dawson's business here in Mirror Springs.”

“Mostly what I know is that he's desperate,” Vicky said bluntly. “And that makes him dangerous. Several months ago he scammed a rather unpleasant group of offshore investors. These are not the kind of people who take you to court to get their money back, if you see what I mean.”

Elizabeth shivered. “I see.”

“Dawson has never discussed the situation with me, and I've certainly never let him know that I'm aware of his
problems. But I think he bought some time for himself by promising to turn over something very valuable in the high-tech field. And I'm almost positive that whatever is going down is supposed to be concluded here in Mirror Springs this week.”

“Speaking of warnings,” Elizabeth said, “can I assume that the ones Ollie was supposed to deliver to Jack and Hayden came from Dawson, not you?”

“I certainly didn't send Ollie out to deliver any warnings to anyone.”

“What about the videotape in Leonard Ledger's hotel room?”

Vicky looked mildly curious. “What videotape?”

“Never mind.” That must have come from Dawson, too. An attempt to sow dissension among his competitors. “What do you know about Tyler Page?”

“Other than the fact that he loves film, very little.” Vicky met her eyes. “But I do know that Dawson has been looking for him since we got here.”

Elizabeth tensed. “Has he found him?”

“No. I assume that Page is the one who stole this piece of high-tech hardware that everyone seems to want?”

“Yes.” Elizabeth frowned. “Are you telling me that Holland didn't ask you to seduce Page into stealing it?”

Vicky laughed. She sounded genuinely amused for the first time. “No. I told you, Dawson did not involve me in this thing. I met Page on the set a few times, but all we talked about was
Fast Company
. That was the extent of my relationship with him.”

“Is there any possibility that he thinks he stole Soft Focus for your sake?”

“If you're asking me if he had a crush on me, the answer is no.”

“You're sure?”

Vicky looked amused. “Trust me, Elizabeth, I know when a man is interested and when he's not. Page was not.”

“Damn.” So much for her theory about Vicky's being Tyler Page's femme fatale. “Does the name Ryan Kendle mean anything to you?”

“No.” Vicky paused. “Should it?”

“I don't know,” Elizabeth admitted. “Do you know anything about the trashing of an Excalibur lab?”

“No.”

“Guess that's about it,” Elizabeth said. “When do you want your money and how do you want it?”

“I've written down the number of a bank account in Florida, and the amount I'll require. Have the money wired into it as soon as you've heard that I've disappeared.”

Elizabeth stared at her as she took a folded piece of paper from Vicky. “There's going to be an announcement?”

Vicky chuckled. “I certainly hope so. Pay attention. When you hear about it, just remember what I told you, nothing is ever what it seems in the movies.”

“All right.” Elizabeth hesitated. “Just one more question.”

“Make it quick. I've got to get back to the spa.”

“Why did you try to warn me off that night outside the club?”

“Once every decade or so I get this irrational, overwhelming impulse to do a good deed. Just for the hell of it.”

“Thoughtful of you,” Elizabeth said.

“I should have saved my energy this time. You didn't take advantage of my gentle hint to go back to Seattle, did you? Maybe next decade I'll resist the impulse.”

“SHE'S AN ACTRESS,
Elizabeth,” Jack said. “What makes you think Holland didn't tell her to feed you that entire story?”

Elizabeth shot him a quelling look, silently warning him to keep his voice down.

Not that there was much chance anyone had overheard him, she assured herself. There was only a handful of people browsing through the display of classic film posters in the gallery, and most of them were at the far end of the long room.

She turned back to study the framed poster on the wall in front of her. The creases where it had once been machine folded were still visible. The title,
The Woman in the Window,
was written in lurid yellow script under an image of the stars, Edward G. Robinson and Joan Bennett.

A single glance at the array of noir artwork displayed for sale made it obvious that bright, shrieking yellow ink had been extremely popular with the artists who had produced the posters and lobby cards used to hype the old films. The other dominant colors were bloodred, midnight blue, and black. The heavily saturated hues together with the gritty, suspenseful images combined to give the classic posters their unique look. Guns, dangerous-looking women, and men with 1940s-era hats pulled down low over their cold eyes figured as the most prominent motifs. The prices on the little placards next to the framed pictures indicated that they were pricey collectibles.

Ten minutes after leaving the theater, Elizabeth had found Jack waiting for her in an espresso bar. She had hurriedly dragged him into the gallery to tell him about the interview with Vicky. He had listened, but it was clear he was not entirely convinced.

She glared at him, exasperated. “Why would Dawson tell Vicky to give me so many details about his business dealings? From the sound of it, he's coloring outside the lines.”

“Just another tactic designed to try to scare us off,” Jack
said patiently. “All this stuff about dangerous offshore investors who are threatening his life, et cetera, et cetera, is a little hard to take.”

“What about Vicky's plans to disappear?”

“Probably a scam to con some money out of you.”

“She was telling the truth, Jack. I could feel it.”

He frowned. “Look, all I'm saying is that we can't trust Vicky Bellamy any further than we can trust Dawson Holland. She's the kind of woman who's always got an angle. From what you've just told me, I'd say she's trying to make a little extra cash for herself on the side.”

Elizabeth nibbled on her lower lip. “You really think she's trying to scam me?”

“Uh-huh.” Jack turned his attention back to Robert Mitchum's grim, world-weary face in a poster for
Out of the Past
. “That's exactly what I think.”

“I don't know.” Elizabeth moved on to the image of Rita Hayworth posed in sultry invitation against a yellow backdrop in a title card for
The Lady from Shanghai.
“I think she's planning to split.”

“She's planning to separate you from some of your money.”

“Don't be so negative. Everything she told me about the stalker incidents and those warnings you and Hayden got from Ollie adds up, doesn't it?”

“So what? She and Dawson have probably guessed that we've already figured most of that stuff out for ourselves. And even if she is on the level, you'll notice that she didn't give you any hard information that we can use to find Tyler Page and the crystal.”

“That's because she doesn't know where they are.” Elizabeth drummed her fingers on the strap of her shoulder bag. “There's only one thing that doesn't quite fit.”

“Your idea that she was Page's femme fatale?”

“Yes.” Elizabeth gazed at a framed lobby card for
The Big Sleep
. The chemistry between Bogart and Bacall was unmistakable, even in a simple ad for the film. “I was so sure—”

“Look on the bright side,” Jack said. “If I'm right about not being able to trust her, your theory that she seduced Page into stealing the crystal remains intact.”

“But I do believe her. Which means that there was no woman involved in this, after all.” She thought about the report that Ryan Kendle had been overheard arguing with a woman shortly before his death. “Scratch the Kendle connection.”

“It was always a damn weak link anyway,” Jack reminded her. “The police were sure from the start that he was killed in a drug deal. But I have a hunch that the trashing of the lab is a solid connection. Page probably thought he could muddy the waters that way, just in case I did go to the cops.”

“Vicky didn't know anything about that, either.”

“Why am I not surprised?”

Elizabeth gazed pensively at Veronica Lake in
This Gun for Hire
. The uneasiness she had been feeling ever since she had left the theater was getting worse. “Well, one thing's for certain. We should get some answers soon.”

“What do you mean?”

“If Vicky suddenly disappears, we'll know that she was telling us the truth about her own plans to make a new life for herself.”

“Financed by the Aurora Fund,” Jack said dryly. “Now, that I can believe.”

“Why would you buy that part of her story?”

“Because according to Larry, Holland is really on the rocks again financially. Even if she wasn't afraid that he
might be thinking of cashing in the insurance policy he has on her, Vicky would be looking for greener pastures.”

THE DISTANT, MUFFLED
sound of thunder brought Elizabeth awake with a suddenness that left her tingling from head to toe. She sat straight up in bed and blinked at the gray dawn scene outside the window. It took a few seconds for her dream-drenched brain to register the fact that there was no storm.

Jack was already out of bed, padding toward the windows.

“What is it?” she asked.

“Sounded like an explosion of some kind. I can't see anything from this angle.” He turned, stepped into a pair of khakis, and headed for the stairs.

Elizabeth scrambled out of bed, seized her robe, and hurried after him. She caught up with him as he opened the downstairs slider and stepped out onto the deck. She winced as her bare feet came in contact with the cold, dew-dampened wood.

“There.” Jack pointed toward a plume of smoke that rose skyward in the distance.

She strained to see it. “What on earth?”

“I'm not sure, but from the looks of it, I'd say a car just went off the road into the canyon. It must have gone up in flames. Now the scrub is on fire.”

“Oh, my God,” she whispered.

Sirens sounded in the distance.

Jack put his arm around her. Together they watched the smoke spiral upward into the dawn.

Elizabeth felt the prickle of tiny goose bumps on her arms. She hugged herself to chase away the chill. It didn't work.

“You okay?” Jack asked quietly.

“Yes.” But the prickling sensation did not vanish.

After a while they turned silently and went back indoors. The house was so cold that Jack switched on the gas fire.

AN HOUR LATER,
showered and dressed, Elizabeth paused in the act of slicing some bananas for breakfast and turned on the radio to catch the local news. The local announcer, probably more accustomed to giving ski-condition reports, sounded shaken.

“. . . The brush fire caused by the explosion was brought under control almost immediately. Chief Gresham stated that the victim had apparently been thrown from the car and had been swept downstream. A search is under way, but the authorities warn that it will not be easy, given the force of the water in that section of the canyon.

“The vehicle has been identified as a white Porsche registered to Victoria Bellamy. Ms. Bellamy has reportedly been stalked in recent weeks by a . . .”