Soft Focus (28 page)

Elizabeth snapped off the radio and sat down hard on one of the counter stools. She stared blankly at the knife in her hand.

“Jack.”

“Right here.” He came down the stairs, buttoning his shirt. His hair was still damp from the shower. “What's wrong?”

“I just heard the news. The car that went into the canyon is Vicky's Porsche. There's a search under way for her body. They think she was thrown into the river.”

He halted on the last step. “Are you sure?”

“I'm sure.”

“Interesting.” He crossed the room and took the stool
beside her. “You think she really did it? Pulled off a disappearing act?”

“Either that or Holland killed her,” Elizabeth said. “Maybe she waited too long. She said she knew that she had been pushing her luck.”

Jack looked thoughtful. “I don't think he killed her.”

“Why not? It's the same kind of accident that happened to his first two wives.”

“Which is why I don't think he's responsible. Holland is smart. He has to know that, given the questions raised by the insurance company last time, there would be a lot of suspicion centered on him if a third wife died under similar circumstances. The last thing he wants right now is to have the police hanging around asking questions about Vicky's death.”

Elizabeth's spirits lifted. “You're right. He doesn't want them in the way while he's trying to find Soft Focus.”

“There's another point, too. If he had murdered her, he would probably have made it look like an assault by the stalker. Everything was in place for that kind of ending to the story. All he needed to do was throw a little red paint on the car.”

“There was no mention of red paint in the newscast.” Elizabeth was feeling almost euphoric with relief now. “Jack, you're brilliant.”

He smiled faintly. “Your good buddy, Vicky, may have done us a very big favor on her way out the door.”

“What do you mean?”

“If she did arrange her own accident, she picked the one surefire way of making certain that Dawson would fall under immediate suspicion. If he's dealing with the cops right now, he's going to have a hard time attending an illegal auction.”

“She told me to remember that nothing is ever what it
seems in the movies or in real life.” Elizabeth smiled. She hopped down off the stool and grabbed the phone. “Excuse me, gotta make a call to Louise.”

Jack swung slowly around on the stool, watching her as she punched out the number. “You're going to transfer the money into that account in Miami, aren't you?”

“Yes, I am.”

“Damn. I was afraid of that. It's a scam, Elizabeth.”

“It's a bargain. And a deal's a deal.” She eyed him as she waited for Louise to answer the phone. “I would think that you, of all people, would understand that, Jack. You're the one who wouldn't let me out of the Excalibur contract, remember? Not even after I poured ice water all over you in front of God and everyone in the Pacific Rim Club.”

“SHE TOOK EXCELLENT CARE OF HER BODY, I'LL
say that for her.” The masseuse bore down on Elizabeth's shoulders with the heels of her strong hands. “Most people come in here hoping that a soak in the hot pools and a massage will instantly bring back muscle tone and energy. They walk out the door and head straight back to their recliners and their remotes. But not Ms. Bellamy. She worked out every day and watched her diet.”

The masseuse poured more warm oil on her hands. Elizabeth stifled a groan as the woman went to work on her lower back. She had made the appointment at the spa with the idea of picking up some local gossip. But shortly after stretching out on the table, she had decided that she really did need the massage. She had certainly been somewhat tense lately.

“Were you her regular masseuse?” Elizabeth asked.

“Yes. She always asked for me when she was in town.” The woman sighed. “Hard to believe she's dead.”

“Maybe she's not dead,” Elizabeth said cautiously. “I hear that they still haven't found the body.”

“It can take a while to recover a body that gets washed downriver.”

“A terrible accident.”

“Well, now.” The masseuse lowered her voice to a confidential tone as she began a vigorous kneading motion. “My friend, Ethel, works as a dispatcher at the station. She says that Chief Gresham isn't so sure it was an accident.”

“Good heavens.” Elizabeth exhaled sharply as the masseuse intensified the pressure. “Do they think the stalker got her?”

“Between you and me, there wasn't any stalker. Ms. Bellamy told me that in confidence one day. Said it was just a publicity stunt. Chief Gresham is no fool. Ethel says he guessed that it was just a PR thing. Holland never filed a complaint.”

“What does Chief Gresham think happened?”

“I couldn't say for sure.” The masseuse pummeled Elizabeth's buttocks. “But Ethel says he's looking for Dawson Holland as we speak. Wants to ask him a few questions. Apparently Holland's first two wives died in similar accidents.”

Elizabeth sagged beneath pounding fists. She buried her face in the little opening provided in the massage table and tried to breathe. “What do you mean, Gresham's looking for Holland? Everyone knows where he lives here in Mirror Springs.”

“Didn't you hear? Dawson Holland's housekeeper, Mary Beth, says that Chief Gresham went to the house early this morning to notify Holland of his wife's death. When he went back a couple of hours later to ask him some questions, the place was empty. Looked like Dawson had packed up all of his personal stuff and left town.”

FORTY-FIVE MINUTES
later, Elizabeth slithered languidly into the espresso shop booth and smiled benignly at
Jack. She set the pot of herbal tea and the cup she had picked up at the counter in front of her.

“What's the matter with you?” he asked. “You're glowing a weird pink color.”

“Just finished my massage and a soak in the hot spring pools at the spa. You know, I really ought to do that kind of stuff more often. Very relaxing. And informative.”

He glanced at the tea as she poured some into the cup. “There's no caffeine in that.”

“Nope. Don't want any. It would spoil the afterglow.”

He settled back into his seat. “What did you learn?”

“For starters, Dawson Holland has disappeared. Chief Gresham has notified the authorities between here and Denver to watch for his car.”

“Yeah, I got that much just sitting here waiting for you. In fact, I'm a step ahead of the spa gossip. The kid at the counter says it's all over town that a man who fits Holland's description got on a plane in Denver late this morning.”

“Why are the local cops suddenly so concerned? Gresham jumped on this kind of quick, didn't he?”

Jack smiled faintly. “Word has it that someone phoned in a tip to the police shortly after Vicky's Porsche went off the road. Suggested that the authorities should ask Holland where he was when the accident occurred and take a look at how his previous two wives died.”

“I'll bet it was Vicky,” Elizabeth said.

“I'll bet you're right.”

Elizabeth sipped her herbal blend. “Did Larry get a chance to check that account in Miami?”

“I talked to him just before you got here. So far the money is still sitting there.”

“She probably took an indirect route to Miami to hide her
tracks. Lots of layovers. Weather en route. Could be several reasons why she hasn't picked up her money yet.”

He hesitated, not wanting to destroy her bubble of confidence. “There's another reason why Vicky might not have collected her money. She might be dead.”

Some of Elizabeth's warm, rosy glow dimmed. “If that's true, we'll have to talk to the cops. Tell them what we know.”

He thought about that for a moment and then shook his head. “Maybe. But not yet. Chief Gresham is already looking for Holland. Let's give Vicky a few more hours to pick up her money and get out of the country.”

Elizabeth looked at him over the rim of her cup. “Any way you look at this, one thing's for sure. With Holland gone, the auction is going to be a very small event. Unless there's someone in the picture we don't know about yet, Tyler Page is left with only two bidders. You and Hayden.”

THE PHONE RANG
at seven-fifteen that evening. Hayden jumped at the sound. He was mildly surprised to realize that night had fallen. He had been sitting in the dark for some time now. Ever since he had finished talking to Larry.

“Hello?”

“The auction will take place at nine o'clock tonight. I will give you the address. No late bidders will be seated.”

The click of the hangup was painful in his ear. Hayden slowly lowered the phone. He sat in the gloom of the hotel room for a few more minutes, thinking. Then he picked up the phone again and punched out a number.

THE CELL PHONE
sounded just as Jack eased the car into a parking slot in the lot across the street from the Silver Empire Theater. Elizabeth whipped around in the seat, her eyes wide with excitement.

“Jack?”

“Take it easy.” He switched off the engine and reached for the phone. “Could be anyone. A lot of people have this number.” He spoke into the instrument. “This is Fairfax.”

“I just got my summons to the auction,” Hayden said.

Jack tightened one hand on the wheel and looked at the bright lights of the Silver Empire. The world premiere of
Fast Company
was scheduled to begin at eight-thirty. Elizabeth had insisted on arriving early to watch for Tyler Page.

“Why are you telling me?” Jack asked.

Hayden did not answer that. “Did you get the call?”

“No.”

“Place out on Loop Road, about thirty minutes away. Nine o'clock.”

“One more time. Why are you telling me this?”

“Wouldn't want you to miss the auction. Not every day a man gets a chance to buy back his own property.”

Hayden hung up.

Jack slowly lowered the phone. Elizabeth watched him from the other side of the car.

“What's going on?” she asked.

“Hayden got the call from Page. The auction's scheduled for nine this evening. A place out on Loop Road. About a thirty-minute drive, Hayden said.”

“So why haven't you gotten a call?”

“Beats me. Can't hold much of an auction without bidders to drive up the price.” Absently he tapped the cell phone against the backseat. He studied the bright lights of the theater marquee. “
Fast Company
starts in half an hour.”

“Yes, I know. Forget about my plan to watch for Page. Obviously he won't be in the audience. He'll be conducting the auction.”

Jack turned his head to look at her. “Doesn't it strike you
as strange that, after everything he put into it, Tyler Page would be willing to miss the premiere of his film?”

For a second or two, Elizabeth said nothing. Then her eyes widened. “What are you thinking?” she asked.

“That maybe you were right all along. Maybe there is a femme fatale in this script.”

HAYDEN OPENED THE
door, saw Jack and Elizabeth standing in the hall, and glowered. “What the hell is this all about?”

“Just thought we'd stop by and pick you up for the auction,” Jack said. “We're both going to the same place. Might as well use one car. Think of it as a little brotherly togetherness after all these years.”

“Screw you.”

“Actually, I think we are both about to get royally screwed,” Jack said. “Want to talk about an alternative?”

Hayden turned away, but not before Elizabeth glimpsed the weary pain in his eyes.

“No,” he said.

“You're not real good with the big-picture thing, are you?” Jack asked. “How the hell did you ever get to be a big-time CEO?”

“Is this conversation going anywhere? If not, I've got plans for the evening.”

“Yeah, I know, you're going to attend an auction.”

“As a matter of fact, I thought I'd take in a film instead.”

Elizabeth stared at him. “What do you mean?”

“I've decided not to bid on Soft Focus.” Hayden threw himself down into one of the chairs and looked at Jack with hooded eyes. “It's all yours, brother. Good luck. Not that you should have too much trouble getting it. With Holland and me both out of the running, I doubt you'll face any competition.”

Jack closed the door very deliberately. “What made you decide to take yourself out of the bidding?”

Elizabeth smiled slowly. “You called Larry, didn't you? Got the other side of the story.”

Hayden gave a massively indifferent shrug. “Odds are, the specimen won't work, anyway. Might as well save my money.”

Jack glanced at Elizabeth and then turned to Hayden. “What is this?”

“Hayden is telling you, in his own fashion, that he's changed his mind. He's not going to go after Soft Focus in order to get a little revenge.”

Jack looked at Hayden as if he were some odd, new carbon life-form that had just stepped off a spaceship.

Hayden gave another elaborate shrug. “Like I said, Soft Focus probably isn't worth what it would cost me to keep it out of your hands. And it's not like I can use the damn thing myself. Hell, I'm still not real clear on what it's supposed to be able to do. Page, or whoever called me, never went into technical details.”

Elizabeth gave him an approving smile. “It's all right, Hayden. You don't have to play Mr. Tough Guy. We all know you're doing this because you've come to realize that taking your revenge against Jack won't change the past. He's not to blame for what happened between your parents. You know he's innocent.”

Hayden grunted. “There's nothing innocent about Jack. But you're right. Screwing with his business reputation won't change anything. I'm going home in the morning. I've wasted enough time here in Mirror Springs.”

Jack eyed him thoughtfully. “I think someone is going to be very disappointed if you don't show up at the auction tonight.”

“Tyler Page?” Hayden gave a short, humorless laugh. “My advice is, don't give him a dime for Soft Focus. Beat it out of the creep. He stole it from you in the first place, didn't he?”

“I don't think Tyler Page is the one who will be waiting for you out on Loop Road,” Jack said. He took his cell phone out of his pocket.

Elizabeth glanced at him. “What are you doing?”

“I think it's time we called in the cops.”

THE ISOLATED CABIN
off Loop Road was a single-room, one-story log structure. It had the neglected look of a house that has been abandoned for years. In the headlights, Jack could see that the railing on the steps that led to the front door had been broken long ago. Weeds grew wildly in a yard.

A stone fireplace formed one wall, but there was no sign of a fire or any other kind of warmth or light visible through the single front window.

“This is the old Kramer place,” Chief Gresham said as he got out of his patrol car. “No one's used it in years.” He flicked on his flashlight and gave Jack and Hayden a sour look. “I don't see anyone around. Are you sure about this?”

“No,” Jack admitted. He shoved his hands into the pockets of his jacket and looked at the unlit house. “But I couldn't think of any other explanation that fit the facts.”

“You should have contacted the authorities right at the start of this thing,” Gresham muttered. He started toward the front steps. “Damn corporate suits. Always think you can handle things better than the cops.”

Jack looked at Hayden and Elizabeth as they got out of the car beside him. Elizabeth shrugged. Hayden raised his brows but said nothing.