The Sudden Star (28 page)

She felt angry. If it hadn't been for Simon's stupidity, she wouldn't have to worry about any of this. "When is Isabeau supposed to—supposed to—" She stopped. She heard a high-pitched whine. She shook her head. Her temples were pounding.

"I don't know. She's only been married two days, so she can't move too soon. I'd say at least a month, maybe longer, but we can't count on it."

"Titus could find out before then," she said, wishing it were true.

"He won't. He's fixated on her, he won't even suspect. I know exactly how he feels."

"I have to think about it." Her headache was suddenly worse. "I have to think about it!" She put her hands to her head; she had screamed the words.

Simon was next to her, holding her hands. "I'll give you something for it. Come to my office, I'll give you something." She closed her eyes and saw pinpricks of light.

Aisha lay in bed, trying to read. She had set up two lamps on the table next to her, in front of her mirror, so that she wouldn't go blind. She stared uncomprehendingly at the pages, then closed the book. She couldn't concentrate, she couldn't escape with her books anymore. She wondered if she would go to Titus. She recalled the first time she had spoken with him; he'd been hard to convince at first. He was always nice enough to her now, greeting her, asking after her health, but she doubted he was all that concerned.

She sat up and folded her legs. Her headache was gone, at least for now. She'd been in bed all yesterday and today. Simon had even brought her some food when she was better. Nice of him. She gritted her teeth. Of course he was going to be nice now, sending her in to Titus, making sure he was somewhere else in case Titus took it the wrong way.

She looked at the book she had been reading. The people in the book had friends whom they trusted. She thought of Ildico and sighed. She turned out one of the lamps and sat silently in the dimmer light. Voices from the apartment below hers penetrated to her. The voices rose and fell, like music, like ocean waves, oddly soothing.

She heard knocking at her door, a series of sharp, short raps. She got out of bed and padded into the next room. "Who is it?" she shouted.

"Corazon." She opened the door and Corazon Huff hurried inside, looking around. "Are you alone?"

"Yeah."

"Good, I was afraid you'd be with old Snaggletooth." Corazon was next to the table. She picked up the small jewelry box there and peered inside. "Pearls, how nice. I don't know if they're really your sort of thing, though."

"Takaishi sent them over this afternoon, sort of as an apology. He was going to come over, but something came up, and he knew I'd been sick, so—"

"Pearls for an apology, huh. You sure are set, Aisha." Corazon sat down, smoothing her green caftan over her plump legs. "I hope you're better now. Lou-Lou's having a party, so I came to get you."

"I don't think I really feel like it."

The redheaded woman spread her hands on the table, palms up. "But you must. Arne Fraydo sent me all the way down here to get you, I didn't have to come, I did it as a favor to you. He just got in some beautiful things. He brought a portfolio with him. He says you have to see them."

Aisha sat down across the table from Corazon and lit a candle. "I can always go to the store," she said wearily.

Corazon drew her thin eyebrows together and frowned. "I came all the way down here, when I could have been having a good time, and you don't want to go. Arne insisted, he says you have to come, he's holding this stuff just for you, and he wants to show it to you now. He said it makes everything else you bought look like shit." She peered at the pearls again. "I hope you don't leave all your jewels lying around like this."

"Of course not," Aisha replied, knowing if she admitted it, Corazon would sell the information to someone. "Besides, I don't know Lou-Lou that well, and you know Arne's always trying to sell something."

"Damn it, I came all the way down here to get you. There's a horse and cart outside waiting to take us back up, come on."

"Well, I don't understand why Arne didn't come here himself, or send a note and tell me to come to the store."

Corazon let out a loud sigh. "If he had, and old Snaggletooth was here, it might have looked funny. Did you ever think of that? He might have wondered why Arne was coming here in the night, you know? And he said he didn't want to show the stuff at the store because they're holding it back until they sell other jewelry first. This is kind of a private deal for him. God, Aisha, if someone was going to buy jewels for me any time I wanted, I wouldn't be sitting around here."

Aisha was silent for a few moments. There was something more to all of this; she would have to go whether she wanted to or not. "All right," she said at last. "I'll get dressed."

Lou-Lou lived in an old, sprawling, two-story motel north of Haulover Beach Park. The area around the motel wasn't as lush as Bal Harbour; it had been over- paved and overbuilt many years before. The only green things left were the palm trees, shrubs, and weedy grass on the thin islands bisecting Collins Avenue. The motel itself was in disrepair. Several large windows facing the street were cracked and had never been repaired. But it was cheap and, in some ways, safer than living farther south. Up here, the residents didn't wait for the police to do what they could do themselves; Haulover Beach had been cleared of crazies years ago.

Many of the partygoers had moved out of Lou-Lou's room, too small to hold them all anyway, into the pool area. Aisha and Corazon wound their way past the chaise longues by the pool, waving absently at those who sat dangling their legs in the water. No one swam. The water was too cold, and becoming stagnant as well; a green film covered half of the watery surface. A few businessman types lounged around the poolside bar, which was designed to look like a hut. They were shabbier than the businesspeople farther downtown. One tall, bony man had on a baggy blue suit; a short, stocky fellow wore a white suit with rips in the too-tight shoulders. None had bodyguards, but all were armed with revolvers as well as knives and the bony man had brought a rifle as well. They were sucking up a lot of gin and beer, which was good for Lou-Lou, Aisha thought. Lou-Lou, always practical, made sure they paid for it; she owned a share of the motel.

Aisha and Corazon passed the bar. Lou-Lou's room was left of it, facing the sundeck that overlooked the ocean. The wind was warm, but strong. It ruffled Aisha's thick short hair and plastered Corazon's caftan to her round body. Kerosene lamps hanging from the railing outside the second floor rooms lit the sundeck with an eerie, flickering light. The ocean was a dark, almost threatening, expanse; Aisha could hear the waves rolling in and occasionally slapping the wall beneath the sundeck. She found herself shrinking away, hovering closer to the motel.

Lou-Lou met them at her door. "Aisha," she said in her foghorn voice, "you haven't been here for so
long.
” She brushed back a lock of platinum hair and planted a dry, impersonal kiss on her forehead. "
Glad
you brought her here," she said to Corazon, giving the redhead a quick hug. The small room was packed. People sat on the two beds, the dresser, and a few were on the floor of the walk-in closet. Aisha, propelled inside by Lou-Lou's lean reptilian arm, searched the room for Arne Fraydo.

He was in the back, in the corner, with a folder under his arm. He was surrounded by three women Aisha didn't know but whom she had seen at Titus's parties. One of them, a tall dark woman dressed in red, was draped around Arne, trying to pull at his folder. He saw Aisha and waved. He began to pry himself loose from the tall woman. "Come on, Arne," she shouted over the din, "I'm one of your best customers."

"After Aisha," he shouted back. "I'll let you look, I promise, don't go away." The woman glared at Aisha, smoothed back her stiff cloud of black hair, and turned away. Arne made his way over, stepping over those seated on the floor. He reached her and took her arm; his fingers were cold. "Corazon, you're a darling," he said, patting the redheaded woman on the shoulder. "Come in tomorrow and you'll have that ring on discount."

Aisha sighed, exasperated; no wonder Corazon had made the trip. She stooped and picked up the folder; in the middle of Arne's greetings, it had fallen to the floor. She began to leaf through it. "After dragging me here, it better be good," she muttered.

"Don't look at them here," Arne said, pulling the folder away from her. "Let's go outside. When you see what I have to offer, you won't be able to resist."

She turned and followed him out. He led her to the deck chairs facing the ocean. "There isn't much light here," she said as she sat down. The dark rolling ocean slapped the wall and retreated, revealing a narrow strip of beach. She felt a terror as she looked; she saw a vision of the sea topping the wall, flooding the sundeck, lapping at the motel doors and windows, rolling past the poolside bar and into the enclosed courtyard that held the pool, rising as high as the second-floor balconies.... She shook her head. The vision was gone. She turned away and faced the motel, startled to see a group of gulls, still and malignant, perched on the edge of the roof.

Arne positioned himself on an adjacent chair. "Hey," he said, poking her gently in the arm. "I said, don't worry, I have a flashlight."

"A flashlight! How can you afford it?"

"I don't have any choice. I need it for my work." He reached inside his pocket and pulled out the slender cylinder. The warm wind caressed her back. Suddenly she longed to push Arne away and leap over the railing into the water. She would swim out, let the sea carry her along the shore, past the buildings, past the piers. She trembled, frightened by the impulse. She didn't know how to swim; she would drown. Arne opened his folder, placed it on her lap, and turned on his flashlight. She saw how stiff he was, how tense. He wasn't here to sell jewelry. She should have seen that before. She stared at his shadowed face and thought she saw fear.

"Look at the photos," Arne said fiercely. "And stay calm, no matter what I say." She looked at the picture of a heavy gold bracelet studded with rubies.

"I can't afford that," she whispered. "I'd be afraid to ask Takaishi for something that expensive."

"You can't afford not to buy it," he whispered back. "I have something of great importance to tell you, and then you'll see what a bargain it is."

She looked back at Lou-Lou's lighted room, only fifteen feet away. It seemed very distant, an island of safety she could not reach. "Go ahead," she said to Arne.

"Someone is trying to kill Isabeau Rasselle's female bodyguard, the one she recently hired."

Aisha peered at him. "Your bracelet is still too expensive. I already knew that."

"That isn't all. Now that she's under the protection of the Rasselles, and of Echeverria, at least indirectly, the assassin must be careful that any attempt isn't traced to its source. And the woman is determined to find out who's behind it so she can settle matters. Two attempts have already failed against her." Aisha tensed, wondering exactly how much Arne could know. "She will find out, you know. She's working hard at it and she will find out."

"This has nothing to do with me," Aisha said.

"I'm very much afraid it does." He gestured at the photo in her lap. "It's a lovely bracelet, and a small price to pay since I'm putting my life in your hands. I know who is behind these assassination attempts."

"I don't want to know," she said. "There's nothing I can do."

He took her arm. "Damn it, stay calm. Look at the picture. This concerns you intimately. If I could find out, totally by accident, that woman will find out eventually. And if you don't want to hear this, others will, especially those who were close to people who died suddenly because someone was willing to pay the price. Personally, I'd rather keep you as a customer. You're a good one, but I can find others."

"All right," she said fearfully, feeling trapped. He reached over and, still holding the flashlight, ruffled through the folder. He removed an invoice and placed it over the photos. He handed her a pen. The bracelet's number and price were written on the form. She read the price and blinked in surprise.

"Sign it." She signed. He turned off the flashlight. "Werner Takaishi is trying to kill the woman."

She was still, unable to move. The folder began to slide off her lap. Arne caught it and clutched it to his chest. "It was entirely accidental, you realize, my discovering this fact. I won't go into details. I happened to be in a particular spot, it was dark, I wasn't seen, I waited until I was sure no one would see my departure, every muscle in my body was tight. I didn't need to hear much. One of Takaishi's employees is very loose-lipped. His setup is elaborate. It's hard to trace anything back to him, and he always seemed innocuous enough. As you see, the bracelet is actually quite cheap."

Aisha's nails dug into the palms of her hands. She was lost, adrift, unprotected. "What can I do?" she said at last. "I can't tell Takaishi, and there's no one else I can turn to."

"That's not my problem," Arne whispered harshly. "Just make sure he pays for the bracelet."

"If he knew I knew this—" she began.

"And what do you think would happen to me? You'd better make sure you keep my name out of this."

She leaned forward, bewildered. She was beginning to realize that as soon as the bracelet was paid for, Arne would sell his knowledge to someone else, if only to protect himself. He might even sell it to Ortega. He had only sold her time to figure out what to do. She folded her arms over her abdomen, hugging herself.