Somehow he had to make her see that what they had was worth working on—worth a commitment.
He tried to step back mentally and view the situation the way he would any other kind of business problem. He needed a strategy. He was usually pretty good at strategies.
The phone rang, cutting into his swirling thoughts. It was the house phone, he realized. Not his cell phone. Elizabeth stirred beside him as he groped for the receiver.
“Fairfax here.”
“I’m calling for Elizabeth Cabot.”
For a split second he didn’t recognize the low, sultry voice. Then it hit him. He sat up suddenly. “Vicky Bellamy?”
There was a slight pause before she said, “May I please speak with Elizabeth?”
“Sure. Right.” He shook Elizabeth gently. “For you.”
She opened her eyes and yawned. “Who is it?”
He put his hand over the mouthpiece. “Vicky Bellamy.”
She snatched the phone from him.
“This is Elizabeth.”
Jack listened intently to the silence while Elizabeth listened to Vicky. He saw her expression change from surprise to cool and shuttered.
“I can handle it,” she said crisply. “I’m really not as naïve as everyone seems to think. Why did you call?”
More silence.
“I understand.” Elizabeth turned toward Jack. “I can promise you that he won’t.”
Another pause.
“Yes, of course. I’ll be there.” Elizabeth gave the phone back to Jack.
He tossed it down onto the end table. “What did she want?”
Elizabeth sat up amid the tumbled sheets and wrapped her arms around her updrawn knees. “She wants to talk. Privately. She doesn’t want Dawson to find out that she’s meeting with me.”
Anticipation pumped through him. “How the hell is she going to arrange that?”
“She’s got it all figured out,” Elizabeth said thoughtfully. “I got the impression that she spent a lot of time planning this before she called me. I wonder why.”
“Should be interesting.” Energized by the new turn of events, he threw back the covers and got to his feet. Then he remembered something. “What did she say to you when you first took the phone?”
“Hmm?” Elizabeth sounded distracted as she reached for her robe.
“Your answer was ‘I can handle it.’ What was the question?”
“Nothing important.” Elizabeth tied the sash. She did not look back at him as she walked toward the bathroom. “She just asked me if I knew what I was doing sleeping with you.”
She disappeared into the bathroom. Jack looked at the closed door for a long moment. I can handle it.
THE ONLY LIGHTS in the empty interior of the Silver Empire Theater were the dimly glowing fixtures located at the ends of the aisles. The details of the ornate ceiling were lost in the darkness overhead. The rows of velvet seats marched down the sloping floor, a regiment of hulking, headless robots frozen in formation. Steeped in the thick gloom, the heavy crimson curtains appeared as dark as midnight. The thick folds of velvet were drawn closed across the stage, concealing the screen.
“It’s a different world when there’s no crowd and nothing happening on the screen, isn’t it?” Vicky said from somewhere in the darkness.
Elizabeth, poised at the top of one aisle, started slightly at the sound of the other woman’s voice. She peered into the depths of the theater, willing her eyes to adjust quickly to the dim light.
“Just isn’t the same without the smell of popcorn,” she said.
“That can be faked, too, just like everything else in the movies.” Vicky rose languidly from an end seat. The pale, smoke-colored pantsuit she wore gave her a ghostly look. “Remember what I told you, Elizabeth. In the movies and in life, things are seldom what they seem.”
“It’s the same way with business.” Elizabeth started slowly down the aisle. “But I assume you didn’t ask me to meet you here just to trade philosophical observations on our respective careers.”
“No, I didn’t.” Vicky smiled slightly. “I understand that the Aurora Fund has an old tradition of underwriting business ventures launched by women.”
“The Fund has branched out in recent years, but you’re right. Aunt Sybil started it with the goal of helping entrepreneurial women get financial backing when they couldn’t secure it from other sources.” Elizabeth halted when she was two rows away from Vicky. “Did you call me because you want to request funding for a business venture?”
“Something along those lines, yes. I’m changing careers. I’m getting out of the film business.”
“I have to say, I’m surprised.”
“It’s time to move on. I know that better than anyone. Whatever chance I had came and went years ago. I’m too old for Hollywood now, and I’ve decided I’ve had enough of the independent film industry.”
“You’re just going to walk away from your acting?”
“Not bloody likely.” Vicky gave a short, harsh laugh. “I’ve acted all my life. It’s the only thing I know how to do. But I won’t be doing it in front of a camera anymore. Fast Company will be my last film.”
“I see. And you want the Aurora Fund to underwrite your new career?”
“Not entirely. Just some of the initial start-up expenses. I’ve always known this day might come.” Vicky hesitated. “I just didn’t expect it to come quite so soon. I thought I’d have a little more time.”
A chill went through Elizabeth. She tried and failed to read Vicky’s face in the darkness. “What are you going to do?”
“I’m going to disappear.”
Elizabeth felt her jaw unhinge. “Disappear? For heaven’s sake, why?”
“It’s time.” Vicky gazed out over the rows of velvet seats. “In the old days they used to call women like me adventuresses, you know.”
“I’ve heard the term.”
“It was a euphemism, of course. What people really meant was that we used sex to get what we wanted. They said that we lured men into our webs and manipulated them as if they were stupid, mindless creatures who thought only with their balls.”
“Femme fatales.”
“Yes. Nice work if you can get it, hmm?” Vicky’s eyes were ice cold. “But I can tell you from experience that it isn’t as easy as it sounds. For starters, you have to be able to act big time. I mean, you’ve got to be good. Academy Award good.”
Elizabeth nodded. “I can see where it would be difficult to live a lie twenty-four hours a day.”
“The hard part is not letting your so-called victim know that what you really want to do is run into the bathroom and throw up every time you have sex with him.”
“Yes, I can see that would put a strain on a relationship. You were saying something about disappearing.”
“I’ve got good survival instincts,” Vicky said. “For the past few months they’ve been telling me that it was time to move on. I should have done it by now, and I would have if it hadn’t been for Fast Company. I knew it would be my last film. I wanted to see how it would go over in the independent film circuit. But after last night, I knew I couldn’t wait any longer. I’ve pushed my luck as far as it will go.”
“Last night? You mean the red paint incident after the awards ceremony? I thought that was just a publicity stunt. Are you telling me that the stalker is for real?”
“The stalker thing was Dawson’s idea. He thought it would help grab some publicity for me during the festival. But last night’s assault was not on my schedule. I have a feeling that there may be more incidents like that. One of them will go too far.”
“My God.” Elizabeth stared at her. “Do you think some nutcase has decided to stalk you for real?”
“Nutcase.” Vicky sounded briefly amused. “I wonder if—” She broke off with a shrug. “Doesn’t matter, I guess.”
“What’s going on here, Vicky?”
Vicky seemed to collect herself. She was abruptly all business. “Dawson handle
s my publicity. As I said, he came up with the stalker concept. He scripted all the incidents. Hired an out-of-work stuntman to carry them out.”
“A hulking type named Ollie. Wears black leather boots with metal trim on the heels, right?”
“You know about him?” Vicky’s eyes narrowed.
“We had a run-in with him and his pal on the road the other night. They said they had been sent to deliver a warning. We figured it came from Dawson.”
“And you ignored it.” Vicky chuckled. “Ollie told Dawson that the warning had been delivered. But obviously that was not the whole story. Not if you managed to learn his name. Dawson would not be pleased if he knew that there had been a screwup.”
“You said last night’s stalker incident was not on your schedule?”
Vicky’s full mouth tightened. “Dawson arranged the assault, as usual. But he didn’t bother to tell me about it until afterward.”
“Why not?”
“He claims that I was getting blasé about the stalker. He said that my reactions were not believable. He thought my acting would improve if I was taken by surprise.”
Elizabeth grimaced. “Some surprise. I can imagine how you must have felt when that jerk threw the paint.”
“I like to think I rose to the occasion,” Vicky said dryly. “But I was furious with Dawson for not warning me. He had promised me that there wouldn’t be any more incidents. It was only later that I thought about what you said to me the other day in the spa. I did some checking, and now I’m starting to wonder if Dawson has rewritten the script. Maybe given it a different ending.”
Elizabeth drew a deep breath. “Holland did take out a policy on you, didn’t he?”
“Yes.” Vicky’s voice was clipped and emotionless. “A business policy. Taken out by the Holland Group. But Dawson is the Holland Group. After you and I spoke, I went on the Internet. Did some research. Found out that you were right about the deaths of his first two wives. There were rumors and questions, even though Dawson was never officially under suspicion.”
“And after last night, you no longer trust him, is that it?”
Vicky laughed softly, harshly. “I don’t trust any man. Professional suicide for an adventuress.”
“I suppose so.”
“I’ve made my decision. I’m getting out. But it’s not going to be simple. Lately Dawson has been acting increasingly possessive. He rarely lets me out of his sight. Right now, for instance, he thinks I’m in the spa. It was the only excuse I could come up with that would allow me to get away from him long enough to see you in private.”
“What do you want from me?”
“I’m going to make you a business proposition,” Vicky said. “Think of it as an application to the Aurora Fund.”
“I’m listening.”
“I’ve got some information to sell.”
Elizabeth held her breath. “What kind of information?”
“Call it deep background concerning the provenance of a certain item that is scheduled to go up for auction soon.”
Elizabeth reminded herself to breathe. “Go ahead.”
Vicky gave her a cool, knowing look. “I’ll tell you everything I know about Dawson’s other business here in Mirror Springs. I admit it’s not a lot. But you and your friend, Jack Fairfax, might find some of it helpful. At the very least, you won’t be going into the auction unprepared.”
“You think we should be prepared?”
Vicky smiled grimly. “If you plan to go up against Dawson Holland, yes, I think you should be prepared. I don’t know what it is that’s being auctioned off, but I can tell you that Dawson will do whatever is necessary to get his hands on it.”
“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.