Forgotten (13 page)

And then I remembered nothing.

I glanced at
my watch. It had been almost four hours. Had I been out that long?
And if so what had happened since? Had the police found out the
identity of the person in my car? Were they looking for me? Was I
now a fugitive?

I stood up and hurried towards the glass
doors, pulling aside the white fabric. The view of the tree-studded
hills was breathtaking and the only sound was the melodious warble
of a magpie.

The quiet
surprised me. There were no police cars, no reporters, no sticky
beak spectators. Not like the Alice Polinski incident.

I returned to the bed and caught sight of a
piece of paper lying on top of a bedside table along with my beaded
handbag. The neatly folded object had my name scrawled across it. I
grabbed it, opened it and began reading. There was something
reassuring upon discovering the letter was from Mel.

Claudia,

I’ve brought some of your things for you.
You were sound asleep, so I didn’t want to wake you. Anything else
you need, please call me. Your parents are going ballistic but I
think Saul has calmed them, at least for the moment.

The world seems to have gone mad! Please, Claudia, whatever
you’re thinking, just stay put. It’s
the best place to be right now. Don’t even think about
returning home. It’s chaos there! Heaven knows how you’re handling
all this. Just remember I’m here for you. Call me when you
can.

Love Mel

p.s. Really like this Saul character. He
assures me he can help you. Listen to him and for goodness sake,
Claudia, TALK to him. This is definitely not going away!

p.p.s.
He’s also
really cute! Ciao.

I rolled my
eyes. Was there any man alive that Mel didn’t think was cute? I
re-read the letter. I couldn’t bear to think about my parents’
emotional level; I could scarcely think about my own. Mel was
right. The world,
my
world
, was going mad.

I thought
again of the man I met today, and wondered why he was at the
complex. Was it because of what had happened? And if so, how did he
know? Who
was
he really?

A week ago, I had avoided him. Today, I had
completely entrusted myself to him, allowing him to remove me from
the scene of a crime and bring me to his own home without one
observable sniffle of dispute.

This is not like you, Carino.
I
could hear Papa say.
What
have I always taught you?

Never to get in a car with a stranger. I know,
Papa.

I thought of
Tony Braga, of Matty Galloway and Mel and whispered,
but he’s not a stranger… not in the
real sense
.

And I wondered if Papa would agree.

I redirected my thoughts to Saul. I recalled
his promise to help, the sincerity in his calming voice, and the
concern in his eyes. A strong part of me considered that perhaps,
this time, I should accept the support that he seemed so prepared
to give.

An even stronger part of me was now
regretting I hadn’t done so earlier.

I entered the wardrobe, instantly struck by
the amount of clothing Mel had brought. Thumbing through the items,
I wondered, with some unease, at how long she thought I was
staying. Were things so bad that returning home in the near future
was such an unrealistic option? Or was she just being overly
cautious?

Some of the
items she had packed, my togs, dinner wear and even several lacy
G-strings took me aback. What did she think? That I was on some
island holiday? I shook my head, knowing that this was so typical
of Mel. However, I did thank her for the several packets of pink
musk sticks alongside my bras.

Looking past
my so-called necessities, I noticed a rather out of place object, a
rectangular wooden box, one that I had owned for many years. Inside
it were things of personal value. I wondered why Mel had brought
it.

Deeming
every minute now a waste, I pushed the box as far out of sight as I
could and pressed on. Selecting a pair of denim shorts and a
lime-colored, sleeveless top, I showered and dressed. I quickly
clipped back my hair, threw on a little make up and after checking
myself in the mirror, ventured out to whatever fate had waiting for
me.

December 26, 2010

1
:12 pm

WHEN I
STEPPED
from the bedroom, I recognized
the soft, mellow sound of Pete Murray singing ‘Saving Grace’. Using
my instincts as a guide, I turned right and followed the hall
around the corner until I was at the foot of a large, open living
space.

On one side
was a long, spacious kitchen, on the other, a dining/lounge area
positioned against a full wall of tinted glass. The glass revealed
not only the remarkable views of the countryside, but also those of
the distant coastline. Everything in the room was white, the lofty
walls, the floor tiles, the minimalistic, contemporary furnishings
with only occasional splashes of bright, ornamental color to break
the sterile monotony.

It was very tasteful, very modern and very
striking.

“You’re finally up.”

I turned and
at once recognized the woman I’d met when I had first arrived. In
her small hands was a pile of white folded towels.

“
I’m Shirley
Svenson,” she said, baring a set of almost white but crooked teeth.
She parked the towels on the breakfast bar then sidled towards me.
“I work for Mr. Reardon.”

I returned her smile and began to introduce
myself.

Shirley
Svenson chuckled. “Oh, I know who you are, dear. You don’t have to
tell me.” She bent her head a little closer. “However, if you ever
feel the need for a woman’s ear, mine is always available. Know
what I mean? Woman to woman like.”

I was touched by her offer. “I’ll be sure to
keep that in mind.”

“
Anyway,”
she chirruped, “I’m sure it’s Mr. Reardon you’d want to talk to
right now.” She hobbled into the hallway. I followed accordingly.
“Just mosey yourself down the passage there, right to the very
end,” she directed with a point of a finger, “and then turn left.
His study is a little ways down on your right.”

I thanked
her and then began my
mosey
down the hall. Turning left
as instructed, I made out a deep, smooth voice in the distance, one
that became increasingly clearer with each step.

I felt a little nervous. If anyone had said
twenty-four hours ago that I’d be skulking around the house of a
man I barely knew, I’d have scoffed in their face. I shook my head,
recalling it had been only yesterday that I was having Christmas
with my family.

I shifted forward and soon was standing at
the study’s entrance. With his back to me, lounged in a rather
officious looking chair, was Saul Reardon, speaking to someone on
the phone. I studied the room, but settled my gaze on the
bookshelves. They were enormous and held an inordinate number of
books. I fought off the natural urge to explore the many titles.
Instead, I remained at the door, waiting for Saul to finish his
conversation.

I watched his every movement, the way he
rested one ankle upon the opposite knee, the playful way he ran his
long fingers through his hair, the way his sinewy body would move
forward with such fluidity and then just as easily fall back. I
didn’t know why, but I found it fascinating.

Before long,
he ended his call. As if sensing my presence, he spun around,
looked at me and leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms.
“Hey,” he said.

He was
wearing that striking smile, and when he spoke, it was as I
remembered; like hot, oozing chocolate. Once again, I felt
mesmerized and I wondered if everyone felt like that in his
presence.

“How are you feeling?” he asked.

My head danced from side to side; my hands
wrung themselves dry. “I’m not sure.” My voice sounded as brittle
as my legs felt. “A bit numb, perhaps?”

“Hmmm… no doubt.” He stood and strode
towards a very lengthy, very classy built-in bar. “I was just about
to have a coffee. Like one?”

“
White with
one, thank you.” And then I proceeded to make myself comfortable on
the soft, lavish sofa. As I did, I took note of the marked contrast
of the room as compared to the remainder of the house. It cast
darker, deeper shades, more color, less clinical. It was
intriguing.

Saul passed
me a mug of the fresh brew. He then sat on the opposite end of the
sofa. One of his hands laid outstretched along the sofa’s top; the
other framed his mug. He was quiet, watching me. It should’ve
bothered me but it didn’t; everything about him was so remarkably
reassuring. On the other hand, maybe that was the case because I
wanted it to be. “I don’t know how to thank you,” I
said.

He tilted his head, looking bewildered.

“For today. I don’t know why you were there,
but I was so fortunate you were.” The alternatives alone made my
stomach spin.

“Don’t thank me yet,” he said. “I’ve a
feeling this is just the beginning.”

“
So, the …
person in my car….”

“Was murdered.”

Even though I thought as much, the certainty
of it still shook me. “This makes no sense.”

“No, I can’t imagine it does.”

I used my grip on the coffee mug to control
my skittish fingers. For some reason, I wanted to appear more
resilient than I was; for some reason it mattered what Saul Reardon
thought.

More silence followed.

Again, it wasn’t an uncomfortable one. I had
the impression he was allowing me time to absorb, make the next
approach. I took a sip of coffee; it was good, very good. My
family, coffee connoisseurs. I threw a look in the direction of the
glass doors. “I hear things are a little crazy out there.”

“Crazy is probably an underestimation.
However, short of Mel, very few people know you’re here. So, for
now, you can forget about them and just concentrate on you.”

That seemed fine with me.

“
Hope you
didn’t think me brazen in calling Mel. I wasn
’t sure how long you’d be here. And, I thought there’d be
some things you’d need. I also knew Mel would be worrying about
you.”

How would he
know that exactly?
“And my
parents?”

“
I’ve let
your father know you’re safe. Followed Mel’s advice and told him I
was a friend of hers.” He winced in a roguish way, if that was
possible. It made him appear younger and for the first time I
wondered how old he actually was. “Didn
’t
want your parents thinking you’d just go off with
any
stranger.”

I flinched at the irony of the
situation.

“
Anyway,”
Saul continued, “I didn’t tell them where I lived. That’s up to
you.”

I would in
time, but not yet
.

“Of course, I had to let the police know
you’re with me, but they’ll keep your whereabouts quiet.”

I raised both my eyebrows. “So I’m not a
fugitive from justice?”

Saul grinned. “You sound disappointed. No,
nothing as exciting as that. The police discovered you had a solid
alibi. Your family confirmed it. Naturally, Weatherly still wants
to interview you, but I delayed that until morning.”

I recalled the daunting detective, and
wondered how Saul managed such a ruse.

“
Also, if
you need anything else, Shirley Svenson will help you. She’s here
throughout the day. Otherwise, she has a residence on the grounds,
a few hundred yards away. She’s on speed dial on the phone in your
room. Don’t let her stern manner put you off. Underneath it all
she’s really caring and no doubt will enjoy having another female
around.”

I thought of the woman from earlier whose
actual manner seemed anything but stern. “What do I do now?”

Saul took a sip of his coffee and looked at
me. “I’m assuming you still want my help.”

I stilled. To me, employing his help was now
unquestionable. “Of course,” I said. “I know, I… well… before.” I
awkwardly groaned.

He obviously
sensed my groan as an affirmative. “I promised you I’d figure it
out and I will; just need the assurance.”

He paused
for a while, brows furrowed. Something else was bothering him. In
several swift motions, he aligned his coffee mug on the table with
mine, propped both elbows on either thigh and clasped his hands
together. He then angled his head towards me. “Listen Claudia,
there are a couple of things I have to make clear before we start.
I don’t want you to think I’m insensitive after what you’ve already
been through, but it’s important.”

Now it was my turn to need assurance. His
abrupt sternness was a little unsettling. He was watching me
carefully, almost without blinking. “I’m not sure what your
perception is about whatever’s happening to you. But let’s just say
that this is bigger than it first appeared.”

How big?

“Because of that, there’s something I need
from you.”

“
Is this
about money, payment?” I instantly regretted the question. There
was no mistaking Saul’s horrified expression.

“
I don’t do
this for money.” Something shadowy danced in his eyes. I swore
beneath my breath as I realized my question had truly upset him. He
spun his face from me. When it spun back, the shadow had
gone.