Intimate Portraits (13 page)

Sam took off his overcoat and spat
out his gum in the inevitable wrapper. This one went in his pocket.

No need to leave any of his DNA
floating around.

He kept his head averted as he
ordered but picked up scraps of their conversations.

“—revved up by what the polls
said—”

“—so glad Mom decided to get away—”

“—happy you’re home. Athens isn’t
that far—”

“—can’t believe it’s been two
years since—”

“—know television is a hard field
to break into—”

“—notice Rennie’s car? Big
brother’s in the money—”

“—idea for a news story. I know
this man who—”

Huh. Sam almost snorted. These
people were too wrapped up in themselves to pick up on a stranger at the next
table.

Coffee came in a foam cup. Pizza
was served on its pan with a deli sheet slapped down in lieu of a plate.

Jeez. He wasn’t fussy, but not
even a paper plate?

The pizza was okay, but it wasn’t
like Leo’s at home.

He ate methodically and rapidly.

This might turn out pretty good. The
Ruger wouldn’t do in a crowd, but he’d expected as much and left it in the van.
The knife would work. He bent his knee, touched the smooth handle in its usual
place on his ankle.

Yeah, okay, he’d use the blade. If
things worked out, if she gave him the slightest opening, he would slip in and
take her from the rear. One quick thrust into the little place beside the small
of the back, and the last loose end would be tied up.

Any luck at all, he could be miles
away before anyone realized she’d been stabbed.

And man, he thought as sudden
nostalgia for his wife yelling in the stands and his oldest kid racing toward
the puck hit him, was he ready to go home. A week was too frigging long to be
away.

He risked a glance toward his
target. She looked like a nice dame. Too bad she was an incriminating one.

You shouldn’t have taken up
photography, lady. You shoulda been a stewardess or something.

Chapter 9

The noise and bustle and pizza
smell that smacked them in the face didn’t help Rennie’s frame of mind. Too bad
he and Autumn couldn’t have stayed at the cottage, read the paper or played a
game of cards, had a quiet evening to themselves.

Sure. Right.

After that stunt he’d pulled,
barging in and gawking like a horny teenager, it was a wonder Autumn was
speaking to him.

Come on, you’re making too much
of it. These things happen
.

He nudged her into an empty seat
across from Francisco. Then, before his brother, caught between Victoria and an
older woman, could rearrange the table, he slid in beside her.

Francisco, flirting with both
women, didn’t catch the strategic maneuvering till it was too late. His face
darkened, but he didn’t say anything before turning back to Victoria.

Looked like Francisco had toned
down his personality. But not a lot.

“Rennie, Autumn, this is Dani and
Gus Huertole,” Laney said gleefully. “Did you see what they gave John and me
for our anniversary?”

The Huertoles. Georgia’s would-be
first couple. It seemed they had taken time from their busy schedules to attend
the party, and had brought John and Elena an elaborate Christmas tree ornament
as a gift.

Autumn exclaimed when Laney
passed the ornament to her. “It’s the state capitol, with gilt on the dome for
the gold plate. It’s beautiful, Laney.”

“Are you spending the night?”
Rennie asked Danielle Huertole on the other side of Francisco.

“I wish. It’s so lovely up here.”
Her languid wave revealed a plain wedding band. Stylish in a red and green
scarf draped over a black sweater, she sported small wreath earrings to match
the brooch pinning the scarf.  Her smooth pageboy glistened in the light.
“Sadly, we have to go back tonight. I have last-minute things to do for the
jewelry exhibit opening Sunday.”

Victoria leaned across toward
Francisco, elbow on table, chin resting in her hand, fascinated by whatever he
was saying. At her shriek of laughter, Danielle turned that way indulgently.

Women usually were indulgent when
it came to Fran.

“The gilt’s from Dahlonega gold,”
Laney said. “It says so in the brochure. There were only a few made.”

“Look at the details.” Autumn
passed the ornament to Rennie carefully. “Such craftsmanship.”

“Beautiful.” He took it gingerly.
Looked like a regular ornament to him. “The state capitol. A symbol of what’s
to come, eh?”

Gus Huertole heard and let out a
booming laugh. “We can hope. But yes, things are promising. Dani and I are
optimistic.” He didn’t look at his wife, which was fine because Dani’s
attention was on Fran.

Only it wasn’t. When Rennie
passed the ornament back to Laney, he realized Dani had tuned out his brother along
with her husband.

Her eyes looked weak, remote, as
she slumped on the other bench. Maybe she was fighting off a cold or migraine. She
sure didn’t look like the persuasive businesswoman Victoria had proclaimed her.

But that might be her style.

After giving orders for beer and
pizza, Gus Huertole turned to Autumn and waggled his brows. “So you’re the
woman I’ve heard so much about. The one who takes such, um, interesting photographs.
I’ve been told your pictures are works of art.”

He was a personable man in his
fifties, handsome with a dark mustache and graying sideburns. His distinguished
appearance didn’t quite agree with a robust figure that looked more like that
of a prizefighter.

Autumn’s blush in the bathroom
flashed through Rennie’s mind, but she showed no discomfiture at Huertole’s irreverence.
“Hmm. I wonder who told you that? Fran, I bet.”

“I’m sure I never used the word
interesting,” Rennie’s brother protested from across the bare wooden table. “I
distinctly recall using the words sensual genius.”

Huertole agreed with mock
humility that further recall did bring the word genius to mind. “Perhaps I got
it wrong, Fran. I beg your pardon, Autumn.”

“Don’t say things like that.”
Francisco clapped his hands over Victoria’s ears. “We have a news reporter in
our midst, Gus. Never admit you’re in the wrong, at least not in front of
Vicky.”

“Fran,” his sisters shrieked. “Leave
Victoria alone.”

“Vicky knows I was joking.” Francisco
made a face. “Don’t you, Vicky?”

Giggling, Victoria used her hands
to remove his. “Hmmm. Sounds like you’ve got something to hide.”

“Oh, grow up, Fran,” Laney said. “And
stop manhandling Victoria.”

Rennie, fully aware that Laney and
Norma had marked Victoria for him and not his brother, and completely
indifferent—he’d long been inured to their machinations—shut out the
controversy and concentrated on his pizza.

While Huertole and Autumn fell
into a conversation about photography, Dani was talking across the table,
discussing some kind of ad layout with John Kinsellen.

“—sure you’re right. The sports
shirt will doubtless go over better.” A slight accent betrayed her South
American origins. While Agustin Huertole had been born in Texas, his Argentine
wife had come in on a student visa to attend Vassar. They had met and married
in New York, moving to Atlanta when Huertole’s company had transferred him
south. After twenty-odd years in the state, most people considered them
Georgians.

Rennie knew from his mother and
sisters that Huertole had begun his political career as state representative
and gone on to become state senator. Now Huertole and Georgia’s entire Hispanic
community hoped he would be governor-elect.

Dani Huertole, as chic and
sophisticated with her Spanish grandee bone structure and svelte figure as
Autumn was with her cool blonde elegance, belonged to the wave of political
wives who balanced their careers with their family life.

Francisco had said she would soon
take a leave of absence from her job as assistant director of Atlanta’s High
Museum of Arts to help with the campaign. But whether her husband was elected
or not, Dani Huertole planned to keep working.

That might be what was wrong. The
stress of her job and the campaign might have put the pallor in the thin face.

As Victoria had said the day
before, Danielle Huertole was a savvy woman despite her lackluster appearance. She
showed a quick comprehension of John’s explanations as to why they would have
to postpone a fund raising drive planned for January, and at Victoria’s
casually worded insinuation about drug money in the Huertole campaign, dismissed
the rumors with a waggle of her manicured fingers. “I assure you, the one drug
my poor husband is familiar with is the one made from the coffee bean. That, I
must admit, he is completely hooked on.”

Huertole was fortunate in his
wife. The candidate himself might be too imperious to handle the business end
of an election campaign but maybe under Dani Huertole’s supervision, he would
come across in his ads better than he did in person.

When Dani overheard Huertole talking
to Autumn about the studio, she transferred her attention to them. Her eyes, Rennie
noticed, were not brown as he had assumed, but were rather a series of dark
spots on a gray-green background, striking despite their weariness.

“My husband is fascinated with
photography.” The brunette hair in its modish bob swung back as she gave Autumn
a smile that would have seemed natural had it not been for those glassy eyes. “I
admit, I’ve heard so much about you, Autumn, that I’m fascinated, too. However
did you hit upon such an unusual vocation?”

“My grandfather started the
studio, and then brought my uncle in.” Autumn summarized the studio’s past
history and her own involvement, ending, “I didn’t set out to do erotica, but it
seemed women were excited to find someone they could trust to take their
pictures in professional poses like the centerfolds in magazines. The ones their
husbands and boyfriends buy for the informative articles.”

The people around her laughed,
but Dani didn’t. “You aren’t what I expected, but I suppose you hear that all
the time.”

“Occasionally.”

“I would love to see some of your
work.”

Autumn shook her head, smiling
slightly. “I don’t have many examples, I’m afraid. Most of the women I
photograph prefer to keep their prints private.”

“Naturally,” Gus Huertole put in.
“I can’t imagine any respectable woman having such pictures taken and
permitting them to be displayed for purely salacious interest. You shouldn’t
expect it, my darling.”

The way Dani held up her chin at
her husband was the tiniest bit challenging. The curl of her upper lip was the
tiniest bit caustic.

Here was a surprise.

Rennie glanced around. There were
some deep undercurrents between husband and wife, but no one else seemed to
notice. Perhaps he was imagining them.

Gus Huertole moved a millimeter
away from his wife. Like he didn’t want to hear what she was about to say.

Interesting.

“I’m sure, my dear,” Dani Huertole,
despite her low voice, held her husband’s attention with a steely gaze, “that
Autumn is most circumspect and trustworthy, and that her clients have every
reason to feel their photographs are secure with her.”

Autumn shifted on the bench
uneasily so her shoulder pushed against Rennie’s. “I hope so. I try to give my
clients what they pay for.”

Danielle stared at her husband
but spoke to Autumn. “Perhaps after the campaign, I can come by and talk with
you about some photography for myself. I’m sure Gus would love a sensual photo
of me. He complains my pictures make me look too cold.”

Her husband could not control his
start. “I hardly think it wise to—”

“You’ll be governor, my dear.”
His wife turned away from him. “Not me. Your reputation will be quite safe since
no one can blame you for my peccadilloes.”

“That isn’t what I meant.”

Danielle shrugged.

Huertole flushed and pressed his
lips together. A tiny muscle moved in his jaw, his lips drooped. Despair?
Fatigue?

The conversation moved to the
chances for snow.

What was that all about?

Autumn had noticed Gus’s
reaction, too, and cast a worried glance at Rennie. He winked at her. She went
back to her pizza.

Francisco was busy captivating
Victoria while occasionally throwing a word to Autumn to ensure she wasn’t
neglected. Except for his brief abortive affair with Sarita, Fran had a knack
for handling women.

Rennie had never once begrudged
that knack. Until now. When Autumn was one of the women being handled by his
brother, he didn’t like it one bit.

As soon as the group finished
eating, the Huertoles pled the long trip back to Atlanta and their opportunity
to get a full night’s sleep for the first time in three weeks. They made quick
farewells and swept out.