Sara's Song (24 page)

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Authors: Fern Michaels

BOOK: Sara's Song
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Sandi moved quickly then, ransacking the house as she looked everywhere for the cassette she knew Dallas had given Sara. An hour later her face contorted in rage when she realized the cassette and sheet music were not in the house. Maybe the good doctor carried them with her. Then again, maybe she had locked them up in some safety deposit box. She smirked when she looked around at the total destruction she'd caused. The blinking red light on the answering machine beckoned her. She pressed the message button and listened to twenty-two. messages, six of them from Adam Lord. She erased all of them. The last thing she did before leaving the house was to tip over the magnificent Christmas tree.
In the garage Sandi stared at the Jaguar for a full minute before she climbed into the driver's seat. She popped the hood and climbed out. The complicated engine stared up at her. Well, she knew a thing or two about cars, engines, brake linings, and hot-wiring a car. She used up another ten minutes before she reset the alarm next to the kitchen door. That done, she fished in her pocket for the keys to her car at which point she gouged the driver's door as well as the passenger side door with the sharp end of her key. The Jaguar hood ornament came off next. She tossed it in the stroller.
Ten minutes later she was in her car, heading home.
When she stopped for a red light, she used her car phone to call Dallas Lord's voice mail. She punched in his code and listened to Adam Lord's messages. None of them interested her. She saved the messages by pressing the star key. Adam would never know she had listened.
 
 
Loaded down with gaily wrapped packages, exquisite Christmas shopping bags and takeout Chinese, Sara and Carly parked the car in the garage, their shadows on the road shooting questions at them which they ignored.
Sara punched in her code and opened the kitchen door. Both women stared at the total destruction that greeted them. The floor and countertops were littered with flour, sugar, coffee, and broken dishes. The green plants from the windowsill had been thrown against the wall, some of the dirt still sticking to the rough plaster. The refrigerator door, the oven door and all the cabinet doors hung open. The pot roast and leftover gravy dribbled down the front of the refrigerator door.
They walked through the house in a daze, their arms still full of packages and Chinese food.
Carly sat down on what was left of one of the sofa cushions. “I told you this would happen. Those people are merciless. They want the song, Sara. The next thing that's going to happen is they are going to say you stole it. You had the motive and the opportunity. You were there almost every day since Billy's death. They're going to blame you, Sara. How are we ever going to clean this up?”
“Shhh, don't cry, Carly. We have insurance. I'll call the Disaster Master people. They come in with a whole crew and before you know it everything will be back to normal. Go find some forks. We'll eat here in the family room. We'll call the police after we eat. It's going to be okay, Carly. Trust me.”
“Give them the damn song, Sara. What if they . . . try to do something to us? Isn't that what those kinds of people do?”
“I will not be intimidated. I absolutely will not. The song is safe. We're safe. We're going to file a police report. Now, go get the forks.”
Sara bit into a crisp, crunchy egg roll. Carly stared at her pepper steak just as the doorbell rang. “Maybe they forgot to do something?” she quipped. “Where's Dad's gun?”
Sara stared at her sister. “It's on the mantel behind the vase. It's loaded, Carly. Be careful.”
“Are you telling me you don't want me to shoot the son of a bitch?”
“I'm telling you to be careful. It might be Nellie. Look before you open the door.”
“Are you just going to sit there and eat that egg roll?”
“I'm right behind you. You aren't the most graceful person on two legs. Don't, for God's sake, shoot your foot off.”
“Who is it?” Carly shouted to be heard through the door.
“Adam Lord,” came the response.
“Should I shoot through the door or wait till he gets inside.”
“Wait till he gets inside. There is no point to making another mess.”
Carly cocked the hammer before she opened the door.
“Come in, Mr. Lord, and yes, this sucker is loaded and the safety is off.”
Sara took a bite of her egg roll. “She's a crack shot. Nervous but accurate. I hope you brought your cleaning equipment with you.”
“God Almighty!” Adam squawked when he saw the destruction behind the two women.
Chapter Twelve
“If you don't want that pack of jackals out there to see this, you had better invite me in,” Adam said as he craned his neck to see the devastation.
“Let him in, Carly,” Sara said. The anger and bitterness she was feeling showed in her face. “I suppose you're going to tell me you don't know anything about this.” She jerked her head to the side to indicate the destruction in the family room that could be seen from the foyer.
“That's exactly what I'm going to tell you. When did this happen? Who did it?”
Sara shrugged. “If I knew who did it, do you think I'd be standing here having this conversation with you? Right now you're my best suspect. We were out all day. Whoever it was had our alarm code. This is from your camp, Mr. Lord. Dallas had my code, no one else, so that brings suspicion right back to you. I intend to tell the police that, too. In other words, I don't believe you. We were just about to call the police when you rang the bell.”
“I didn't do this nor did I have anything to do with it. I'd like to look around. Breaking and entering is not my specialty. It's illegal, and I'm an attorney. As such, I'm sworn to uphold the law. Is the rest of the house like this?”
“Every room,” Carly said.
“I'm no detective, but I think it's safe to say someone thinks you have something they want.”
There was a snap and crackle to Sara's voice when she said, “You're the only one who thinks we have something, and you offered to buy that something. That puts you at the top of my list, and that's exactly what I'm going to tell the police.”
Adam made his rounds. He returned, his features hard to read. “This is total destruction. I feel partially responsible. What I mean by that is my coming here could have triggered this. I think Dallas would want me to take responsibility for what has happened here. His estate will pay all damages and it will save you filing an insurance form. Once you file a claim, your rates jump sky-high. Do not take my offer as an admission of guilt. Assess the damage and call me.”
“The damage is going to be high. Some of our stuff is irreplaceable. It belonged to my parents and grandparents. Heirlooms. This went beyond search and seize. This . . . is . . .”
“Vicious. Hateful. Spiteful. I can't see any reason to topple your Christmas tree.”
“What do you want, Mr. Lord?” Sara said. The bite in her voice was hard to miss.
“I want the truth, and I want the song. If you really don't have it, and you aren't lying to me, you have nothing to fear. If I decide you do have it, I'll sue to get it. In the process your lives will become so unpleasant you will beg me to take it off your hands. Look, I don't want it for myself. I want Dallas to live on forever. If I can make that happen, I will. Undoubtedly, the song, if there is a song, is the last thing my brother wrote. Like your heirlooms, it's priceless. Let's cut a deal here and now. Sandi Sims is saying my brother wrote the song for her. She knows the words, and she's saying Dallas was going to back out of his marriage to you and marry her. That's something you'll have to deal with in court. I think you know Dallas was one of the most generous people in the world. Sandi is saying he felt sorry for you, and that's why he gave you the song. He did things like that because he didn't think it through. I'm not saying that's what happened. What I am saying is you are going to have to prove that the song belongs to you.”
“I told you he would say that, Sara. People like you think you can do and say whatever you damn well please. Guess what, we're people, too. We're honest, hardworking people dedicated to healing the sick. I don't want to hear any more of your belches, Mr. Lord. Don't you people have enough money? How much more do you need? Do you need another house, another airplane? Get out of our house.”
People like you
. Something alien attacked Adam's stomach and throat. “Are you trying to profit from my brother's death?”
“No. I might ask you the same question, Mr. Lord,” Sara said.
“Dallas was my brother. I have to safeguard his estate. I'm asking you nicely to give me the song. Name your price or take your chances in court. I warn you, it won't be nice. In the end both your careers will be destroyed. The world will see you as moneygrubbing hangers-on. The press and tabloids will slice you to ribbons.”
Sara felt sick to her stomach. From the look on Carly's face, she, too, was feeling sick. Sara marshaled all her strength. “I think you should leave, Mr. Lord. Please don't come back here. In the morning I'm going to apply for a restraining order against you. If we have to, we'll get an unlisted telephone number. Before you leave, though, I'd like to ask you something. Does the fact that Dallas gave Sandi Sims a check for $100,000 have anything to do with this? Is his estate going to sue to recover that money? Where would a backup singer of modest means get that kind of money for repayment?
Now
, you can leave,
Mister Lord.”
She made his name sound obscene.
“I don't know anything about that. I haven't had a chance to go through all the financials yet. If Sandi owes the money, the estate will go after it. Sandi Sims knew the words to the song, Doctor.”
“If she knows the words, then all you have to do is set them to music.”
“Sandi said Dallas made a tape. She can't remember all the words. We have an airtight case, Doctor.”
“File your papers, Mr. Lord. I'll take my chance in a court of law.”
“For someone of your intelligence, Dr. Killian, that's a very stupid attitude. I'm prepared to give you fifty thousand dollars and top billing and by top billing I mean the whole nine yards. Dallas wrote the song for you because you were planning to marry, etc., etc. You can sell your story to every magazine and tabloid in the world when the song hits the top of the charts. You'll be so big in Europe and Asia you won't be able to count the money fast enough. You'll make millions, and you'll never have to work again. Either one of you, if you're a sharing family. From where I'm sitting that is not a shabby offer.”
“This is not about money,
Mister Lord
. Why does everything always come down to money? Dallas said it was your middle name. My sister and I spent long years of schooling to be able to do what we do. We like to work. We do not need millions of dollars. It's people like you who need millions of dollars.” She wasn't sure, but she thought she saw grudging respect in Adam Lord's eyes. And something else she couldn't name.
People like you
. “A hundred thousand. That's my final offer. Please don't deprive Dallas's fans of his last work. I agree the money has nothing to do with it.”
“That was my line, not yours. It always comes down to money in the end. Please leave, Mr. Lord,” Sara said.
“Why are you being so damn stubborn, so damn greedy? What do you want? Name your price. Honest, hardworking people that you are, you must have some kind of agenda. The highest bidder gets it, is that it?”
Once again Carly flicked the safety catch off the gun. She brought it up to her chest level. “I'll shoot on the count of three, and this bullet will get you about six inches below your belt.
OUT!”
Seething with anger, his options played out, Adam left. These two women were definitely not prairie flowers. They had grit and backbones of steel.
“I was going to shoot him, Sara, I swear to God I was. In the foot,” Carly said in a jittery voice.
“Gee, thought you meant what you said. Put the gun away and make sure the safety is on. I wonder why the person who did this didn't take the gun. They always take guns. Put it away. Guns bother me. I'm going to call the police.”
It was after midnight when the last police officer walked out the door. Sara slammed it as strobes flashed from the sidewalk. She'd asked the police not to comment to the gaggle of reporters outside, but she knew it was a futile request. Everyone, even police, wanted their fifteen minutes of fame.
“Those cops will probably get fifty grand each for describing our house and our personal stats. They'll pay off their mortgages, trade in the family car, go out to a fancy-dancy restaurant, and all because our house was burglarized. We'll continue to live in fear as Adam Lord gets ready to sue us. I ask you, Sara, where is the justice in all of this?”
“I don't know, Carly. Let's go to bed.”
“In what? They cut up our mattresses. I feel like I've been violated. Just the thought of touching something makes my stomach heave. I'm scared, Sara. I really am.”
Sara, her eyes misty, put her arms around Carly's shoulders. “Mom always told us there is nothing to fear but fear itself. We can handle this. We can, Carly.”
“Yeah, well, Mom always used to tell us something else, too. She said when you fight for principle, you always lose. He said he could ruin our lives. Sara, were you paying attention?”
“Of course I was paying attention. He's trying to intimidate us. There is nothing he can do. He can't prove anything. The first thing a judge will say is ‘Show me proof.' He has no proof. He's guessing there is a song. If Sandi Sims knew for sure, she'd have the words down pat and they'd have cut a tape by now or whatever it is you do when you're getting a song ready for market. They can do all kinds of things with that pricey electronic, state-of-the-art equipment they have. Another thing, we have impeccable credentials and don't you forget it for one minute. Think about it, Carly, he started out at five thousand and now. he's up to one hundred thousand. They have zip. I have an idea. I've been kind of thinking about it all day. I can call Judge Iverson and tell him our problem. He was Dad's best friend, and he's known us since we were babies. He's also my godfather. He'll know what we should do. Are you comfortable with that, Carly? Tomorrow, just to be on the safe side, I'm going to buy an extra recorder and we'll make some extra copies of the tape while we're at the bank. I won't mess with the master copy, though. Dallas wrote on the label, so it's his handwriting. I almost forgot about that. He labeled it Master Copy in block letters and then he wrote, To Sara from Dallas, and he signed his name, Dallas Lord. That makes it mine Carly, and I'm keeping it.”
“It sounds good. I called Hank and canceled the ski trip. He didn't seem to care one way or the other. I'm not leaving you alone while I go off to have a good time. I'd be sick with worry.”
“I wish you hadn't done that, Carly. I'm okay. I've got my stride back. Whoever would have thought a simple little song with my name on it could cause all this furor? Me of all people.”
“We need to get some sleep. Let's curl up by the tree with the afghans.” Carly yawned. “Tomorrow is another day. Do you know what really,” she grappled for just the right word, “
pisses
me off? The tree. All Mom's ornaments are broken and the lights are smashed. That was just so cruel. We've had them
forever
, Sara.”
“I know. I know. Go to sleep, Carly,” Sara said as she threw one of her mother's afghans over her sister. “It will be a brand-new day before you know it. We'll put the tree back up in the morning. Then we'll go to Target and get some new decorations. It's what it is, Carly. It happened, and we can't change it.”
Sara curled up next to her sister. She thought about Adam Lord and the strange look in his eyes. What did it mean? As her body fought for sleep, she struggled to remember everything Dallas had ever told her about his brother. In a million years Dallas would never believe his brother capable of anything but expert management. He would say Adam would never jeopardize his career, Adam had ethics, and he was honorable and forthright. He'd then summarize everything by saying Adam was an up-front, in-your-face person, and either you liked him or you hated him, that no one, not him and he was his blood brother, knew the real Adam behind his shiny veneer. Sara sighed. It was all too much. Before she closed her eyes for the last time she found herself wondering if there was a woman in Adam's life and what she was like. There was nothing wrong with a little
fantasizing.
Was she tall, willowy, and blond? Did she wear designer clothes and scads of makeup and delicious perfume? Did she have a name? Probably something exotic sounding. Maybe Sabrina or Tatiana or Gennifer with a G. A second weary sigh escaped her. Moments later she was asleep.
 
 
Adam paced the upstairs hallway, trying to come to terms with what had transpired earlier. He thought about his house back in South Carolina with all the treasures he'd collected over the years. How would he feel if some thief broke in and destroyed all he held dear? “I'd damn well feel like those women felt.” Nothing had been taken. That had to mean the person or persons doing the breaking and entering were looking for something. Something small. Something that could be hidden in a flour canister or in a cushion. A tape. Who? One of the band members? They'd all gone back to their respective homes. Sandi? A very serious possibility.
An hour later, his pacing took on a frantic beat. Izzie skittered to his side whining softly. “It's okay, girl. Just a little problem to deal with. Somewhere, someplace, in this house, there must be some kind of proof to back up Sara or Sandi's story.”

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