Slow Burn (20 page)

Younger ones, too, Cecily thought resentfully.

Jon had gone into the house. He suddenly appeared at the door to the patio, his arms hanging limply at his sides. He stared from Jared to Cecily.

“There's been an accident.”

Jared leaped up, staring at his father. Cecily, startled, not quite grasping the tension in her father-in-law's voice, got to her feet more slowly.

“What happened?” she demanded.

“Damn it, Dad, what happened?” Jared echoed.

“There was an accident in Rhode Island. Spencer's rental car lost its brakes.”

“And…?” Jared nearly shouted.

“Delgado was with her.”

“In the car?”

“Yes. Between them, they steered the car into a clump of bushes.”

“Are they all right?” Cecily whispered. Suddenly she heard a whimpering and then a soft cry. Ashley was at her side, slipping her small hand into her mother's. She'd been listening. She'd sensed the tension, as children were so prone to do.

“Is Aunt Spencer hurt?”

Cecily couldn't answer. She simply stared at Jon.

“They're fine. That was Sly. He said they're both fine.”

Cecily stared at Jared, closing her eyes, feeling weak. Then she knelt by her sniffling daughter. “Yes, she's fine. She's just fine. Didn't you just hear Grandpa? She had a little car trouble, but she's all right now.”

Her daughter was still sobbing, huddled against her. “Don't let Aunt Spencer be dead, Mommy. Please, don't let Aunt Spencer be dead like Uncle Danny.”

Cecily's heart seemed to catch in her throat.

She drew Ashley even closer to her and stared at Jared over her daughter's head.

 

There were some things Spencer wanted to attend to herself. David was occupied, she was certain.

And here on the grounds of her parents' home, she had to be safe.

She left the house, walking determinedly to the garage. Her feet crunched on the gravel drive. She knocked loudly on the side door that led to the chauffeur's apartment.

There was no answer. “Hello? Mr. Murphy?” she called. Still no answer. She pushed the door open.

Murphy was about sixty. Balding. A little plump, with a drooping white mustache.

He was seated in an old recliner, looking as if he had just lost the entire world. There was a bottle of Jack Daniel's at his side. It was brand-new, unopened.

“Mr. Murphy?” Spencer said.

He stared at her with watery eyes. He lifted a hand, and it fell back to the arm of the chair. “Mrs. Huntington. I'm glad to see you alive, that I am. Pray God that you can believe that, at least!”

“Thank you. Of course I believe it,” she said awkwardly. “I just came to ask you—”

“You came to ask me, the police came to ask me. Your father came to fire me.”

Spencer gasped. “But—”

He stood up, coming toward her. She'd never realized he was such a big man before. She almost backed away, but she didn't, and he stopped right before her, shaking his head sadly. “I'd not harm a hair on your head. You're a fine lady, and I'd swear it on my dyin' bed to my maker. I moved the car into the garage, and that was it, ma'am.”

Spencer stared at him, wishing with all her heart that she could figure out who was telling the truth and who wasn't. But Murphy wasn't lying. She was sure of it.

“Mr. Murphy, you're not fired.”

“Ah, now, Mrs. Huntington—”

“Give me the Jack Daniel's. It's a big man who can lick a drinking problem. Stay big. Give me the bottle. And I'll tell my father you can either keep working for him or come south and work for me.”

Murphy didn't believe her at first. Then he started to smile. He handed her the Jack Daniel's. Tears started running down his red cheeks. “Bless you, Mrs. Huntington.”

“Nonsense! It's my fault Dad was angry with you.”

“But—”

“I'll take care of it,” Spencer said. She turned and headed to the house.

 

David, on his way to see the chauffeur, hesitated and stepped inside the door when he saw Spencer. She didn't see him as she strode into her father's elegant study.

“Murphy is innocent,” she said flatly.

“Now, Spencer, you don't understand these—”

“I'm over thirty, Dad. I've got a very decent grasp of right and wrong these days. I'm asking you to give the man his job back.”

Joe was silent for a long time. “Fine.”

“I'll talk with Mother, convince her.”

“No, you won't, young lady. I listen to her advice, I always have. But I make my own decisions.”

David knew he shouldn't have been eavesdropping, but it was part of a P.I.'s job. And he was damned glad he
had
been listening.

He left the house, closing the door softly behind him.

He still wanted to talk to the chauffeur.

 

To Spencer's vast relief, their dinner out seemed to be all right. Mary Louise was a little uncertain, but Joe carried the conversation. He talked about growing up in the thirties, and how the Indian villages had extended eastward to places that were now giant shopping malls. “Funny to think that this was once a nothing little town. You should hear Sly talk about the gondolas that used to come in from Tahiti Beach to the Biltmore.”

“I've heard him,” Spencer and David said in unison, and even Mary Louise smiled.

The lobster was great, and David had brought the wine. Her mother sipped it very carefully at first, but she seemed pleased to discover that David knew wines. Spencer hadn't felt quite so relaxed in months.

No, since Danny had been alive.

Everything went well until some friends of her parents came by. The Greshiams were among the most elite people in Newport. She sponsored countless charities; he sat on countless boards. Their oldest son was a senator, their second son was a biochemist changing the world, and their daughter was a lawyer, about to become a senator. Mary Louise seemed dismayed to have been caught by such a pair and stumbled over the introductions. “You do remember my daughter, Spencer, and…”

After the “and,” Mary Louise went blank. Dead blank.

“Mr. David Delgado. A friend of Spencer's late husband,” David supplied.

“Oh, yes!” Mrs. Greshiam said, silver head twisting, and matching silver eyes falling on Spencer. “My dear, we are so sorry about the tragedy.”

“Thank you,” Spencer said. She looked at her mother. “David is a friend of
mine,
Mrs. Greshiam,” she found herself emphasizing.

“Yes, yes, of course, dear,” her mother said awkwardly. She looked relieved when the Greshiams moved on.

Mary Louise, Joe and David ordered coffee. Spencer decided on espresso. David watched her curiously, one brow half-raised. She wanted to tell him that people everywhere ordered espresso, that she wasn't trying to make any statements about his background because espresso and Cuban coffee could be so similar. He seemed amused. She found herself growing annoyed.

This was ridiculous. She wanted to leap up and tell him that this was America; she could order anything she wanted any time she wanted. And he didn't have a damned thing to do with it.

Except that he did. She had learned to like espresso during her senior year of high school, when she had first tasted his.

He was still watching her. She looked at him questioningly, and he shrugged, then turned to answer some question her father had just asked him.

By the time they headed back to the Montgomery mansion, David and Spencer's parents seemed to be getting along just fine.

Once in the house, Spencer deserted them all quickly, saying she was tired. She could hear David downstairs. He was socializing with both her parents tonight. She dressed in footed flannel pajamas, and crawled into bed. She dozed off, then awoke with a start, realizing that a shadow was standing just outside her balcony door. She pushed herself up to a sitting position.

“Good night, Spencer,” he said.

“Did you enjoy the evening?”

“Compared to the car accident?”

“Did you?”

“It wasn't bad. Let me see—you did introduce me as your friend. Much better than saying that I'm the enemy you sleep with
twice
a decade—or once a week.”

Spencer threw a pillow his way. She heard the throaty sound of his laughter as he disappeared along the balcony.

The breeze blew in, lifting the curtains. Spencer lay back, almost smiling.

But when she fell asleep, she dreamed of being in the car again. Racing down the hill, desperate to stop, unable to. The sea and sky stretched before her, and she was plummeting forward at breakneck speed. Sheer rock cliffs scraped by her, rose before her.

She flew from the cliff into a void, into nothingness. But she knew that the sharp rocks were below, waiting. She could hear the slash of the cold ocean against them….

Suddenly the car was gone, along with the rocks and the ocean.

Danny was there. Dripping wet, covered in seaweed. He was walking toward her. Smiling, easy. Gentle. Just like Danny. “Spencer, it's all right. You always did like him best. It doesn't matter.”

Then she awoke, shivering in the night. She lay awake for hours, afraid to go back to sleep. Afraid to ride in that car again.

So afraid that Danny would come back. Not a mean Danny or a vengeful Danny.

A kind Danny.

The one who had loved her. Who had always been such a good friend.

Who had always trusted her.

She wished she had the nerve to walk into the next room for comfort. To cry over her dreams. To make them go away. To make her feel better. To make her understand…

She had to find some kind of peace and understanding, and she had to do it herself. Not even David could help her.

And still she wished fervently that she could go to him. Just lie beside him. Feel his gentle touch on her skin, in her soul.

But she couldn't go to him.

Not now.

Maybe not ever.

W
hen Spencer arrived at her office on Monday morning, she found Audrey at her desk. The other woman inclined her head toward Spencer's office to warn her that it was occupied. Surprised, Spencer walked in to find Cecily in her office, staring at the pictures on the wall.

“Hey, Spence!” Cecily said, hurrying over to give her a fierce hug. “What a weekend, huh?” She drew away, staring at Spencer carefully. “You're definitely okay, hmm?”

Spencer gave her a hug back. “Definitely.”

Cecily never wore something as Miami simple as cutoffs with a T-shirt or tank top. She loved to shop, she had an eye for clothing, and she wore it beautifully. This morning she was in a navy-style outfit. The top was sleeveless, and the pants had slightly belled legs, and everything was trimmed in gold that seemed to highlight her perfect hair—her roots never did seem to grow back in. She was extremely attractive and, Spencer had to admit, always an asset at any company social function. They'd been friends all through school. Spencer had been in Cecily's wedding party, and Cecily had been in Spencer's. They were still relatively good friends, even if things had changed after high school. In high school, their conversations had tended to be high-pitched and excited. Later they were often edged with a slightly bitter twist as the years passed and dreams turned out to be not quite what they had once seemed.

“How did you hear about the accident?” Spencer asked, drawing away and moving behind her desk. She indicated the chair in front of it.

Cecily laughed. “How did I hear? In this family? Are you kidding? Sly called Jared's dad right away. Then your mother was on the phone to Jared's father a few minutes later. Spencer, come on, we're talking family here. If you sneeze in Rhode Island, we hear about it.”

Spencer nodded in reflective agreement. “Right. So what did you hear?”

“Your mother thinks you should stay in Rhode Island. You were nearly killed there, of course, but you know mother logic, right? Anyway, she told my father-in-law that she would sit on you—
sit on you!
—to make sure you were safe if you would just stay. Then she thought about flying down here.”

Spencer groaned, leaning her head on the desk. “She
did
sit on me. All Sunday. Okay, not literally. But she wasn't more than a few feet away at any time during the day.”

“Interesting,” Cecily said, devilishly arching an eyebrow. “How did she get on with David?”

“All right.”

“How are
you
getting on with David?”

“Sly hired him to watch me. That's the only reason he's hanging around with me.”

“So where is he now?”

Spencer shrugged. David's recent behavior was a bit of a mystery to her. He'd been within shouting distance all day Sunday—not a difficult feat, since Mary Louise had kept her home with a poolside barbecue. David had been remarkably quiet, his eyes hidden all day behind dark glasses. He'd been quiet on the plane trip home, too, then followed her home. He'd seen her into the house, inspected every inch of it, then left—after yelling at her to set the alarm.

This morning, when she'd left her house, she'd discovered a handsome young man in his early twenties lounging alongside a dusty black old-model BMW. He'd been a good six feet tall and built like a boxer, but he'd had a youthful, friendly smile when he introduced himself as Jimmy Larimore, an employee of David's just looking out for her.

He'd followed her in to work and parked beside her. He hadn't come in, just pulled out a newspaper and started reading, waving as she walked into the office.

“Spencer?”

“I guess he's watching someone else for the moment,” Spencer told her.

“So what about the weekend?” Cecily probed.

“What about it?”

Cecily let out a sigh of disgust. “Spencer, I want the juicy details, and you just aren't giving me any.”

“None to give,” Spencer lied.

Cecily smiled and shook her head. “I don't believe you. In high school you two were hotter than the sidewalk in August.”

“Cecily, in case you haven't noticed, we graduated from high school over ten years ago now.”

She moaned. “I've noticed! Believe me, I've noticed! Crow's-feet! Can you imagine me with crow's-feet? Of course, when they really set in, I won't let them stay long. If surgery can fix it, I'm all for surgery.”

“Cecily, you look great. You don't need surgery on anything.”

“Yes, I do,” the other woman said with a sigh. “Now you, dear girl, are still in great shape. But that's because you've got a P.B.B.”

“A what?”

“A pre-baby body,” Cecily explained. “Having one of those little buggers can do you right in!”

A swift pang, as sharp as a knife, ripped into Spencer's heart and cut off her breath. She wanted to strike Cecil, but then Cecily had never known just how badly she and Danny had wanted children.

She couldn't know that Danny had died on the day they had been planning to chase after parenthood with their very best efforts.

“Children are worth whatever toll they take on your body,” she told Cecily softly. “I envy you yours with all my heart.”

“Oh, Spencer, they
are
wonderful. Of course they are. I sound terribly selfish, don't I? I have two beautiful children, and you haven't even got Danny anymore. I'm sorry, Spencer, honestly. It's just that aging can get so confusing, you know. When we were first married, I always knew that Jared was crazy about me. And I was crazy about Jared. Now I'm out at a party with him and I see his eye wandering to some twenty-year-old in a short skirt, and I want to scratch his eyes out. Not that I don't have a few fantasies of my own.”

Spencer couldn't help but smile. Cecily had a certain honesty that could be both amusing and sad.

“Cecily, you two have lots of money, two great kids, and you're still just as pretty as a set of Barbie and Ken dolls. Relax.”

“Okay. So tell me about your weekend with David. Let me live vicariously through you!”

“Cecily, it wasn't exciting almost being dashed onto the rocks!”

“Not that part, the rest of it.”

Spencer groaned, leaning back in her chair. “Cecily…”

“All right, all right, so you're not going to tell me anything. Spencer, you were more fun in high school. But that's all right. Listen, make sure you keep a week from Friday free. My father-in-law wants to have a family barbecue. Jared, me, the kids, you and Sly. And whatever bodyguard you're dragging around at the time. Okay?”

“I'll be there,” Spencer assured her.

Cecily got up to leave, but she paused in Spencer's doorway. “You've got to use that pre-baby body before you lose it, you know.”

“I'll keep that in mind. Thanks.”

“I guess I'll give my honey a kiss and get on going. Big day. PTA meeting.”

Spencer grinned as Cecily left.

Audrey stuck her head in almost immediately. “Want to tell me about your weekend?” she asked hopefully.

Spencer grinned, shaking her head. Audrey hesitated for a minute. “You know, Spencer, it
is
all right for you to have a life.”

“I
do
have a life.”

“A
sex
life.”

“Audrey…”

“Yeah, yeah, I know. All right, down to business. You've got a lunch meeting at Christy's with Sly and a few of the board members from Anderson, Tyrell and Cummings. They want to talk about an old Deco hotel they've just purchased on South Beach. Your realtor called to remind you about the house on the golf course. And Sly is demanding to see you the second you walk in—you're late.”

“I'm on my way into his office right now,” Spencer promised and headed out.

 

David walked into downtown police headquarters. He strode into homicide and sat down on Jerry Fried's desk. Fried looked up at him with a pained expression and groaned. “Let's switch things around here, Delgado. What news have you got on Danny's death?”

“Just an interesting twist. I was with Danny's widow in Newport, Rhode Island, this weekend. Guess what happened?”

Jerry stared at him. “I haven't got a clue, Delgado. What happened?”

“We had an accident. A bad accident. The car Spencer rented nearly went off a cliff.”

“But it didn't.”

“It came close enough.”

Jerry pointed a finger at him. “Then maybe, if you've got any influence with Danny's widow, you should convince her to get off the case. Pack her off to Siberia, talk her into knitting sweaters or selling daisies. Keep her out of the police station and out of things that don't concern her.”

“Her husband's death concerns her.”

“Solving his murder is not her business.”

“Are you threatening Spencer in any way?”

“Of course not!” Fried said indignantly. “Jesus, Delgado, has being off the force driven you crazy or something? Have you forgotten how to read the street? You know she's in danger if whoever killed Danny thinks she has something on him.”

“Or her.”

“Don't play word games with me, Delgado.” Fried stared at his desk for a minute, then looked up. “Damn it, I wasn't with Danny that long. He kept things from me. You know more about what he was up to than I do!”

David was still, staring at the man. He slid off the desk. “Where's the lieutenant?”

Fried inclined his head toward Oppenheim's office. David went on in to find Oppenheim on the phone. He hesitated when he saw David. “Call you back,” he said, and hung up. “David, David, are you going to become a regular feature in here on Monday mornings now? If so, you ought to rejoin the damned force, get paid for coming in.”

“No, thanks.”

“You don't just come to say hi ‘cause you miss me.”

“Spencer Huntington was nearly killed in an accident this weekend.”

“Where?”

“Rhode Island.”

“Rhode Island?” Oppenheim said incredulously. He leaned forward, shaking his head. “David, I'm working in one of the biggest cities in what is considered to be one of the most dangerous counties in the country. And I'm supposed to have some control over what happens in
Rhode Island?
”

David placed his hands on Oppenheim's desk and leaned forward. “I'm doing all right, Lieutenant, but I'm still a small operation. You guys owe me. I've always given you anything I had that you needed. I want help on this one.”

“David, I'm doing what I can. But you know I don't have the manpower to—”

“Find some!” David said, and added, “please.”

Oppenheim exhaled loudly.

“You'd be helping to catch a cop killer. Damn it, Lieutenant, you know I'm a good investigator. I've cultivated some good snitches, and I can get in places where no other cop ever could. Something's getting close now. Something has heated up since Spencer pulled her stunt in the graveyard, and I need departmental help on this. I believe that Danny's widow is in danger. Someone is afraid she's going to find out something. I can't do the investigating I need to if I don't get help from you to protect her.”

“I'll do what I can. I'll let you know what I come up with.”

David nodded and turned to walk out of the office. “Hey, Lieutenant?”

“Yeah?”

“Get to the gym or lay off the German sausage. Your middle's been growing.”

“Thanks. Thanks a hell of a lot for noticing. Now get the hell out of here.”

“I'm on my way.”

“By the way, just what are you up to?”

“I think I may go hang out under a bridge and eat stale doughnuts with a few homeless fellows downtown.”

“Hey, sounds great.”

“Yes. It's a great way to spend the afternoon.”

 

It was a hell of a day. He spent hours under a bridge in Overtown among the homeless and several tougher-looking individuals—probably the usual murderers, rapists and thieves, he thought wryly, sunk down against his little square of concrete as he watched the down-and-out and dangerous around him.

He half closed his lids while a couple of guys ran out and water-sprayed the windows of a Mercedes, hoping for a buck for having cleaned them.

The pale woman inside the car paid up.

Later the same pair started on the windshield of a kelly green Jag. This time the woman inside started screaming hysterically. Deciding to see what was going on, David ambled forward. “Hey, you two, no trouble here.”

The men, one black, one white, spun around and stared at him. He must have looked pretty big in the oversize army jacket her wore. The two took off. “Lady, this isn't a great area for you to be driving around—” he began.