Authors: Mary Jane Clark
The Look of Love (16 page)
T
he actress walked to the skin-care center, reminding herself why she was going to do this. The reporter had been persuasive. Anastasia’s point, that a pervert had to be stopped, hit home. Appealing to the actress’s sense of right and wrong had worked. Anastasia’s flattery about her acting skills hadn’t hurt either. Nor had the reminder about the publicity this could engender.
At first the actress had been stunned. The idea that an Elysium employee could be perpetrating such heinous acts was mind-blowing. Even more, she’d felt the hair on the back of her neck rise when Anastasia reminded her of the unexplained bruise on her thigh.
Had that creep actually done something to her while she slept?
Any trepidation the actress had been feeling was replaced by anger. Outrage was a strong emotion, and strong emotion had fueled some of her best work. She was about to turn in another great performance.
She could imagine the headlines now.
ACTRESS BRINGS DOWN HOUSE OF HORRORS!
Publicity like that would put her back on the radar screens of producers and studio heads. Publicity like that would get her working again.
K
yle smiled broadly and insincerely as he welcomed the actress into his treatment room.
Why is she insisting on another sleep treatment so soon? She just had one!
He liked to think that on some unconscious level she had enjoyed what he’d done for her and wanted more. But he had to stay alert for anything suspicious. Piper Donovan’s visit the day before had left him wary.
He watched as the actress came in and put her bag down on the counter. Did she always do that? Didn’t she usually come in without her bag, having stashed it in one of the dressing-room lockers? He couldn’t remember, but he did recall that Piper had put her bag down in the same place yesterday.
First he wiped the injection spot with numbing lidocaine.
“As you already know, this won’t hurt a bit,” said Kyle as he inserted the fine-gauge needle in the actress’s arm. “Just relax and begin to count.”
The actress took a deep breath and slowly exhaled. “One, two, three . . .”
Her eyes closed at six. By twelve she had stopped counting.
Kyle studied her, reaching out to gently turn her face from side to side. The surgery Vernon had performed was expertly done. The scars next to her ears were barely visible, and her skin hadn’t been pulled too tight. Though the hands of time couldn’t be rolled back completely, she was still very attractive.
He felt himself getting excited. Then, as he began to lift her smock, he remembered. Kyle walked over to the counter, opened the actress’s bag, and rummaged through. He found the camera.
The hag was trying to catch him!
Kyle felt his face grow hot. His heart pounded as he considered the terrifyingly close call and its implications. Was the actress working with Piper Donovan and that Anastasia Wilcox, the one with the short, dark hair? Were they conspiring to expose what he’d been doing?
He turned to look at the actress, lying asleep and vulnerable. His first instinct was to go over and wring her neck. Instantly, he decided that wouldn’t work. Even if he killed her, there would be no way to get rid of her body without being seen.
Another option was injecting her vein with air. That would cause a fatal heart attack that could look as if it were natural. But then he would have to explain what she was doing in the treatment room in the first place. And though an autopsy wouldn’t detect what had caused her death, it would show the drug that had put the actress to sleep.
Kyle went to the sink and splashed cold water on his face. He tried to calm himself. He had to think rationally.
Settle down. Get ahold of yourself.
What did the actress really have on him anyway?
He took the camera out of the bag and hit
REWIND
. Then he watched the images play back. Pictures of the actress walking over and climbing up onto the massage table. Pictures of him injecting her. Pictures of her counting and falling into unconsciousness. Pictures of him standing over the actress and turning her face from side to side. Pictures of him walking toward the camera, followed by blackness as he blocked the camera’s view.
Kyle erased the video, turned the camera off, and returned it to the bag. Then he continued with the sleep treatment.
B
en pulled on his sport jacket and gave Jillian a kiss.
“You’re sure it’s all right with you?” he asked.
“Of course it is,” she said. “You don’t have to ask my permission to go out with a friend.”
“I know,” said Ben, “but I hate to leave you right now.”
“I’ll be fine,” said Jillian. “I love you madly, Ben, but I can survive without you for a few hours. Go, have dinner with Paul. You haven’t seen him since you did your residencies together.”
Ben shook his head. “I didn’t think he’d actually come when I invited him out for the wedding. Now he’s out here for the week by himself. The least I can do is buy him a few drinks and some dinner.”
“Where are you taking him?” asked Jillian as she reached out and smoothed Ben’s lapel.
“I made a reservation at the Chateau Marmont,” said Ben. “I thought he’d enjoy a few celebrity sightings.”
“Well, that’s the place for it,” said Jillian. “I love going there.”
“You sure you don’t want to join us?” asked Ben.
“No,” she answered. “You guys should enjoy catching up all by yourselves. You don’t need me tagging along. Besides, Piper is coming over tonight to show me her sketches for the wedding cake.”
I
don’t understand,” said the actress when Anastasia came to her room. “There’s nothing here.”
“Let me look,” said Anastasia, taking the camera from her. She fiddled with the buttons and squinted at the small screen. Nothing.
“I don’t understand,” said the actress. “I know I turned it on. Why didn’t it record?”
“Was it still on when you took it out of your bag?” asked Anastasia.
The actress looked uncomfortable. “No, it wasn’t, but I thought the camera had just run out of record time and turned itself off.”
“Well, even if that was the case, the video you recorded would still be there.”
The two women stared at each other.
“You don’t think Kyle went through my bag, found the camera, and turned it off, do you?” asked the actress.
“That’s exactly what I think,” Anastasia answered. “And I think he erased any video that was on there as well.”
I
t was eight o’clock when Jillian welcomed Piper into the cottage. A thin, gray-haired man was sitting on the sofa in the living room. In front of him, papers were spread out on the coffee table.
“Piper, this is Hudson Sherwood,” said Jillian. “Hudson has just returned to Elysium as our assistant director.”
“Nice to meet you,” said Piper, trying to recall where she’d heard that name.
“Piper has come all the way from New Jersey to make our wedding cake,” said Jillian.
“Is that so?” asked Hudson. “You must be exceptionally talented.”
“She is,” said Jillian. “You’ll see on Saturday, Hudson.”
“I’m looking forward to it.” He smiled at Piper, a smile that she somehow sensed was insincere.
Hudson looked down at the papers on the table and ran his hands through his receding hair. “I think we’ve covered everything, then, Jillian.” He began to gather up the papers.
“Thanks so much for coming over and for staying so late,” said Jillian. “It’s great of you to take over the scheduling already.”
Hudson stood. “Not a problem,” he answered. “I hope you take advantage of having me here to help you as much as possible, Jillian. I want to take everything I can off your hands.”
As Piper watched him walk to the door, she remembered the article she’d read online. Hudson Sherwood had been the director of Elysium until he was replaced by Jillian Abernathy. That must have been very hard to swallow.
Now he was back, taking orders from her.
O
h, Piper, I love it!” exclaimed Jillian as she looked at the sketches of the wedding cake. “It’s absolutely beautiful.”
Piper smiled with pleasure. “I’m so glad you like it.”
“Will the smallest layer really look like our gazebo here at Elysium?” Jillian asked, pointing to the rendering.
“Mm-hmm. I can make the railings with gum paste and the curlicues with icing. And each of the angels on top of the cake will be as close a replica to the angel on the top of the real gazebo as I can make.”
“It’s absolutely perfect,” said Jillian, leaning over and giving Piper a hug. “It’s the first thing that’s gone right with this wedding. Thank you so much.”
“You’re welcome,” said Piper, silently praying that she could execute her paper-and-pencil design just as well on the actual wedding cake.
“Let’s have a glass of wine to celebrate,” said Jillian.
Looking at the smile on Jillian’s face, Piper didn’t have the heart to turn her down.
G
eorge dropped his robe onto a chair. He shivered in the nippy night air as he rushed over to the hot tub. Not stopping to test the water, he stepped in, lowering his bulky body and immersing himself.
He was only taking Vernon up on his offer to help himself to all the amenities offered at Elysium. He needed to relax, and he knew it. The flask of whiskey he’d brought with him would provide assistance.
The knot in his chest was ever present, and he hadn’t been able to eat much since getting the news that Wendy couldn’t be helped. He probably should have asked Dr. Ben to put him on some antianxiety medication or at least a couple of tranquilizers to help get him through this wrenching time.
“But I’ve got you, don’t I? My old buddy Jim Beam will get me through,” said George as he twisted the cap off the flask. He took a long swallow, then another.
George was glad that nobody else was around and he had the hot tub all to himself. He didn’t want anyone to see him. A grown man crying was not a pretty sight.
The punch of the whiskey and the heat of the bubbling water warmed him, inside and out. He felt the beads of perspiration gathering on his brow. He took another couple of swigs.
Leaning his head on the edge of the hot tub and looking up at the stars, George wished he could find some peace. But he didn’t see how that was possible. His daughter’s life had been ruined. How could he come to terms with that?
He finished off the contents of the flask. Again, he couldn’t get over the unfairness of it all. Whatever happened in Wendy’s life, it was improbable—no, impossible—that she would have a life like the one Vernon Abernathy’s daughter would live. Did Jillian know the havoc her father had caused? Did it even occur to her how Wendy was suffering?
Slowly George stood up. He wobbled, and his foot slipped off one of the steps as he tried to climb out of the hot tub. He fell back into the water.
As he righted himself and lumbered out, George didn’t even feel the cold night air. He struggled to find the arms of his robe. Finally he managed to get it on and headed in the direction of Jillian’s cottage.
O
h, I’d better get going. It’s after nine,” said Piper as she looked at her watch. She finished the glass of wine and gathered up her cake sketches. She was about to leave when there was a knock on the cottage door.
“I wonder who that is,” said Jillian. “I’m not expecting anyone.”
When Jillian opened the door, Piper could see a heavyset man wearing a terry-cloth bathrobe. His hair was wet, and his face was flushed. He swayed as Jillian greeted him.
“Hello, Mr. Ellis. Is everything all right?”
“No, everything is
not
all right,” he said loudly. “As a matter of fact, nothing is all right. Nothing at all.” He leaned forward and looked into the room, spotting Piper.
“Ah, what do we have here?” he asked. “Another pretty girl. Isn’t that nice? Two pretty girls enjoying their lives while mine sits all alone, hiding in shame.”
Piper felt sorry for the man, who she now realized was Wendy’s father. He was clearly drunk and upset, as she supposed he had every right to be. But Piper also felt apprehensive. There was anger and desperation in his deep voice.
She extended her hand. “I’m Piper Donovan, Mr. Ellis. I know Wendy.”
George’s facial expression softened a bit. “Oh, Piper, yes. You’ve been so kind to my Wendy. Thank you for that.”
“There’s no reason to thank me,” said Piper. “I enjoyed having dinner with her. I hope we can spend some more time together before I leave.”
“I hope so, too,” said George. He turned to face Jillian. “Wendy’s been here for a long time. I’m wondering how many attempts
you’ve
made to reach out to her.”
Jillian looked uncomfortable. “I wanted to visit Wendy, but my father and Ben didn’t think it was such a good idea.”
“Oh? And why’s that?” asked George.
Jillian was silent.
George raised his voice again as he repeated the question. “Why didn’t you go to see Wendy?”
“Please, Mr. Ellis,” pleaded Jillian. “Why don’t I call my father and ask him to come over here?”
“Don’t bother,” sneered George. “The last thing I need is Vernon Abernathy spouting his crap. But I’ll tell you something. Your father and that handsome fiancé of yours didn’t want you to go see Wendy because they thought it would depress her. Or at least that’s the reason they probably gave you. The real reason is something entirely different.”
George grabbed the doorjamb to steady himself. “The reason they wanted to keep you away from Wendy is that they didn’t want to upset
me.
They weren’t worried about depressing Wendy—they were worried about
me,
looking at your face and comparing it to Wendy’s. They didn’t want to make
me
any madder than they knew I already was. They were worried I’d sue and bring this place down.”
As George turned away, he continued to mutter, slurring his words. “Somebody’s got to pay for what happened to my Wendy. Somebody’s got to pay.”