Silent Masquerade Page 18

  Bill gave them a quelling look of disdain. “Would you look for us in the most prominent, most expensive hotel in the city?”

  “He’s got a point,” Lefebre said, sobering. “And personally, this is my kind of habitat.”

  “Good. Then you won’t mind whipping out a credit card and booking us rooms,” Bill said, pushing the trunk button. “Places like this find cash-paying guests very suspicious.”

  The lobby was quietly elegant, and their room even more so. But Cara and Bill didn’t waste much time reveling in their luxurious surroundings. Bill just barely had time to lock the door and draw the drapes before Cara hurled herself at him and began to pull his shirt from the waistband of his jeans.

  The king-size bed occupied much of the room. They fell onto it the minute the last scrap of clothing had been stripped away and tossed willy-nilly over a shoulder.

  An hour later, they lay side by side, holding hands, drifting toward sleep.

  “We’ll get up before morning and continue on,” Bill said, drowsily.

  “Mm-hmm... Right.” Cara sighed deeply, happily, and turned over to curl up along the naked length of her lover. He let go of her hand and slipped his arm under her body to hold her close.

  “What do you think of Gordon?” Cara asked, snuggling into his side.

  Bill stroked curls away from her forehead as he pondered his answer. “He’s certainly not typical.”

  “Of what?”

  “Of Alvaretti’s people.”

  “Bill, you promised you’d tell me about yourself. I assume it has something to do with Alvaretti. Can you tell me now?”

  Bill let go of her and turned onto his back, tucking his hands behind his head, staring up at the ceiling.

  Cara propped an extra pillow under her cheek and waited.

  “As you obviously know by now, I’m hiding from Alvaretti.”

  “Yes, but why?” She lifted her head off the pillow, her eyes wide with alarm. “You weren’t in the mob, were you?”

  Bill sighed. “Yes and no.” He turned so that he was facing her. “I’m...I was a special agent with the Justice Department. I was assigned to use my accounting skills to penetrate Alvaretti’s bookkeeping system. Once I’d done that and turned the evidence over to my people, they were able to put Alvaretti out of commission and into the slammer, but then that left me vulnerable to Alvaretti’s revenge.”

  “You were an agent? Like in the FBI?” Cara’s voice was heavy with awe.

  Bill smiled wryly. “Don’t be too impressed. The minute my cover was blown, I was out of a job.”

  “It’s just that I never thought when I was cramming for those accounting exams that it could lead to such an adventurous career.”

  “Yeah, well, if anyone ever offers you the job, just remember that even bookkeeping can be hazardous to your health.”

  “If Alvaretti’s in jail, how can he hurt you?”

  Bill blinked and then squinted at Cara, as if seeing her for the first time. “Are you kidding? Do you really think changing his place of operation can stop someone like Franco Alvaretti? He’s head of the mob, for Christ sake, Cara.”

  “You don’t need to snap at me, Bill Hamlin! I think most normal citizens would believe that putting a guy in jail is a sure way to stop his criminal activities. And furthermore, I don’t appreciate...”

  She stopped, her face registering a new thought. “Is Bill Hamlin your real name?”

  Bill grinned and put out his hand. “Bill Spencer, at your service, ma’am.”

  Cara stared at her lover. “It suits you,” she said finally, in a small, hollow voice.

  “Cara?” Bill sat up and pulled her up to face him. “What’s wrong, love?”

  Cara shook her head. “Nothing. It’s just difficult to find out, after we’ve been so intimate, that I didn’t even know your name,” she remarked shyly.

  Bill chuckled and lifted her chin so that she had to meet his eyes. “Haven’t you ever heard of love with the perfect stranger?”

  That restored her, as he’d known it would. She punched him in the stomach and pushed him away. “Perfect, indeed! And I don’t think anything one does with a stranger, perfect or otherwise, could be deemed love!”

  Bill rolled away from the threat of another punch, laughing, and then grabbed her arms and pulled her up against his chest.

  “Give me a kiss, my love, and I’ll prove we’re far from strangers.”

  The kiss made her dizzy, almost made her forget the topic of conversation that had preceded the intimacy.

  Her lips were wet and her eyes shiny when she pulled away. “We’re not through talking yet, Bi— What do I call you now?”

  “Bill.” Bill sobered. “That was one of the reasons I didn’t want you to know the truth. It’s very difficult to juggle too much information, too many lies. I’m going to use Bill Hamlin as long as I can. After that, I may have to resort to another pseudonym, and you’ll have to learn that one and not make any mistakes.”

  Cara nodded, suddenly frightened again. This was serious business. They could avoid looking at the danger by making love, pretending to be a normal couple, laughing and joking about things, but apparently Bill knew something about the prison system that she didn’t, and his fear of Alvaretti was very real.

  “Where are we going? Where do you think we’ll be safe?”

  “Cara, there’s something I never told you. When I thought you were a plant, back in Utah, I went to your room. I...” He felt his face grow warm with embarrassment. “I read your journal. I know why you left home.”

  It was Cara’s turn to blush. “You didn’t think...” She could hardly meet Bill’s eyes, though she forced herself to do so. Her chin came up defiantly. If he thought she’d encouraged Doug Harvard...

  Bill grabbed her and held her tight. “Cara, I didn’t think for a minute that it was in any way your fault,” he said, knowing that victims often took on undeserved guilt.

  Cara’s sigh trembled against Bill’s chest. “I didn’t know what else to do. I had to get away from there.”

  “I know, love.” He pulled away from her and looked deep into her eyes. “I’ve been thinking, though, that maybe it’s time for you to go home and face him. After all, keeping quiet is only putting your mother at risk. If you’re out of the picture, who’s going to make her see what a sleaze the guy is?”

  Hope lit up her face. “Do you think there’s a way to do it so she doesn’t resent me, or even hate me?”

  He couldn’t imagine anyone hating her, and he told her so.

  “She was so lonely after Dad died, it was hard for her to even relate to me in her grief,” Cara told him. “She shut me out while she was going through that, and then, when she met Doug, she acted as if she’d been given a second chance at happiness. I didn’t want to be the one to rob her of that.”

  Bill nodded. “I see where you’re coming from. But how happy is she going to be with a guy who’d hit on her own daughter? And with you gone, don’t you think he’ll find some other young thing to play with?”

  He poured water from the bedside carafe as Cara mulled that over. He handed her the glass.

  Cara drank and then handed the glass back to him. “You’re right, I should go back.” She grabbed his arm. “But what about you? What about us?”

  Bill drained the glass and set it down on the tray, his back to Cara. “I’ll go with you.”

  There was a momentary silence, and then Cara squealed as his words sank in. “You’ll go home with me? You really will? Oh, Bill, that’s terrific!”

  “Shh,” Bill ordered, laughing as he turned back to see the look of excitement and pleasure in her face. “Not so loud. You’ll get us kicked out, and it’s...” He glanced at his watch and groaned. “It’s four o’clock in the morning. We’ve got to get some sleep.”

  “We’ve got to make plans.”

  Bill slipped under the sheet and pulled her down beside him. “In the morning, love. We need some rest before we move on, and we don�
�t have much time to squander here in San Francisco.”

  “All right, hon, we’ll make plans in the morning,” Cara whispered, snuggling into the crook of his arm.

  They were each aware of a renewed, if less frantic, yearning of flesh for flesh. But fatigue won out in the end.

  * * *

  DOWN THE HALL, Lefebre lay awake in his bed, examining the way his feelings toward Cara had changed. Now he was obsessed by them as a couple. You couldn’t be around them ten minutes, he thought, without becoming aware of the intense chemistry between them. Not necessarily a physical thing, or at least not that alone. They felt right together. They had an air of continuity, as if they had been together forever and would continue to be, no matter what obstacles were thrown in their path. It was almost as if their lives were a base reality and everyone and everything around them were just props for their adventure.

  And he, Gordo, was one of those props, he supposed. Whatever happened to them, they’d go on, and he’d soon be just a dim memory, if that much.

  He turned on his side and stared at the wall. Maybe that wasn’t a fair analysis of the situation. Maybe it was just that because they had each other, Bill and Cara didn’t need anyone else.

  He started to doze, but his mind was too revved up to allow him sleep. Like a movie reel playing across the screen of his memory, he began to review fragments of conversation, images of events.

  The little punk attacking Cara... Franco Alvaretti... Bill running from the mob... Cara attacked by a hit man sent out by Alvaretti... The client...

  Something off kilter there, pieces that didn’t quite fit. But he couldn’t slow his thoughts long enough to sort things out. And then they slowed down so completely that his brain felt sluggish and he drifted into sleep.

  * * *

  THE TRIO met for breakfast in the hotel dining room after Bill called Lefebre to suggest they eat and then head out.

  “You’ve got a plan,” Lefebre noted, seeing the look on Bill’s face.

  “Yeah. We’re going back east. Cara has business to settle with her mother, and I think that part of the country will be safe for me, at least for a while.”

  Lefebre popped a piece of croissant into his mouth and pretended indifference. “Mind if I tag along?”

  Bill looked surprised. “Don’t you have a business to run, a home to go to?”

  Lefebre shrugged. “I work for myself, and I made enough on this job to hold me for a while. And no, I don’t have a home in the usual sense of the word. Just an apartment that never seems to notice if I’m in it or not.”

  Now Cara looked surprised. Such an attractive, charming, obviously intelligent man, with no family? And he wasn’t young. She suspected he was close to her mother’s age, though he had a slim figure and there was very little gray in his hair. Maybe it was the eyes that betrayed age, something in the creases at the corners, or that glint that spoke of too many things seen and felt.

  “What happened to your family, Gordon?” she asked, sure that somewhere in his history there had been people who cared for him.

  “It’s a long story” was all Lefebre said, reaching for his orange juice. It was enough to hinder any further questions.

  There had been a time when he might have fantasized about telling Cara the story of his life, but that time had passed, if indeed it had ever really existed. What he wanted now was to see the two of them settled, safe. He wanted to be part of making that happen, if he could.

  “So what’s the agenda, Bill—and listen, why don’t you call me Gordon? I think we’ve gone past formality, don’t you?”

  Bill put down his toast, swallowed, wiped his hand on his napkin and held it across the table. “Yeah, I agree.” They shook hands.

  “Let’s start with you repeating everything you reported about us to your client.”

  “Just your address and place of employment,” Lefebre assured Bill as he picked up his fork.

  “Not a description of our car or the plate numbers?”

  “No, that never came up.”

  “Okay. But I think we should unload the car anyway, given that possible encounter with the blue Honda. We’ll get another and head out right away.”

  “We’re going to drive back east?” Lefebre asked.

  “I think that’s safest, don’t you? It’s too easy to trace people on public transportation.”

  Lefebre agreed. That was how he’d caught up with them in the first place.

  Again a bothersome thought nagged at his mind, but just then the waiter brought the bill and he was distracted by the business of getting out his credit card.

  “I assume I’m not financing the whole trip, buddy?” he joked.

  “Gee, Gordon, I thought that’s why you wanted to join us,” Bill said. He stood up and took a couple of bills out of his pocket, tossing them on the table in front of Lefebre. “That’ll take care of our rooms and breakfast,” he said. “You can pick up the tab for lunch.”

  It took most of the morning to buy another car. Since a trade-in would be too risky as far as blowing their cover, Lefebre dropped Bill a block from a used-car lot, and he and Cara went to the airport, where he parked the old car in long-term parking. They took a cab back to the city and waited for Bill down at the wharf, where they could get lost in the rash of tourists.

  Bill drove up in a gray Oldsmobile Cutlass that was less than two years old and showed no signs of wear, except for a hole in the dash where the radio had been removed. It had cost a nice chunk of his nest egg, but if he got lucky and didn’t have to ditch it, too, it would prove worth the cost. A man on the run needed reliable transportation.

  Cara bought them all shrimp cocktail and sourdough bread from kiosks on the wharf, and they lunched in the car as they started the trip cross-country.

  Chapter Thirteen

  The house was a surprise to Bill.

  “It’s a damned mansion!”

  In the back seat Lefebre chuckled. “I could live with it.”

  Cara looked from one to the other and then leaned forward to stare past Bill at the home where she’d grown up.

  “I guess it is,” she said, rather meekly. “I just never thought of it that way. To me it was just a house, like any other, only maybe a little bigger.”

  She felt her insides quivering with excitement at seeing her home again, knowing her mother was just inside.

  “Mm-hmm...and to me, a gold nugget is just a dirty hunk of metal you dig out of the ground,” Lefebre said, teasingly.

  They were parked across the street, looking over at a stone edifice with iron gates that opened onto an extra-wide drive, curved past a front portico and then came out at a second set of gates. The house and grounds took up half the block. The houses on either side, though large in their own right, seemed insignificant beside it. Huge old trees towered along the boulevard.

  “Are you ready?” Bill asked Cara.

  Cara took a deep breath and exhaled it on a hefty sigh. “As I’ll ever be. But I’ve decided to do it a little differently.”

  “Differently? How? Why can’t you stick to the plan?” Bill knew his irritation was based largely on the fact that he would soon be meeting Cara’s mother, and he was already feeling intimidated just from the sight of the Dunlap homestead.

  “There’s a little side gate along the fence on this side of the house. It’s usually left unlocked. There are French doors leading into the breakfast room on that side of the house. It’s my mother’s favorite room—an office of sorts. If she’s home, she’s more apt to be there at this hour than anywhere else in the house. If I can get her attention and get her outside, I can to talk to her alone before I have to deal with Doug.”

  Dusk was just beginning to cast shadows over the street, though it was already nine o’clock in the evening. Cara remembered her father used to call it the “gloaming” and that it had been his favorite time of day, especially on a summer night like this. Remembering made her throat ache a little—and strengthened her resolve to confront her
mother and, consequently, Doug Harvard.

  “Let’s wait a little,” she told Bill. “Just until it gets a little darker, so Doug doesn’t see me approaching the house.”

  “Cara, you’re going to have to face Harvard sooner or later, and you’re going to have us with you.”

  Cara shook her head. “Not at first. You promised. I want some time alone with my mother, so I can tell her what a sleaze her boyfriend is in private.” She put her hand on Bill’s arm and half turned in her seat to include Lefebre. “You understand, don’t you? I’m afraid my mother would not appreciate being humiliated in front of strangers.”

  Bill could understand that, especially now that the reality of the Dunlap family’s social position was becoming evident.

  Lefebre cleared his throat. “If your mother’s anything like you, Cara, she’s going to take it like a trouper.”

  “Thanks, Gordon,” Cara said, smiling at their new friend.

  “Well,” Lefebre said, sliding toward the door, “I guess I’ll go for a walk and have a smoke while we’re waiting for it to get dark.”

  The minute they were alone, Cara slid over to curl up under Bill’s arm. She kissed his cheek and then rubbed lipstick off with her fingertips. “Bill, does it feel safe here?”

  Bill thought about the drive up through the New England countryside. “Yeah, it does,” he said. “I didn’t really think about it before you asked, but yes, it feels pretty good.” He frowned then and added, “But I’m not sure how long it will be safe, Cara. I may have to leave here, as well.”

  “We.”

  “What?”

  “We may have to leave.”

  She didn’t notice Bill’s lack of response.

  “Bill, how do you think they tracked you down in Utah? Did Gordon ever say?”

  Bill shook his head, frustration etched across his brow. “I don’t know. Gordon only knows that his client called and told him to fly out to Utah and catch up with the bus at Salt Lake City. I’ve been driving myself batty trying to retrace my steps, to figure out where I went wrong, where I left a clue. It had to be that Alvaretti got lucky, and one of his people discovered me by accident. His people are everywhere across the country— Jeez, the peo- ple we worked for or our landlord or any of the restau- rant owners where we ate our meals...even the bus driver...any of ‘em could have been mob-related.”