Share No Secrets (26 page)

When he was young, Gavin had had the confidence to almost ignore his mother and approach any woman. His good looks and glib tongue surprised even him, but they were assets he’d first realized he possessed when he was sixteen, when his twenty-four-year-old, uncommonly glamorous history teacher had come on to him. Between her and Ellen had come a slew of women, of all ages and all degrees of attractiveness and intelligence. But not until Ellen had a woman possessing looks, smarts,
and
money pursued him.

Gavin had been flattered by and truly infatuated with Ellen. He’d happily married her and blessed his lucky stars. What he hadn’t counted on was her passive-aggressive dominance, her neuroses, her knack for the finely crafted, subtle art of emasculation that was far more powerful than his mother’s clumsy, overt attempts.

Between the controlling wife, the contemptuous stepdaughter, and the drowning death of his young adopted son—a death wrongly attributed to Gavin’s negligence—Gavin Kirkwood had been almost completely demoralized when he met Julianna again at a party being held in Philip Hamilton’s house.

As far as Gavin knew, Julianna was not a particular friend of Philip’s or Vicky’s. Vicky’s younger sister Adrienne had been part of the triumvirate of best friends including Kit and Julianna. He surmised that Julianna, a former world-famous model, had been invited as a star attraction. And it had worked. People flocked to the parties and hovered around her like groupies. Including Gavin.

Over the course of the next three months, Gavin realized he was falling deeply in love for the first time in his life. He’d tried to hide his feelings from everyone except Julianna. Tried damned hard.

But he hadn’t been successful. Margaret Taylor had seen right through him and threatened to tell his wife if he didn’t pay for her silence. And to make matters worse, Julianna didn’t have romantic feelings for him, which she’d told him in an almost heart-wrenchingly kind and ego-protecting way. He’d been crushed. He’d felt cold and dry and old and hopeless.

And then one night, to his complete astonishment, Julianna had called him. She’d been upset. She said she felt she could trust him and needed to speak with him
alone.
She’d asked him to come to her apartment. He’d made it to Julianna’s apartment house in record time, bounded up the stairs, started to rap on the door, then froze. He’d heard voices inside. Loud voices. Angry voices. Of course, he knew Julianna’s. But he was fairly sure he recognized the other one too and something being said about an affair.

He’d tucked himself away in a chair placed in an alcove and waited. And waited. After two hours, no one had emerged from the apartment. Things had gotten quiet. But Julianna had said she needed to speak with him alone, and she most definitely wasn’t alone, so he hadn’t gone to the door.

Instead, in defeat he’d dragged himself home, trying to ward off depression by telling himself he’d talk with her tomorrow. Surely, she’d want to talk to him then as much as she had tonight.

But the next day, Kit had called and announced that Julianna was dead. She had been murdered at la Belle.

Turning the phone over to Ellen, Gavin had walked straight into the bathroom and thrown up. Then he’d had a drink
and
one of Ellen’s tranquilizers, driven his wife up to that damned hotel as she’d insisted he do, and stood weakly behind her, unable to look at his beautiful love lying pale and cold as stone beneath satin sheets.

He would never get over it, he thought now as he poured another double shot of bourbon. Losing Jamie had been devastating, but at least his death had been an accident. Julianna’s death was no accident. It was deliberate and obscene. It would be the end of Gavin Kirkwood.

But he wasn’t quite done in yet, he thought. Someone should pay for what they had done to Julianna, he resolved, draining the glass, his expression hardening into vicious determination.

And someone would.

“We’re home!”

Adrienne stood silently for a moment, holding the phone, before she realized the shrill, falsely cheerful voice she’d heard was her sister Vicky’s. “Welcome back, Vicky. How was the trip?”

“Typical campaign stuff. Smiling. Shaking hands. Me not remembering any of the damned names of possible campaign contributors. Awful meals. I’m dying to have a good meal and a drink with someone I actually
likel”
High, brittle giggle. “Can I treat you to lunch at The Iron Gate?”

“That sounds wonderful, Vicky, if it’s all right for Skye to join us.”

“Oh.” Vicky sounded as if she’d just thumped back to earth from a high altitude. “Well … sure.”

Skye, who’d been looking disconsolately into the open refrigerator for something interesting to eat for lunch, turned and made frantic hand motions. “Just a minute,” Adrienne said to her sister, then to Skye, “What’s wrong?”

“If Aunt Vicky wants you to go someplace with her, let me go to Sherry’s. I
was
invited, but you said I’d wear out my welcome. I wouldn’t, though. Patty will be there. And Joel, I think.”

“Who’s Joel?”

“Oh, he’s just Patty’s brother. Nobody important” Skye’s speech grew faster and her face turned redder. She has a crush on Joel, Adrienne thought, making a mental note to ask Sherry’s mother about him. “Anyway, I can go to Sherry’s and you can go with Aunt Vicky and we can both have fun instead of us just sitting here looking at each other.”

“And not having fun.”

“Well, it’s not that. It’s just …”

“That you’re getting tired of being watched over like an eight-year-old.” Adrienne pretended to think about the matter. “Okay. Get your bathing suit—not the two-piece sexy one I didn’t want you to buy—and you can spend the afternoon with Sherry and Joel Who’s Nobody Important. I’ll meet Vicky, and we’ll both be in better moods tonight”

An hour later, Skye had been deposited at Sherry Granger’s with reassurances from Mrs. Granger that Skye was a lovely girl who could never wear out her welcome. Adrienne noted with amusement that Skye and Sherry elaborately ignored Patty’s brother Joel, who had the confidence of a boy aware of his own good looks, not to mention the superiority of being one year older than the girls. Skye would have a challenge on her hands winning the affection of this teenage Romeo, she thought.

Adrienne drove downtown and found the last parking space in a crowded noonday lot at The Iron Gate’s lunchtime Grill. She walked in and immediately spotted Vicky, who was already sipping a drink and waving enthusiastically to catch Adrienne’s attention. As soon as Adrienne sat down, Vicky gushed, “You look
wonderful!
Did you get some sun yesterday?”

“A little more than I meant to.” Adrienne touched the bridge of her sunburned nose. “I took a long walk. I’m sure it was good for me, but my muscles are telling me I need to exercise more often.”

“A drink will fix that. I’m having a piña colada. Very festive. Want one?”

“It’s a little early, Vicky.”

“Nonsense.” Vicky motioned to a dark-haired waitress. “She’ll have a piña colada. And I’ll have another.”

“Another?” Vicky threw her a frosty look, and Adrienne knew she was asking for trouble if she commented on Vicky’s alcohol intake. Philip no doubt had chastised her about it while they’d been away. “Aren’t you worried about calories?” she amended in a light tone.

“Not today. I put on a good show on the trip. I was the perfect campaign wife. Now it’s time to enjoy myself.” Vicky looked pale and a sheen of perspiration covered her upper lip. She reached quickly for her drink, her hand trembling so much she almost ran the paper umbrella up her nose before her mouth located the straw, and she sucked up half of the piña colada.

“What’s wrong, Vicky?” Adrienne asked. “Did something happen on the trip to upset you?”

Misery glimmered in Vicky’s blue eyes. “It was just the usual. Tasteless food, endless smiling, Philip being charming in public and a bear in private. And all the while, Margaret bossing around everyone and acting as if
she
were Philip’s wife!”

“It seems Philip would speak to her about that kind of behavior. It can’t make a good impression on all the people they both want to vote for him.”

“Oh, Margaret’s smart enough not to do it in public,” Vicky said bitterly. “In front of an audience, she keeps herself in the background. When it’s just family, she treats me like I’m invisible and Rachel like crap. Margaret and Rachel had a terrible argument right before we left on the trip.”

“About what?”

Vicky looked down at her drink again. “I don’t know. It’s always something. Then Philip walked in and reprimanded
Rachel.
Not a word to Margaret about showing a little respect for his own daughter. And he allows Margaret to treat me like I’m a nonentity. I’ve spoken to him about it, and he says, ‘She’s
supposed
to be more concerned with me than you, Vicky. Why do you want all the attention?’ He makes me sound like a spoiled brat. I
don’t
want all the attention. But he doesn’t even listen to me.” Her eyes filled with tears. “He’s having an affair with her,” she announced sharply.

“Oh, surely not.” Adrienne heard the lack of conviction in her own voice. She hoped Vicky didn’t notice, but she’d had her own doubts about Philip and Margaret. “Philip wouldn’t cheat on you.”

“I didn’t used to think so. Not because he loves me. Because of his public image. He’d be too afraid people would find out.” The waitress delivered the drinks—the first one Adrienne didn’t want and the second one Vicky didn’t need—and left menus. “Before, I’ve never had the feeling that he’d risk being unfaithful. But Margaret
is
damned attractive. Physically, that is. Her personality leaves much to be desired, although she’s usually sweet as pie to Philip. Flatters him until it’s sickening, and he just eats it up. You know how
stupid
men are when it comes to their egos!”

“I don’t remember Dad being that way.”

Vicky dismissed him with a sweeping wave of her hand. “Oh,
he
doesn’t count.”

As a man? Adrienne smiled inwardly. She wondered how her father would have reacted to that comment. “Listen, Vicky, do you actually have
proof
that Philip is having an affair with Margaret?”

“He hardly ever touches me.”

“He’s under a lot of stress.”

“Stress never bothers any man!” Adrienne wondered if it were the rum in the piña coladas that was suddenly making Vicky such an expert on men. “And I don’t know of anyone Margaret’s involved with,” Vicky went on angrily, her voice too loud. “I don’t think she’s dated for ages, and I’m sure she’s not the kind of woman who can go for long without
sex!”

“Well …” Adrienne went blank. She felt a little hot with embarrassment when she noticed the men at the table behind Vicky had gone silent, listening to the tirade of the wife of a gubernatorial candidate, a tirade that gave every indication of picking up piña-colada-fueled steam. With relief, she looked up to see Kit drawing near. “Here’s Kit!” she burst out. “I’ll bet you haven’t seen her for a while!”

“Gee, it’s been at least a week,” Vicky said dourly, clearly not wanting to cut short the topic of Margaret and Philip. But years of practice in the political venue allowed Vicky to quickly assume a look of forced pleasantness for Kit. “Hello there, Ms. Kirkwood. Looks like business is good.”

“Almost too good,” Kit said. “Sometimes I wish we’d have a few bad days so I could get some rest.”

“Some people take vacations,” Adrienne said, motioning for Kit to sit down.

Kit scooted next to Adrienne but focused on Vicky. “So how is the campaign trail?”

“Tiring but exciting.” Vicky slipped into the role of enthusiastic, supportive wife. She and Kit had never been anything but casually friendly. “I really think Philip is going to be our next governor, although he claims if I say that too much, I’ll jinx him.”

Kit smiled blandly. “I didn’t know Philip was superstitious.”

“He’s joking.” Vicky’s false, professional smile faded and she abruptly asked, “Have there been any new developments in Julianna’s murder?”

“Not that I know of,” Kit said. “Adrienne’s the one with the inside source.”

Adrienne shook her head. “Lucas isn’t big on talking about cases with me.”

“Even if the case involves one of your best friends?” Vicky asked, dipping her head toward her straw again.

“That would make him even less likely to let me in on details. He wouldn’t want to upset me.”

Kit grimaced. “As if anything could make Juli’s murder sound worse than what you saw.”

The waitress came to take orders. Kit declined. Adrienne and Vicky ordered, Vicky freezing Adrienne’s objection to a third drink with an icy glare. Then she did a quick shift and looked pleasantly at Kit. “I’d weigh two hundred pounds if I worked here around this delicious food all the time.”

Kit grinned.
“All the time
being the operative words. Sometimes I get sick of just the smell of food, no matter how good it is.” Kit turned to Adrienne. “I hear you and Mother had quite an adventure yesterday.”

Was there an edge to her voice? Adrienne wasn’t certain. But Kit’s hazel eyes showed no anger. Only curiosity. “I was painting at the Belle when your mother came by, determined to walk up the hill to Lottie’s cabin and look for her along the way. Unfortunately, we didn’t find her.”

“Lottie is still missing?” Vicky asked in surprise. “I thought she would have been found or just come home while we were gone.”

Adrienne shook her head. “No. Anyway, Ellen and I saw nothing of her. But the jaunt just about did in Ellen.” She felt guilty about not mentioning that they had gone farther up the hill to the vine-covered bunker Ellen called the Hideaway, but on their way back to the hotel, Ellen had made Adrienne give her sacred promise that she wouldn’t mention it Like a child, Ellen had insisted the promise be repeated three times. “Is Ellen all right?” she asked Kit

“Not really. Last night she was a mess. The problem was more emotional than physical, as usual with Mother, but Gavin had to call her doctor. Then he called me. He can’t handle anything on his own. Or maybe he just doesn’t want to take responsibility for Mother. Whatever. But that’s how I know about your walking tour.”