The Dangerous Edge of Things

CHAPTER 45

Down by the lake, we moved through tables scattered like seed pearls all over the sloping lawn. The wait-staff glided around silver platters filled with itty-bitty ham biscuits while the elite mingled and laughed and ignored the food. The alcohol flowed, however, and each couple trailed a handsome black-suited man wearing shades and an earpiece—a faux bodyguard, included in the ticket price. I was surprised they hadn’t hired fake paparazzi.

I scanned the crowd. No Gabriella, and no Beaumonts either. I saw my brother at the bar, however. He raised his glass at me, a puzzled look on his face. I’d been hoping to escape his attention. Luckily he was busy with extremely important people. He stayed in his circle, and I stayed in mine.

I nudged Trey’s shoulder. “There’s Landon.”

He stood separate from the crowd, a lone figure by the star-spangled dais, wearing a dark gray tuxedo that made him look almost handsome. As we approached, he shook his head. “You brought a date to work? How unlike you.”

“There’s no rule against it,” Trey replied.

He glanced at my purse knowingly. “Remind me to make one.”

Just then the buzz of conversation cranked up a notch—the Beaumonts had arrived, walking up the path from their cabin, arm in arm. The mass of well-wishers parted for them, pressing close at times, but always separate.

“I talked to Simpson,” Trey said. “He told me about the key logger.”

“I heard.” Landon snagged a white wine from a passing waiter. “Don’t hold it against him; he was just following orders. That’s what we all do, isn’t it? Me, you, him. All of us.”

He said this with his eyes focused on the entrance. Marisa circulated among the people now with much smiling and chatting and patting of backs. Her hair tumbled about her shoulders, and her white column dress glowed like an opal in the low lights.

“Why?” Trey insisted. “Why not just ask me for it?”

“That defeats the purpose of undercover surveillance, now doesn’t it?”

“It was still wrong,” I said, “and probably illegal.”

“Trey’s computer is Phoenix property. He signed away his privacy when he signed his contract. So if either of you want to get your feelings hurt, I suggest you do it on your own time.”

He turned to leave, but I stepped into his path. “I heard Dylan Flint got shot to death and dumped in the Hooch. That was illegal, for sure.”

“You say that like Phoenix had something to do with it.”

“You broke into his house, destroyed his stuff, and then he’s killed before he can make a statement to the police, and you wonder why I think Phoenix had something to do with his death?”

I heard the rapid-fire vibrato of violins from somewhere behind me. Landon turned his face to the music. “He was in the business of betraying people for money, and he isn’t anymore. That’s something we can all be grateful for, especially you, Ms. Randolph.”

“Why me?”

“He broke into your shop, threatened you with those ridiculous bull’s eyes. I’d think you’d be glad to be rid of him.”

“He said he didn’t…wait a minute, how did you know about that?”

“We found the mock-ups on his computer. Pictures of you and a bull’s eye graphic.”

I glared at him. “You probably put them there yourself.”

Landon laughed, hearty and rich. “Contrary to what you may think, Ms. Randolph, I’ve got better things to do with my time than annoy you.” He looked at Trey. “Because I’ll make you the same promise I made Marisa when she decided to hire you—this firm is not going to turn into Psycho Central, at least not under my watch.”

And then he just walked off. Trey watched him go, his expression composed. But his eyes held a scimitar gleam.

“Was he telling the truth?” I said.

“Mostly. He was hiding something, though.”

“I imagine Landon’s always hiding something.”

“Hence the problem—he reads as lying even when he’s telling the truth. But there was no equivocation on the last part—he doesn’t want me at Phoenix. He thinks I’m psychotic.”

I put a hand on his arm. “This is what Landon does, you know. It’s not about you.”

“No, I understand that. He was just following orders.”

Marisa noticed us at this point. She shot me a hot glare, then covered it with a smile and a wave Trey’s way.

“I have to go,” he said. “Wait here.”

“Don’t you think we should be looking for Gabriella?”

“We’ve alerted Simpson and reviewed the access protocols. The next step is informing Marisa to be on the lookout, not looking for Gabriella.”

I suppressed the urge to scream at him and instead took a deep breath. This is what we did, followed the rules. I was grateful his timing was flexible if not his procedure.

“Fine. I’ll wait here.”

He nodded and then left. As he approached Marisa’s little coterie, she smiled broadly and introduced him. He was part of the show tonight, a neat professional package to impress the clientele. There came the moment, however, when he said something to her. Her mouth tightened, and she took him by the elbow as if to lead him away, but he wasn’t budging. He just stared at her hand until she pulled it away. Then he walked off without saying a word to anybody, not her, not Landon, not even me.

I got out my cell phone and punched in Garrity’s number. I got his voice mail. “Call me,” I said, “and soon. The Ice Man runneth over.”

***

For the next half hour, the Champagne flowed freely as the Beaumonts greeted the crowd. Charley wore a terra cotta sheath, while Mark sported an old-fashioned white tuxedo jacket, the kind that came with black tie and black pants. They were the center of an enchanted circle, hazy and light-dazzled, Trey ever-present in their wake.

I stayed at the bar, desperate for a cigarette, making do with faux martinis. As the crowd thickened, I scanned the new faces for Gabriella, but unless she was a mistress of disguise, she was nowhere to be seen. I ordered Trey a drink too, as an excuse to find him.

Then I heard a familiar voice at my elbow. “Grey Goose and lime, please.”

I sighed. “Whatever happened to Bacardi?”

“Whatever happened to Southern Comfort?” Eric turned to face me, gestured toward my fancy fake.

“I guess people change,” I said.

“Of course they do. That’s what makes us people, not rocks.”

I kept my eyes on Trey. I wasn’t about to take the bait, not now. Later Eric and I could argue about who’d changed the most, and how, and whose fault the whole mess was. Later he could tell me all the awful things about Trey that I already knew, and maybe some I didn’t.

I moved to leave, and Eric grabbed my arm. “Look, I don’t know what you’re up to now, and I don’t want to know—.”

“Good.”

“—but you’d better be careful, that’s all I have to say.”

He looked hard at me. With his hair edging to gray and his gold-rimmed glasses, he reminded me of Dad more and more—stern, authoritative, adult. He knew what was best. He was trying to make me see it. He didn’t get why this was a betrayal.

I shook free. “Really? Is that all?”

He looked conflicted for a second. But then the bartender brought his drink, and he turned away from me. “That’s all.”

I left for real then, taking Trey’s Pellegrino with me. By now, the Beaumonts had joined Senator Adams on the dais. Trey waited in the wings, unobtrusive and alert.

I handed him the glass. “Here.”

He frowned. “What’s this?”

“It’s Pellegrino.”

“It’s in a martini glass.” He held it up and examined it. “And there’s an olive in it.”

“Jeez, Trey, it’s an olive. Just go with it, won’t you?”

The music suddenly died down, and Mark Beaumont moved behind a microphone stand. His whole aspect was silvery and cool, like a black-and-white matinee idol, and like the movies, he stood larger than life. Charley waited below, at the edge of the crowd, her face glowing.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” Mark said, “I am proud to give you our next governor, Senator Harrison Adams!”

And then Adams moved forward, all barrel-chested goodwill, his soft elegant wife at his side. The applause thundered, and the foot-stomping too, laced with whistles and other sounds of approval.

Charley applauded more enthusiastically than anyone else. On her left, to my astonishment, I saw Jake Whitaker. At first glance, he fit right in with his broad shoulders and dark tuxedo, but his expression was brittle and his eyes ping-ponged about the crowd. He said something to Charley, and she snapped her head around and spoke sharply back. On the other side of the crowd, Landon saw the movement and headed their way.

I put a hand on Trey’s arm. “There’s something—”

“I know.”

He moved forward just as I glimpsed a familiar face at the edge of the crowd. I snatched Trey back.

“Gabriella!”

“Where?”

I pointed. She blew us a kiss. She wore a silver blouse and white pants and she had a big spangled purse gripped in both hands. Her smile was dazzling.

Landon reached the edge of the dais just as Jake grabbed Charley’s elbow. She shook him off, but he yanked her to him and pressed his mouth against her ear.

“Stay here,” Trey said.

I hiked up my skirt. “Screw that. You take Charley, I’m taking Gabriella.”

He hesitated, but only for a second. And then he sprinted toward the dais. He was within ten feet of it when Charley’s eyes rolled back in her head, and she collapsed onto the wet grass.