"Marco is out there looking for me,"
Clarissa's hands shook and she set the teacup down. "I really don't
have much of a choice."
"Fine. I have to make a phone
call."
Clarissa's look of panic stopped Virginia.
"Not to Morgan."
Clarissa dug in her purse for Andrew's number
and handed his business card to Virginia. "My brother is Andrew
Hayden at that number. Tell him where I am and what's happened.
Please."
Virginia took the card into the bedroom and
tossed it into the trash can. Then she dialed a number and waited
for the party to answer.
"Dusty?" said Virginia. "Virginia Essex. Look,
I need a favor."
Clarissa stared absently down at the traffic
on Wilshire Boulevard seven stories below. She felt restless and
uneasy, a gnawing anxiety eating away at the fragile sanctuary she
so desperately needed. She did not completely trust Virginia. Her
reaction to Byron Roth's murder was not what Clarissa expected.
Virginia was not shocked and appalled that her employer was
ruthless and evil. She seemed to already be aware of Morgan's
iniquitous side. A side Clarissa should have suspected but had been
so blind to it.
Clarissa looked around at the empty living
room. She could hear the low drone of Virginia's voice in the
bedroom. For a moment, a feeling of panic swept her when she
thought that Virginia might be talking to Morgan. The narrow window
of time was open once again. The avenue of escape free and clear.
She was torn between running for the front door and the problem of
nowhere to run. If indeed it was Morgan that Virginia had called,
that narrow margin in which to run was getting smaller and more
critical with every second that passed.
The thought of putting her trust in someone so
close to Morgan was beginning to wear on Clarissa's nerves. It
suddenly felt foolish to be here at all. She should have gone to a
hotel. The only problem was to remember which ones Morgan did not
own an interest in and could more easily find her. She couldn't
remember any of their names but a smaller motel might be safe
enough for the night. She had a little cash and some credit cards.
But those would be no good, she chided herself. Too easily
tracked.
Clarissa reached for her purse on the sofa to
check her cash supply.
"I've made arrangements to hide you for the
night," Virginia's voice stopped her. "It's a place Morgan won't
think to look. At least not for a while."
"Virginia, I think I should leave," Clarissa
stammered. "I shouldn't have bothered you with this. Really. It
could get you in trouble."
"Just your being here at all will do that if
he found out," said Virginia. "Besides, Marco is out there
somewhere. He can track just about anything and I wouldn't put it
past him to show up here. We have to move you. You'll be safer at
my friend's place."
"Alright," Clarissa stepped toward the
door.
"You can't go out dressed like that," Virginia
told her. "I have something you can put on. Come with
me.
Reluctantly, Clarissa followed Virginia into
the bedroom. She watched as Virginia pulled a heavy cardboard
carton from the walk-in closet and hoisted it up onto the
bed.
"I was planning to donate these things to the
Goodwill. They're clean but tattered. I think we can effectively
disguise you with some of this."
"Disguise?" asked Clarissa
apprehensively.
"Morgan's sphere of influence is far
reaching," Virginia explained as she unpacked the old clothes from
the box. "It's best if we change your appearance. Here. Try
this."
Clarissa held up a man's denim sleeveless work
shirt with two fingers, holding it away from her as if it were bug
infested, then threw it back at Virginia in disgust.
"This stuff is shit, Gin," she
spat.
"This is all I can spare," Virginia replied
evenly as she handed Clarissa a man's faded olive green long
sleeved shirt that smelled strongly of stale body odor and cheap
after-shave. "These old jeans should fit you. Don't mind the paint
stains. The things have been washed."
"I can't do this," Clarissa cried as she
started to get off the bed. Virginia grabbed her wrist and pulled
her back with a strength that surprised her.
"You've got one shot," Virginia snapped, "at
staying alive long enough to get to your brother. Without me you're
dead. You do as I say. Or maybe you'd like me to call Marco
Camponello. Your choice."
Clarissa froze. The venom in Virginia's eyes
was very real and very deadly. She felt the tightening of the web
around her, another trap springing shut. The bedroom door was open,
the front door visible beyond. Virginia's grip tightened on
Clarissa's wrist.
"You wouldn't get far," she warned. "I'm
giving you a chance. Don't blow it."
Resignation sunk like a weight to the pit of
Clarissa's stomach. She accepted the old clothes and started for
the bathroom to change.
"Wait," Virginia eased herself off of the bed
panther-like and held her hand out to Clarissa. "Here, take this
black t-shirt, too. And take the necklace off. Your earrings and
rings also. They would be a dead giveaway. They wouldn't last five
minutes on you. And the watch. They'll be okay here. I have a wall
safe that Morgan knows nothing about."
"I want to keep them with me," Clarissa
protested. "They're mine."
"Morgan knows each and every stone," Virginia
countered. "All he has to do is report them stolen. You'd be
arrested and he'd have you. Do you want to take that kind of a risk
for a few stones? They aren't going to be any good to you
dead."
The clasp opened with a definite finality and
Clarissa let the diamond necklace fall into her open hand. The
platinum setting felt soft as she ran her finger down the length of
the necklace and over the square-cut stones. For a brief moment the
stones caught the bedroom light and broke it into tiny rainbows.
Clarissa's dream. How shallow it seemed when weighed against
life.
She slipped the diamond from her left hand and
unclasped the platinum and diamond watch. Her fist closed about
them defensively when Virginia gently took them from
her.
"The earrings, too, Virginia reminded her."
Why don't you run yourself a hot shower before you change? You'll
feel stronger. We have a little time."
As soon as the bathroom door was closed and
Virginia heard the water running in the shower, she put the jewelry
in her bureau drawer. Then she sat down on the bed and started
going through Clarissa's purse. There was a hundred and fifty
dollars in cash which Virginia put into the pocket of her robe, a
gold comb and lipstick case that she added to the collection of
jewelry, and a crystal angel with a broken wing in Clarissa's
make-up bag. Virginia remembered seeing the angel before. It had
not been broken then. Perhaps it had belonged to Clarissa but
usually none of Morgan's women received gifts that were not
purchased by Virginia.
Virginia tossed the purse and its contents
into the plastic lined trash can by the bed. There was a reluctance
to toss the crystal angel in as well. It was not worth much, not
like the jewelry. Yet, its very existence perplexed Virginia. She
turned it over in her hand. Perhaps it had been Clarissa's before
she moved in to Morgan's home. No, she had seen it on Morgan's
desk. Virginia retrieved the purse from the trash, opened the
make-up bag and found the broken wing. She tossed the bag back into
the trash and put the angel and the wing with Clarissa's
jewelry.
"Clarissa," Virginia called through the closed
bathroom door. "Hand me your dress and I'll hang it up for
you."
The bathroom door opened a crack, letting
steam waif into the bedroom. Clarissa handed out the black cocktail
dress, silk slip and nylons then shut the door.
"I'll put your shoes in my closet."
The bathroom door opened again and Clarissa
tossed her black heels out into the bedroom. Virginia added them to
the articles in the trash can, pulled the plastic liner from the
can and tied it into a knot. Then she slipped into a pair of jeans,
a black sweater, and running shoes. The water in the bathroom had
stopped and Virginia tapped lightly on the door.
"I'll be right back, Clarissa," said Virginia.
I’m going down to the garage to empty some trash. I want to have a
look around. I want to make sure there's none of Morgan's men
watching the building. And I’m putting a pair of my old shoes here
beside the door for you and a pair of socks."
"Alright," was Clarissa's faint
reply.
Clarissa stared at her image in the full
length mirror in the corner of Virginia's bedroom and a younger
version of her own mother stared back. There had been an old
photograph of Myra taken by Andy when he was about seventeen. They
were doing some work on his old Chevy and Clarissa was sitting in a
stroller next to the car. Myra was in a similar work shirt and
jeans, her strawberry blonde hair pulled back, wrench in one hand,
and waving to the camera with the other. It had been Clarissa's
favorite picture of her mother. Myra looked so happy, so strong and
full of life. There was a vibrancy and energy in Myra then that
Clarissa had never known in her mother. Myra had always looked pale
and drained, a countenance so fragile that she might
break.
Clarissa pulled back her hair and was shocked
at how much she looked like the pale, wan Myra. There were circles
under her brown eyes and shadows in the hollows of her cheeks.
There was a shell-like emptiness left after the death of spirit.
Myra's dream had shattered with Clarissa's father's suicide. The
legacy had been passed on. The dream had died in Clarissa with
Byron Roth's murder and it was buried when she let Virginia strip
her of the diamonds.
Now she stood barefoot and ragged in some
man's old work shirts and baggy jeans, the olive drab long sleeve
shirt hanging stretched and loose over the black sleeveless
t-shirt. Clarissa stood devoid of emotion except emptiness, her
face a grim cover for the black sense of ruin and loss, what Myra
must have felt at her husband's death. The death of self, the loss
of love, the disparaging ruin of hope.
"What now?" Clarissa whispered, but the image
in the mirror had no answers. "It's gone, mama. I'm sorry, it's
gone."
The phone on the nightstand jarred her. It
rang four times, then the answering machine clicked and Morgan
Wolfe's voice sent a renewed stab of terror through
Clarissa.
"Virginia," he started, "Clarissa got hold of
some kind of drugs at the party tonight. I'm not sure just what she
took, but she's pretty out of it. She stormed out of here angry and
I'm concerned about her driving when she's been using. If she
contacts you, you are to find out where she is and call me right
away. Her doctor is standing by."
"You lying son of a bitch, Morgan Wolfe!"
Clarissa screamed at the phone. "You damn..."
"Clarissa?" Virginia's silky voice cut through
her rage and stopped it cold. "What's wrong? Who are you talking
to?"
Clarissa pointed to the answering machine that
was just rewinding after the call from Morgan. Virginia played back
the message.
"I don't use drugs. He's lying. Damn him, he's
lying."
"Calm down, now," Virginia said as she handed
Clarissa the pair of worn brown loafers. We have to get you out of
here now. Morgan would have called my cell first. When I didn’t
pick up, he would know something was up. That’ why. He called the
line in my bedroom. Put those socks and shoes on. My friend will be
here any minute."
Clarissa hesitated, her anger still
hot.
"I don't think I can go through with this,
Gin," she said as she backed away from the offered shoes. "I just
need to call my brother, that's all. I need to get out of the
country. Morgan'll find me, Gin. No matter where I hide or what I
look like. I can't do this. I've got to call Andrew. Please, just
let me use your phone."
The slap cracked across her face and Clarissa
reeled backward from the force of it. Virginia grabbed her wrist,
jerking her forward, and thrust the shoes in her face.
"You're way beyond making your own decisions,"
Virginia said firmly. "Put the damn shoes on. We've got to get out
of here. If Morgan even suspects that you might show up here, he'll
send Marco to check it out. When I wasn't here to answer that call
just now is a guarantee that Marco is on his way."
"I'm sorry, Gin. I'm just scared."
"That makes two of us." Virginia pulled open
the top bureau drawer and handed Clarissa a black print scarf. "Try
to get most of your hair under that."
"So where is this place?"
"Downtown. My friend assures me it will be
quite safe for a little while. There are other people around which
makes it a bit more secure. I'll get in touch with your brother as
soon as I know it's safe. I'll bring you the plane ticket and your
things. It's best that you don't call me here. If you need me, have
my friend make the call for you. Understand?"
"Why are you doing this?"
Virginia was silent for a long moment. "Make
no mistake, Clarissa. I don't like you. I owe you nothing, you owe
me nothing. Why I'm doing this is my business. You just enjoy this
brief reprieve from Marco.