Intimate Portraits (30 page)

She didn’t believe him. Her eyes
gave her away. She knew Francisco could have borrowed the jewelry for Sarita,
but being Autumn, she didn’t call him a liar. “Fran will have heard about
Sarita.”

He turned the key. “Yes.”

“I still can’t get over how
closemouthed he was about her.”

Except to him.

Sarita had told Francisco about
every detail of her affair with Rennie, but she’d also told him she’d dumped Rennie.

So Francisco made sure that Rennie
knew he was bedding Sarita.

Anything big brother could do,
little brother could do and better. That had been Fran’s philosophy since grade
school.

Rennie hadn’t bothered to
enlighten Francisco about his and Sarita’s relationship because Fran wouldn’t have
believed him. And he hadn’t told his brother about Sarita’s appalling appetites
because Fran would find out soon enough.

He
had
advised Francisco not
to get emotionally involved.

Fran hadn’t listened. Francisco
never listened to anybody.

****

Rennie opened the door for Autumn
and followed her slim figure into Agustin Huertole’s campaign headquarters.

Downtown on Peachtree Street, the
office took up space that had been, successively during the past twenty years,
a shoe shop, a music store, a deli, and a pub. Desks and work tables lined the
front lobby area where several volunteers huddled round a television. The
mansion where Sarita had been found flashed on its screen.

Autumn flinched. She must be
remembering. He touched her arm and called to his brother in the rear of the
group. “Francisco.”

Francisco, pinched and pale, broke
away. “Autumn.” He hugged her and turned to Rennie. “You know about Sarita?”

“Yes, we’ve heard.”

“I can’t believe it.” Francisco
ran a hand through his hair, further mussing curls that were normally arranged
just so.

He couldn’t have anything to do
with Sarita’s death. He was annoying sometimes, but he wasn’t a criminal. If he’d
somehow got hold of that jewelry and let Sarita use it…

Hold off accusing anybody.
The jewelry might not be the
same. And Francisco and Sarita’s affair had been over long before Autumn took
those pictures.

Francisco cleared his throat. “We’ve
been trying to find out more ever since Gus called and told us about her.”

Gus Huertole. Here was another
man close to Dani.

Hope flared, unreasoning and
anxious.

Francisco wasn’t the only man
devoured by Sarita. Gus Huertole could easily have been hooked in, and he would
have had as good an opportunity as Fran to borrow the jewelry. A better
opportunity since his wife was custodian.

Yes, Huertole was, all around, a
better candidate than Francisco. He was an attractive, powerful man. And Sarita
specialized in attractive, powerful people.

Rennie didn’t know how afraid he
was till his guts relaxed like a thousand pounds had been lifted. “Did Gus know
Sarita?”

Francisco’s nostrils flared. “Gus
had met her. Come back to my office.”

Someone flung open the front door.
Frigid cold swept the office.

Danielle Huertole burst in,
breathless and hair wild from the December winds. She ignored everyone except
Francisco. She grabbed his arm. “Where’s Gus? I have to see him.”

She looked ill, more so than at
the pizza restaurant the past Saturday. The sculpted planes of her face were gaunt
beneath the skin while the fine eyes were recessed and red-rimmed. Her skirt
was wrinkled, her scarf askew, its blue-green dapples clashing with a navy
blouse far too dressy for the maroon knit suit.

Like she’d climbed out of bed and
thrown on the first things to hand.

Francisco pried off her fingers,
patted her shoulder. “Gus isn’t here, Dani. He’s meeting us at the museum
around two thirty, don’t you remember? What’s wrong?”

Her shoulders slumped. “Nothing,”
she muttered. “Nothing that can be fixed now. Late. It’s too late, all too
late.” She turned and flew out the door without looking back, leaving
astonished workers staring after her.

“Is she all right?” Autumn asked,
at the same time Rennie asked, “What’s wrong with her?”

Francisco wiped a hand over his
eyes. “Who knows? She’s been uptight this past week. I guess with the exhibit
opening and Gus’s announcing for Governor and everything else going on, it’s
been too much. She and Gus had a big fight this morning. When he called to tell
me he’d be late and would meet us at the museum, I could hear her screaming in
the background. It’s got me worried. Gus’s campaign won’t get off the ground if
he and Dani can’t pull it together before the real pressure starts.”

As if remembering his position as
Gus Huertole’s head cheerleader, he glanced toward the people still clustered in
front of the TV.

Rennie read his anxiety. “They
didn’t hear you.”

“Good.” Francisco jerked his head
toward the back. “Come on into my office.”

What did the Huertoles have to
argue about? Sarita?

Maybe his theory wasn’t so
farfetched. Implicating Gus Huertole would absolve Francisco. Besides Autumn’s
safety, his brother was his most pressing concern.

“Have they said anything else
about Sarita on the news?” Autumn asked as they headed toward the back. “How
she died or why?”

Francisco shook his head. “Her
mother and stepfather were in the Bahamas for the week. They came back and
found her strangled.”

“They don’t know when it happened?”
Rennie asked.

“She’d been dead several days,
according to one report.”

“She was alive Friday.” Autumn
shuddered. “I saw her, Fran. When I took the proofs out to her Friday morning. She
was so bright and happy. The whole thing’s so terrible.”

Francisco stopped short at an
office door. “You didn’t—she didn’t say anything?”

Autumn looked at him blankly. “What
about?”

Francisco motioned her to go in before
him. “I don’t know. Meeting someone, maybe. Being threatened by anyone.”

“No, she was bubbling over, so
pleased with the proofs, so full of plans. I can hardly believe she’s dead.”

“If she’s been dead several days,
Autumn may be one of the last people to see her alive,” Rennie said. “She’s already
talked to the police. They’re supposed to interview her in depth tomorrow.”

Francisco looked at Autumn with
sharpened interest, wheels churning behind his handsome features.

Rennie’s fears returned.

Whether Francisco had taken that
jewelry for the photo shoot or whether it was Gus Huertole, he would be
scurrying big time trying to cover his butt or his employer’s.

No matter which, Rennie wasn’t
about to let Francisco embroil Autumn to save himself or Gus. She was an
innocent, caught up accidently in something to do with Sarita’s murder.

Francisco, whether he took or
helped Gus take the jewelry, was no innocent. He knew the risks.

And if he left them in the dark,
deliberately exposing Autumn to danger…

Rennie’s hands bunched.
I’ll
beat that good-looking face to a pulp
. He loosened his fists.
Come on,
man. You don’t know anything for sure
.

Fears for Autumn were overwhelming
his common sense. He had to get hold of himself.

The first thing was to find out
what Francisco knew, what he’d done. And he would have to dig for it without
Autumn. Keeping her safe didn’t mean betraying Francisco. Not unless he had to
give up his brother to protect her.

Okay, if he had to, he would. Francisco
and Sarita’s parting had been stormy. She’d ended the affair in a humiliating
way that had devastated Francisco, but he still couldn’t see Francisco
murdering Sarita.

No matter. If Francisco knew
anything at all about Sarita’s murder or the jewelry, he would have to tell.

“I can’t find out anything about
what happened to Sarita except what’s on the news,” Francisco was saying as he
paced the small office. “Our usual sources have dried up. I’ve tried Victoria,
but she doesn’t know anything either.”

Boxes of literature and envelopes
took up most of the space, while a battered desk covered with a tangle of
phones and three poured plastic chairs took up the rest. Francisco stopped to
push a chair aside. “God, this is so unbelievable.”

“To all of us.” Autumn sat down
in one of the uncomfortable chairs.

John Kinsellen stuck his head in.
“Say, Fran, do you have a minute? Oh, sorry. Didn’t realize you had company.” He
recognized Rennie and Autumn. “Hi guys. Some week, huh?”

“Have you heard anything else
about Sarita, John?” Francisco asked.

“Nope. Police are being real closemouthed.”

“Yeah, I’ll bet,” Francisco
muttered. “This is one case they won’t want to botch.”

“I dropped by to see you about
these new ads. Gus thinks they need to accentuate his family life more. Can you
spare a couple of minutes?”

Francisco hesitated. “Sure.” He
started to the door. “I’ll be right back, people. Oh, before I forget, Autumn,
Iris called here looking for you. Something about insurance papers you have to
sign. She sounded hysterical. I told her we’d be at the High Museum after two
so she’s going to try to catch you there.”

“Poor Iris. I’ve had my cell off.
Thanks, Fran. She’s speedy. I only spoke to her this morning.”

“You’re lucky to have her to
chase all that around for you,” Rennie said absently. He wanted to be upfront
with Francisco but that might not work. Might be better to dance around, start
with the photographs and go from there.

“I’m sure Iris is anxious to get
back to a regular job,” Autumn said.

“And you, too.”

She breathed deeply. Her eyes
crinkled. “Maybe.”

He perched on the edge of Fran’s
desk. The cold weather had put color in her usually pale cheeks, and she looked
so happy and fragile it hurt.

Was it a dream? Had he spent last
night and this morning in bed with her? Had she taken him into her body, made
him soar until he thought he would die from rapture?

Warmth filled him.

That wouldn’t do. He swallowed. “Autumn,
would you mind if I spoke to Francisco alone for a moment?”

Quicksilver surprise told him she
wanted to refuse, but being Autumn, she agreed with a smile. “I’ll get a fresh
cup of coffee when he comes back and try to call Iris. How’s that?”

He wished he could express how
glad he was that she was so uncomplaining. When she realized he could never
live up to her standards, she was going to be hurt and maybe angry.

And maybe gone. An outcome too
terrible to think about.

He got up and went over and
brushed her forehead with his lips. “I love you.”

She flashed her wonderful smile. “Don’t
forget it.”

When Francisco returned, she left
with a murmured excuse.

Rennie closed the door behind
her.

How to begin? In the end, he
plunged in. “The police know about you and Sarita, Francisco.”

His brother’s face emptied. “Did
you tell them?”

Rennie couldn’t read any shock or
fear. “I didn’t have to tell them anything. The investigator we spoke to this
morning asked if I was related to you. So they’ve started digging into her
past. They’re bound to find out about you mouthing off when she gave you the
brush-off.”

Francisco’s muscles tensed. He
swallowed nervously.

So he wasn’t as unconcerned as he
seemed.

“How’d you hear about that? My
mouthing off, I mean?”

“Sarita. She told me you said you’d
like to see her dead.”

The blankness transformed into
anger. For big brother’s benefit?

“Christ, Rennie, I never said
that. Oh, when we broke up. I was so damned mad that I may have said some
things she took that way. But I didn’t mean them. I was upset because of what
she did. You didn’t tell the police, did you? I don’t want them getting the
wrong idea.”

“Tell the police? You think I’d
do that to you?”

The anger went out of Francisco.
He sat down, put his head in his hands. “I could feel it coming. Sarita dumping
me, I mean. It happened when I went with the Huertoles down to the Islands. Not
long after I got the job with Gus. Sarita’s stepfather has a house down there
so she flew in for a week of pattycake. I knew something was wrong soon after
she got there. Sure enough, the night before we came back she ended it.”

Rennie already knew what had
happened. Sarita had gotten Francisco in bed, caressed and seduced him until he
was out of his mind, then called in her airplane pilot and made Fran watch as
she mounted him.

She’d enjoyed telling Rennie
about that, explaining piously how she’d thought Fran should learn from a real
man what a woman likes. She’d intended for Rennie to share his brother’s pain
and humiliation, but he’d learned Sarita’s tricks long ago.