One Track Mind (14 page)

He shook his head. “Lucas is trying to tie two NASCAR cases together. To make things neat. First, the sabotage to Kent’s car four years ago. But it isn’t neat. Brent was a suspect all right, but there was only the thinnest circumstantial evidence against him. He walked, but his reputation was tarnished for good.

“Now there’s Cargill’s murder. Lucas wants to tie it all up in a bow—with the knot around Brent. Lucas is so frustrated he spins crazy stories to connect everything. He’s obsessed. Forget about him.”

Lori agreed gratefully. She and he both took care to speak of neutral subjects. Whatever happened to so-and-so? Had she ever traveled? (Not much. Scott devoted his vacation time to visiting golf courses throughout the South.) Had he? (A lot. All over the U.S. Some of Europe and China, as well. And, of course, the South Pacific that had called to him so strongly all those years ago.)

She felt provincial and unsophisticated listening to his tales of globe-trotting. She supposed that he and Zoey could talk about Paris and London. Lori’d been born in Halesboro, lived her whole life in Halesboro, and the most exotic place she’d ever been was in California, Carmel-by-the-Sea, where Scott played golf and she spent a lot of time watching the sea otters and wishing she were as free and playful as they were.

“If it’s not too personal,” Kane asked suddenly, “how come you and Scott never had kids?”

“It just didn’t happen. He blamed me. He wouldn’t get tested himself. But I did. I was all right, but that infuriated him, and he wouldn’t accept it. I think that’s when the adultery started. He wanted to prove he was…you know.”

He’d wanted to prove he was a stud,
she thought. She wanted to change the subject. She wanted to ask him about apartment hunting with Zoey Horning, but she couldn’t bring herself to do it. She glanced at her watch. “It’s getting late. We should be going. You’ve got to get back to Charlotte.”

He nodded, almost reluctantly. “Yeah. I guess I do.” He
paused. “You know, this is the first time we ever really
went
somewhere nice together. Someday maybe I’ll take you someplace where I didn’t wash dishes.”

W
HEN THEY REACHED
H
ALESBORO
, he turned down her street and pulled into her drive. “Well,” she said, “here we are. Thanks for supper. Tell Kent that I’m sorry about his motor home and hauler.”

“I’ll walk you to your door,” Kane said. “And no, I won’t tell him. You told him twelve times already.”

He walked her up the stairs, and although the night was warm, she shivered, far too aware of his nearness. She had out her keys and made her voice sound chipper. “Again, thanks. I suppose I’ll see you in Illinois next weekend?”

“Yes. You will. I booked us at the same hotel. For convenience.”

“Oh.” She hadn’t thought about that, hadn’t let herself think of it.

He put his hands on her shoulders, bent and kissed her on the forehead. “Again, you did a great job last night. You were wonderful.”

It was a chaste kiss, almost brotherly, but she felt as if a star danced and twinkled where his lips had touched her.

“Good night,” he said. “I’ll phone you tomorrow.”

And then he was gone, down the stairs and getting into his car. Quickly, unsettled and too excited, she unlocked her door and went inside. She realized she’d wanted more than that fleeting and restrained kiss. Paradoxically, she also wished it hadn’t happened at all.

T
HE SOUNDS OF CONSTRUCTION
echoed through Halesboro from the distance. Work on the castle had stepped up, and the renovations at the track began in earnest. Seats were torn out and replaced, the outside of the building was sandblasted, the sidewalks torn up and repoured.

A new fence was installed, better drainage put in, new retaining walls built, and safety barriers erected. The restroom space was expanded and improved, a new lighting system installed, the speakers relocated and construction started on a sound wall.

It was almost too much for Lori to keep up with. Besides the flurry of details, she fretted about going to Illinois with Kane and staying at the same hotel that weekend.

But before she knew it, it was Saturday morning, and she and Kane flew from Charlotte to Chicago’s O’Hare Airport—first class, no less. I remember—now—
this is how the other half lives,
she thought, bemused.

She’d never been in O’Hare before; it was huge and daunting, but Kane knew his way perfectly. He had a car reserved, a surprisingly modest one, and expertly navigated his way westward.

“Our rooms are in Homewood,” he said. “That’ll start us out in the morning closer to the airport than if we stay here. I’m sorry we can’t see more of Chicago. But it’ll be interesting to see this race. Ever been to this speedway before?”

She had to admit she hadn’t.

He told her they’d watch the race from a corporate suite
and rattled off the amenities: free parking, catered meals, bar, stadium seats above the suites and a plasma screen television for those who’d like to stay inside and stay cool. “And garage and pit road tours. Do you want to take one? I think I’ve seen enough garages and pit roads to last me a while.”

“Same here,” she agreed. “Besides, seeing theirs will just make Halesboro’s look worse.” She paused. “If we’re going to a suite, whose suite is it?”

He told her and her jaw dropped. “He’s a corporate executive with…with NASCAR, isn’t he?” she asked.

“Yeah. He’s retiring this fall, but he’s known for his judgment.”

“I won’t be able to say a word to him,” Lori wailed. “I’ll be completely tongue-tied.”

“Just be yourself. Don’t worry about talking. He’ll ask you questions. Good ones. He’s a canny guy.”

“And how did
you
get invited to his suite?”

“I know him through the Grossos. He says he watches me. That I’ve got an eye for talent.”

She sank weakly back against the seat. “I should have gone out and bought a better outfit.” She wore a bargain pant suit she’d bought on the Internet, sage green and crinkly so that it wouldn’t show wrinkles.

“You look fine,” Kane said and gave her an approving glance. “That green brings out your eye color. And he’s a down-home sort of guy. He doesn’t like things that are all gussied up. People, either. He’ll wear a suit, but after two laps he’ll have the tie off, after seven he’ll have the coat off, and I’ll bet you ten bucks he’ll be wearing fancy suspenders. Relax.”

L
ORI HAD SEEN
crowds at the Charlotte speedway, and the throngs of people here at the Illinois track seemed just as thick. The flatness of Illinois had struck her, and the speedway rose up like a huge flying saucer, dwarfing the highway and cars that led to it, towering over its lots and the fields beyond.

Once parked, they joined the crowd, and Kane took her arm
to steer her through the teeming human traffic. “Looks sold out.” Kane spoke loudly to be heard over the noise of the crowd.

Lori nodded. This was a relatively new speedway. A fast track, its layout encouraged drivers to pass, and the banking made passing a challenge.

Soon Kane and Lori were out of the main crowd and inside the white corporate suite. He introduced her to Charles Channing, the head of Charlotte’s CapCity Credit Card, a major supporter and sponsor of motor racing.

Channing slapped Kane on the back, and vigorously shook Lori’s hand. “You’re Andrew Jackson Simmons’s girl?” he said almost gleefully. “I enjoyed many a race at Halesboro. I remember the first time Dean Grosso won there.”

“I do, too,” Lori said with a smile. She’d been twelve years old. And from that point on, she didn’t have to worry about talking, because people joined the conversation, and it became a memoryfest about Halesboro’s glory days.

Kane went his own way until the race started, apparently talking business. And Lori talked to a portly older man with a twinkle in his eye. It was the NASCAR executive who was about to retire. He was a charmer, and Kane was right: he asked questions about the Halesboro track and its place in North Carolina’s racing tradition. She was relieved, for she could happily expand on that subject for a long time.

To her surprise, he listened intently and urged her to tell him more.

The man glanced at Kane, talking earnestly with Charles Channing. Kane had donned the jacket to his black suit, but no tie. Although his collar was unbuttoned; he managed somehow, to look both more stylish and more relaxed than any man in the room.

Her NASCAR companion tilted his head toward Kane. “And now Halesboro’s in the hands of that rascal?” he asked with a smile.

She nodded, unsure how to respond.

“Now
that,
” he said with a cherubic smile, “is going to be one interesting combination. Yes, ma’am. One
very
interesting combination.”

T
HE RACE STARTED
, and the track’s quirkiness tested the drivers repeatedly on the infamous and seductive Turn Two. They attempted more passing than usual; some attempts succeeded, some didn’t, and some became hair’s breadth escapes from major danger. Lori saw Kane blanch when Justin Murphy just missed a wall.

In a last minute move, Kent Grosso edged out another of Kane’s clients, Sid Cochran, for second place. Cochran took third, and Justin Murphy was number nine in the top ten. Lori shot Kane a furtive glance of admiration. Three of the drivers he represented in the top ten? He was good, all right.

Chitchat and drinks took place after the race was over, and Charles Channing, the credit card mogul, invited Kane and Lori to his hotel in Joliet for a drink. Kane gave Lori a knowing look and accepted for both of them.

Harrah’s Joliet, Illinois, Hotel and Casino was one of the more imposing hotels in the city, and Channing confessed that although he didn’t gamble much, he did play—and win—at blackjack. “I know how to play it, and I know how to win,” he said. “I always go home with more money than I came with.”

“A solid business philosophy,” Kane said, as a waiter led them to their table. He put his hand on the small of Lori’s back and she could feel the heat through her shirt.

“Now you,” Channing said to Kane, “just may know how to play a different kind of game—the speedway game. There’re rumors in the air lately. If what they hint is true, I’d like to talk to you sometime. Not here, but soon in Charlotte.”

The waiter drew out Lori’s chair, and Kane had to pull his hand away from her. He sat next to her, his knees almost touching hers.

He and Channing sat, and Kane said, “You can talk in
front of Ms. Garland. She’s my assistant at Halesboro. And a good one.”

Channing gave her a polite smile. “I’m sure you are, Ms. Garland. You know that track and that town—and their problems. But I don’t want to say too much yet. I have a plan of my own that I’m working on, and I think we can help each other.”

His words sent Lori’s mind speeding. What could Channing’s credit card empire do for Halesboro? And vice versa? A glimmer of possibilities began to shine more strongly, hypnotically strong. But she said nothing, only listened to the men. They spoke in an almost coded language. On the surface it seemed bland and vague. But under that surface, Lori sensed a good deal was being said.

Kane stopped himself after one glass of wine, saying he and Lori needed to get back to Homewood and check in. Lori felt her cheeks redden, wondering if Channing thought they’d share a room. But Kane didn’t mention sleeping arrangements.

Lori stood, leaving her wine spritzer half-full. The three shook hands, and Channing promised to phone Kane during the next week. Kane touched her back again as they left the restaurant. Lori’s body shivered a bit, but she didn’t shake off his hand.

“So,” she said in the car, “was this a good day?”

“For me?” he asked. “Yes. When three clients finish in the top ten, that’s a really good day.”

He paused and stared at the road. The sky was starting to fade into evening. “For Halesboro Speedway? I think so. The guy from NASCAR was friendly. He expressed interest, cautious interest, but still he’s watching the situation closely. I can tell.”

She couldn’t help smiling. “You’re a good observer. And you were exactly right. After two laps, he pulled his tie off. After seven, he took off the coat.
And
he was wearing suspenders. Embroidered ones.”

“And was I right about him being easy to talk to? He asked you a lot of questions?”

“Yes. He knows the speedway’s history better than half the people in Halesboro do. I was impressed.”

They were silent for a moment. At last Lori said, “Does Charles Channing know what you’re up to? I mean, all this talk about the outlet mall and other things?”

“He talks as if he does.”

“But he talks almost in riddles.”

“You have to read the lines between the riddles,” Kane said. “I think he’s got a pretty good idea of what’s going on. And he sees an opportunity, especially if NASCAR gives us a sanctioned race.”

“And if you got that race?” she asked. “What would that mean to Channing?”

“It could mean several things. Some kind of sponsorship, maybe of the track itself. That’d help us. Maybe buy ads on any races televised there. Maybe use NASCAR drivers as spokesmen—or even have testimonials from guests. It could be powerful.”

Lori pondered this. “But how? And why?”

“Be patient,” he said. “Please. There are things I haven’t told you yet, and I can’t. Because
I’m
not supposed to know them. And I can’t take a chance of that information being leaked.”

Affronted, she raised her chin. “You don’t trust me? I’d never betray a confidence.”

The glance he slid her way was cool, almost cold. “You and I tried to keep something secret once before. It didn’t work out so well. Or maybe you don’t remember.”

Her face burned and she was glad for the falling darkness. Oh, she remembered, all right. And why had their secret come to light? Because of her, her immaturity, because she’d been headstrong and spoiled.

She stared out the passenger window, knowing how selfishly she’d acted toward him. It hurt to say the words, but she said them. “I’m sorry about what happened back then. I’d give anything to go back in time and change how I treated you. But
I can’t go back. I can only tell you that a day doesn’t go by that I don’t regret it. All I can do is apologize—inadequately.”

“Apologize?” he repeated, his voice tinged by mockery. “Don’t apologize, babe. You set me free. From Halesboro and everything connected to it.”

That was an insult, and it hurt, for she’d sincerely tried to be contrite. She squared her jaw and asked, “If I set you free, why’d you come back?”

She saw his hand tighten on the wheel. At last he gave her a condescending look. “Don’t bother your pretty head about why. Just figure out the common denominator between Charles Channing, the Hornings, the theme park and everything else going on.”

“There’s a common denominator?”

“Absolutely.”

An uneasy silence fell between them. When they pulled up to their hotel, he turned to her. “You apologized. I wasn’t very gracious. I acted like a kid. I’m sorry. Thinking of Halesboro does that to me. My feelings are mixed. It’s like I have unfinished business there.”

He got out, opened the door for her and offered his hand to help her out. She stood beside the car, staring up at him in the moonlight. “I don’t understand your ‘unfinished business.’ Is it to help Halesboro? Or get even with it?”

He let go of her hand, his face stony. “A little of both,” he said. “A little of both.”

H
E GOT THEIR SUITCASES
and checked into the hotel. Their rooms were across the hall from each other. She wished he had booked ones on different floors, at least. As usual, he seemed to know what she thought.

“Afraid the mayor of Halesboro and the morals squad are going to find out we slept
near
each other?” he asked in the elevator. “With only two locked doors and a couple of dead bolts between us?”

His mood was changeable tonight. Changeable and tricky.
“Halesboro has a far-ranging morals squad,” she said, unsmiling. “The arrangements could have been a bit more, well, discreet.”

She slid her key card into the door and turned the knob. But the door stayed shut. She was nervous, and it was showing.
Damn!
Through gritted teeth, she said, “I hate these things. Whatever happened to good, old-fashioned keys?”

He came to her side and took the card from her. “Still jumpy about your reputation? About having your name linked to mine? Still resenting change, in any form? Ah, Lori. There. Your door’s open. Go inside and lock and bolt it.”

“I will,” she vowed, and reached for the handle of her wheeled carry-on.

But he turned to her, putting his hands on either side of her face. “Again, I’m sorry. You’re like Halesboro. You bring out mixed feelings. Thanks for coming with me. I’ll be knocking on your door at seven. We’ve got an early flight.”

Once again he bent and kissed her on the forehead. He gave her a look she couldn’t fathom. “See you in the morning,” he said.

She seized her bag and hurried inside. There she sat down on the edge of the double bed and put her face in her hands. What was that chaste kiss supposed to signify? It made it seem as if he were kissing his grandmother or some child he was putting to bed.

She
brought out mixed feelings in him? Did he equate her with all of Halesboro and waver between wanting to help her or to hurt her? Did he know her emotions about him were every bit as confused as his about the town?