“Hmm.” A pause came from the other end. “Maybe you can help me. Did Mr. McIntyre mean he wanted another three operatives over at the Roswell headquarters? Or did he just need two? The person we've got on Ms. Parham now will be one, and if we send two more, he'll have three altogether.”
“At the Roswell headquarters?” Amanda repeated stupidly. Noelle at the Roswell headquarters? What was Noelle doing there?
“Maybe I'd better wait and talk to Mr. McIntyre.”
Panic coursed. “No,” Amanda said sharply. “He's already over there. Send three. He'll need three more.”
Noelle and Callaway were converging on the McIntyre building for some sort of showdown. She didn’t know how she knew but she did.
Callaway hadn't wanted to tell her that something awful was about to happen and that Noelle was involved. He had left her, had gone off and left her alone while he confronted Noelle and somebody else.
Sonny’s murderer?
Her thoughts when she had briefly awakened during the past night came back.
Noelle had gone to Las Vegas for some reason. Maybe to get something she’d left there earlier. That meant Noelle had stored something in Las Vegas, something that Sonny had given her perhaps, something that she had hidden away.
The book Callaway was so desperate to find.
Why did Noelle want the book now? Because someone at the Roswell building, someone at the telephone number Cal had dialed to no avail, was about to give Noelle money for the book.
Robert Winslow. Noelle was selling it to Claire's husband.
Dear God. Anger at Noelle’s gullibility and duplicity flooded her, anger and a profound shame. And then horror.
What if Robert had killed Sonny because of the book? If he had, he could kill Noelle, too.
Noelle wouldn’t even realize she was in danger.
That's why Callaway had looked at her so strangely when he left, because he hadn't wanted to tell her that Noelle knew the whereabouts of the journal and was trying to sell it.
Even if Robert wasn’t a murderer, Amanda still wasn’t about to let Noelle sell that journal to him, not if it contained something incriminating about Claire.
Grabbing her purse, she went to the garage and got into the shop's minivan and started toward Roswell.
She didn't know who she was most anxious for, Noelle or Callaway.
* * * *
Cal didn't know who he was most worried about, Robert or Noelle.
Heart pounding, he inserted Horace’s master keycard into Robert's door lock.
The click of the latch sounded ominous after the sudden quiet following the crashes.
He entered a room which, because of a single green-shaded desk lamp throwing weak illumination across the office, conveyed an eerie underwater-like atmosphere. The musky odor of sex saturated the air. Articles of clothing, male and female, were scattered over the carpet and on the furniture.
Amid paper debris and strewn books, two leather guest chairs, a small file cabinet, and a round meeting table rested on their sides, doubtless the source of the heavy thumps.
As Cal stopped short, the couple on the desk sprang apart from where they'd been grappling.
“What the hell!” Robert hit the floor, his hair flying wildly around his head. He wore only a pair of dark socks and held his belt like a whip. His prick wilted.
Noelle, in a teensy black garter belt, black net hose, and nothing else, shrieked as she slid off the desk to cower behind the overturned table. “Omigod! Who is it? Robert, do something!”
Robert began to crawl on hands and knees to the side of his desk where various articles of clothing lay. After grabbing his pants, he thrust one leg in.
Oh shit.
Cal had thought Robert was killing Noelle, but all he was doing was humping her. “Sorry.”
“Cal?” Robert looked ludicrous, hopping around on one leg as he tried to get his pants on. Without his glasses, he blinked in the dim light. “Is that you? What the hell are you doing here?”
The odd coupling didn't change the facts.
Noelle had the journal.
Callaway was sure she had it. “I came for Mother's diary.”
Robert and Noelle were making it on Robert's desk.
Pieces, obscure and irregular, began to fall into place. The pattern had been laid, but he’d been too stupid to decipher it.
Robert, not Sonny, was Noelle's lover and had been from the beginning.
His voice sounded strangely far away. “Noelle, you lied.”
The weeping Noelle, who had plucked up a denim blouse embroidered with garish red, yellow, and purple flowers, struggled to turn it right-side out.
“This is outrageous.” Robert fastened his pants before slipping on his shirt. “How dare you break in here? Who the hell do you think you are?”
Cal concentrated on Noelle. “Sonny was never your lover, was he?”
Noelle's hands shook as she buttoned her blouse. “Sonny?” Trapped eyes flickered from Robert back to Cal. She choked back a sob. “I never said he was. Not really. Why would you think that?” Sniffle. “Robert—”
“Don't say anything else, Noelle. Get out of here, Cal. This isn't your affair. I'm going to call security, I'm warning you.”
“Go ahead. Call security. You stole money from the company to make up for the budget shortfalls on this building and then you stole my diamonds to cover your theft. Did Sonny help or was he the innocent intermediary he claimed?”
Robert had to unzip his trousers to tuck his shirttail inside. “You're out in left field, Cal. You should stick to redheads.” He put on his glasses and smoothed his hair back. Like Noelle's, his hand shook, but being clothed restored his composure. “You're making a fool of yourself.”
Noelle was hysterical. She had problems with the zipper of her jeans, and wept harder.
“I don't care whether you tell me or not,” Cal said for her benefit. “Everything will come out before you and Noelle go to prison.”
“Prison?” Noelle squealed. “Why would we go to prison? Sonny was the one who thought of stealing your diamonds. I didn't do anything except whatever he and Robert told me to do.”
Robert never took his eyes off Cal. “Shut up, Noelle.”
She bit her lip. “But Sonny's the one to blame for everything. Not us.”
“Shut up.”
She snuffled and bent over to retrieve her shoes.
Cal could break her. “Someone saw you meet Sonny at the pond, Noelle. Did you go there intending to kill him?”
“Kill him!” She straightened, shoes in hand, eyes as wide as a child caught in a lie. “I never killed anybody.”
“Why were you there at the pond?”
“The one at Fair Meadows? I wasn’t. Not
at
it. Robert called me, said Sonny was ruining everything and we had to talk him into pulling back.”
“Shut up, damn you!”
Robert had no effect on Noelle, busy explaining herself.
“Robert told me to bring his gun to him and that’s all I did. I met him on the trail and gave it to him. He went to see Sonny but I don’t know what happened. He came back in a few minutes and gave me the gun to take back to the apartment.”
Robert dived toward the credenza and fumbled in its shelves. The sound of breaking glass preceded the smell of scotch creeping over the room.
Noelle babbled on. “Then I went to Cancun like I was supposed to.”
“Did Robert give you a book, too?”
“No. Sonny left it in Las Vegas. I had to go get it. It’s over there.” She waved vaguely toward Robert’s desk. “Robert’s going to mail it back to Claire.”
Robert turned, unzipping a soft pouch. “For the last time, Noelle, shut up.”
She pouted. “But you said when Claire got the book, Cal would stop asking questions. You said now that Sonny’s dead, everything would be all right.”
“Did you try to kill Amanda?” Cal asked Robert. “You were once a mechanic so you’d know how to fix her car to blow up. And you waited after the rehearsal dinner to pick up Sonny. That gave you plenty of time to break into her apartment.”
Noelle’s mouth dropped. “You tried to kill Manda? But why? She didn’t do anything.”
“I'm warning you, Noelle. If you don’t shut up...”
Noelle wouldn't. “But it was Sonny’s plan. Manda didn’t have anything to do with it. I can kind of understand why you had to kill Sonny, but Manda?”
Cal saw Robert's hand swing up, saw the lethal dark barrel aimed at Noelle.
Move, move
.
His feet were two chunks of lead. He opened his mouth but couldn’t speak. His hand came up, much too slowly, as Noelle said, “You wouldn’t hurt Manda, would you, Robert? He’s lying, isn’t—?”
The gun spat.
Noelle's mouth remained open, but any words turned into a whimper. A red blossom joined the other flowers on her embroidered denim shirt. Her hand went to it without understanding.
“It wasn't my fault.” Her disbelieving eyes swung from Cal to Robert, begging one of them to comfort her. “It wasn't. I did everything Sonny and Robert told me to.”
Cal froze.
Robert, face contorted, looked at the blood on her shirt. The gun fell limply to his side. “Jesus Christ, Noelle, I just wanted you to shut up. Why couldn't you just shut up?”
Robert shot Noelle
.
How will I tell Amanda
?
The police. They'd have to get involved now.
Robert was a murderer.
How will I tell Claire
?
Amanda. Claire.
As Noelle started to crumple, Callaway's paralysis lifted. He bounded two steps, caught and lowered her to the floor. “Call 911, Robert.”
She was conscious, but her pulse was erratic. Shock glazed her expression. “I shouldn’t have believed him, should I?” she whispered. “Manda always tells me to think before...” And then, fainter: “Manda. I want Manda.”
Supporting her head, Callaway looked over at Robert. His brother-in-law stood immobile, feet spread apart and pistol dangling.
For an interminable moment the tableau endured. Cal kneeling on the floor beside Amanda's bleeding sister and Robert towering over them.
“Cal.” The gun at Robert's side wobbled, and began a sluggish ascent as if reluctant to do the deed its owner required. “Now I'll have to kill you, too.”
“I have people on the way, Robert.” Strange how he could speak with such detachment. “They know everything. About the building overruns. About you and Sonny working together. You can't get away. It's too late. Call for help before Noelle dies.”
“Other people know?” The pistol, partially raised, stayed suspended. “Who knows? Claire?”
Cal stared at the barrel aimed toward him. Detachment fled. He didn’t want to die. Not now, not with Amanda...
He nodded.
The gun was lowered as slowly as it had been lifted. “Claire knows?” Consternation took the place of resolve.
With the gun moved, Cal breathed again. “Yes, and so do the detectives I hired. They all know. Let's get help for Noelle, Robert. Don't make it any worse on yourself.”
Agonized eyes darted from Cal to the door and back to Noelle. Robert's eyelids squinched together.
Trying not to cry. Or maybe not wanting to look at what he’d done.
“I don't think…” Robert whispered. “I don't think it can be any worse.”
Robert wasn’t going to shoot him. He had to believe that.
“We need a blanket.” A nearby cart for coffee accessories held a basket of napkins. Cal snatched up a handful to stanch the flow of blood from Noelle's chest. “She's going into shock. Give me her coat to cover her, Robert.”
“Jesus Christ.” The gun fell to the floor with a thud.
“Robert, you have to help me.”
Robert sank into a side chair. “This whole thing has been a nightmare. All I wanted was to show Claire, show everyone, that I could handle Lila's job. I never meant for it to go so far.”
Cal left Noelle, went toward the phone on the desk. “I've got to call for help, Robert.”
“I should never have listened to Sonny. He kept after me and kept after me, telling me Miles would pay through the nose for those studs. And the building was costing so much more than I'd thought. Everyone said it would, but I was sure I could bring it off at budget. I’d staked my career on it. If I hadn’t, the Board would never have given me Lila’s job.”
Cal picked up the phone. “I've got to call before she dies.”
Robert ignored him. “I had Noelle to think of, too. She needed money for her clothes and her trips…everything.”
Cal got Horace, told him there’d been an accident. “Call 911 and find some blankets.”
As he hung up he heard Robert groan. His brother-in-law, arms wrapped around himself, rocked back and forth.
A book lay on the corner of the credenza. Without triumph, Cal slid his mother's journal into his jacket pocket before going back to the woman on the floor.
Noelle was unconscious.
He took her long denim coat, embroidered with the same gaudy flowers as on her blouse, and laid it across her. When he touched her wrist, before tucking the coat under her sides, he found a thready pulse.