Jinxed Page 7

“Oh, Leon, I'll be fine,” Whitney assured her uncle. “Don't you think I could use the money, too? And I can't wait to meet Lucretia. I'd love to talk to her about her acting days.”

  “From what we saw of her on television, she's still a character,” Lilac said.

  Regan watched this unusual family and was happy for them that they'd be able to keep the winery/meditation center/bed-and-breakfast going with the money they'd receive on Sunday. But my work is over, she thought. I'll spend the night and go home in the morning.

  Of course it wouldn't turn out that way.

  Across the room, Rex couldn't believe his ears. They're each going to get 2 million bucks for showing up at the wedding! That idiot Eddie hadn't mentioned that. He guessed it didn't matter, because they weren't going to collect that money. Whitney was sitting across the room from him. It was his job to make sure she didn't get anywhere near the wedding on Sunday. He couldn't believe his good luck once again! Now he just had to get rid of Whitney for the next forty-eight hours—until Edward and Lucretia had safely said “I do” and before anyone like Whitney would be urged to “speak now or forever hold your peace.”

  She'll hold her peace, Eddie, Rex thought. I'll make sure of it.

  He took a sip of his wine and occasionally stole a glance at the group as they laughed and talked. They won't be so chipper on Sunday, he thought, because Whitney is going to disappear again. And he had a feeling that this time it might have to be for good.

  21

  After dinner, Regan and the family moved to the main room by the reception desk where comfortable couches and armchairs surrounded a huge stone fireplace. Lilac served fruit and coffee, and Regan learned more about the Weldons.

  Lilac and Leon were both divorced, and Earl had never married. Their parents had died in the last five years. Whitney was the only child of her generation.

  “I can't believe you were actually at the movie set today, Regan,” Whitney marveled.

  “We were intent on finding you, dear,” Lilac said. Leon tapped his forehead. “And to think we called the motel and you had just left.”

  Whitney laughed. “I have to get my credit card back.”

  Don Lesser had gone outside for a walk to get some night air. He was gone for about an hour and then came back in and retreated to his room.

  “I'd better get to bed, too,” Whitney said with a yawn. “I'm getting up early.”

  “Keep your cell phone on this weekend,” Leon urged her. “Please! Go with the flow almost cost us eight million dollars!”

  Even Earl agreed that maybe go-with-the-flow weekends should be a thing of the past. They were all convivial at the thought of their banking day on Monday.

  “Don't worry!” Whitney said. “I don't ever want to be out of touch again. And Mom, I just realized I don't have anything with me that I can wear on Sunday.”

  “Come look in my closet,” Lilac suggested. “There must be something you can wear.”

  Regan said her good-nights and went to her room. She had never had such an easy case. Get hired to look for a girl, and the girl shows up at home. Not bad. Well, she thought, I'll get a good night's sleep, head home tomorrow morning, and have the weekend to get organized. She sat down on the bed and pulled out her cell phone. She had turned off the phone when they were having dinner. The second little envelope on the screen indicated that she had a message—it was from Jack.

  “Hey, Regan. I hope it's going well. I have a little information about Lucretia. As you know she made a fortune from one of the dot-coms that went bust. And as for the guy she's marrying, I'm checking around, but I don't have much to go on. I'm going home now to go to sleep. If you want to leave a message on my cell phone, please call. I'll get it when I wake up in the morning. I miss you. Good night, sweetie.”

  Regan grinned. She called him back and said, “My case is over. Whitney walked into Altered States tonight. You should have seen the look on her mother's face. Anyway, I'm heading home tomorrow. As for the groom-to-be, I don't know much about him. I think I'll get Whitney's mother to call the bride tomorrow. Maybe she can get some information about Lucretia's fiancé. He does seem suspicious. On the news report tonight he definitely hid from the cameras. I miss you, too.”

  Regan opened the sliding glass door to get some air. There was a safety bolt on the screen that made it feel safe to leave the door open while she slept. After washing her face and brushing her teeth, Regan was thrilled to get into the comfortable bed. It had been a long day. She fell into a deep sleep almost as soon as her head hit the pillow.

  Regan woke up a couple of times during the night. Once at 4:00 A.M. she thought she heard footsteps in the hallway. Then at 5:30 she awoke with a start. This time there was a strange sound upstairs where the family's bedrooms were. She waited. It was all calm and quiet. She could hear a very slight rustling of the wind through the screen door. Whitney is probably getting ready to leave, Regan realized. She said she wanted to be on the road by six. Regan rolled over and went back to sleep.

  Saturday, May 11

  22

  Whitney had hardly slept. She couldn't believe that she'd have the money to give to Frank to finish the movie. But she didn't want to call him about it until she had the check in hand. If it didn't happen, she couldn't bear the thought of his disappointment.

  At five o'clock she got out of bed, wrapped herself in a robe, and went down the hall to shower. Twenty minutes later she was dressed and ready to go. The dress her mother had given her to wear to the wedding was on a hanger in the closet, covered with plastic from the dry cleaner's. She grabbed the dress, along with her bag, and tiptoed downstairs. She didn't bother to make coffee. She'd pick some up at the diner on the road. They made great java and opened at dawn.

  The lodge was still. Everyone else was asleep. She smiled, looking forward to everything that was about to change in their lives. No more money worries about this place. If the movie was a success, she didn't even dare to contemplate what that meant to Frank and her. With plenty of money left over, she wouldn't have to juggle credit cards!

  Outside, her car was parked under one of the large oak trees that seemed to filter out any light, no matter the time of day. The dark blue sky was just starting to surrender to the effects of the rising sun. It's such an interesting time of day to be awake, she thought as an occasional chirp from a bird broke the silence. But it does feel a little eerie.

  She walked across the driveway to her Jeep, opened the door, and threw her bag onto the passenger seat. She leaned in and knelt on the driver's seat, poised to hang her dress on the hook above the window in the back.

  “Huhhh,” she cried, inhaling sharply. The king-sized quilt she kept in the back for when she went to the beach was, as usual, rumpled on the floor. But even in the gray light of early morning, she could see that something was different. There was something under it that had not been there last night. She started to move backward off the seat when the quilt loomed up and a hand reached from under it and grabbed her.

  “Stay,” the voice commanded in a harsh tone. “Close the door. And don't try anything. I have a gun.”

  Whitney's head started to spin. Tears stung her eyes. Her family was sleeping peacefully such a short distance away. They had no idea she was in trouble, and when they found out, it would be too late.

  “Move it,” the male voice said again as he pulled her right arm roughly.

  Keep your cool, she thought. The dress on the hanger was still in her left hand. Whoever was under the quilt couldn't see it, she was sure. She slid into the driver's seat and let the dress and hanger slide down onto the ground outside. She shut the door and started the car. She could feel the quilt brushing against her shoulder and neck.

  “Go out the driveway nice and slowly. Then you're going to take the dirt road off the main drag that leads to that old barn. You know the one I mean, don't you?”

  “Yes,” Whitney answered as calmly as she could. It was the barn that housed a bunch of rusty old equipment from yea
rs back. Leon planned to clean it out and restore it when he got his $2 million. Nobody went back there now. They had talked about it last night.

  “That's good, because that's where we're going.”

  Is he going to kill me? Whitney wondered frantically as she drove. Does he really have a gun? Her brain told her to do what he said as her heart pounded wildly. But who was he? And what did he want from her? I'll know soon enough, she thought as she bit her lip, passing the Altered States Winery sign, the sign that had made her feel so welcome just last night.

  23

  At 8:15 Regan joined Lilac and Earl for breakfast at the table where they'd dined the night before.

  “I suppose Whitney got off this morning,” Regan remarked as Lilac poured her a cup of coffee.

  “Her room is empty. I'm sure she's at the seminar by now.”

  Leon walked in, carrying a dress covered with plastic. “This was on the ground outside.”

  Lilac looked up. “That's the dress I lent to Whitney for the wedding. Where was it?”

  “Right next to where her car was parked.”

  Regan didn't like the apprehensive feeling that came over her. She knew Whitney didn't have much baggage. How could she have dropped the dress and not notice it?

  “That's our Whitney,” Earl said as he peeled a banana and began to slice it over his cereal bowl.

  None of them seem concerned, Regan thought.

  “I'll call her to let her know we have it,” Lilac said simply. Leon looked tired. He took the chair next to Regan and rubbed his eyes. “There are wildfires out there that are headed this way.”

  “You're kidding!” Lilac said. “Since when?”

  “I just heard it on the news. Kids were smoking behind a school last night. One cigarette started the fire. They've been working all night to contain it, but the wind keeps switching directions so the fire is spreading.”

  Regan knew how dangerous wildfires could be. One day you have acres of vineyards, and the next they're charred ruins. She doubted that Leon would leave for a wedding if his land was in danger.

  Leon had put the dress over the back of a chair at the next table. The sight of the dress made Regan uneasy. It just doesn't make sense, she thought. I don't think I should leave here just yet.

  “Earl,” Regan said. “Do you mind if I join your meditation class this morning?”

  “Ten A.M. in the barn. Wear loose clothing.”

  “Stay and relax, Regan,” Lilac said, smiling. “It's a beautiful day. You don't have to get back right away, do you?”

  “No,” Regan answered honestly. She didn't want to share her concerns with Lilac, but she didn't want to leave until she knew that Whitney was okay. Regan had one of those gut feelings. “Are you going to call Lucretia?” Regan asked. “Maybe we can find out more about the fiancé.”

  “Good idea,” Lilac said. “But not this early. I will call Freshness, though.”

  “If she's in her seminar, she won't answer,” Earl informed them. “I know those seminars. Cell phones are forbidden.”

  “I'll leave her a message then.”

  “Lilac,” Regan said. “I'd like to be there when you talk to Lucretia. Can we call her from your office?”

  “Sounds good.”

  Regan slathered raspberry jam on a corn muffin and bit into it. It was delicious. As a bed-and-breakfast this place definitely worked. The lodge had charm and warmth, and the accommodations and food were more than satisfactory. The winery was making progress, and they'd won a medal for their pinot noir. The tasting room would certainly attract people for years to come. Earl and his meditation center—who knows?

  Lilac, Earl, and Leon were all doing what they loved to do. They wanted to eventually buy more land and plant more vineyards. Not bad work if you can get it, Regan thought.

  When she had finished breakfast, Regan excused herself and went back to her room. It would be so nice if Jack were here, she thought as she dialed his number. When he answered, she recounted everything that had happened.

  “I don't like the sound of it, either,” Jack mused. “I wonder how many people know about the money the family is supposed to get.”

  “They say they haven't told anyone.”

  “Lucretia is all over the news, you know.”

  “She is?” Regan asked, surprised.

  “That piece on her wedding and the fact that she is bragging about having made so much money on a dot-com makes for a good human interest story. Life begins at ninety-three. They keep replaying the interview over and over.”

  “Oh my God,” Regan said.

  “It's obvious Lucretia loves the limelight. The same can't be said about her intended. I'm having a couple of guys out in the L.A. office see what they can find out about him.”

  “Thanks, Jack.”

  “I'll keep you posted,” he promised.

  As soon as Regan hung up, her cell phone rang.

  “Hi, honey,” her mother said when Regan answered.

  “Hi, Mom. What's going on?”

  “Well, your father and I have nothing to do until tomorrow afternoon. We'd love to see you.”

  A thought occurred to Regan. Well, why not? she wondered. These people could use the business. “How about spending the night at a winery?” Regan asked. “It's beautiful up here, and they have rooms.” She explained to Nora everything that had been going on. “And it's only a couple of hours' drive.”

  “That sounds great,” Nora said after consulting with Luke. “We'll be there in time to go out to lunch.”

  24

  At first Lucretia was thrilled with all the attention the national news channel stirred up. The phone started ringing Friday-evening with calls from people she didn't even know were still alive. Others claimed they didn't know she was still alive. Childhood chums who were still hanging in there called to say hello. Friends of her past husbands called. People she'd met on cruise ships called. They were all invited to the wedding. Some who lived close enough actually accepted the invitation.

  Then in the middle of the night the threatening calls started.

  “You stole that money from me!” one voice cried into the phone at four o'clock in the morning. “I'm going to make you pay for that.”

  “Your boyfriend is a jerk. Don't marry him,” warned another.

  And, worse yet, someone called to say that she'd seen Lucretia's films and thought she was a lousy actress. That bugged her more than anything. She could barely sleep. At six o'clock she walked out to get the paper and found smashed tomatoes all over her beautiful front steps.

  “You're supposed to throw rice when someone gets married,” she mumbled to herself. She thought of calling Edward, but she knew how he loved his rest. He could be so boring at times. I definitely wouldn't be marrying him if I were fifty years younger, she thought. She even felt a little guilty about it.

  Lucretia gathered up the paper, which must have arrived after the tomatoes because it was unblemished, and went inside. She went back to her room and finally managed to doze off, waking only when she heard Phyllis's car in the driveway.

  Phyllis reached the front steps and scowled as only Phyllis could. “What the heck?” she grumbled as she unlocked the door and stepped inside.

  In the kitchen she put on the coffeepot and waited for the buzz from Lucretia. Lucretia did not disappoint.

  Phyllis poured the coffee and brought it into Lucretia's bedroom.

  “My last day as a single woman,” Lucretia proclaimed as she propped herself up on the pillows.

  Give me a break, Phyllis thought.

  “And this is going to be my last wedding!”

  “You never know,” Phyllis said as she placed the breakfast tray in front of her boss.

  “Phyllis, sit down. I had a terrible night.”

  “I saw the tomatoes outside.”

  “Who would do such a thing?”

  “I can't imagine.”

  “I'm an old lady who wants a little happiness.”

  “You'
re a rich old lady who wants a little happiness,” Phyllis corrected her. “That makes a big difference to some people, especially people who maybe lost money in the stock market or the dot-coms. That television piece might have stirred something up in them, like bitterness or resentment or anger or envy.”

  Lucretia thought about this for a moment as she sipped her coffee. “They could be jealous I'm marrying Edward.”

  Phyllis managed a shrug.

  “Are we all set for tomorrow?” Lucretia asked.

  “Yes. Everything's done. You just have to give the caterer a final number after you stop inviting people.”

  “Phyllis, that's half the fun.”

  The phone next to the bed rang. They both eyed it. Phyllis picked it up. “Standish residence.” She listened, then yelled into the receiver, “You're very rude!”

  “Who was that?” Lucretia asked.

  “Wrong number.”

  “No, it wasn't!” Lucretia cried. “This is supposed to be a happy time for me. Now I don't want to be in my own home. I don't want to hear the phone ring again.”

  It rang as if on cue.

  Phyllis picked it up again. “Standish residence. . . . Oh, Lucretia's niece,” Phyllis almost stammered. “Of course. Lucretia's right here.”

  “Lilac!” Lucretia yelped into the phone. It was as though she were just thrown a life preserver. “I do hope you're coming tomorrow.”

  I'm sure she is, Phyllis thought smugly.

  “How wonderful. I can't wait to meet you. . . . You saw the piece on TV. . . . Well, I guess it upset some people.” Lucretia explained in dramatic fashion the phone calls and the mess on her front steps. “There's tomato sauce all over the place,” she cried. “I'm scared to be here, honestly. I'm shaking all over.”

  Boy, does she play for sympathy, Phyllis thought. But Lucretia's next sentence almost sent her over the edge.

  “Come up there today?” Lucretia said, a smile forming on her lips. “Meditation . . . a nice dinner . . . family time . . . drive down in the morning. That sounds like the perfect solution. Everything here is done, and I have all day to be nervous.”