Читать книгу Multiples Mystery - Alice Sharpe, Alice Sharpe - Страница 9

Anthony Capri hadn’t been missing long enough to tap official channels. For that matter, he wasn’t missing at all. He just hadn’t shown up where he damn well should have been.

Why? How does a man forget such a thing as his wife giving birth to quadruplets? Everyone from Westerly to Seattle knew about it!

That left an accident or foul play. Zac didn’t like the man, that was true. Capri was a natural born salesman, glib and charming, self-deprecating and able to relate to anyone. That, in Zac’s book, made him as slick as a shucked oyster, the kind of guy who could talk a snake into buying socks. Zac just plain didn’t trust him.

But Olivia did, and right now, that was all that mattered.

The month of May could be beautiful in Seattle and today was one of the better examples. Fluffy white clouds, crystal blue skies, the distant peak of Mt. Rainier—the city looked like one of the postcards for sale down at Pike Place Market.

All that said, it was still a sprawling city with major traffic issues and he wasn’t a sprawling city kind of guy. Olivia said it was okay with her if he moved back. Anthony, even if he wasn’t dead or halfway across the country, wouldn’t care one way or another. That meant it was up to him and he wasn’t sure he could handle it.

No way was he going to start stewing over this again. He’d told himself if he and Olivia could get along without fireworks, he’d take the job. He’d just seen her, they’d parted friends. Of course, he hadn’t had to face Anthony fawning over her. Never mind, he could do it. End of discussion.

The Marina Inn had been built before waterfront property became so precious and it took up a lot of prime real estate. He told the valet to leave his car where it was, showing a badge to make his point, then entered the vast lobby with the three-story glass wall overlooking Puget Sound and a half dozen marinas.

He’d stayed at the place once, on his honeymoon a decade before. The hotel had thrived—the marriage had not.

He showed his badge again at the front desk and asked in which overpriced room they’d stashed a guest named Anthony Capri. The clerk was a young woman with a lilting accent and a name he couldn’t pronounce. She tapped a few keys, informed him they didn’t have a guest by that name. He asked if they’d had one with that name within the past two months. The woman shook her dark head and asked if he wanted to speak to the manager.

“Absolutely,” he said.

The manager was a middle-aged woman with heavy black frame glasses and earrings shaped like miniature Space Needles. She was obviously fighting an allergy as she sniffed every twelve seconds. Zac knew this as he surreptitiously timed her with his watch. After much computer time, she informed him they had never had a guest named Anthony Capri, not at the Marina Inn, not even at their smaller branches, Marina Overlook and Marina Cove.

Zac went back outside and stood for a moment, taking in the fresh wind wafting off the water, the snapping flags atop masts of million-dollar yachts, the tangy, salty taste of the air. Now what?

He finally took out his cell, punched in Faith’s number and left a message. She called him back a few minutes later after she’d checked with Olivia. Yep, he had the right hotel. Which must mean Anthony had lied about where he was staying.

Why would he lie about something like that? What if the hospital had tried to reach him, what if they’d called the front desk and asked for him by name?

Hadn’t Faith done that very thing and assumed the hotel was the one with the problem? A would-be caller would proceed to leave a message on Anthony’s cell and sooner or later, Capri would check his messages. Zac would bet a million dollars that if questioned, Capri could come up with a perfectly reasonable sounding explanation for the confusion.

He got back in the car at last. Olivia must know something else that would help him figure out what was going on. She’d been defensive when he asked her questions, reminding him of when she’d been a kid and he’d caught her in his bedroom with Faith. The two of them had dug around in his closet until they found his stash of X-rated magazines. Faith had had the grace to turn bright red and stutter. Olivia had turned the tables and chided him for looking at pictures of naked women.

The memory of her distant fierce stance still made him smile, but now was not the time for false bravado. Now was the time for candor.

Part of him said he should find someone else in the department to look for this guy, someone not fond of the man’s wife.

Someone who wasn’t involved.

Someone who didn’t die a little inside every time he saw her.

He gritted his teeth and tossed that kind of thinking aside.

He’d do this as her friend in an unofficial way. He’d do whatever he could to give her back to the man she’d chosen.

The phone rang and he flipped it open, expecting Faith with news about Anthony. Instead he learned his snitch—the guy he’d been going to meet within a few hours—had just taken a knife in the gut down near the shipping docks. He got in the car, put the flashing light on the roof, turned on the siren and pulled into the late afternoon traffic.

The mystery of Anthony Capri would have to wait.

THE SPECIAL CARE NURSERY looked like something out of a sci-fi movie to Olivia, with machines and tubes and isolettes that resembled miniature spaceships. To her relief, on this, the second day of their lives, all four of her children were doing well.

True, they were all under UV light as a precaution for jaundice, but that was to be expected. They all also wore tiny nose prongs for oxygen and Brianna’s heart rate tended to drop on occasion, so she’d acquired an additional monitor; but the consensus seemed to be her condition wasn’t life-threatening and was nothing that would keep them from taking her home.

Taking them all home.

The first time Olivia had come into this ward, she’d been afraid to touch her children and had stared at them for several moments before tentatively running a finger along Juliet’s tiny arm. Twenty-four hours later, she was comfortable with them, used to how petite they were, knowledgeable about how much they needed loving strokes despite the tubes and other paraphernalia.

Snuggling them against her bare skin as she took turns nursing them felt natural and healing. Faith and her mother helped feed them with bottles, doing what Anthony should have been doing if he wasn’t still MIA. All three of them sang to the babies, caressed them, and talked to them. Olivia’s love for her children, as well as admiration for her selfless family and her best friend, Faith, grew with every hour.

The good news was that thanks to Zac, the police had made inquiries. Anthony wasn’t in any hospital or morgue in the state. The bad news was the same. If he wasn’t dead or dying, then he’d decided to cut his losses and leave. And though she hadn’t seen Zac since he showed up in her room, she’d spoken to him on the phone. He was in the middle of a case, he explained, and promised he’d come talk to her as soon as he could. Something in his voice warned her she better be prepared for news she didn’t want to hear.

There were only a couple of possibilities, really. Either Anthony’s dead body remained undiscovered or he’d taken off. As he wasn’t exactly the kind to hike into the wilderness, get bitten by a snake and crawl under a bush to die, that left the other.

She caught sight of her hand and the big Asscher-cut platinum diamond engagement ring she’d just slipped back on her finger that morning. Talk about impractical for a new mother. Why had Anthony insisted on such an outrageous ring? Better question—why had she swallowed her own modest taste and agreed to it?

She couldn’t think about any of that now. Instead she gazed down at Antoinette’s downy head and admired her seashell ear and her velvety skin and tried to project reassuring, calm thoughts.

The doctor said they could leave in three days. Again, she tried to clear her mind but the fact was irrefutable. The day she’d longed for was quickly approaching. Very soon, she would return home to Westerly with four small but healthy babies.

And no husband.

ZAC ENTERED the hospital lobby to a crowd consisting of a couple of camera crews and a slew of reporters, one of whom he recognized from the Westerly Herald. He found Faith standing near a wall and joined her.

“Any news about Anthony?”

“No. Any news here?”

“Nothing.” She glanced forward. He followed her gaze to a long table behind which sat Olivia flanked by her mother on one side and her two youngest sisters, Megan and Tabitha, on the other.

Olivia wore a red sweater with a scooped neckline. Her throat looked like satin, her breasts larger than they’d been before, filling the sweater in such a way it was hard not to gape. She was wearing more makeup than he’d ever seen her wear—he detected Megan’s liberal hand with eyeliner and lipstick. Her hair glistened under the lights and although her mother and sisters were attractive women, Olivia outshone them by a million watts.

“You look like hell,” Faith said from his side.

“Thanks.”

“That’s the same suit you were wearing the day before yesterday.”

“Tell me something I don’t know.”

“Did you catch the guy who knifed your guy?”

“We think his wife did it. Hard to blame her. The guy was cheating on her with two different women. It isn’t my problem anymore, though.”

Faith was silent for a moment and then gasped. “You took the sheriff’s job in Westerly!”

“Accepted this morning.”

“That’s great. I bet you’re glad you took Dad’s advice and didn’t sell your house, aren’t you?”

Zac smiled. He hadn’t sold his house for one reason and it had nothing to do with advice from his father. “Did I miss anything here?”

“They’re just getting started. Olivia’s mother has been chatting up the reporters. She gave permission for them to take a picture of the babies and Olivia is steamed about it.”

The first questions concerned the births and deliveries with a heavy emphasis on the long odds against a natural occurring quadruplet conception. Olivia politely responded to the questions, but she was definitely lacking enthusiasm. Her mother, on the other hand, expanded on Olivia’s terse replies. The two sisters seemed to be suffering stage fright and sat there with deer-in-headlights stares.

Inevitably, the questions moved on to inquiries about the father. Where was he? What did he think of having four children? What about his family? All dead, what a shame. When they sensed a story behind the fact that Anthony wasn’t at the hospital, the questions got more pointed and Olivia just shrugged.

But not her mom. She was prepared. She spoke clearly into the microphone as she said, “Olivia’s husband is unfortunately away on business.”

Olivia scanned the room as her mother spoke. Her gaze landed on Zac with an almost physical jolt. He knew she was desperate for information. He had little to tell her, but her reaction upon seeing him hadn’t gone unnoticed by a nearby cameraman who turned the camera on Zac. It seemed everyone in the room swiveled their heads in his direction. Zac resisted the urge to throw an arm across his face. A reporter shouted, “Is this man your husband, Mrs. Capri?”

“He’s just a friend,” Olivia’s mother said before Olivia could respond. Juliet produced a large, professional-looking wedding picture of Anthony and Olivia. That surprised Zac as he’d heard the photographer’s studio burned to the ground before the photographs were developed. Nevertheless, Juliet had managed to salvage a picture and she held it up. The cameraman zeroed in on it.

“This man is Olivia’s husband, Anthony Capri, a very successful entrepreneur,” Juliet said with pride. Zac didn’t really think Juliet was a snob, but when her husband had died, she’d gone from being a rich woman to being poor as a church mouse. Olivia’s marrying Anthony Capri must have thrilled her beyond reason.

“You’ve only been married a few months, isn’t that true, Mrs. Capri?” one of the reporters asked.

“Yes.”

“If he’s so successful, why didn’t he take time off for such an important event?” This came from a woman reporter on the side.

Olivia’s dark eyes flashed. “I know he wanted to be here.”

“Where did you say he went?”

“I didn’t,” she said, doubt sneaking into her voice. “He didn’t have a chance to tell me.”

It appeared all the reporters, who had been growing bored with another multiple baby story, smelled fresh blood. “Would you say your husband is a secretive man?”

“Absolutely not,” Olivia said immediately, but her eyes betrayed her uncertainty. She squared her shoulders and added, “Anthony tells me everything. We’re partners, there are no secrets between us. It’s just that lately I’ve been out of the loop. I’m sure you understand.”

Partners. Did Olivia really believe she and Anthony were partners?

He looked around the room. He could see the hunger in the reporter’s eyes, the cameraman next to him zooming in closer and closer on Olivia’s face. The headlines would read, Woman Gives Birth to Quadruplets, Dad Disappears. His heart went out to her. They had to find Anthony and nip this thing in the bud.

“What’s next for you, Mrs. Capri?” someone asked.

“I just want to take my babies back to Westerly. I want to take them home.”

“With your husband?”

“That goes without saying.”

“That’s enough,” Juliet said, casting her daughter a concerned mom type glance. Amid much grumbling, the crowd began to disperse. Zac caught up with Olivia by the elevator and greeted her family, who explained they were on their way upstairs to feed and cuddle the infants. He asked Olivia to linger behind for a moment.

Faith, who had trailed him, hustled the family onto the elevator. “Catch up with us when you can,” she murmured as the doors slid shut.

He put a hand under Olivia’s elbow and guided her to a small sofa across the room from where the hospital maintenance crew was in the process of dismantling the table and chairs used for the interview. Their corner of the lobby was quiet.

Her mouth set in a straight line, she said, “I can’t believe those reporters. They were digging for some kind of intrigue.”

Zac tried to look sympathetic, but his own chore lay ahead and he dreaded it. “There’s no way to sugarcoat what I have to tell you. Anthony was not staying at the Marina Inn.” He hadn’t told her this on the phone because it had seemed cruel to do so. Then he’d gotten waylaid by his case and finally, like the big chicken he was, he’d hoped Anthony would come to his senses and Olivia might never have to know her husband lied to her.

The time for that kind of sensibility was over as the man was still missing.

She blinked a couple of times. “What do you mean? He checked out?”

“He was never there.”

“But he said he was.”

Zac waited without speaking.

She blinked thick black lashes a few times, her dark eyes almost liquid. “He lied to me.”

The last forty-eight hours of little sleep—and none of it in an actual bed—had made his head fuzzy, his eyelids feel grainy. Sidestepping the lying thing, he said, “I saw your mother hold up a wedding picture. If you’ll get her to loan it to me I’ll take it back to the hotel and find out if anyone recognizes him.”

“You’re saying he used a different name.”

“I’m not saying anything. It’s the next logical step.”

She peered closely at him for a second. “You look tired, Zac.”

“Nothing eight hours in the sack won’t take care of. Go get the picture. I’ll wait right here for you.”

She nodded once and got to her feet, moving a little slowly, no doubt due to the recent operation. Her soft gray skirt swished against her long legs as she paused in front of him.

When had he first started noticing things like Olivia’s breasts and shapely legs and the way her supple body curved? When had he noticed she was no longer a kid? When she came home from college to help out her mother and little sisters after her father died? He’d been in the middle of a divorce. He could barely remember anything from around that time, but at some point it had finally registered in his sorry brain that she’d changed.

And yet he’d never done a damn thing about it. The timing was always off. The chance she’d laugh in his face—well, there was that, too.

“I’ll be right back but it might take a few moments,” she said and he realized he’d been staring at her lips.

“I’ll wait right here,” he said, and watched her cross the lobby, her gait cautious but fluid. There was nothing wrong with the way her hips moved, either.

Not a damn thing.

OLIVIA CHECKED on each of her babies, leaning close to them, whispering assurances, kissing silky foreheads, promising each she would find their daddy. They indiscriminately threw their little arms wide or jerked their tiny legs up against their chests and made baby faces that charmed her down to her toes.

Olivia told Faith where she was going and while her mother was busy cooing over Brianna, swiped the lone wedding picture from the oversize handbag.

She stared at it on the way down in the elevator, bypassing her own face to concentrate on Anthony’s.

The wedding had taken place in September. Anthony had been very tan, his light hair bleached lighter by months of summer sun. He looked like the sportsman he was, like a skier or a deep-sea fisherman. His white teeth glowed in contrast to his bronzed skin. With a bittersweet jab in the heart, she remembered their Key West honeymoon. He’d been attentive, charming. His smile never seemed to slip off his face. More than once she’d found herself thinking she’d married a very good actor and then reproached herself and wondered where such a thought came from.

The moment they’d returned home, she’d started throwing up. The diagnosis she was carrying multiples came next. In a daze she’d come home from the doctor’s office, the sonogram clutched in her hand. She would have to tell Anthony there were four little hearts, four little lives—she would have to tell him their future had just been rewritten, things were going to change forever and ever.

He’d seemed as shocked by the news as she was. A week later, she’d begun to adjust to her new reality and a week after that, when she told Faith and her mother, she’d started looking forward to this life-altering experience.

Anthony, however, hadn’t.

Slowly, as Anthony’s summer tan faded with the advent of winter, so had his interest in her. He’d married a woman eager for adventure and ended up with a nauseated blimp. The fancy sports car would have to go—they would need a van of some kind. The guest suite in the house he was building acquired a new designation: nursery wing.

And now it appeared it had just been too much for him.

She found Zac exactly where she’d left him, slouched into the cushions of the sofa, arm bent, head propped on hand, legs sprawled out in front. His eyes were closed, his breathing deep. He was obviously asleep.

He wasn’t tan and he didn’t smile all that much. The broken nose and the scars gave his face character, enhanced his masculinity, in fact. Why hadn’t he married again, had his one short marriage ruined him for love?

She’d known him since they were both kids. As her best friend’s older brother, he’d ignored her, tortured her, teased her, told her to get lost, even kissed her on the lips once, long, long ago. He’d comforted her on occasion, he’d chewed her out and challenged her.

She extended a hand to shake him awake and paused, reluctant to touch him, uncertain why. She felt a nervous flutter in her stomach, her pulse rang in her ears. Where was all this coming from? Had she eaten that day? Was that it? Was she hungry?

No. Not hungry.

After a few moments he spoke without opening his eyes. “Did you get it?”

“Yes.”

He held out a hand as his eyes opened. The intense blue pierced her, grounded her, chased away fanciful thoughts she had no business entertaining.

“I’m going with you,” she said.

“But the babies—”

“Are with their grandma and aunties and Faith, one adult per child. They’ll be fine for a while and this new mom could use an outing.” She stared hard at him, daring him to refuse her. Did he understand she had to go, she had to know? Anthony Capri was her husband, the father of her children. She owed it to all of them to figure out what was going on.

He said, “Sure. No problem.”

It was a cool day, making Olivia glad Faith had bought her a sweater for the press conference. It felt so good to walk on a sidewalk—she could see her own feet again!—to slide into the front seat of a car unaided. Heck, it felt good to fit in the car without pushing the seat so far back it hit the trunk. Her pregnancy had been relatively uneventful, but that still meant months of bed rest, months of being stuck indoors. She was sick of the Internet, books, television and staring out windows. She’d missed the smell of fresh air, the feel of the wind ruffling her hair as she ran, even the cool dampness of the fog swirling overhead.

She offered to drive but Zac refused, claiming his catnap had refreshed him. He seemed revitalized, his driving as sharp and crisp as ever even if he drove slower than she would have.

Olivia couldn’t keep from counting the motels and hotels they passed. Nineteen of them between the hospital and the Marina Inn. Anthony had bypassed nineteen opportunities to be closer to her.

Except apparently he hadn’t stayed at the Marina Inn after all.

“How’s it feel to be free?” Zac asked.

She looked over at his familiar profile, so glad they were friends again. “Like heaven.”

“How much longer do you have to stay at the hospital?”

“Technically, I’m already rooming with Faith at a place across the street, but in reality, I’m living more or less in the nursery. My mom and sisters are going back to Westerly tomorrow.”

“Have all the babies reached four pounds yet?”

“Not all of them. The doctors want them to stay another few days, but I don’t know. We have an excellent hospital in Westerly, as you know. My sister in California is on her way, too.”

“Sandy?”

“Yep. The doctor seemed impressed I’d have a real live nurse in residence for two weeks. I think he can be persuaded to let the babies leave a little early. I hope so. I want to go home.”

He gestured at the wedding photo Olivia held on her lap. “I thought the photo place burned down while you were on your honeymoon?”

“Right before we left. Mom took this picture herself without telling us and had it blown up. Anthony didn’t want a bunch of amateurish photographs floating around. However, you know Mom. She wanted one of her own so she snapped this without him knowing it.”

She gazed down at the photo again. Her own face wreathed in smiles, Anthony’s tall well-built shape towering over her. He was looking to the right of the camera, holding a champagne flute. Sunlight glinted off the gold and diamonds of the Super Bowl ring he always wore, claiming it was impossible to get off his finger as he’d gained weight since first putting it on.

She’d been blown away by the intensity of their whirlwind romance and had allowed herself to be swept into the exciting world he proposed. It was as though he’d known exactly what she wanted—and what her life lacked—and offered it on a silver platter. She’d convinced herself his love was real and that hers was real, too. She’d married him nine weeks after they met.

Nine weeks!

She dug in her handbag for her house keys. On the ring with the keys was a small pocket knife that also housed a pair of scissors. With a few quick stokes, she cut the photo in half, putting the half with her image and the knife back in her purse.

Zac watched her do this without saying a thing.

They pulled into the hotel parking lot. Olivia struggled a bit getting out of the low-slung car, glad when Zac lent a hand.

Using his badge to grease the way around the long line of guests waiting to check in, Zac showed the wedding photo to the staff. “Have any of you seen this man before?”

Almost everyone at the counter recognized Anthony. “That’s Mr. Gray,” a woman with beautiful slanted eyes said. “Paul Gray.”

“He’s a NASCAR driver,” a kid in a bowtie said.

“And a deep-sea diver,” another added. “And a Super Bowl star.”

“He tipped like there was no tomorrow.”

“‘Tipped’ as in past tense?” Zac said.

“Well, yeah. He checked out yesterday.”

Yesterday! Two days after the babies’ births? Olivia didn’t know what she’d expected to hear, but this wasn’t it. And since when had Anthony driven NASCAR? Her stomach did a backflip and she leaned against the marble counter for support.

Zac said, “Did he say where he was going?”

“Home,” the first young man said without hesitation. “He said his wife was having a baby and he had to get home.”

“Did he say where home was?”

“Uh, I don’t think so.”

“Local,” the woman said. “He seemed very well-acquainted with Seattle.”

“He went out every night he was here. Really nice guy. Really generous.”

“Did he seem distracted or upset when he checked out?”

They all looked at each other and shook their heads.

“Think carefully,” Zac said after a moment. “Was he alone when he checked out?”

“There were people in the lobby,” one girl said.

“No there weren’t. It was mid-morning and all the business people had left,” the boy insisted.

“No, there was a kind of jumpy guy over by the potted palms and a woman and two teenagers by the elevators.”

The boy shrugged. “He had the valet bring his car around,” he volunteered.

“What kind of car, do you remember? A van?” This from Olivia.

“No, a sleek white coupe,” the girl said. “Joey, didn’t you take a picture of him with Alyssa and Tommy?”

“Sure,” one of the boys said, and rummaged in a pocket. Out came the ubiquitous cell phone.

Olivia’s gaze fastened on Anthony, smiling as usual. Green numerals flashing on the screen identified the date as the day before. It had been taken in front of the Inn and in the background she could make out what appeared to be her white car.

She suddenly couldn’t bear to stand there a second longer. She turned on her heels, and heedless of the spasm of pain the jerky movement caused, kept on going toward the front door, quaking inside.

She made it outside before she could go no further. Bending at the waist, she clasped her thighs. Tears dripped onto the pavement by her feet. A small knot of tourists looked away as though embarrassed for her.

She couldn’t stop the tears. She could barely catch a breath. So, this is what it’s like when your life falls apart…

She saw Zac’s shoes before she heard his voice. He put a warm hand on her back and she straightened up, leaning against him as he ushered her out of the traffic pattern.

“Are you all right?”

She said, “No,” but a new thought had just struck her.

“Let me take you back to the hospital,” Zac murmured.

“I want to go to Westerly.”

“But—”

“They said he went home.”

“Olivia, please—”

“Maybe, maybe he took my car home to get the van to come back for me and the babies. Maybe there’s some kind of explanation. I have to know. I have to go look. Either drive me there or I’ll drive myself.”

“You’re in no shape—”

She started walking toward his car, though she couldn’t feel her feet hit the pavement and could barely see through the tears and the burn of dissolving mascara.

“Olivia—”

She paused, turning to look back at him.

“Wait up,” he said.