Chapter 21

Lying there in David’s ex-wife’s ex-study, I couldn’t sleep. As I looked around, I noticed the sewing machine had vanished along with the red-flowered hat and the books about marital sex.

Daniel hadn’t called, and the more I told myself to forget about it and go to sleep, the more wide awake I became. Finally, I threw the covers off, turned on the light, and rummaged in my backpack for my phone. I obviously wasn’t going to get any rest until I broke down and called him.

I checked my phone. Four missed calls? I checked the ringer, but it wasn’t turned off. Damn! Why hadn’t my phone rung?

The first call was my mother.

“Copper! We’re worried about you! Please call!”

The second was Mom again.

“Copper! We just got your message! Are you sure you can’t get here tonight? It’s Christmas, darling, and we miss you. Well, we hope you’ll get here when you can. Love you!”

The third was Daniel.

“Hey. Thought I’d call to see what’s up. Call me back. Bye.”

I sighed. The words didn’t sound particularly apologetic, but his voice did. I felt my shoulders loosen a little.

Oh, Daniel. I don’t want to fight with you.

The fourth call was from Daniel, too. It had come in at about midnight, but that time he left no message.

I punched Daniel’s number immediately, but after four rings, his voice mail answered.

“Hi—it’s Copper.” I paused, wishing I had thought about what to say before I called. “I’m—I’m—” Why wasn’t he picking up, anyway? Where was he? But I guess that’s what he was wondering about me. “Call me, okay?”

Even though I was sure I’d never fall asleep, I set the alarm on my phone for six. I figured that would give me enough time to figure out how to make myself presentable enough to go to work. Neither my apartment nor the Golden Nugget sounded very appealing, but I was going to need a shower, and …

:: :: ::

Monday, December 26

A horrible dream woke me up five minutes before my alarm would have. I was hiking up a steep mountain to a house surrounded by a tall chain-link fence topped with razor wire. When I reached the house, no one was there. Suddenly I was on the outside of the chain-link fence, clinging to it. Rocky cliffs dropped off below me to water hundreds of feet below. I tried, but I couldn’t climb up. I would have to try to climb down.

Then, suddenly, I heard Daniel’s voice. I looked up, and he was clinging to the fence above me.

“Don’t worry,” he said. “I’m here.”

He inched down alongside me, but before I could say anything, he smiled and—let go! He twisted into a dive, and he was gone!

I clung to the fence as the realization dawned that I could never get away alive. My arms were already weakening, I was alone, and—I woke up, my heart pounding.

The room was dark, but I could see light under the door. Good. At least David was up.

I threw on the bathrobe he had loaned me and joined him in the kitchen. He was wearing boxer shorts and a “Race for the Cure” sweatshirt.

“Hey,” he said, smiling at me in a way that almost made me feel better. “Want some coffee?”

“Maybe,” I said. “I’m still recovering from a scary dream.”

David filled a Harrah’s mug and set it on the table.

“Do you remember it?”

“Sort of,” I said. “Basically, I was about to die, so I woke up instead.”

“Sounds like a wise choice.”

“I got four calls last night, but my phone never rang.”

“Oh, I should have warned you about the little vale of silence on Palm Treasure Drive,” David said. “Cell service is notoriously weak right here. Drives me nuts.”

I took a sip of coffee.

“I think maybe I should have let that dream kill me,” I said.

David sat down across the kitchen table from me, his mug in front of him.

“Copper,” he said, “if there’s anything I can do … ”

“You’ve been great, David,” I said. “I owe you.”

David smiled. “And don’t think I won’t collect,” he said.

:: :: ::

I couldn’t face going to my apartment before work, and the Golden Nugget was out of the question until I resolved things with Daniel. That left going to work in the same clothes I wore Christmas Day, but fortunately there was some very nice herbal-smelling shampoo in David’s downstairs bathroom, and I found a hair dryer in a drawer. I always keep some mascara in my backpack, so only my teeth needed attention. I figured I’d stop at a drugstore on my way to The Light, but the first thing on my agenda once I was out of the no-cell zone was to call Daniel.

He answered on the first ring.

“Hey,” he said.

“Hey,” I said, trying to match his careful nonchalance. “You okay?”

“I’m fine,” he said. “Where are you?”

“On my way to work. Where are you?”

“Golden Nugget.”

It was one of those horrible conversations where every time you say a word it feels like you’re throwing a raw egg, and every time you hear a word, you feel like you have to catch one without breaking it. But in the end, we managed to agree that I’d pick him up at noon at the Golden Nugget and we’d get “a bite to eat.” Things had to be less awkward in person.

My second call was to the vicarage, where Michael answered the phone.

“What happened to you?” he said. “We were worried.”

“I’m sorry,” I said. “I just couldn’t get there.”

“Turned into a real ice storm, eh?” Michael said.

“That’s a good metaphor for it.”

“Well, I hope you can come to dinner tonight, Copper. It’s Ted and Jackie’s last night in town, you know.”

“I know,” I said. “I’ll come right after work.” I paused. “Thanks, Michael.”

“We’re just glad you’re okay, baby sister. See you tonight.”

The “baby sister” grated, but when I think of all the justifiably outraged things he could have said, I decided it was a minor transgression. I hoped Sierra would be as forgiving.

A quick stop at a drugstore equipped me with a toothbrush and toothpaste, and I put them to use in the women’s restroom on the way to my cube.

I was just finishing up when Alexandra Leonard joined me at the sinks. She was the only person in the building who didn’t look like she’d overdone it at the wassail bowl. She was her usual perky chipmunk self.

“Hi, Copper,” she chirped. “Happy Boxing Day!”

“Hi, Alexandra,” I said, shaking off my toothbrush.

“Heard about Ed Bramlett?”

“What about him?”

“He got taken to UMC yesterday afternoon,” she said. “Intensive care. Pneumonia. May not make it.”

“What?” I tried to sound less surprised than I was.

“He’s really had a hard time with the chemo this time,” she said as she dried her hands. She smiled at me in the mirror as she smoothed her hair. “Well, anyway, have a great day!”

Ed Bramlett had cancer? I knew he was in bad shape, but—why hadn’t I heard about it before?

In my cube, I tried to get started on my morning calls, but thoughts of Ed Bramlett kept haunting me. He’d been gravely ill when he tried to get my cell number from David. Making sure I got that envelope might well have been the last thing he did before he was hauled off to the hospital. He wanted me to read it before Monday. Was something bad going to happen today that I was supposed to prevent? Or was he just trying to beat his own clock?

I sighed and reached for the phone. Mondays are busy, even the day after Christmas. Might as well get started. But the phone rang as I was about to lift the receiver.

“Copper!” Damn. It was Heather.

“Richard got swarmed this morning,” she said. “When I got here, there were eight cop cars crammed into the cul-de-sac. I counted. Eight.”

“God, what happened?”

“Somebody reported a gunshot, but Richard says he just slammed the door hard when some dude from the homeowners’ association came around to harass him.”

I thought back to the day Richard aimed a hose at the guy who’d tried to videotape him washing his car. It wasn’t difficult to imagine a dork like that telling the police that a slamming door was a gunshot.

“The cops hung around awhile and took a couple of Richard’s guns. They finally left, but they saw the house, including the new disaster area in Jason’s room.”

“Did they take him?”

“No, but it doesn’t mean they won’t. Copper, we’ve got to get him out of here. It really is only a matter of time before—”

“Okay, Heather,” I said. “Let me make some calls, and—” I had no idea what I was going to do, but getting Heather off the line was definitely the first step.

“Shit,” Heather said.

“What?” I could hear crashing and shouting in the background.

“Okay, bye,” she said, and the line went dead.

At least she said “okay,” I thought, and even “bye.” The shouts and crashes probably weren’t life-threatening.

I had actually succeeded in making a call to the Silverado about their January events calendar when David materialized in front of my desk.

“I’ve got some Ed Bramlett news,” he said.

“I’ve heard,” I said.

“That he died?”

Oh, my God!” I said. “No! I just heard he was in the hospital.”

“Yeah, well ... ”

“Really? He’s dead?”

David nodded.

“Damn,” I said.

“Yeah,” David said. “You weren’t finished with him, were you?”

I looked at him, and our eyes locked.

“No,” I said. “I wasn’t.” I sighed and ran my hands through my hair. “He was incredibly vulgar, and then he gave me that pile of stuff. Now he dies.”

“A bastard to the end.”

“I really wanted to talk to him today,” I said. “I was counting on it.”

“I know,” David said. “Hence my presence in front of your desk.”

“You have some new ideas?”

“No, but if there’s anything I can do, Copper, please—”

“Why didn’t you tell me Ed had cancer?”

“I didn’t know, Copper,” he said. “We all knew he was sick, but—”

“Alexandra Leonard knew he had cancer.”

“Alexandra Leonard knows everything.” David shrugged. “Ask Norton Katz if you don’t believe me. Whenever he’s short of good gossip for his column, he goes straight to her.”

David didn’t stick around. We both had way too much to do. As soon as he left, I checked my email and found a message from Greg Langenfeld, Editor-in-Chief.

“I regret to report that Edward Bramlett passed away at University Medical Center early this morning. I will let you know funeral details when they become available.”

And then it seemed as though everyone in the building felt responsible for informing me of Ed’s death personally. By the time the visitations began to diminish, I felt as though I were Ed’s grieving girlfriend instead of his last victim. Even J.C. Dillon, Ed’s obvious successor as resident male chauvinist, stopped by.

“He liked you, Copper,” J.C. said.

“Right,” I said. “He was practically in love.”

“He called me yesterday morning,” J.C. said. “Told me he was giving you his Saxon file.”

J.C. had my attention now.

“You want to hear what else he said?”

Yes! I wanted to scream, but I limited myself to a noncommittal nod.

“He said, I got Saxon down to the end zone, old buddy, but I couldn’t score. I never dreamed I’d have to pass to a blonde, but she’s the only one with enough reason to take it over the line.” J. C. paused. “Then he said something about Saxon screwing your brother. Does that mean anything to you?”

“Screwing my brother?” I said. “He said that?”

J.C. nodded.

“Yes,” I said. “It means something to me.”

“Good,” J.C. said. “And by the way, nice work on that movie review. I wish I’d read it before I wasted two hours watching the flick. Your line about the pockmarked butt was perfect.”

What? J.C. Dillon was giving the Calendar Girl a compliment? But he was gone before I could thank him, and I had more pressing things to think about anyway.

:: :: ::

Ed’s time had run out, but mine hadn’t. Not quite, anyway. Unless—I suddenly thought back to the night we had dinner at Mondrian. Julia had practically ordered Michael to meet her the next day, even though it was a Saturday and even though it was Christmas Eve. And Michael had agreed, I was sure of it. Was he already “screwed?”

I thought long and hard about everything I knew. Between Julia’s cryptic tape and the envelope of stuff Ed had given me, the only scenario that made any sense was that Julia—and presumably Jaz and Johnny—were doing something shady with the Alliance’s real estate deal. Damn! I wished Ed had stuck around long enough to tell me what he suspected. I wished that about Victoria, too. This was the second time in two weeks that somebody had given me a pile of papers and then died.

I called the vicarage, but the answering machine was on. I called St. Andrew’s, but Michael’s recorded voice answered there, too. It didn’t surprise me, because Monday was his day off. I tried his cell phone. Voice mail there, too, and I left a third message to “call me as soon as you can. It’s important.”

I sighed. Like it or not, I had to call Sierra. The receptionist at Accolade Realty put me right through.

“Sierra. It’s Copper.”

Silence.

“I’m sorry about last night.”

More silence.

“Are you there?”

“Yeah, I’m here.”

“Look, I’m really sorry, and—something’s come up.”

“What now? You’ve been caught in a hurricane? No wait, I know. There’s been a major earthquake on Fremont Street.”

“I’m sorry, Sierra. I really am. But—this is about Michael. He could be in big trouble.”

Silence.

“I’m not making this up. There’s evidence that Julia Saxon is doing something shady with the real estate deal. I could show you—”

“Evidence! I’ll give you evidence!” I held the telephone receiver away from my ear. “You’ve been polluted by all those assholes at the newspaper. They’ve always been out to get Julia, and you know why they haven’t succeeded? Because they have no evidence! Your so-called evidence is just a big pile of shitty rumors, and I can prove it.”

“I know you’re probably right,” I said, “but could you make sure everything’s okay anyway? Just to be sure?”

“Who do you think I am, Copper? I work in a real estate office, in case you hadn’t noticed. Of course I can check things out.”

She hung up, and I couldn’t help smiling. Yeah, she was mad, but I could handle that if she was also going to dig into the Alliance’s property deal. Except—I called her back, hoping she’d take my call after that last interchange.

“Sorry to bother you again,” I said. “But when are you going to check into the deal?”

“I’m doing it right now, Copper,” Sierra said. “And I’d be making more progress if my phone didn’t keep ringing.”

“Okay,” I said. “And thanks.”

A huff preceded the slam.

God, I thought. Even a double-size bottle of designer vodka wouldn’t fix things this time. I called Michael’s cell phone again, but he still wasn’t answering. I couldn’t think of anything else to do on the Julia front, and after I’d worked halfway through a stack of press releases, it was time to head up to the Golden Nugget to meet Daniel.

:: :: ::

Daniel opened the door in nothing but boxers. He was smiling.

“I missed you,” he said.

“I missed you,” I said.

He moved aside. On the bed was a big tray of sushi, a bowl of grapes, a plate of brownies, and a bottle of champagne sticking out of a plastic ice bucket.

“You’re incredible!”

Daniel kissed me. “I thought it was time to get back to the way we were,” he said. “Feel like some horizontal sushi?”

Horizontal sushi. It was a phrase and a habit we’d enjoyed back at Princeton. California roll never tastes better than between the sheets.

“Where did you find sushi?” I asked.

“Asked the front desk first,” Daniel said, “but then the taxi driver said he knew a better place. I was surprised he spoke English, and downright amazed that he was interested enough to recommend a sushi bar. Never would have happened in D.C.”

“They actually have to take an English test here,” I said. “And maybe he got a kickback, but I think it’s only strip clubs that pay a bounty for customers.”

I looked again at the smorgasbord on the bed. The spread looked pretty tempting.

“I’m starving.”

Daniel picked up a pair of chopsticks and smiled. “May I pincer you up a salmon roll, ma’am?”

There’s something about a hotel room that lets you shut out the rest of the world—and even the rest of your life—for a little while. And Daniel had spent all morning playing caterer. That was unbelievably sweet, and I told him that at least a hundred times.

“I wish I didn’t have to go back to work,” I said as we finished off the brownies. I’d limited myself to one glass of champagne, but it had been enough to erase all career ambition. “I’m off tomorrow, though. All day.”

Daniel drained his glass, set it on the nightstand, and rolled over to face me.

He was about to say something when my phone rang.

“I have to get that,” I said. “Just a minute.”

It was Chris Farr, and he sounded unusually harassed.

“How soon can you get back here?” he asked.

“I’m headed there now,” I said, jumping off the bed and grabbing my clothes. “What’s happened?”

“Beaucoup changes in Dazzle, and since you’re not going to be here tomorrow—”

“I’ll be right there, Chris, and I won’t leave until everything’s under control.”

Daniel was still studying me when I hung up.

“We’ve still got to talk,” he said.

God, those are ominous words when they come out of a man’s mouth. A woman says them, and all it means is, “Let’s hang out.” But from a guy, they’re like Dirty Harry’s gun.

“Okay,” I said. “Pick a topic.”

“Where were you last night?”

“What? Oh, I stayed with a friend.” But damn my ears. They’re worse than Pinocchio’s nose, and I wasn’t even lying. “Where were you?”

“Here. Alone.” He drained his glass and refilled it. “Is the friend someone I’ve met?”

I looked at Daniel. He knew as well as I did that he had met only one person in Las Vegas who qualified as a “friend.”

For a moment, I was sorely tempted to say no. But what was the point? I hadn’t done anything to be ashamed of. I hadn’t even sat on the sofa with David to watch Magnum Force, and it irritated me that Daniel was making me feel like I’d spent the night having torrid sex with him.

“I stayed at David Nussbaum’s.” I was tempted to add “in his wife’s study,” but I didn’t. I shouldn’t have to, I kept thinking. That’s not the way it’s supposed to work. I’m not guilty of anything, and I shouldn’t have to prove my innocence.

Daniel got up, found a pair of jeans, and pulled them on. He had a T-shirt over his head when I spoke again.

“I don’t think I should have to apologize for that.”

His head poked through, and his face was wearing the same look as it did when I wouldn’t tell him Victoria’s address.

“I love you, Daniel,” I said. “I wanted to be with you. But you didn’t want to be with me, and so when David offered, well … ”

Daniel just stood there.

“Will you come with me to have dinner with my family tonight?” I said. “My parents are leaving tomorrow.”

For a horrible moment, I thought he would say no, and it felt like near death. Our whole relationship swirled in front of my eyes. Was this it? Were we done? Damn it! David and I hadn’t even so much as smooched!

Daniel wouldn’t look at me at first. When he did, I saw tears standing in his eyes.

“Daniel, I’m—” Tears jumped to my own eyes. “I hate this. I love you.”

“I love you, too, Copper.”

“I’ll pick you up as soon as I can after work,” I said. “Okay?

Daniel didn’t say anything.

“Please? I’ll get here no later than five thirty. I promise.”

He finally nodded, and I left.

Back at The Light, I attacked the stack of notes and press releases Chris had waiting for me, and I managed to power through most of them. When I went into the lunchroom to get some coffee, I found myself checking the corners for Ed Bramlett. Damn! It was almost like I actually missed the old guy.