Shadows in the Limelight Read online

He fell silent, listening to the man on the other end of the line, then snapped, ‘I know all I need to know about her ... No, I don’t think it was strange that she ended her career when her brother died.

  ‘... I don’t know what you’re trying to imply, but she’s your daughter-in-law now, so you’ll just have to accept it...’ The knuckles of the hand holding the receiver whitened. ‘It was straightforward, a car accident, no scandal in that. They were very close and as far as her singing now, I explained...’

  CHAPTER TEN

  CATHERINE closed the bedroom door silently behind her, shutting out the phone conversation. Why had she ever listened? No scandal! The scandal was there all right, waiting like some ghastly creature trapped in a locked box. She and Rick had covered up how Casey had died, making it look like a car accident, but other people must have known about the drugs, even if she hadn’t. Casey hadn’t lived in a vacuum. What if one of them decided to let that monster out?

  She felt sick. Why hadn’t she told Kent the whole truth last night? She hadn’t wanted to discuss it because it was like an unhealed wound inside her and she wanted to avoid the pain that probing would bring. It just hadn’t occurred to her that the secret of the scandal from her past was not just known to her.

  Damn Rick! What could she do now? He had closed the one door open to her. They could have had the marriage annulled, called the whole thing off. It was too late now, everybody knew they were married. The embarrassment of having the bride walk out straight after the wedding would create its own scandal.

  Raising trembling hands to her face, Catherine knew she did not have the courage to tell Kent about Casey. The secret had been safe for years, she had to pray that it would remain that way. She looked down at the pendant, realising she had been standing by the door for some time. Kent would be wondering what had happened to her. She didn’t want him to know she hadn’t even started changing yet, so she grasped the amethyst teardrop and gave it a sharp tug. The fine chain parted and Catherine removed it from around her neck and tossed it on to the dresser. Quickly shedding her clothes, she took out an emerald-green crepe evening gown from the closet and pulled it on. Sparing only a moment to touch up her make-up, she quickly brushed her hair, then fastened her diamond necklace around her throat. Slipping on the matching earrings and finding her shoes, she was ready to return to the living-room.

  Kent was still standing by the phone when she entered, a brooding expression on his face as he stared at the instrument. Hearing her come in, he turned to look at her. His features were etched into bitter lines and the blue shadow of his beard stood out starkly against his abnormally pale complexion.

  The silence hung between them like an acrid mist. Catherine could feel her heart thumping in her chest and she nervously twisted the gold band that adorned her finger. Finally, she couldn’t take the silence any longer and, moistening her dry lips, she asked, ‘Your father ... was he terribly upset?’

  ‘He’s not ordering any brass bands to welcome us home,’ Kent snapped, and Catherine flinched. Seeing her stricken look, he rubbed the nape of his neck with one long-fingered hand. Looking up at her again, his eyes were softer. ‘I’m sorry, I had no right to snarl at you. He was mad. I know I should have expected him to be, but I don’t know...’ he shrugged, ‘I thought once the deed was done, he would accept it. I know what people say about him, that he’s strong-willed, ruthless even, but that’s the way he had to be in business. Our family life ... he’s been a strict parent and perhaps more remote than other fathers, but I’ve always respected him, felt that he cared. I thought I understood him. I’m beginning to think I’ve never known him at all.’

  Catherine read the pain and disillusionment in his eyes before he turned his back to her. This whole mess was her fault. She should never have let Kent talk her into marrying him. Her hands fluttered uncertainly in front of her. She wanted to go to Kent, to comfort him, but her own sense of inadequacy kept her rooted to the spot. She should never have-entered his life.

  Kent turned around again, giving her a faint smile. ‘I’m sorry, Cat. This has been a hell of a day for you, hasn’t it?’ Crossing the room to her, he took her hands in his and looked down at her. ‘You deserve so much more than I’ve been able to provide. I can only say that I’ll try to make all your tomorrows better than this day has been.’ A tender light gleamed in the depths of his eyes and he gently stroked her hands. ‘We made some promises this morning and I want you to know that I’ll stand by them. Maybe I’m old-fashioned, but I think marriage is for keeps. I don’t believe in divorce at the first sign of trouble. We’ll both have to work at making a go of this. If there are problems, we can overcome them if we try. And we will try, won’t we, Cat?’

  Catherine lowered her lashes, hiding the shame in her eyes. He didn’t know all the problems they faced, he didn’t know that some could never be overcome. As the evening progressed, so did her guilt. Kent was trying, trying very hard. He smiled often, teased her gently over the meal sent up by room service. He raised a glass of Rick’s champagne, toasting her with fulsome compliments. And as the hours passed, her guilt gained momentum. Just occasionally, she would catch a bleak look crossing his face, a note of resigned dejection in his eyes. She knew he was thinking of his father, of the rift between them—a rift she had caused.

  They were seated on the sofa, Kent’s arm around her shoulder as they sipped coffee and liqueurs. Kent moved his hand, gently tracing a pattern along her arm and up her shoulder. ‘You have nice skin. It feels like warm velvet under my fingertips.’ The arm tightened around her, drawing her closer to his side. He reached out and took away her coffee-cup, setting it on the side-table before turning back to her.

  As she saw his head move towards her, she moved away, jumping off the sofa and going to stand several feet away, her back to him. When he looked at her with warmth, with tenderness, all she could see was her own dishonesty.

  ‘Let’s go out for a while,’ she said, her voice unsteady.

  ‘Out?’

  She turned around then, smiling at him with effort. ‘Yes. Let’s go downstairs to the casino. I feel like playing blackjack. Casey and I used to play sometimes after our show finished. It’s a lot of fun. I haven’t played for years.’ The enthusiasm she had tried to inject into her voice held a note of desperation and she saw him frown. But she had to get away from this room, away from Kent, before guilt drove her into saying things best left unsaid.

  ‘It’s almost midnight, Cat.’ Kent was watching her closely, taking in the little nervous gestures, the hands that were clasped tightly together, the eyes that wouldn’t meet his.

  ‘Well, you know how it is in Las Vegas. Time doesn’t matter.’ Kent had risen from the sofa and was coming towards her. Nervously, Catherine babbled on, ‘Don’t worry, Kent. I’m not going to lose all your money. I know how to play. Casey and I had a system. You have to watch what the dealer’s up card is ’

  ‘You don’t have to be afraid of me, Cat,’ Kent said gently, putting his hands on her shoulders.

  ‘Afraid?’

  ‘You’ve been tense all night ... Cat on a hot tin roof,’ he teased. ‘The other night was the first time for you, but it will be better this time. I promise you. Tonight’s our wedding night, love. I don’t want to spend it playing cards...’ He lowered his head, his lips seeking hers. For a moment Catherine resisted the caress, unyielding and impassive in his arms. Then slowly she relaxed, allowing her emotions free rein as she responded to the tender asking in his touch. The guilt would return, but for now, she seized selfishly on the physical love he offered, letting desire blot out the nagging ache of her conscience.

  She was breathless when finally he lifted his head and smiled down at her. Smoothly he lifted her off her feet and automatically she linked her arms around his neck. His eyes were soft blue and, as she stared into them, a knot of pain tightened in her stomach. He deserved so much more than she could offer. He deserved trust and honesty, but she was too weak to give them. Tears pricked
her eyelids and she closed them as he carried her into the bedroom.

  Curiously enough, the next few days passed pleasantly. Kent arranged for them to be away from Vancouver for a week and though he suggested they might want to leave Las Vegas for somewhere else, Catherine found she was enjoying her stay. In a sense, Vegas was almost her home town. She had lived there for five years during her singing career and knew the out-of-the-way places and local beauty, spots that tourists rarely saw and enjoyed sharing them with Kent. Inevitably, she was occasionally recognised, but found that a hastily scribbled autograph satisfied most fans.

  As the roses lost their pristine freshness and Rick Moss made no attempt to contact her, the tension gradually eased out of her. She still felt guilty for not telling Kent about Casey’s death, but for the most part she simply avoided thinking about it.

  They had been married for four days when they returned late one afternoon to their suite in the hotel. They had spent the day on the ranch of one of Catherine’s friends from the old days. When Anthony Graves had called, asking her to visit him, she had been reluctant to go, afraid he might say something about Casey in front of Kent. She hadn’t wanted to hurt Tony’s feelings though, or make her excuses with Kent in the same room as she took the call, so she had finally agreed. She needn’t have worried. The comedian seemed to sense that Catherine didn’t want to talk about old times and quite happily kept the conversation on what they were doing with their lives now.

  ‘Are you going to rest for a while?’ asked Kent as he inserted the key into the door of their room. ‘We’ll be up late if we’re going to Tony’s midnight show.’

  ‘I think I will.’ She hesitated, then, ‘You don’t mind, do you—going to see the show, I mean?’

  ‘Of course not,’ he assured her. ‘I’m looking forward to it. I liked Tony.’ He suddenly grinned at her. ‘I’ll admit, though, that I liked him a lot better after I’d met him.’

  Catherine looked blank and he laughed, slipping his arm about her shoulders and hugging her. ‘When you suggested we go visit him, I was afraid you were taking me to meet an old flame.’

  ‘Tony? He’s practically old enough to be my grandfather!’

  ‘I know,’ he said with satisfaction, pushing open the door to the suite and propelling her through it. He stopped abruptly. James Latimer was standing in the centre of the lounge. ‘Dad! What are you doing here?’

  ‘I came to talk to you.’ Though he had spoken to Kent his black gaze rested on Catherine, and her blood suddenly cooled.

  ‘I’m oh my honeymoon, Dad,’ Kent reminded him in a light tone that was still puzzled. ‘Couldn’t it have waited?’

  ‘I don’t think so.’ Beneath James’s carefully controlled voice lurked pure rage. His eyes bored into Catherine’s like diamond drill bits and he said, ‘Have you told him what you and that little worm are up to yet?'

  Catherine stared back at him, then horror slowly darkened her eyes. Rick—she hadn’t heard from Rick these past few days. He hadn’t even tried to see her. That wasn’t like him. What had he been doing?

  Kent turned his head to look at her and saw that the colour had seeped from her face. He quickly looked back to his father. ‘What are you talking about?’ he demanded.

  The smile that twisted his lips was cruel and his eyes never left Catherine’s face. ‘Shall I tell him? Shall I tell him how the little gold-digger he was stupid enough to marry is trying to get her claws into me? Shall I tell him how your lover is trying to blackmail me?’ The control left his voice as it rose in volume.

  There was more than just anger in James Latimer’s face, there was triumph written in his harsh features: he thought his opinion of her had been vindicated. Catherine pulled herself together.

  ‘It’s Rick, isn’t it? What does he want?’

  ‘Don’t pretend you don’t know!’ snarled James Latimer.

  ‘I don’t know!’ Catherine shouted, erupting with anger. She glared at the two men, then focused on Kent. His face was as pale as her own and his eyes were bewildered. Abruptly, her anger drained away. ‘Whatever your father says, Rick Moss is not my lover and never has been. I hate Rick Moss. I would kill him if I could!’

  For several seconds she held Kent’s eyes, then she saw him take a deep calming breath and turn to his father. ‘I want to know what’s happened.’

  James Latimer’s eyes flicked over her with contempt before he gave his son his attention. ‘Rick Moss came to see me last night. He’s got some pictures. He’ll sell them and the negatives to me for one hundred thousand dollars. We’ll have to give it to him. If they ever became public, you’d be finished in politics.’ Catherine saw Kent swallow convulsively and if possible, grow even more pale. ‘What sort of pictures?’ he asked huskily.

  His father laughed derisively. ‘Not porn, if that’s what you’re worried about.’ He shot Catherine a scornful look. ‘If that was it I would let her hang. No, in some ways this is worse. These pictures are of her brother when he died, of his body, and she’s in them.’ Kent frowned and shook his head. ‘I don’t understand. Casey Devlin died in a car accident. His body was burned beyond recognition.’

  Before Mr. Latimer could respond, Catherine said quietly, ‘That isn’t what happened: we just made it look like that. Casey ... Casey died from a drug overdose. I didn’t want anyone to know, so I let ... I let Rick talk me into covering up what happened.’ She put her hand over her eyes, willing herself not to cry. She hadn’t known about the pictures; she hadn’t been aware of Rick’s taking them. She wasn’t surprised, though. He must have been saving them all these years just waiting for an opportunity to tear her life apart.

  ‘In the pictures, she’s standing with the body, holding a needle and a packet of white power. It’s pretty obvious what happened,’ James Latimer elaborated. ‘I—’

  ‘When does Moss want the money?’ Kent cut his father off in a flat voice.

  ‘The day after tomorrow, delivered to him here in Las Vegas: cash, small bills.’ James smiled wryly. ‘He wants it in US dollars.’

  ‘You can go back to Victoria, then. I’ll take care of it.’

  ‘I can afford it more than you can. I’ll pay him. That’s what fathers are for.’ There was a sarcastic edge to James’s tone.

  Kent’s temper snapped. ‘I said I would take care of it!’ Seeing his father’s expression, he said, ‘Look, I’m not some seven-year-old who’s put a ball through the neighbour’s window and has to have Daddy put it right for him. I’ve grown up, even if you don’t want to admit it. I’m a man and I’ll take care of my own life.’

  ‘Well, you’ve done a fine job so far—letting this little tramp get her hooks into you.’ Mr. Latimer tossed his head derisively in Catherine’s direction. ‘If you wanted her, you should have just taken her—you didn’t have to be fool enough to marry her!’ Catherine held her breath as Kent clenched his fists white-knuckled by his side. She saw him make a slight movement towards his father and she quickly stepped between. ‘Stop it, Kent! I won’t have you fighting over me!’

  ‘I’m not going to let him talk about you like that!’ rasped Kent.

  Catherine clutched at his arm. ‘Please, Kent, just forget it.’ She could feel the tensed muscles of his forearm and met his eyes with pleading in her own. ‘Please, don’t,’ she begged.

  After a slow minute of agonised waiting, he slipped his free arm about her shoulders and turned her to face James Latimer. ‘For Cat’s sake—and for Mom’s—I’m going to pretend you never said what you did. Whether you like it or not, Cat’s my wife and you’d better get used to the idea. Now, I think we should check with the airport about getting you a flight out of here.’

  ‘Don’t bother,’ James Latimer retorted, stalking past him to the door. ‘I’ll take care of it myself.’ Wrenching open the door, he went through it and slammed it behind him.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ Catherine broke the silence that followed his exit. ‘I didn’t ...’ She trailed off at the look of anguish on Kent’s
face.

  ‘Can’t we talk later?’ he interrupted harshly, then in a gentler voice: ‘I need some time to take this all in.’ With one hand, he kneaded the muscles at the back of his neck, then looked over to her. ‘I’m going out for a while. I’m sorry, I know I shouldn’t walk out on you like this, but right now ... I don’t know what to say to you ... I don’t know what I think. I know you didn’t put Moss up to this.’ He laughed bitterly. ‘I trust you ... even if you’ve never trusted me enough to tell me about your brother. But ... I've got to have a little time.’

  The quiet click of the door closing behind him sounded deafening in the silent suite. He wanted a little time, she thought bitterly, so he wouldn’t say something precipitate. He hadn’t taken that time when he insisted she marry him, so he must have learned something from that mistake. How could he help but regret that she had ever come into his life?

  Blinded by tears, she made her way to the sofa and wept uncontrollably for several minutes. Finally, the tears were spent and she lay exhausted against the damp cushion of the couch. As her emotional crisis passed, her thoughts grew clearer. As Kent could not let his father pay for his mistake in marrying her, she could not let Kent pay for her past. She would have to pay Rick herself. Fortunately, in that stunned lethargy in which she had packed, she had tossed in her jewellery case without simply sorting out a few pieces to take with her. She would get it from the hotel safe and Rick would have to accept that in lieu of the Latimers’ money.

  Getting to her feet, she went to the bedroom to change and wash the tears from her cheeks. It shouldn’t be hard to find Rick. He didn’t seem to have changed much over the years, so he probably still frequented the same hangouts.

  Three hours later, Catherine stood in the hallway of one of the upper floors of Caesar’s Palace steeling herself to knock on the door before her. Thinking of the worn suit Rick had been wearing when she saw him at the airport, she decided he wasn’t wasting any time before enjoying his anticipated wealth. The bartender at the watering hole where she had enquired about Rick’s whereabouts had told her he had moved here only this morning from a far less opulent dwelling.