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He pulled out the drawers on both night stands and checked the contents of each, ran his hands up into both lamp shades, and checked the floor behind each nightstand. Nothing. He seemed satisfied that there was nothing to be found. Virginia let out her breath slowly and tried to smile.

  "Did you think I'd hide her in a drawer?"

  "I just do what I'm told," said Marco as he picked up the waste paper basket and ruffled through the used tissue. He was setting it back on the floor when it caught his eye. He reached down and picked up a broken piece of a crystal angel's wing. Virginia unconsciously took a step backward. Marco brought the wing piece under the lamp and studied it.

  "Where's the rest, Virginia?" Marco's tone was low and menacing.

  "It's from a bird statue I broke a while ago," she stammered. "I probably threw it away."

  "Mister Wolfe is missing a crystal angel from his desk drawer," said Marco evenly. "You were in the office this morning. Where's the rest of it?”

  "I took it to a jeweler this afternoon," she lied in a nervous staccato. "I broke the angel this morning while I was working in the den. I didn't want Morgan angry with me. I thought the jeweler could fix it while Morgan was away."

  "Without this piece?"

  "I couldn't find that piece," Virginia blurted. "I asked him if he could make another wing tip. I'm so glad you found that, Marco. I'll take it to him first thing on Monday. He'll be able to fix it faster with that."

  "What's the jeweler's name?"

  "A Jewish guy, on Canon Drive in Beverly Hills. Irv, Irving Sanderson. Beverly Jewelers."

  Marco slowly straightened and moved toward Virginia. He held the crystal wing in his open palm. Virginia backed away as if he held a scorpion. Marco inched the wing to his fingertips with his thumbnail. Then with a quick flick of his wrist he raked Virginia's cheek with the sharp edge of the crystal. She winced with the pain but her eyes never left Marco's face.

  "You don't lie well, Ginny," he said coldly. "Irv Sanderson would not take anything from you without Morgan's permission. As soon as you showed up, he would have called Morgan. Irv knows Morgan Wolfe real well. Where is the angel, Ginny?"

  It was too late for self-recrimination, too late now that the one flaw had boiled to the surface. She had thought the crystal angel pretty. Had kept it only because it pleased her. Virginia had assumed that it had been Clarissa's. Even so, she never should have wrapped it up with the diamonds.

  Her first impulse was to cut and run but she knew she would not get as far as the front door. To hold out on Marco would invite a slow and painful death. She had to give him the angel and the jewelry. Marco's loyalty to Morgan would prevent cutting a deal with him. Wolfe could match any amount that Clarissa's diamonds would bring. Virginia had one option left. Give Marco what he wanted and tell him that Clarissa was safe in the hands of a friend and that only Virginia could get her released to Wolfe.

  The switchblade clicked open in Marco's hand and Virginia drew back to the bedroom wall, stiff with terror.

  "Time's up," he grinned and held the knife point to her throat and the jagged edge of the crystal wing to the corner of her eye.

  "Bed post," she stammered.

  He roughly shoved her over to the bed. She lifted off the newel on the post at the foot of the bed, then drew out a black velvet wrapped packet on a string from the hollow bedpost. Marco grabbed it from her hand and pushed her down on the bed. He sliced open the velvet with the blade. The diamond necklace, two diamond earrings, and a diamond ring and watch glittered in his hand. The crystal angel with the broken wing dropped to the carpeted floor. Virginia reached for it and Marco viciously kicked her hand. She recoiled in pain.

  "Well, well, Virginia," he mused as he examined the jewelry. "Going into business for yourself? That's what got the Roth brothers in the lime pit."

  "Alright," Virginia blurted angrily. "Clarissa was here last night. She didn't stay. She asked if she could take a shower and get a cup of coffee. She was afraid to go out with all the diamonds on. Asked me if I would keep them for her until she could talk to Morgan. I guess they had some kind of lovers quarrel and she was afraid to go home."

  "Then where did she go?" Marco asked as he thrust the jewels into his black leather jacket.

  "I told her she should go home and make up with Morgan," Virginia replied, her voice cracked and pinched. "I assumed she went home."

  "Where is she, Ginny?" Marco hissed through his teeth as he grabbed Virginia by the throat and forced her to lay back on the bare mattress. "Where is she?"

  "I don't know," Virginia replied.

  Marco squeezed her throat painfully and she clawed futilely at his hand. In a sudden fit of anger, Marco took both of her wrists and pinned them under his knees. He knelt over her and forced her head aside, exposing her right cheek. Then he carved a thin heart into her cheek with the blade.

  "Please don't," Virginia cried.

  "Ginny loves Morgan," he smiled as he continued to carve Virginia's initials in the top of the heart and Morgan Wolfe's initials in the bottom of the heart. "Morgan doesn't love Ginny. Morgan doesn't love anybody. Any fool can see that."

  "Please, Marco, stop," Virginia pleaded.

  "Where is she?"

  "With friends," Virginia cried.

  "Where?" Marco demanded.

  "They'll take her to the police," Virginia told him. "You can't get to her, Marco. Not without me. An army couldn't get to her. You kill me, Morgan Wolfe is going to be laid wide open. He'll blame you, Marco. You'll go down right with him. You blew it, Marco. You didn't secure the house. Clarissa is your problem. Look at your damn face. Morgan had that done, didn't he? You blew it! You need Clarissa and I can give her to you."

  "I don't buy your bullshit," Marco snapped, then he smiled evilly. "What do blind secretaries make these days, Ginny?" He placed the tip of the knife blade at her right eye.

  "I'll take you," she cried. They'll let me in with no questions. "I'll take you to her."

  "Where?"

  "Downtown. She's with some people downtown. If anybody but me asks for her they'll call the police. I swear to you, Marco, the place is a fortress. That's why I took her there. I'm telling you the truth."

  She dared a look up into Marco's battered face. She could read the indecision there. "A trade, Marco. My life for hers. Morgan gets what he wants, I stay alive, and you’re a hero to your boss. You cover your ass. If you kill me you're no closer to Clarissa Hayden then you were last night."

  "Morgan ain't gonna let you live," Marco sneered.

  "I'll deal with Morgan," Virginia argued. "You can hand Clarissa to him. Do it, Marco. He needs her dead. You failed Morgan last night. You let her get away. Don't blow it again. I'm offering her to you but I stay alive. Please?"

  "You make one wrong move, Ginny," Marco warned and pressed the blade into her throat.

  "You have my word," she whispered.

  "Too bad," he grinned. "I was just getting started.

  Marco yanked her to her feet just as the telephone on the nightstand rang. She looked from the phone to Marco. With a deadly glance he warned her to stay back. For emphasis he waved the knife in her face.

  On the fourth ring the answering machine clicked on. Then there was Clarissa's voice, and Marco grinned.

  "Virginia, this is Clarissa," came her thin desperate voice. "I'm still at the Hempstead Hotel. Where are you? If you're home, can you pick up? I need to talk to you. Please. I have to have my purse and the money. You promised you'd come tonight. I need to know if you wired by brother yet. Are you there, Gin?"

  Virginia went cold and dread smothered her. For the first time tears ringed her eyelids and she silently cursed Clarissa Hayden with every obscenity she knew.

  "A fortress?" Marco turned to her and the venom in his eyes terrified her. "That cheap flop house? You bitch. You foolish bitch."

  The knife blade slid between Virginia's ribs three times. The white hot pain constricted her throat and her screams were nothing but choking sobs.

&nb
sp; "Marco," she pleaded as she sunk to her knees. "You said..."

  "Deal's off, Ginny. So sue me."

  He reached down and she grabbed his hand. He shook it off and picked up the crystal angel. He put it in his pocket and walked from the bedroom. She heard his footsteps retreat, heard the front door open and close softly, then the aching silence. Virginia tried to move but the pain was gripping and intense. She held her stomach with one hand and managed to crawl toward the night stand with the other. With all of her effort she pulled herself to her knees and grabbed the phone receiver.

  It was yanked from her hand so forcefully that it burned her palm. She witnessed in horror Marco's hands grab the phone and the answering machine and rip them off the nightstand. She flinched as they crashed against the bedroom wall.

  "Please," she tried to say but her tongue felt thick and every breath was a monumental effort.

  "Seems I'm always forgetting things lately," Marco said disgustedly as he closed the knife blade and slipped it into his jacket pocket. Then he held up Virginia’s cell phone. “Didn’t forget this though” "Damn bitch."

  Hugo rolled the embossed silver wall paper back onto the roll and held it up on the wall in the reception area of the beauty salon.

  "Sammy, dear, do we have enough of this to do the short wall in here?" he asked the decorator. "I want to carry the theme out to this area if we can. It'll hit them as soon as they walk in."

  "There's two more rolls in the store room," the tall thin blond man answered a bit arrogantly. "Really, Hugo, trust me in this. I know exactly what you want."

  "I'd trust you with my life, Sammy," Hugo strutted into the main salon and slumped into one of the brand new pink chairs. The protective plastic cover on it crunched and hissed as he swiveled back and forth pensively. "This is looking so good. We should be ready for the opening on Monday. I hope it stops raining by then. I'm so nervous I won't be able to eat all weekend."

  "It will," Sammy assured him. "Weather forecast says the worst of the storm should hit us tomorrow, with a just a chance of thunder showers on Monday. Don't worry about the weather. They'll come, Hugo. They'll come to see you, no matter what the weather is like. Try to relax. You're a jumpy nervous wreck. I mean really, you'd think you were opening the Taj Mahal."

  "I have to make this work, Sammy," Hugo said as he ran his hand lovingly over the plastic covered chair. "This partner I got is a tough one to impress. It's just gotta be perfect. Everything has to be so right."

  "What did you decide to do about the dressing rooms?" Sammy inquired as he slipped into a white raincoat.

  "The pink stripped wall paper," Hugo told him. "Don't you think, Sammy? Or maybe the silver in there. No, too much silver. I need more of the pink. Not flowery, though. Let's go with the stripes."

  "I'll bring it on Monday," Sammy assured him. "The light fixtures for the colorist room should be in then too. Don't worry, Hugo. It's beautiful. Look, why don't you come up to Palm Springs with me tonight. There's a new club that just opened. I want to cruise it. Come with me. It'll make Wayne jealous and he needs that."

  "You go," Hugo said. "I want to make sure I haven't forgotten anything here. I want to go over every detail again. Besides, I just like looking at this place. It's gorgeous."

  "You sure you won't come?" Sammy asked, cocking his head in a kind of pout. "It'll get your mind off this for a while."

  "Another time," Hugo smiled.

  Sammy left and Hugo sat alone in the salon. He looked around at all he had accomplished and he felt proud. He had made it to the top of Beverly Hills beauticians as a hair colorist by the age of twenty three. He was doing film stars and top models, television personalities, and the wives of Hollywood's business moguls. He was making over a quarter of a million a year by the time he was twenty-five. He bought out his partner and turned that failing Rodeo Drive salon into a modern showplace for the wealthy young nouveau riche. This La Jolla salon was his finest coup yet. This was his, an expression of just who Hugo Montego really was.

  He had pulled himself up from the barrio of East Los Angeles, away from an alcoholic mother and violent stepfather. He had used his looks, his wits, and his uncanny business savvy to get to the top. He had become somewhat of a television celebrity himself with his famous glamorous make-overs of average housewives on morning talk shows, and promoting two of his beauty books on every show that would have him.

  He had two more salons to open under the Wild Rose Hair Salon banner and a line of hair and beauty products under his own name in development. He was thirty-three with a house on the palisades, a BMW in the garage, and a young handsome lover.

  His long-time friendship with Clarissa Hayden had paid off handsomely when she was late for a hair appointment one afternoon and he had to wait by the pool up at the Wolfe Estate where she had just moved in. Morgan Wolfe introduced himself and by the time Clarissa arrived, Hugo had himself a financial backer for four new salons and the product lines. All he had to do was make sure that Clarissa was happy, and if she happened to be in need of anything he was to immediately let Wolfe know. Wolfe seemed to genuinely care for every aspect of Clarissa's welfare with all of the questions he was always asking Hugo about her. Clarissa had always been a bit shy and withdrawn. Hugo was glad to tell Wolfe anything that Clarissa told him. She was lucky to have found a man who wanted to satisfy her every whim.

  Hugo could not suppress the rush of energy. He had to keep busy. There was so much yet to be done. He picked up the clipboard and pad, scratching down notes with a felt-tip pen as he walked around the salon. He checked the list of supplies that had yet to be ordered and thumbed through the employment applications received, making notes on which ones to interview next week. There had been a blond that reminded him of Clarissa when she first came to work for him in Beverly Hills. This girl was probably underage as Clarissa had been, but the look was there. She would be a knockout as a receptionist. Hugo barely felt the gust of cool, humid air as the back door of the salon quietly opened and closed.

  He felt the swelling emanation of satisfaction as he gazed in loving awe at his creation. There was something magical in taking on a great challenge and making it all come together. He ran his hand over the backs of each of the chairs and stood in the middle of the large pink wild rose motif set in tile in the center of the floor. The mirrors had been put up only this afternoon and the place already looked close to completion. He began to peel away one of the manufacturer's stickers on the bottom of one of the mirrors when a flicker of movement caught his eye.

  Hugo looked up to see the image of Alex Rogers standing just inside the main salon near the row of shampoo basins. There was always that moment of apprehension whenever Hugo encountered any of Morgan's Wolfe's staff. He was terrified of Morgan Wolfe, although the man was polite and gracious every time they had met. The one that made Hugo's flesh crawl was the one Wolfe called Marco. There was one man that Hugo never wanted to run into again in his lifetime.

  "Welcome, Alex," Hugo put on all the charm he could despite the sudden nervousness. "How do you like it? It's almost finished. We open Monday morning in a private "invitation only" brunch, then to the general public on Friday. You can tell Mister Wolfe that we're right on budget. Not a penny over. Did you want to see the receipts or something?"

  "I'm not here about finances, Hugo," Alex said as he opened his gray sport coat revealing the butt of a .357 magnum in a shoulder holster. Hugo drew back against one of the chairs and nearly lost his balance. Alex did not smile. His chiseled features remained stony and cold. "Have you heard from Clarissa Hayden in the last twenty-four hours?"

  "Clary?" Hugo stammered. "No. Why?"

  "You wouldn't lie to me, Hugo, would you?" Alex said as he took a couple of slow steps toward Hugo. "Mister Wolfe doesn't like liars."

  "I haven't heard from her since Friday evening when I did her hair," said Hugo haltingly. "I drove right down here to La Jolla from Wolfe's house. I haven't been home and the phones were just installed before I got here
last night. Clarissa doesn't have the number yet."

  Hugo could not tell if Alex believed him. There was no hint of any reaction in the small blue eyes. Had Clarissa done something stupid to get Wolfe pissed at her? Hugo hoped not and didn't want to get involved if she had. He did not want anything to screw up what he had worked for since he was a teenager. It was coming together perfectly and he had to stay on the good side of Morgan Wolfe.

  "Clarissa did not come down here to see you?" Alex asked. "She hasn't contacted you in any way?"

  "She couldn't have," Hugo insisted. "Is something wrong? Is she alright?"

  "Clarissa's left Morgan," said Alex. "He wants her back."

  "She'll come back," Hugo tried to force a smile. "She loves him. She'll come back."

  "Clarissa trusts you, Hugo," Alex said as he inspected the wall coverings and mirrors along one wall. You're the only one she would come to. The only friend from her past that Morgan allows her to see."

  Alex paused and picked up a bottle of hair rinse, examined it, then let it drop and shatter on the floor. Hugo started but held his temper. He watched Alex walk down the row of chairs pulling the plastic covers off of them. He picked up another bottle of dark hair dye and unscrewed the cap.

  "Where are you hiding her, Hugo?"

  "Mister Rogers, I don't know what you're talking about. I haven't talked to Clarissa. She's not here. I swear it."

  Alex pulled the gun from his holster and smashed one of the mirrors with the butt of the gun. Hugo let out a strangled cry.

  "That might put you over budget," Alex smiled. "Mister Wolfe isn't going to like that. Where is she?"

  "I don't know!" Hugo cried.

  "Then where would she go, Hugo?" Alex shouted angrily. "Where the hell would Clarissa Hayden go if she wanted to run away?"

  Hugo's eyes were wild with fear and his pathetic "I don’t know" was drowned by the shattering of the second mirror.

  "Think, Hugo," Alex ordered. "Where would she go? Where would she hide?"

  "I....she's from the east Hollywood area," Hugo's voice was tight and barely audible. "She grew up there. She may have friends. I don't know. She has a brother in the middle east somewhere."