CHAPTER 26
HARRY FLINT WALKED up to the reception desk of the Wilton Hotel. 'Hello.' 'Hello.' The clerk noticed the smile on his face. 'Can I help you?' 'Yes. My wife and her friend, an African-American, checked in here a little while ago. I want to go up and surprise them. What's their room number?' The clerk said, 'I'm sorry. This is a hotel for women, sir. Men are not allowed upstairs. If you'd like to phone-' Flint glanced around the lobby. Unfortunately, it was crowded. 'Never mind,' he said. 'I'm sure they'll be down soon.' Flint walked outside and dialed his cell phone. 'They're upstairs in their room, Mr. Kingsley. I can't go up.' Tanner stood still a moment, concentrating. 'Mr. Flint, logic tells me that they will decide to separate.
I'm sending Carballo over to help you.
UPSTAIRS IN THEIR suite, Kelly turned the radio on to a pop station, and the room was suddenly filled with loud rap music.
'How can you listen to that?' Diane asked irritably.
'You don't like rap music?'
'That's not music. That's noise.' 'You don't like Eminem? And what about LL Cool J and R. Kelly and Ludacris?' 'Is that all you listen to?' 'No,' Kelly said tartly. 'I enjoy Berlioz's Symphonie Fantastique, Chopin's etudes, and Handel's Almira. I'm particularly fond of-' Kelly watched Diane walk over to the radio and turn it off. 'What are we going to do when we run out of hotels, Mrs. Stevens? Do you know anyone who can help us?' Diane shook her head. 'Most of Richard's friends worked at KIG, and our other friends-I can't get any of them involved in this.' She looked at Kelly. 'What about you?' Kelly shrugged. 'Mark and I lived in Paris for the past three years. I don't know anyone here except the people at the model agency, and I have a feeling they wouldn't be a lot of help.' 'Did Mark say why he was going to Washington?' 'No.' 'Neither did Richard. I have a feeling that somehow that's the key to why they were murdered.' 'Great. We have the key. Where's the door?' 'We'll find it.' Diane was thoughtful for a moment, then her face lit up. 'Wait a minute! I know someone who might be able to help us.' She went over to the phone.
'Who are you calling?' 'Richard's secretary. She'll know what's been going on.' A voice at the other end of the phone said, 'KIG.' 'I'd like to speak to Betty Barker, please.'
IN HIS OFFICE, Tanner watched the voice identification blue light flash on. He pressed a switch and heard the operator say, 'Miss Barker is not at her desk right now.' 'Can you tell me how to reach her?' 'I'm sorry. If you'll give me your name and phone number, I'll have her-' 'Never mind.' Diane replaced the receiver.
The blue light went out.
DIANE TURNED TO Kelly. 'I have a feeling Betty Barker might be the door we're looking for.
I have to find a way to get to her.' She frowned. 'It's so strange.' 'What is?' 'A fortune-teller predicted this. She told me she saw death around me, and-' Kelly exclaimed, 'No! And you didn't report it to the FBI and the CIA?' Diane glared at her a moment. 'Never mind.' More and more, Kelly was getting on her nerves.
'Let's have dinner.' Kelly said, 'I have to make a call first.' She picked up the telephone and dialed the hotel operator.
'I want to place a call to Paris.' She gave the operator a number and waited.
After a few minutes,
Kelly's face brightened. 'Hello, Philippe. How are you?… Everything's fine here.' She glanced over at Diane. 'Yes… I should be home in a day or two… How is Angel?.
.. Oh, that's wonderful. Does she miss me?… Would you put her on?' Her voice changed to the tone adults use when talking to a small child. 'Angel, how are you, darling? … It's your mama. Philippe says you miss me… I miss you, too. I'll be home soon, and I'll hold you and cuddle you, sweetheart.' Diane had turned to listen, puzzled.
'Good-bye, baby. All right, Philippe… Thanks. I'll see you soon. Au revoir.' Kelly saw Diane's bewildered expression. 'I was talking to my dog.' 'Right. What did he have to say?' 'She. She's a bitch.' 'That figures.'
IT WAS TIME for dinner, but they were afraid to leave the safety of their room.
They ordered something from room service.
The talk was desultory. Diane tried to make conversation with Kelly, but it was hopeless.
'So, you've been living in Paris?'
'At.'
'Yes.'
'Was Mark French?'
'No.'
'Were you married long?'
'No.'
'How did you two meet?' None of your damned business. 'I don't really remember. I've met so many men.' Diane studied Kelly. 'Why don't you get rid of that wall you've built around yourself?' Kelly said tightly, 'Did anyone ever tell you that walls are to keep people out?' 'Sometimes they keep people locked in, and-' 'Look, Mrs. Stevens. Mind your own business. I was doing fine until I met you.
Let's drop it.' 'Right.' She's the coldest person I've ever met.
WHEN THEY HAD finished a silent dinner, Kelly announced, 'I'm going to take a shower.' Diane did not respond.
In the bathroom, Kelly shed her clothes, stepped into the shower, and turned it on. The warm water against her nakedness felt wonderful. She closed her eyes and let her mind drift…
She could hear Sam Meadows's words. You know, Mark s madly in love with you. He wants to marry you. I hope he doesn't get hurt. And Kelly knew that Sam Meadows was right. Kelly enjoyed being with Mark. He was fun, and thoughtful, and caring, and a great friend. That was the catch. I think of him only as a friend. That's not fair to him. I must stop seeing him.
Mark had called the morning after the banquet. 'Hello, Kelly. What would you like to do tonight?' Mark's voice was filled with anticipation. 'Dinner and the theater? Or there are some stores open at night, and then there's-' 'I'm sorry, Mark. I'm-I'm busy tonight.' There was a brief silence. 'Oh. I thought you and I had a-' 'Well, we don't.' And Kelly stood there, hating herself for what she was doing to him. It's my fault for letting it go this far.
'Oh, all right. I'll call you tomorrow.'
HE CALLED THE next day. 'Kelly, if I've offended you in any wayAnd Kelly had to steel herself to say, 'I'm sorry, Mark. I've— I've fallen in love with someone.' She waited. The long silence was unbearable.
