“Des, why don’t you warm up in front of the fire?” Les said. “May I pour you something?”
“A glass of red wine would go down pretty nicely.”
“Coming right up,” he said, scooting around behind the bar.
Des felt a tug at her sleeve and discovered that Ada was standing right beside her now. She could have sworn that the old filmmaker was over on the other side of the taproom not one second ago. She moved fast for someone of her years. Fast and quiet. “Perhaps you’d like to powder your nose first,” she said to Des under her breath.
“Something wrong with my nose?”
“I just thought you might wish to freshen up a bit,” Ada persisted quietly, her gaze positively piercing. “The ladies’ lounge is just off the dining room, second door on your right…”
It was lavishly appointed with mirrored makeup tables and plush chairs. Des could hear the sniffling as soon as she walked in. It was coming from the farthest toilet stall. She could see the black stiletto heels under the stall door. “Carly…?”
“What do you want?” a voice mewled in response.
“I want you to come out.”
“No!”
“Will you at least open the door?”
Carly flung it open. She was a slender, pretty little thing in a skimpy black dress. Her blond hair was long and shiny, her eyes puffy and red from crying.
“Now come on out of there,” Des said to her gently. “Let’s have us a talk.”
She came along willingly enough. They sat in two of the little chairs in front of the makeup mirrors, Carly dabbing at her swollen eyes with a tissue. She wore false eyelashes, a ton of eyeliner, mascara. And not one bit of it was any the worse for wear. Forget the Internet-as far as Des was concerned, the most amazing technological breakthrough of the past twenty years was stay-on eye makeup.
“Everyone has been looking for you, Carly. What’s going on?”
“I’m miserable, that’s what,” she snuffled. “And I’m a fool. And I’m… I’m sorry, do I even know you?”
“My name is Des. I’m with Mitch.”
“Of course. You’re the state trooper, are you not?” Carly had finishing school manners and a slight Southern accent. “You don’t look like a trooper. I always picture a dull, beefy boy with a crew cut who adores things like motorcycles and hunting.”
“I hit what I aim at. Aaron is very upset, Carly. He was afraid something had happened to you.”
“Something has happened.” Carly let out a huge, ragged sob. “My marriage has fallen apart. That man, he… he brought his born-again whore here with him!”
“His born-again who?”
“Hannah,” she said angrily, her fists clenched. “Little Miss Christian Virtues. Acky’s been squiring her around D.C. for weeks. Taking her to cocktail parties, to dinners, to bed. My best friend saw them coming out of the Hay-Adams together on Christmas Eve. She wants to make a movie about Ada, you see, and it’s thanks to Aaron that she’s here this weekend. He got her this job because she, because they…” Carly broke off, tossing her long blond hair. “I am not a nut, present evidence to the contrary notwithstanding. I actually saw the two of them kissing out on the observation deck this afternoon.”
Which would explain the footsteps Des had found there in the snow.
“Hannah’s not even pretty, is she? This is not a pretty girl. But she’s young, and that’s all that ever counts with Acky.”
The closer Des studied her, the more she became aware that Carly was not as young as she’d first appeared. Her figure was very good, her hair to die for. But her face had the cushioned, expressionless look that suggested collagen replacement therapy, Botox injections and possibly even surgical work. This woman was well into her forties. Aaron she’d pegged as being in his early thirties.
“It’s the young ones who hang on his every word,” Carly added bitterly. “They laugh at his jokes, puff up his ego for him.”
“Seemed to me he can do plenty of puffing on his own.”
“No, no, that’s just an act. Acky’s self-esteem is actually very low. He needs constant reassurance and mothering. He’s completely helpless. And he can be so sweet and dear.” Carly sniffled, blushing slightly. “I happen to be somewhat older than he is. Thirteen years, if you must know. And I am so terrified of losing him.”
“He mentioned something about you overdosing on pills.”
“I was just trying to get his attention.”
“Have you tried doing anything else?”
Carly frowned at her. Or tried. That stuff she was wearing in her forehead wouldn’t allow for much more than a faint, sub-dermal pulsation. “Such us what?”
“Such as counseling. You two ought to consider it.”
“I don’t recall asking for your advice,” Carly said, climbing up onto her high horse. “In fact, I’m quite certain I didn’t.”
“You’re getting it anyway. You need help. Swallowing pills, disappearing into thin air-this is not mature adult behavior.”
“You’re right, it’s not,” she admitted. “I don’t even know why I love him. Truly, I don’t. What I ought to do is divorce him. Find myself a man who’ll treat me like I deserve to be treated. The dean of students has always had a thing for me. Well, not me, but my legs. They’re still… what I mean is, I’m reasonably good-looking.”
“Shut up, you’re a bombshell.”
“I’m smart, I’m tenured. And if I wanted to descend into total blond bitchdom, I could be plenty rich, too.”
“Descend how?”
“By hiring myself a shark lawyer, the kind who’ll produce photos of Aaron and his whore together. Then I’d get it all. The townhouse in Georgetown. The farm in Virginia. The stocks, bonds, every last penny he’s made from his books.”
“You two didn’t sign a pre-nup?”
“Pre-nups are for cynics,” Carly replied, her blue eyes twinkling at Des devilishly. “I’m a romantic. Maybe the last one left on earth. Mind you, Acky resisted. He even held out for a few weeks. But in the end, he married me on my terms. He wanted me.” Carly admired herself in the mirror, her chin up, her self-confidence returning with a vengeance. “And now the bastard’s got me, for richer or poorer.”
Des took this particular display of spunk ‘n’ sass as her own cue to get up out of her chair and say, “Ready to join the others now?”
“God, no!” Carly flew right back into total panic. “I can’t face them after this. They all think I’m a menopausal hysteric.”
“Are you planning to hide in here all evening?”
“I’ll go up to bed in a little while. Don’t worry, I’ll be fine.”
Des stood there thinking it over. “I may have an idea. Stay put, okay?”
“Believe me, I’m not budging.”
Des stuck her head out the door. She could hear voices coming from the taproom, but the coast was clear. She darted up the castle’s stairs to Aaron and Carly’s room, fetched Carly’s mink and purse from the bed, and started back down with them.
Her gallant, pudgy white knight in rumpled corduroy was planted there at the bottom of the staircase, waiting for her. “What’s going on, Master Sergeant?”
“Just a little aiding and abetting,” she said hurriedly. “It’s a girl thing.”
“Is Carly okay?”
“She’s perfectly fine. Can’t say I care much for her taste in men, though.”
“You’ll get no argument from this reporter. Anything I can do?”
“There is, baby. Go back in the taproom with the others and play dumb.”
“I can definitely do that.”
“Oh, and please don’t say anything about Carly’s shoes.”
“Her shoes? Why would I do that?”
“No reason.” She kissed him on the cheek as she slipped by on her way back to the lounge.
Carly was sitting right where she’d left her. Hadn’t moved a muscle.
“Here, put this on,” Des commanded her, handing over the big fur. “You were outside having a smoke. Act completely surprised by all of the fuss.”
“Actually, I could kill for a cigarette right now.” Carly dug a pack of Marlboros out of her purse and lit one with a gold lighter, dragging on it deeply.
“You see? It’s not even a fib.”
“But no one will buy it,” Carly pointed out. “The weather’s absolutely awful. And only a streetwalker would wear these heels out in the snow. Besides which, look at them-they’re completely dry.”