Face Of Deception

Irritation flashed in his hazel eyes. “Believe what you want.”

“Well, do you have reason to believe it was foul play?”

“Foul play?” He snorted. “Did you pick up that phrase from a Charlie Chan movie, Hamilton?”

“All right then, why did you suspect I was in danger?”

“I’m suspicious by nature.” He picked up the cup and took several swallows of coffee.

He has nice hands, Ann reflected, observing his fingers wrapped around the cup. “Am I still in danger?”

“Agency thinks not,” he answered in his irritating, succinct fashion.

The answer was too ambiguous for her satisfaction. “And what do you think, Bishop? Because if you weren’t following me, someone else sure was.”

“What makes you think so?”

“Because I wasn’t alone in that dressing room.”

She now had his full attention. “Why do you say that?”

“Someone was stalking me. I heard him.”

“Hamilton, I didn’t see anyone else enter that dressing room but you.”

“I know what I heard. There was someone else in there.”

The hazel-eyed gaze locked with hers. “How in hell did you get into this mess, Hamilton?”

The question forced her thoughts back to Clayton, and her voice softened with poignancy. “I met Clayton Burroughs four years ago. I was a fashion photographer and had gone to French Guiana on a shoot. The funny thing about it, I didn’t want the assignment in the first place. I felt burned out, after five nonstop years of living out of suitcases and accumulating frequent flyer points. I didn’t want to see another camera or any more gorgeous women in Gucci gowns for the rest of my life. My boss, Barney Hailey, talked me into it by promising me a month off when I finished. So I agreed.”

The waitress brought their order, and as soon as she left Bishop asked, “And how did you get mixed up with Burroughs?”

“Barney wanted authentic, outdoor shots on Devil’s Island. Well, our plane developed mechanical problems, and Clayton was on the island at the time. He offered us a ride back to Kourou in his helicopter.”

Deep in reverie, Ann smiled, remembering Clayton’s thoughtfulness in the weeks that followed. “When we wrapped up the shoot, Barney and the crew returned to the States. Clayton coaxed me into remaining in Kourou.”

“Yeah, I bet.”

His suggestive tone snapped her out of her reflections. “What’s that supposed to mean, Bishop? You don’t get it at all. From the beginning Clayton and I were kindred souls. He was lonely. He had lost his wife and daughter fifteen years before. He thought of me as a daughter, and I envisioned him as the father I had never known.”

“Until you found yourself alone with him one night with his hand up your skirt.”

Her eyes flashed in anger. “You’re pathetic.” She started to gather up her parcels to leave.

“Okay, I apologize. Sit down and finish your lunch. So the old guy was dead from the waist down and the relationship was purely platonic. So how did a photographer get into the rocket business?”

“I doubt that you’re really interested, Bishop.”

“I said I was sorry.” Irritation had crept into his voice. “Finish the story.”

Although she doubted his sincerity, Ann did want to finish the story—for her own sake, not his. Once started on this sentimental journey, it was difficult to stop. This was the first chance she had since Clayton’s death to talk about her feelings to someone…even if that someone was as cynical as Bishop. She settled back down in the seat, and after several sips of coffee Ann continued.

“Clayton was a marvelous raconteur, always relating little anecdotes about the history and culture of the country. When the time came to return to the States he persuaded me to remain as his assistant. He said intelligence and common sense were the only essentials needed to succeed in the position. Well, the whole space program was fascinating to me. I had naively believed that only the United States and the Soviets were involved with outer space. I soon discovered that European markets launched satellites as well. And after the frenetic pace of my old job, working with the relaxing atmosphere provided by Clayton soon cured me of burnout. I even began to enjoy taking photographs again.”

“You gonna finish those fries?” She shook her head and handed him the plate. “What about the kid? Did Burroughs raise him?” he asked, popping a French fry into his mouth.

Her face softened in sadness. “Two years ago Clayton’s son and daughter-in-law were killed in an airplane tragedy, and that’s when Brandon came to live with his grandfather.”

She finished her coffee and smiled. “Well, you asked for it. That’s the whole story.”

Whatever doubts he still harbored remained concealed behind an enigmatic gaze. “More coffee? Dessert?”

“I’m fine.”

“I’ll see you back to your hotel.” He threw down some bills on the table, then gathered up her packages.

Once outside the mall, he flagged a cab and they returned to the Watergate.

“Mind if I come in and check your room?” he asked when they reached her door.

“I thought you said you were off the case, Bishop?”

“After the incident today, I put myself back on it, Hamilton.”

He entered the room ahead of her, and after a quick check in the closet, bathroom and even under the bed, he walked to the door.

“What do you intend doing about dinner?”

“I’m intending to eat it,” she said. He ignored her flippancy.

“Well, there are two selections on the menu—with me or with me watching you. Which do you prefer?”

“Are you inviting me to have dinner with you, Bishop?” she asked, amused.

“Pick you up at seven. Lock this door after me.”

Her gaze followed his broad shoulders and tight buns as he walked away. “I haven’t heard the click of that dead bolt, Hamilton,” he called back without turning.

Smiling, she closed the door, turned the dead bolt and then slipped the chain into place.

The hotel room was lonely without Brandon. In the past two years he’d been such a big part of her life that she’d come to think of him as her son.

Ann plopped down on the bed, grabbed the telephone and dialed the number of the British Embassy, which Avery Waterman had given her. After being shifted from one extension to another, she finally heard Brandon’s “hello” on the other end.

“Hi, honey, this is Ann.”

“Hi, Ann.” He sounded glad to hear her. And just hearing his voice lifted her spirits.