Hell on Heels

Willowby wasn’t a common criminal and he was a creature accustomed to certain comforts. He wouldn’t be found in a hole or a hovel. He wouldn’t take to the streets to evade capture. She would eventually talk to somebody, one of her social peers, who would have a clue as to Willowby’s whereabouts. All she had to do was identify who that peer might be.

Harrah met her at the front door of Chantal’s house, notebook in hand. “Enrique called. He wants to go over the menu with you for Saturday night. Your mother called and wants you to call her. Belinda called and said they’re releasing her from the hospital around noon so she’s planning on being here by one or two at the latest.”

Chantal had insisted that Belinda come stay with her for several days when she was released from the hospital. Chantal hadn’t wanted her friend to go home and be alone while she was so emotionally vulnerable.

“Call Enrique back and tell him I trust him with the menu,” Chantal said as she walked through the living room toward her office. Harrah followed behind her and stopped in the doorway as Chantal sank down at her desk. “Then call Sarah Birmington and see if it’s too late for me to get a ticket to the fund-raiser tomorrow night.”

Harrah raised an eyebrow. “I thought you’d decided not to go.”

“I’ve changed my mind,” Chantal replied. “It might be the perfect place for me to hear some snippet of news about Willowby. Would you check to see if my red Gaultier is back from the cleaners?” Chantal picked up the phone to call her mother while Harrah disappeared from the doorway.

Her mother’s housekeeper, Edna, answered the phone and connected Chantal. “Darling,” Katherine said. “I called earlier to see if maybe you were free for lunch today.”

“No way. I’ve got tons of work to do. You heard Willowby skipped out?”

“I spoke with Rebecca this morning. The poor woman is beside herself. You know she absolutely dotes on that boy, both she and Roger do.”

“Does she know where he might be? Is it possible she’d help him get away?”

Katherine paused thoughtfully. “I don’t think so. She has certainly been eager for the trial to be over with and didn’t believe he was guilty of the charges, but I don’t think she’d encourage him to run. Rebecca isn’t that kind of a woman.”

Chantal frowned. She wasn’t so sure. Rebecca’s devotion to her only son was legendary, which Chantal suspected was part of Marcus’s problem. He’d been spoiled and indulged from the moment he been born.

Rumor had it that Roger and Rebecca had suffered infertility issues and that at the age of thirty-seven, Rebecca had finally gotten pregnant with Marcus. She and Roger had considered the boy a gift from God.

“She’s distraught over the fact that reporters have camped out in front of her house,” Katherine continued.

Chantal had suspected as much. The odds were minimal that Willowby had gone to his parents’ house. But the moment he’d missed his check-in, cops and reporters would have descended not only on his condo, but also his parents’ residence.

“I’ve decided to go to the Folly Theater open house tomorrow evening,” Chantal said. “Are you going?”

“Yes, and I’m so pleased that you’re going. It seems lately the only time I see you is at a social event.”

“Do you have an escort?” Sometimes Katherine talked Jeffrey Barnes into attending functions with her.

“No, I’d planned to go alone.”

“Why don’t we go together? I can pick you up,” Chantal offered.

“That would be lovely,” Katherine exclaimed, her pleasure obvious. “It will be a girls’ night out.”

“Why don’t I plan on picking you up at seven?”

With arrangements made for the next evening, Chantal logged on to the Internet and checked for any updates on the Willowby case.

“If I were a convicted rapist and had money and connections, where would I run? Where would I hide?” she muttered aloud.

Somehow, someway, she needed to get into Willowby’s head. She needed to find out what made him tick, his thoughts, his fears, his friends and his fantasies.

She had a feeling that if she succeeded and did manage to get into his head, it would be an ugly, perverted place to be.

Chantal stood in front of her dresser mirror, giving herself one last look before leaving to pick up her mother. Chantal had never had any illusions about her physical appearance.

She was average height and average weight. Her shoulder-length hair was a medium blond, not ash or wheat, and her eyes were a simple blue, not azure or sapphire.

Her features were regular and she’d long ago accepted the fact that she would always be average. Average wasn’t necessarily a bad thing, she supposed. She never had to worry about being particularly memorable.

The fire-engine-red Jean Paul Gaultier gown, with its plunging neckline and cut-out shoulders definitely made her figure look better than average. Harrah had provided her jewelry, a dazzling pair of gold earrings and a necklace to match.

She turned from the mirror to look at Belinda, who was sprawled on her bed with a drink in her hand. “Are you sure you don’t want to come?”

Belinda tugged at the belt of her dressing gown and shook her head. “No, I’m not in the mood to socialize. You go on and have fun. I’ll just read some magazines and watch TV until you get home.”

“Tonight isn’t about fun,” Chantal said. “I’m hoping I’ll get some information.” She sat on the edge of the bed next to her friend. “You want me to call Harrah and Lena and see if they can come over for a while?”

“I don’t need a babysitter,” Belinda replied irritably. “I’ll be fine, I promise. Besides, I’ll be waiting for you when you get home so I can hear all the gossip.” She got up off the bed as Chantal checked her watch.

“I don’t expect to be late,” Chantal said as Belinda walked with her to the front door. “The open house runs from seven to ten and I doubt if Mom will want to stay the whole time.”

“I’ll be here whatever time you get home. If I happen to fall asleep wake me up.”

“Sure,” Chantal agreed even though they both knew that wasn’t happening. Waking Belinda once she fell asleep was as easy as transforming a discount store dress into high fashion.

Twenty minutes later Chantal pulled up in front of the house where she’d been raised. The two-story home boasted over seven thousand square feet and was surrounded by five acres of lush lawn and gardens.

Chantal had been raised with the proverbial silver spoon in her mouth. She’d had the best of everything that money could buy, but she’d also been lucky enough to be raised by people who never took their wealth for granted, people who, while enjoying the fruits of their labor, never forgot their early struggles and sacrifices.

Edna answered the door and Chantal kissed the housekeeper on the cheek as she greeted her. Edna had worked for the Worthingtons since Chantal had been a baby.

“Is she ready?” Chantal asked.

“I’ll go up and see.”

As Edna disappeared up the wide, winding staircase, Chantal turned her attention to the photos that lined the entry. She smiled as she gazed at her parents’ wedding photo. They had made a handsome couple, despite the fact that they’d both been poor as church mice.

Even though he’d only been twenty-three years old when he’d married his bride, a burning light of ambition had lit her father’s eyes. He’d been a man with a dream and had lived long enough to see his dreams realized.

“Darling, you look beautiful,” Katherine said as she descended the stairs.

“Thanks, Mom. You don’t look too shabby yourself.” Her mother wore a silver gown that complemented her blond hair and bright, not average, blue eyes. She swept down the stairs like a queen and gave her daughter a warm hug, then turned to look at the photos.

She tapped a perfectly manicured nail on the glass of a photo of Chantal’s father standing next to a shiny red boat. “Who would have thought those little boats your father dreamed of building would sell so well?”

“Those little boats” had been the beginning of an empire. Worthington Bass Boats had become the industry standard for fast, affordable and functional fishing crafts and they had made Sam Worthington and his family millionaires several times over.

After Sam’s death, Katherine, as a major stockholder, held the position of CEO of the company, but she had little to do with the daily running of the business. Instead she relied on a loyal business manager and a staff who loved the business and had loved Sam.

It was a thirty-minute drive to the Folly Theater where the fundraiser was taking place. The two women passed the drive by chatting about upcoming events and mutual acquaintances.