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Date Posted: 03:15:56 04/03/03 Thu
Author: dqfan
Subject: Re: Ghosts - ch.14
In reply to: dqfan 's message, "Re: Ghosts - ch.10,11,12 & 13" on 03:13:43 04/03/03 Thu

CHAPTER FOURTEEN


Less than an hour later, Sophie stood pensively on the balcony of her hotel room, dressed, ready, and waiting for Gus. The garish lights from the Las Vegas Strip were alarmingly hypnotic in their intensity and she focused her eyes skyward instead. The few simple stars in the night sky were so much more beautiful, she thought with a sigh.

"The forget-me-nots of the angels…" Quietly, Sophie whispered Michaela's words, found in the pages of Longfellow's "Evangeline."

It had taken a bit of sleuthing but Sophie had been determined to track down the origin of that bit of poem. It was the poem Michaela had been reciting the night she and Sully emerged from the woods - the night Sophie married Peter.

Over a year had passed now and, in all that time, Michaela and Sully hadn't appeared again to either of them…not even once. No visions, no dreams, no late night chats. Sadly, Sophie began to wonder if the magic of that time had simply been an illusion, prompted by letters written so very long ago.

But, the joy those letters had brought to her and Peter, the closeness they'd shared over Sully and Michaela's correspondence, had only strengthened their own marriage and commitment to one another. Sophie was sure of it.

At least she was until today…

Today, it would take more than just sleuthing to help Charity, more than just sleuthing to put to rest whatever ghosts had returned from her husband's past.

"Peter…" Sophie spoke his name with all her heart and soul.

"Will I do?"

The question caused Sophie to pivot with a start. There, at the sliding glass balcony door, a boyish grin on his face, stood Sully, twirling a tomahawk casually in his hand.

"Sully!" Shocked, Sophie grasped the balcony railing to steady herself.

"Careful…" With a gentle squeeze of Sophie's elbow, Sully urged her to sit down on one of the balcony chairs.

"You're really here?" Sophie couldn't believe it.

"You were thinkin' 'bout us, weren't ya?" he questioned with a smile.

"Yes, but we've thought about you a lot since last year and you've never come…" Sophie was so confused.

"You didn't need us," he answered succinctly. "Seemed t'be doin' just fine, all by your selves," he added with a mischievous smirk.

"Michaela?" Sophie wondered where she was.

"She'll be along later," Sully replied with a sigh, obviously not pleased by his wife's delay.

"Oh, everything's such a mess, Sully," Sophie blurted. "Charity's in trouble, Peter's in trouble…"

"I think I'm in trouble…." she added, realizing that her date with a possible killer was soon to begin.

"This place reminds me of Virginia City." Looking out over the balcony, Sully attempted to ease Sophie's nerves by changing the subject.

"Lotsa liquor, gamblin', and women just waitin' on a miner at the end of a day…" he recalled vividly. "Funny how the past never leaves ya, ain't it?"

"Hysterical…" she quipped, drawing Sully's probing gaze.

Sophie sobered instantly, knowing Sully could see right through her anyway. "Peter was married here before…." she said softly.

"It's so fake…so glitzy…so different from our wedding," she continued, surprised by how deeply Peter's revelation bothered her.

"Different women, different weddin's," Sully noted the obvious.

"Was Abagail different from Michaela?" Sophie was too curious not to ask.

"In a lotta ways," Sully acknowledged. "I was a different man, then, too."

"So was Peter," Sophie nodded. "But, I'm afraid he might…"

Sophie stopped, not sure whether she wanted to voice what she was thinking. Sully understood; but, with his eyes, he encouraged her to go on.

"I'm afraid Peter might be feeling like that man, again," she confessed.

A sharp knock at the door broke the moment. No words were necessary. Sophie and Sully both knew it was Gus. Sully took his cue to leave, but not without a last bit of advice…

Sympathetically, Sully placed his hand gently over hers. "You're Peter's wife, now. Remember that."

^^^^^^^^^^

"You haven't touched a bite," Gus noted the large amount of food still left on Sophie's plate.

The Sahara Sands' five-star restaurant was filled to capacity, but Gus' private corner table was secluded enough to command a view of the room without their being disturbed.

"Should I fire the chef?" he charmed her.

"I'm sorry, Gus…" Softening her reply, Sophie did her best to match her date's easy-going demeanor. "Everything's delicious, really…"

"Glad to hear it," Gus beamed.

Sophie smiled and began to relax - just a little. But, from the corner of her eye, she could see Peter and Ivy, tete-a-tete, at a table across the room…

^^^^^^

"Something to drink for you both?" the waiter inquired solicitously of Ivy and Peter.

"Martinis, two, please…" Ivy ordered, before Peter could object.

"That is what you were drinking earlier, wasn't it?" Ivy smiled and slid closer to Peter.

"Or should I say, trying to, before it ended up in my lap?" she teased.

Peter gulped, afraid a drink might not be the only thing to end up in his lap this evening.

"I'm really sorry about that," he offered again, graciously. "I hope the dress isn't ruined."

Ivy couldn't have cared less. "Just an excuse to buy myself a new one," she laughed, brushing her hand over the new, short, low-cut, blue-sequined dress she was almost wearing.

Gallantly, Peter took the hint. "And you look beautiful in it."

She did look beautiful in it. That was the problem. Ivy's light blue dress contrasted vividly with her dark hair and made her eyes sparkle to an even deeper shade of blue. She was charming, vivacious, and utterly spontaneous: everything a man could want.

This was a woman who was definitely dangerous. Whether she was lethal or not, was an entirely different question...

Thrilled by Peter's compliment, Ivy placed the palm of her hand atop his suit jacket and held it there for just that extra second. "And may I say you look quite handsome this evening."

Nervously, Peter began a valiant attempt to straighten his silverware.

"Your drinks, Sir…"

Relieved by the waiter's well-timed interruption, Peter eyed his martini warily, reflexively licking his lips. He could almost taste the drink's smoothness, recall the relaxing ease he always felt after the first cool sip.

"Would you prefer a little more time before you order?" The waiter assumed they were in no hurry.

"No…no…" Peter flustered, hoping to get this evening over with as quickly as possible. "I'll have a steak…"

Steak was always on a menu. They had to have steak.

Unfortunately, his choice simply prompted another admiring glance from Ivy. "I'll have the same," she practically purred. "Guess we're both feeling hungry..."

Peter sighed, smiled, and adjusted a few more spoons.

"Shoulda ordered quiche," he muttered under his breath.

"Did you say something?" Ivy asked, attentive as always.

"Nothing…" Peter faked a cough.

As he covered his mouth, Ivy once again took note of the wedding ring on Peter's left hand. She'd noticed it in the lobby, of course. Ivy Wilcox was the sort of woman who didn't miss much, especially where handsome men were concerned. Not that it bothered her. Most marriages weren't made in heaven, just city hall. And, Ivy wasn't about to let Peter get away so easily.

"Your wife is a very lucky woman…." she said softly, capturing his eyes with hers.

"Uh-oh…" Bells and whistles began ringing in Peter's head. "This is it…"

Whatever he said now had better keep Ivy interested - at least until he knew more about her involvement with Gus and the painting. What was Ivy's agenda anyway? Was it merely to find a rich husband? Or was she after something more? Only one way to find out…

Resolutely, Peter cleared his throat and swallowed Ivy's bait.

"Actually, my wife tells me she'll be even luckier when our divorce becomes final in a few days," he quipped, feigning a suitable degree of bitterness, he hoped.

Ivy tried her very best not to look too pleased. "Oh, Peter, I'm so sorry," she commiserated, taking his hand in hers. "But the best thing to do in these situations is look to the future, I always say."

"Good old Ivy…perky as always," Peter chuckled to himself.

But, why was it that Ivy's continual, slow caress of Peter's ring finger was beginning to feel like more like a challenge than a suggestion? Ivy's own private little test, maybe? Would removing his ring really prove he was any more available? Would it tip the scales and earn him her trust?

Rattled, Peter snatched his hand away from her, staring at his ring for just a single moment…just long enough to wonder if Sophie would forgive him?

Surreptitiously, Peter stole a glance toward Gus' table. For all he knew, Sophie was in the middle of telling Gus a similar tale of fictional heartache. Divide and conquer…that's what they'd agreed, right? Anything for Charity…

Peter paused, hoping the floor would open up or the sky might fall; but, try as he might, he couldn't come up with a reason why any red-blooded man on the brink of divorce would hesitate to remove his wedding ring in the company of such a devastatingly attractive woman.

Finally, somberly, Peter nodded and accepted Ivy's sage wisdom on the subject. "You're right…no time like the present…"

And with that, Peter quietly removed his wedding band and placed it in his jacket pocket.

The smile Ivy bestowed upon him was brighter than all the sequins on her dress. Happily, she leaned in to kiss him lightly on the cheek.

Determined to make the best of the evening, Peter placed his arm around Ivy and settled into a casual, but warm embrace.

Tonight, it seemed, the devil wore blue…

^^^^^^^^^

"So, tell me, Sophie Becker," Gus asked, as he refreshed Sophie's wineglass. "Of all the gin joints in all the world, why'd you walk into mine?"

Sophie laughed freely for the first time that night. "Do you know every line from Casablanca?"

"Sure do," Gus answered proudly as he inched closer and brought his arm snugly around Sophie. "Don't you?"

Sophie took a deep breath and willed every muscle in her body not to flinch. "Whoa, he moves fast…" she thought to herself.

"Well, yes, I do," she replied sweetly, avoiding Gus' gaze by taking a tiny sip of her wine. One glass was her limit, especially when dining with killers.

"So?" he probed insistently.

"So…what?" Sophie was a happily married woman but she wasn't dead and Gus' charm, good looks, and masculine scent were nearly as intoxicating as the wine she was trying very hard not to drink.

Desperately, Sophie stole a glance toward Peter's table but the distant sight of her husband dining cheerfully with another woman did nothing to calm her nerves.

Gus smiled, and turned Sophie's chin toward him with a gentle nudge of his finger. "To what do I owe the pleasure of your company?"

"I…I needed to get away for a while and Vegas seemed like as good a place as any," Sophie responded vaguely.

Gus nodded, seeming to understand. "Best little town in the world for avoiding problems."

If he was trying to pry her for information, he was awfully willing to take his time, Sophie thought, perplexed.

"What about you?" she delved. "Are you from here originally?"

"Nevada, born and bred…" he smiled. "And you?"

"Newfoundland, born," Sophie smiled back, not seeing the harm in a little simple conversation. "World bred…"

"Jet-setter, huh?" Gus chuckled.

Considering her father's career in aviation, Sophie found Gus' comment highly amusing. "You have no idea…" she laughed.

Suddenly, an awkward silence fell between them. Sophie felt Gus' eyes all over her, enticing…penetrating.

A shiver raced down her spine. "I'm sorry, Gus…" she stammered, desperate to break both the silence and Gus' gaze.

"I don't know what's wrong with me tonight," she hedged. "Maybe I'm just tired…"

Surprisingly, Sophie's innocent comment turned Gus into a man on a mission.

"C'mon…" he grabbed her hand and pulled her up suddenly from the table. "You need chocolate!"

"But…we're already in a restaurant," Sophie blurted in a panic, not sure she was ready for whatever Gus had in mind.

"I know, and it's too crowded. Can't hear myself think! Maybe I will fire the chef…" his eyes twinkled with mischief.

Caught up in his crusade, Gus threaded Sophie past several tables as he headed toward the door. They were almost to the exit when…

"Mr. Leighton…"

Stopping short at the sound of his name, Gus had no choice but to direct Sophie toward the voice - Ivy's voice - beckoning him over.

The sight before them made Sophie blanche. It was bad enough that Peter had his right arm cozily around Ivy's shoulder, but his left hand was busy swirling a martini olive casually in his glass.

Sophie was so stunned to see her husband with a drink in his hand that it took her a few additional seconds to notice his wedding ring was missing. Though she tried not to jump to conclusions, Sophie's face immediately filled with questions - and hurt.

Guiltily, Peter knocked over his drink.

"Oh, he does that all the time!" Ivy exclaimed with a giggle. "That's the second one today."

"Is it?" Sophie's words were hard.

"Ivy…" Gus raised an eyebrow in surprise. "I thought you'd gone back to Virginia City."

"Long story…" Ivy smiled. "Gus, this is Peter Scarbrow…Charity Reardon's nephew," she introduced.

"Peter, this is Gus Leighton. The man who bought the painting."

"Nice to meet you - both." Peter included Sophie in his greeting, hoping somehow to reach her with his eyes.

"Peter, welcome to my hotel," Gus hosted. "This is Sophie Becker, my date."

The proprietary arm Gus placed around Sophie's waist infuriated Peter nearly as much as hearing his wife called Gus' "date."

Apologetically, Peter dried the last vestiges of spilled martini with a napkin and held out his hand to Sophie.

"Ms. Becker…" he said softly, holding onto her hand for as long as possible.

"Mr. Scarbrow…" Sophie bit down on her lip to keep her emotions from compromising them both.

"Sorry to hear about your aunt," Gus said to Peter. "Never meant for all this mess…"

"Maybe we could get together and figure this 'mess' out?" Peter suggested, forcing himself to re-focus on Charity for the time being, instead of his shaky marriage.

"Oh, I don't know if that's wise," Ivy cautioned. "I mean, the painting belongs to Mr. Leighton now, Peter. It would be highly irregular…"

"She's just worried about her commission," Gus quipped lightly. "You play poker?" he asked Peter, ignoring Ivy's concerns.

"Sure," Peter nodded over-confidently.

"How 'bout comin' to my weekly game? Friday night…" Gus offered cheerfully. "We can talk about it then…"

"I'll be there," Peter agreed with an eager smile. Today was Monday. In the morning, he'd be able to post Charity's bail. Then, he'd have the rest of the week to find out who really framed her.

Anxious to direct his attention to Sophie, Gus started to leave. "I'll be in touch..." he ended the conversation.

"Very nice to meet you, Ms. Becker," Peter blurted as Sophie turned, too.

Sophie paused for a second to take a good look back at Peter: expensive suit, a glittering younger woman at his side, not a care in the world - and not a ring on his finger.

The waiter had already returned to replace Peter's spilled martini with a fresh one. Sophie eyed it suspiciously. Had Peter really started drinking again? How had they reached a point where she could even ask such a question?

Just who was she was looking at, Sophie wondered?

"Mr. Scarbrow…" Quietly, Sophie bid goodnight to the stranger standing before her.

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