Nightchild

Chapter 66

The clamoring of the phone intruded into the afternoon silence as Connie, her hands full, beckoned Nate to answer it.

"Bledsoe's"

"Mr. Stevens, please.

He immediately placed the voice. "Bellows, is that you? This is Nate."

"Mr. Stevens? Oh, good, I caught you."

"Where are you?"

"London, sir, just arrived at Heathrow. Flew to Dulles from Reno and then straight here."

"Have you found anything out?"

"No, sir, not yet. I did some checking with the cab companies there and found that Ms. MacLarren and the child were indeed driven to the airport in Reno. But from there I ran into dead ends. There were no tickets purchased in your wife's name, not MacLarren, Stevens, Faraday, none of them, not even a Blythe or Gentry. But there was a young girl handling tickets, seemed to be very into following the careers of musicians, reads a lot of things like Rolling Stone, National Enquirer, other tabloid stuff. She claims a lady with a youngster purchased a ticket for London and did a lot of questioning about flights to Australia. But to her knowledge, the woman didn't buy one, at least not from her.

"Was it Blythe?"

"Well, that's the thing. She swears she recognized her from pictures in the tabloids after the Phil MacLarren thing. But her name wasn't the same and she had a child with her. She'd followed your career and knew you had no children, so she shrugged it off as just a look alike.

"What name did she use?"

"The girl couldn't remember. So many people go through there and it's been weeks. The only reason she remembered her at all was that she'd looked so much like pictures of your wife. But I do think, sir, it would do some good if you talked to her personally. She's quite a fan, couldn't stop asking about you once she learned who I represented. You might just be able to jar her memory some. Maybe encourage her to look a little harder through the records, though they're not really supposed to, you know. But it can be done. There're ways. Let's see, the date your wife left Miss Connie's was October eleventh and I'm betting she paid cash. If she's using an alias, she wouldn't have used a credit card or check...anything that's traceable. That gives her a good six weeks head start on us."

Nate was dubious. "You really think my talking to this girl would do any good?"

Bellows chuckled. "Aside from giving the young lady the thrill of her life and a possible heart attack, I suppose it could do no harm. You might just be able to ruffle her feathers enough to make her remember."

Calling ahead, Nate made reservations back to Dallas for that evening and drove his rental car to Reno. Once at the airport, he had no trouble locating the girl and after getting permission from, and an autograph to, her supervisor, was able to talk to her for a long while. He had to be patient, giving her time to recover her composure as she gushed nervously over being so close to one of her idols and after a fair amount of soothing pleasantries, Nate was finally able to question her. She was ecstatic to think she could be of help, eager to tell all she knew, embellishing often when simple answers would have sufficed.

In the long run, Terry Tilsensky told Nate little more than she'd imparted to the private investigator. But he was able to talk her into getting a copy of the register listing of all tickets sold, flights and passengers on board for the week of October eleventh and she promised fervently to stay late every night, if she had to, until she found the name of the woman she thought she'd recognized as his ex-wife.

As Nate's flight was called and Terry held out her hand in farewell, the singer took it and pulled her to him, kissing her astounded mouth. "Try hard to see what you can do for me, Terry," he urged, his eyes searing into hers with emotion. "It's my life." Nonplussed, she stared at him wide-eyed as he gave her an ingenious grin and pushed a piece of paper into her rigid fingers. "I really do appreciate it, Terry. Here's my unlisted number. Call me collect when you find something." And he was off, waving over his shoulder as if to a long-time friend and confidant, hopeful he had succeeded in inspiring Terry Tilsensky to do as she'd promised.