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“She hasn’t gone public yet, but probably will. One of our men spotted her at the grand opening of the hotel. She came in with Zach Danvers, then made the rounds meeting the ‘family.’” Mario took a sip from his cup. “Jason nearly hit the roof.”
“I’ll bet,” Anthony said dryly. “How authentic is she?”
“Could be the real thing.” Mario skewered his father with a hard look. “You know, lots of people think you kidnapped the girl.”
Anthony picked up the remainder of his croissant. “If I’d taken her, do you think she’d be walking up to the Danvers family right now and announcing that she was their long-lost sister?” He saw his son blanch and felt a glimmer of satisfaction. “What does Trisha think? Is she worried?” he asked coldly.
A small muscle worked in the side of Mario’s cheek. “How should I know?”
“Aren’t you still seeing her?”
“You took care of that a long time ago,” his son said with more than a trace of bitterness.
“Trisha Danvers is like the rest of them. She doesn’t give up. Not ever. When she wants something, she goes for it, and, my boy, she wants you. She always has, and she also used you to get back at her father. You were a pawn, son.”
Mario’s eyes sparked with a deadly rage.
Anthony snapped his newspaper open and wondered about the woman who called herself London Danvers. He’d have to find out everything there was to know about her. “Maybe we should invited Miss Nash over,” he said, flicking a gaze over the top of the paper. Mario had elbowed his plate aside and was brooding.
“Why?”
“For old time’s sake.”
“Witt’s dead. What could it mean to you?”
Anthony didn’t bother answering. How could he explain to his son that feuds never ended? No matter how many of the players died, the vengeance continued and festered. As long as there was anyone named Danvers left in Portland, Anthony wouldn’t be satisfied.
He was pleased with the news that another London Danvers had shown up.
Adria knocked on the door of the small apartment in Tigard, a suburb just over the west hills of Portland. Within minutes she saw a dark eye in the peephole and quickly the bolt was thrown. The door opened and a small Chicano woman with graying black hair twisted into a bun and incredibly white teeth stood over the threshold.
“Mrs. Santiago?”
“For the love of Mary,” the woman whispered, crossing her ample bosom. “You are the image of the missus.”
“Could I come in?” Adria asked. She’d already called the woman, Maria Santiago, who had worked for the Danvers family until her retirement shortly after Witt’s death. She’d explained her business and Maria had reluctantly agreed to see her.
“Please, please—” Maria stepped out of the way and waved her inside the tiny rooms. “Sit down.”
Adria perched on the edge of a floral couch that was worn around the edges and Maria settled into a rocker by the window and put her feet onto a stool.
Adria had already explained on the phone why she was in Portland
. She’d sketched out her story, explaining that she was adopted, that she wanted to find her roots, that all the records were destroyed, and Maria, obviously lonely, had offered to speak with her.
“I don’t mean to ask you to break confidences,” Adria said, “but there’s just so much I don’t know about the Danvers family. I thought you could help me.”
Maria rubbed her chin and stared out the window to the parking lot. “A few years ago, I would not have said a word,” she admitted, “but then, the mister, he died, and Jason, he fired me. Now—” She rubbed her hands anxiously together. “What is it you want to know?”
“Everything.”
“Ahh. That would take some time. There is so much.”
Adria couldn’t believe her good luck. She smiled at the pleasant little woman. “I’ve got the rest of my life,” she said and sat back to listen.
It was nearly ten o’clock by the time she returned to the Orion and her head, as well as her tiny tape recorder, was filled with facts about the Danvers family, secrets, and the answer to some mysteries, including the feud with the Polidoris.
She considered celebrating with a glass of wine and a hot bath in the hotel room because tomorrow she’d have to move to a cheaper, and less high-profile, place. After settling in, she had other important business to attend to. Since the Danvers family wouldn’t recognize her, it was time to go to the police and press. As soon as she found a more permanent address, she’d contact the authorities and grant an interview with someone from the local newspaper to start the ball rolling. Then, of course, she’d have to speak with the lawyers for Witt’s estate. She wasn’t looking forward to any of the interviews, but she’d get through them.
