Elements of Chance

“Kiddo, I don’t know how to tell you this. I called every one of Al’s clients, but nobody knows a thing. I called the places where Al tended bar. No one’s heard from him either. I stopped by the beauty salon on Sunset Strip where Vicki worked, and talked to the owner, the other employees, some of Vicki’s clients. Nobody has seen or heard from her.

“I asked them how she had seemed the last time they saw her, which was about a month ago,” he said. “They said she was just the same, bragging about you in London, talking about Al’s business opportunities.

“I checked the police, the hospitals, the morgue, even the animal shelter to ask if they’d seen an apricot poodle that fit Muffin’s description. I ran Al’s name and address and a description of his car through a friend who works at the Department of Motor Vehicles. The Cadillac was repossessed a couple of months ago.”

With a sinking feeling, Valerie knew why the Cadillac had been repossessed, knew why they had moved. The money they had spent to get her to England had wiped them out. It was her fault, pure and simple.

“Are you okay, kiddo?” he asked. “Do you need anything? Can I send you some money?”

“I’m fine,” she whispered into the receiver.

“You know how flaky Al is,” said Max in an unnaturally hearty voice. “Don’t worry too much about it. You’ll hear from them.”

When she went back to the drawing room, Lady Anne was pacing back and forth, wringing her hands. When she saw Valerie in the doorway, she stood still.

Valerie just shook her head.

“Two people can’t just disappear from the face of the earth,” Lady Anne said tensely, one pale hand at her throat. “What could have become of them?”

“I don’t know,” Valerie sobbed, her whole body heaving. “I don’t know.”

11 (#ulink_d3c7303e-0606-5209-a96f-c6aa3ddaa248)

“I think the first thing to do is meet with Mr. Carrington,” said Lady Anne, sipping the sherry she had asked Janet to bring her. “It was Mr. Carrington who handled the details of your scholarship with the Penn International people. He’s certainly in contact with people on the proper level there.”

“What can they do?” Valerie asked, her tone hopeless.

“Penn International is a huge international banking organization,” Lady Anne pointed out. “Surely they’ll realize your dilemma, and do whatever they can to help. After all, if it weren’t for them, you wouldn’t be here.”

Valerie didn’t think Penn International would be able to help. She didn’t think anybody could help after all of Max’s efforts had led nowhere. Where could Vicki and Al be? she asked herself over and over again, too stunned even to cry.

“Surely, Mr. Carrington, you can do something.” Lady Anne said the next morning. “It seems to me Valerie’s welfare is as much the responsibility of the conservatory as it is mine.” Valerie tried to make herself as inconspicuous as possible in her high-backed chair.

“What would you suggest, Your Ladyship?” he asked.

“I should think the very least you can do is try to reach someone at Penn International and explain the problem,” she said firmly.

“Yes, of course,” he murmured. “I believe the music scholarship is handled by a Mr. George Bothwell in the public relations department there.”

“Well, try him,” Lady Anne commanded.

Bothwell was sympathetic, Mr. Carrington reported as he hung up the telephone. He would make some calls and get back to Carrington as soon as he could.

“Thank you for your time, Mr. Carrington,” said Lady Anne, pulling on her full-length mink coat as she rose and held out her hand to him. “I suppose that’s all we can do for now.”

“I’m sorry about all of this, Lady Anne,” Valerie said as they left Carrington’s office.

“Oh, don’t be,” Lady Anne said, smiling sympathetically. “If there’s one person who isn’t to blame in all of this, it’s you.”

As Valerie watched Lady Anne’s limousine slide away into the heavy traffic, she wondered what she had meant. How could Valerie be the one person who wasn’t to blame in all of this? After all, her parents were the ones who had disappeared. If anything, she was the only person who could be blamed.

Walking up the stairs to her music theory class, Valerie felt a small shock of pleasure as she saw Julian.

“That was your aunt, wasn’t it?” he asked, falling into step beside her. “She’s attractive, don’t you think? Better than her pictures in the papers.”

“She’s very nice, too,” Valerie said as she hurried up the narrow stairs.

“How come she’s here?” Julian asked. “Is there something the matter?” He took two steps at a time, trying to keep up with her.

“Everything’s fine, Julian,” she said. “But I’ve already missed one class, and I’m late for the next one.”

“You haven’t seemed yourself the last few days,” he said, ignoring what she had said. “You’ve been all white and strained. You’re going to work yourself into a nervous breakdown if you don’t watch it.”

“The work’s fine,” she assured him.

“What class do you have now?”

“Music theory.”

“Oh, don’t go, Valerie,” said Julian. “As long as it’s not old Stern who’s waiting for you, let’s go get a cup of tea somewhere.”

“I can’t, Julian,” she said, trying to get by him as he blocked her way on the landing.

“Yes, you can,” he said, putting his hands on her shoulders. “I’m your friend. All I have to do is look at you to see something’s upsetting you.”

He really was concerned, Valerie saw when she looked into his dark eyes. She almost burst into tears right there on the stairs.

“Come on then,” he said, taking her hand as he led her back downstairs. “A nice cup of tea will do you the world of good.”

A few minutes later they sat in a coffee bar near the conservatory.

“I’ve never cut a class before,” she said, shrugging out of her coat.

“Then it’s time you did,” he said, reaching across the table to take her hand. “Now, tell me what’s going on.”

Ten minutes later Valerie was brushing away the tears with the back of her hand after she had told Julian the whole strange sequence of events, starting with the letter to Vicki and Al that had been returned to her several weeks earlier.

“There’s one thing you can do,” Julian said. “You can go to the American embassy. You’re an American citizen.”

The American embassy, Valerie thought. Of course. How silly she and Lady Anne had been not to think of it.

“That’s a great idea.”

“I’ll go with you if you want.”

“Oh, I don’t know how I could work that out,” Valerie said. “There’s always somebody around. Lady Anne. Bernard.”

“What we could do is this,” Julian said. “I’ll wait for you tomorrow just inside the front door of the conservatory. When the chauffeur drops you off, you come inside. We’ll wait until he’s gone, and then we’ll just nip over to the embassy. It’s just over in Mayfair, in Grosvenor Square.” He looked at her anxiously, a frown on his face. “How does that sound to you?”