Where Love Has Gone by Harold Robbins Page A

I don’t think I’m up to appearing in court.”
    Gordon didn’t answer, just nodded as she walked on down toward the cars. “After you, Colonel,” he said politely.
    Charles was holding the door of Nora’s Jaguar as I came up. A wrinkled smile came to his face. “Colonel Carey.”
    “Charles.” I smiled and held out my hand. “How have you been?”
    “Fine, Colonel.” His voice took on a warmth. “Despite the circumstances, it’s good to see you again, sir.”
    “Close the door, Charles,” Nora said from inside the car.
    Charles nodded and shut the door. He shot me a look as he hurried around and got in behind the wheel.
    “If you drive, Colonel?” Gordon asked.
    I pointed to the little rented Corvair, a pygmy between two giants, his black Cadillac and Nora’s gray Jag.
    “Then I’ll have my chauffeur follow us,” he said. “You may want it when we’re finished.”
    He signaled with his hand and we began to move down the long driveway, the other cars filing along behind us. The gardener opened the gates and we passed through. There was a group of reporters standing outside, but they scattered to their cars when they saw we weren’t going to stop. Gordon signaled again and we turned west along California Street past the Grace Cathedral.
    We both reached for the dashboard lighter at the same time. He laughed and gestured. I lit my cigarette, then held it for him.
    “Thanks.” He didn’t look at me. “I hope you carry no grievance against me because of our previous encounter?”
    I glanced at him. I remembered a picture I had once seen of Gene Tunney and Jack Dempsey at some sports dinner—Tunney was smiling but Dempsey’s face wore a black scowl. I knew now howe he had felt.
    No matter how long ago it may have happened, nobody likes to remember a beating. I was no exception. I didn’t like it, but like everyone else I had to learn to live with it.
    “Just see that you do as good a job for my daughter. I’ll have no complaints.”
    He didn’t miss my evasion but he chose to disregard it. “Good. You can be sure that I will.”
    I waited until we swung into Gough Street, then said, “All I know is what you told me over the
    telephone or what I’ve read in the papers. Perhaps you can fill me in.”
    “Of course.” He glanced at me curiously. “I trust I don’t have to elaborate on Nora’s relationship with Riccio?”
    I shook my head. I knew Nora.
    “They’d been quarreling all day,” he said. “From what I gather, Nora wanted to end their relationship, both business and personal. She asked him to leave the house immediately. He had a good thing going for him and wasn’t about to give it up.”
    “Nora find another boy?” I asked.
    Again the side glance. He shrugged his shoulders. “I don’t know and I didn’t ask. The police were already on the scene when I arrived. I didn’t think it prudent to inquire.”
    “I see,” I said.
    We turned west again on Market Street. “Apparently Riccio had followed Nora down to the studio from her room, still arguing. Dani was in her room trying to study when she heard her mother scream. She ran downstairs and saw Riccio advancing threateningly on her mother. Picking up the sculptor’s chisel from the table, she ran between them and stabbed Riccio in the stomach. When Riccio fell to the floor bleeding, the child got hysterical and started to scream. Charles came running into the room, followed by Nora’s maid. Nora told Charles to call the doctor on the house phone, then called me on the studio phone. I asked her to notify the police and to cooperate with them, but to make no statement until I arrived. I got there in about twenty minutes. The police arrived at least ten minutes before I did.”
    I ground out my cigarette in the ashtray. “Now for the big one.” “Did Nora kill him? Is that what was on your mind?”
    I nodded.
    He answered very slowly. “I don’t think so. I spoke to both of them before any statements were made. Their