Ride the Tiger Page 3

  Parsons shrugged and took another report from his In basket. “Look, Gib, I know this is an extra duty you don’t really want, but the general was a friend of Mrs. Villard’s, and he wants an immediate and thorough investigation. He’s upset over this.” His mouth working into a tight line, Parsons growled, “I don’t like this any more than you do, but you’re assigned. If you hadn’t been at the wrong place at the right time, I’d give it to someone else, but you were an eyewitness.”

  Gib opened his mouth to argue, but knew it was folly. An order was an order, and a marine followed it. Glumly, he stood. “Yes, sir.”

  Parsons glanced up at him, keeping his voice low as he handed Gib a thick file with Villard on the tab. “Look, there are some things I don’t want to see in your write-up on the investigation.”

  Gib handled the thick folder. “Oh?”

  “The general was going to meet Mrs. Villard the day she was killed. He was planning to ask her to marry him. That doesn’t go in there, understand?”

  Hating politics of any kind, Gib nodded. “Yes, sir.”

  “The general seems to think a local VC leader by the name of Binh Duc probably is responsible for this murder. Find out. If he is, the general will make sure the little bastard’s caught and hung by his—” Parsons waved him away. “Dismissed. When you get the answers, let me know.”

  Gib nodded unhappily. “Yes, sir.” Great. Just friggin’ great. He didn’t want the IO status. Nor did he want to see Dany Villard again. As he left headquarters and walked between the long rows of tents toward operations, Gib frowned. A part of him did want to see Dany—some crazy-assed, better ignored part, he amended. His head was screaming at him that this whole mess wasn’t going to bode well for him emotionally. But he was a twenty-year marine, and if he wanted to continue up the promotion ladder, he had to take assignments like this every once in a while, whether he liked it or not.

  His mouth compressed grimly, Gib tucked the file beneath his arm. First, he’d go to operations and hand the flight over to Pete Mallory. Then he’d head to motor pool, requisition a jeep and drive to the Villard plantation. What a hell of a twist to his life.

  *

  Gib couldn’t steady the beat of his heart as he slid out of the jeep. Climbing the wooden porch steps—remarkably swept clean of the constant red dust—Gib found himself feeling damned unsure, almost like a sixteen-year-old boy going out on his first date. It was crazy, he decided as he halted to knock on the screen door.

  Ma Ling, the maid, appeared silently before he could knock, her dark eyes accusing as she grudgingly opened the door for him.

  “Good morning,” he said. “I’m Major Gib Ramsey, the investigation officer on Mrs. Villard’s death. I’m here to talk to Dany Villard. Is she around?” Gib hadn’t called before coming over, assuming that with the funeral for her mother having been yesterday, she would be remaining close to the house.

  Ma Ling’s gaze never flinched from his. She jabbed angrily at him. “You in uniform!”

  Gib was taken aback by the mamasan’s fury. “Of course I am.” What the hell was her problem?

  Ma Ling bristled. “Major, Villard neutral.”

  Gib scowled and opened his mouth to speak.

  “You no come here in uniform,” Ma Ling continued in her stilted English, wagging her finger up at him.

  Anger tinged Gib’s patience. “Look, I’m here to see Miss Villard,” he ground out, “on official Marine Corps business. The sooner we quit chatting and get this over with, the quicker I’ll be out of here and you’ll have your neutrality back.”

  Glaring, Ma Ling stepped aside and allowed him into the highly polished teakwood foyer. Although she was dwarfed by his height, disgust was clearly written on her small features. She pointed her gnarled finger toward the drawing room where he’d taken Dany four days earlier.

  “You go in there. Miss Dany sleeping. She very tired by her mama’s funeral.”

  Guilt stabbed at him. He should have called first, damn it. His mouth quirked, and he nodded. “Tell her I’m sorry, but I don’t have a choice in the matter.”

  Ma Ling glared at him and left him standing alone.

  Out of sight, out of mind, Gib thought perversely as the mamasan disappeared. Wiping the sweat off his upper lip, he sauntered into the room. The plantation was quiet, with a soothing silence that certainly didn’t exist at Marble Mountain. Minutes later Ma Ling returned with a teakwood tray. Dany was nowhere in sight. Ma Ling glanced accusingly at Gib as she placed two dainty white china cups and saucers on the French provincial coffee table in front of the couch. The sterling silver teapot was placed between the cups, as was the creamer and sugar bowl.

  “Miss Dany be down shortly. She said to serve tea.”

  At least she was trying to be somewhat sociable, instead of openly hostile. His hands in his pockets, Gib turned his attention to the walls of the room, beginning to inspect the framed photographs he’d noticed on his previous visit. On closer look, Gib realized that Dany’s mother must have been a Hollywood actress. Two large, colorful movie posters adorned the nearest wall. Reading the credits, Gib saw Amy Lou Rawlings’s name in each of them, although in small print compared to the leading actor and actress. Moving to the next wall, he saw black-and-white photos of Dany’s mother with a dashing, mustached man whom he guessed must be Hugo Villard, Dany’s father. It appeared they had gone to every famous Hollywood spot, including the world-renowned Polo Lounge, where anyone who was anybody met to be seen for lunch or dinner.

  The third wall held photos of Dany’s parents getting married. It was obviously a Hollywood wedding with all the dramatics that Tinsel Town could muster. Judging by the cars and clothes, the wedding had taken place in the 1930s. In another picture, Hugo sat astride a bay polo horse, surrounded by actors, looking proud and typically French with a natural air of aplomb. Gib shook his head. Dany certainly didn’t seem like the product of a Hollywood marriage. The investigation he’d been maneuvered into taking by his colonel had uncovered some interesting information about Amy Lou, however, and Gib didn’t have trouble believing she’d been a Hollywood starlet, based on how she’d lived in Vietnam.

  Frowning, Gib found himself staring at the photos on the fourth and last wall. The Villard plantation was a frequent setting for parties with key Vietnamese officials, it appeared. There was even a photo of the latest Saigon government politicians with Hugo and Amy Lou. In another, the couple stood with Thieu, the latest strong man in Vietnam. The palace showed in the background of that photo, obviously taken in Saigon. The wall of pictures celebrated the Villard power and social life, incorporating one extravaganza after another. In each photo, Amy Lou was dressed in gaudy costumes befitting her earlier Hollywood image.

  But where was Dany in all these pictures? Gib wondered. There were no baby pictures of her, of a proud mother holding her much-loved daughter. At his parent’s ranch in Midland, Texas, Gib poignantly recalled, the top of their television had become a favorite, crowded spot for pictures of each of the four children. Thinking he’d somehow missed the ones of Dany as a baby or a little girl, Gib began to peruse the wall more carefully.

  Gib was standing, hands on hips, critically studying the last wall of photos when he heard Dany enter the room. Unbidden, his heart skipped beats as he allowed his hands to drop to his sides and he turned around. Nothing could have prepared him for seeing her once again.

  Dany was dressed in a pale green cotton overblouse and loose, white cotton slacks, her feet bare. Her eyes still looked drowsy and slightly puffy. Her hair was pinned up haphazardly, ebony tendrils curled and clinging to her dampened temples. She looked like a disheveled girl, Gib thought, vulnerable and innocent. Shaking himself internally, he tried to get a handle on his feelings.

  Today, her lovely golden skin looked more healthy. Her lips were full, he discovered, and delicately shaped, the corners soft and turned slightly upward. She had her mother’s small, fine nose, and as his gaze moved upward to meet her startling green
eyes, Gib unconsciously inhaled.

  Dany’s eyes were her most beautiful asset, Gib decided as he offered her a slight smile of welcome. He felt more unsure of himself now than any sixteen year old ever could have felt. She had the most alluring eyes he’d ever encountered, but they were dark with grief, the only outward sign of the tragedy she had endured. Her anguished expression quickly tamped his initial reactions to her as a woman.

  “I’m sorry I woke you. I didn’t think I’d be seeing you again. I’m Major Gib Ramsey. I’ve been appointed investigation officer on your mother’s death.”

  Dany felt as if a weight on her shoulders had lightened when she walked into the drawing room and saw Gib standing there, studying the photos on the wall. When he turned, an incredible warmth suffused her, easing the pain she hadn’t been able to escape since her mother’s death. His large, alert hazel eyes broadcast his solicitude, and once again she felt protected and genuinely cared for. The feeling was so foreign to Dany that she was taken aback by it for precious seconds as she stood awkwardly beneath his heated, burning inspection.

  Capturing her scattered thoughts, Dany realized he was in uniform, as Ma Ling had already angrily informed her. Dany’s heart fell as he told her the reason for his appearance.

  “Investigation?” she asked in disbelief.

  “Of course.”

  “But…why?” She held out her hands in question.

  Tension swirled around them, and Gib agonized over her sudden wariness. Was she a VC sympathizer? He wished he knew for sure, although his heart was convinced she wasn’t. “The mine detonated at the intersection of your driveway and Highway 14,” he explained patiently. “That’s official South Vietnamese property. And a marine convoy was passing your home at the time the explosion occurred. My CO assigned me to investigate what happened, Miss Villard. We have to determine who did it and, if possible, why. I need to ask you some questions.”

  Shaken, Dany whispered, “But your presence here threatens our neutrality.”

  Grimly, Gib walked to the sofa and gestured for her to sit. “There’s nothing neutral about war,” he said gruffly. “Now, if you’ll take a seat, I’ll try and make this as painless as possible on you.” And on me. Sweet God, but his sense of protection was overwhelming him. Dany looked absolutely distraught by his presence. An investigation would do nothing but dredge up all her grief over her mother’s passing. He felt like hell about it.

  Touching her brow, Dany drew in a ragged breath. “I’m sorry…I’m forgetting my manners. Please, sit down. Ma Ling has made us tea.”

  The sofa was as delicate looking as everything else in the home. Gib, always aware of his size, sat down carefully. He noticed that Dany’s hand trembled perceptibly as she filled one cup with tea and handed it to him. Again, he was struck by the shadows under her eyes and their slight puffiness. No doubt she’d been crying more than sleeping the last couple of days.

  “Thanks,” he murmured, holding the cup and saucer between his hands. “How are you getting on?”

  Dany shrugged and poured herself tea, not really wanting to drink it. “I survive moment to moment,” she admitted huskily as she sat back, her cup and saucer also in her hands, untouched.

  Gib nodded. Her fragility was transparent in her every move, in her soft words, edged with pain. He was grateful that she didn’t try to evade him with social small talk. Dany wasn’t the actress in the family. She was too genuine to hide behind some carefully constructed facade as Amy Lou appeared to have done all her life.

  He cleared his throat. “I was an eyewitness to your mother’s death, and there are some questions I need answered.” Placing the cup and saucer on the coffee table, Gib opened his folder. The official IO report stared back at him.

  Dany moved uncomfortably. “I don’t understand why the American military has to be involved. The local authorities are investigating. Shouldn’t that be enough? Can’t you talk to Constable Jordan in Da Nang? He’s responsible for law enforcement in this region and has already taken my statement.” Dany feared Binh Duc’s reaction to Americans snooping around. He might already know that Gib was here, blatant in his tan, short-sleeved marine uniform.

  “I’ll talk to him, too,” Gib said, writing down the name. “I have to try to determine whether the land mine was buried by VC to destroy marine convoys that travel up and down the highway, or if someone had a vendetta against your mother.”

  Dany’s eyebrows dipped. “I’m sure it was a land mine put there to try to kill the American marines.” She set the cup and saucer down a little too loudly on the coffee table and got up, unable to sit still a moment longer. Her gut screamed at her that Binh Duc had been responsible for her mother’s death because of Amy Lou’s flirtation with the American general. Whether Dany would ever be able to prove it was another thing. More importantly, Dany knew she didn’t dare divulge Duc’s name to either the Vietnamese authorities or the American military. To do so would invite reprisals from Duc’s powerful force—a group that melted into the population by day and gathered after dark to wreak havoc. She didn’t want the plantation destroyed, or any more lives taken.

  Gib clung to his patience. Dany was suddenly nervous. Was she afraid he’d uncover VC connections? “Has anyone threatened your mother lately?” he asked quietly.

  Dany looked over her shoulder. “Of course not!”

  Gib motioned to the walls of pictures. “She looks to be a famous celebrity. A Hollywood actress?”

  With a grimace, Dany folded her arms against her body as she stood in the center of the room. Her voice was low and off-key. “Didn’t you know pictures lie? That’s what Hollywood really is: carefully orchestrated lies designed to make the public think some beautiful fairy-tale land exists out there, and all the people who belong to it are somehow magical and better off than the rest of us.” She halted abruptly. This marine didn’t care about her. All he wanted was information that would ultimately destroy Villard neutrality.

  Her pain was very real. Gib frowned. “Tell me about your mother. Was she a famous actress in Hollywood’s heyday?”

  Dany’s mouth quirked. “Let’s stick to business, shall we, Major? No one had threatened my mother.”

  He wasn’t going to be deterred. “I need some background information. Tell me about the Villard plantation.”

  Feeling trapped, Dany stood very stiffly. As much as she wanted to dislike Gib Ramsey, the opposite was occurring. His eyes, although hard, held something else in their depths. Every time she connected with and held his probing gaze, she felt an incredible surge of warmth and protection surrounding her. It was ridiculous! Dany shrugged it off, attributing it to her grief-stricken state. Her heart pounding, she licked her lower lip. “We’re a rubber plantation, Major. A thousand acres of rubber trees. That’s what we do for a living—produce rubber and export it. We’ve been here since 1930.”

  “How did your family get through the Vietminh years?” Gib asked.

  Dany frowned. “Just as we’re doing right now—by remaining neutral. My father refused to take sides in the Vietminh situation when Vietnam was a French colony.”

  “Did that create enemies?”

  Exasperated, Dany shrugged. “I don’t know!” She wheeled around and started to pace the long, rectangular room. “I wasn’t even born then. And my parents never spoke about it to me.”

  Gib dutifully recorded the information for his report. It hurt him to see her like this, especially knowing he was the reason she was becoming unraveled. He tried to take the gruffness out of his tone. “Who handles the operation of the plantation?”

  “I do,” Dany said flatly. She turned and walked back to him. “I’ve run this place since my father died.”

  “Didn’t your mother help?” Gib found it phenomenal that Dany could handle the reins of such a large operation. His ranch back in Texas was as big, and he knew the problems involved in managing such a concern.

  “My mother—” Dany stopped, then sighed. “My mother lived to be a part of
the social scene, Major. I stayed here and ran the plantation.” Her voice dropped and grew hoarse. “The land is what I love. This land and its people. Out back of this house is a Vietnamese village. Three generations of families have helped us till this soil and keep the plantation whole and alive.”

  Moved by her admission, Gib tore his gaze from her. As a rancher, he understood love of the land only too well. There was something honorable about Dany that struck him hard. He forced himself back to the report.

  “What is your affiliation with the Vietcong?” He didn’t look up, fearing the answer.

  Dany made an exasperated sound. “Affiliation? Major, I’m neutral! I don’t deal with them at all! I have the local leader’s word that he will not cross or use my plantation in any warlike activity or purpose.”

  “Would that be Binh Duc?”

  Inwardly, Dany winced. “Yes.”

  Gib looked up measuring the expression in her eyes and the tone of her voice. “You know him?”

  “Of course I do!” Frustrated, Dany cried, “I’ve lived here all my life, Major! Just because I know Binh Duc doesn’t mean I consort with him! Is that what you’re implying? That I’m a VC sympathizer?”

  Grimly, Gib held her angry, hurt gaze. “You tell me. Are you?”

  “No!”

  “Then who do you think planted that mine?”

  Rubbing her forehead, tears jamming into her eyes, Dany whispered, “I don’t know!”

  Gib had no defense against her. His heart jagged with the pain he was causing her by asking such brutal questions. The tears in her eyes made him feel like hell. “On the other hand,” he began hoarsely, “if the VC felt you weren’t being neutral in some way, they could have planted it.”

  Dany stood very still, fighting an overwhelming—and ridiculous—need to be held by Gib Ramsey. She couldn’t forget the feel of his arms around her after the explosion, or the husky tone of his voice as he’d tried to soothe her panic and grief. Stiffening her spine, she rattled, “That’s entirely possible, I suppose, but we’ve done nothing to make the VC think we’re anything but neutral.” She agonized over the possibility. Binh Duc was fully capable of doing such a thing.