The Vanishing Gary Brown (booksvooks TXT) 📖

Penelope Nash. “Penelope, darling! Ladybug! So nice to see you!”

Claire accepted a glass of champagne from a passing hostess, wandered back to the reception area, and read the biographies posted beneath the pictures of the authors and guests of honor. Finally, she came to Martin Belgrade’s photo. Unlike the glamour shots which many of the celebrities had opted for, Martin’s picture was not retouched. It was a simple shot. Sitting on the grass, wearing a blue denim shirt, beige cable-knit sweater and blue jeans. Beside him lay a beautiful golden retriever. Claire read the bio below the photograph: “Martin Belgrade is the author of several award-winning novels including The Devil’s Wrath, Soul Takers, and An Unholy Path. His latest novel, Heaven on Earth, is a New York Times bestseller. Mr. Belgrade lives in Santa Clara, California, with his best friend Maggy (pictured).”

The photograph brought a smile to her face. Martin Belgrade did not seem the least bit influenced by the trappings of his celebrity. In fact, there appeared to be nothing pretentious about him. He was handsome. His most interesting feature was his eyes: striking, ice-blue eyes that seemed not to look at her but through her. His face was strong, modelesque, his hair wavy, sandy blond. He was young, athletic looking, in his mid-thirties, and exuded a calm demeanor which transcended the lens. With his arm draped over the dog and his warm smile, he and Maggy appeared to be perfect company for each other. There was obviously much more to Martin Belgrade than she could gather from a mere photograph, yet there was something about him that intrigued her, made her want to know more. She would meet him later, as Kelly had said. Then she would know for certain if he was anything like the man that she had spent the last few minutes analyzing.

“Not exactly centerfold material, is he?” a voice said. “But the dog has all kinds of potential. Wouldn’t you agree?”

Claire turned. Standing several feet behind her was a distinguished-looking gentleman in a black tuxedo, his hands neatly folded in front of him.

“Perhaps,” Claire replied after catching her breath. “But that’s a purely subjective opinion, isn’t it?”

“Meaning?”

“That beauty is in the eye of the beholder.”

“Just my luck,” the man said. “You are referring to the dog.” He smiled, extended his hand. “Hi, I’m Martin Belgrade. The photogenic one in the picture is Maggy.”

“Claire Prescott. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Belgrade.”

“Please, call me Martin.”

Claire smiled. Kelly was right, she thought. He’s even better looking in person.

“So, Ms. Prescott,” Martin asked. “What brings you here?”

“A friend of mine,” Claire replied. “And by association, a friend of yours. Kelly Patterson. Your agent, my roommate.”

“How did you know Kelly was my agent?” Martin asked.

“She talks about you all the time. She thinks highly of your work.”

“Of my work?” Martin joked. “You sure we’re talking about the same Kelly Patterson?” He raised his hand shoulder high. “Five-foot nothing? Ballistic personality? Reddish-blonde hair? That Kelly Patterson?”

Claire laughed. “The one and only.”

“I must thank her for the compliment when I see her later.” Martin said. He smiled. “I suppose I should apologize for sneaking up on you like that. I’m sorry if I startled you.”

“That’s all right,” Claire replied. “I was reading your bio and daydreaming. I guess you caught me off guard.”

“Daydreaming while reading my bio?” Martin said. “So, I’m that interesting, huh? Kind of explains why the main girl in my life is a dog.”

Claire laughed. “I didn’t mean it that way. Actually, I found it rather intriguing.”

“Really? How so?”

“The titles of your books, for example. The Devil’s Wrath, Soul Takers, An Unholy Path, Heaven on Earth. They all sound similar. What exactly do you write about?”

“Cults, mostly. Or more specifically, the nature of them.”

“As in demonic cults? Satan worshippers? That sort of thing?”

“Sometimes, yes,” Martin replied. “But mostly I research and write about doomsday cults and the hold their leaders have on their followers, which most times is powerful enough to make them kill for the cult or be killed defending it.”

“Sounds frightening.”

“It can be. But enough about me. Do you plan to stay for the evening?”

“Truthfully,” Claire confessed, “I wasn’t sure if I should. I feel a little out of place. I don’t know anyone here except Kelly.”

“Well then,” Martin said, “I guess we’ve solved that problem.”

“How so?”

“Now you know me! Truthfully, I was going to bring Maggy, but she looks terrible in a dress. Exceptionally hairy legs. And her table manners are atrocious.”

Claire laughed. “Is that so?”

Martin raised his hand and crossed his heart. “Swear to God. So, if you’re not here with anyone, would you consider doing me the honor of joining me at my table?”

Say yes, you idiot! This guy is gorgeous and obviously wants to get to know you better. Take your foot out of your mouth and speak already!

“Thank you, Martin,” Claire replied. “I think I’d like that very much.”

“Wonderful!” Martin said. He took her arm in his. “What do you say we get this party started?”

16

THE AMBASSADOR ROOM was truly stunning. It had been themed after one of Janus’s most successful romance novels. Claire was awestruck. Massive ice sculptures, some eight feet tall, sat upon crystal pedestals placed throughout the room. A horse-drawn carriage on one, a prancing unicorn on another, a beautiful fairy-tale princess on a third. A gentle rolling fog generated by dry ice misters swirled at their feet as they crossed the room. The subdued lighting lent a mysterious glow to the mist, complimenting the total effect. In the center of the room, an immense tree appeared to be growing out of the floor and up through the ceiling, its trunk, limbs and branches painted metallic silver, each leaf brushed in gold. Blue and white silk sashes hung from the ceiling to create the effect of a brilliant sky. The costumed serving staff depicted characters from the book.

“Wow,” Claire said. “This is absolutely the most beautiful room I’ve ever seen.”

“Same here,” Martin said. “Looks like