by Andrea Kane
By this time, Leo had crossed over and reached them. He met Matthew’s frazzled stare and grabbed Ben’s other arm. “Come on, Ben,” Leo said in a soothing tone. “There are a lot of people visiting Phil right now. Let’s sit down somewhere and wait.”
“But I have to…”
“You will—soon,” Matthew assured him, following Leo’s lead by speaking in a low, calming voice, while helping Leo guide Ben into the director’s office. “You’ll talk to him in just a few minutes.” He glanced back over his shoulder at Sloane, as if asking for her assistance in righting the situation.
Sloane stepped forward immediately. “Please forgive Ben’s unfortunate outburst,” she said respectfully, addressing Phil’s family, but making certain the rest of the guests heard her as well. “You know how close he and Phil were, ever since college. He’s taking Phil’s death very hard. I know he meant no disrespect. I apologize on his behalf.”
As Sloane was speaking, Wallace hurried into the room, accompanied by a young Asian woman. His gaze darted around, trying to see where Ben had gone. He visibly relaxed when he saw Matthew and Leo leading him into the office.
“Thank you, Sloane.” He quietly addressed her as soon as she’d finished issuing her apology, and the activity in the room had started to normalize. “I tried to stop Ben in the parking lot. He shoved right past me. He’s even worse off than I realized.”
Sloane was only half-listening to Wallace’s words. She was staring at the young woman Wallace was escorting—a woman who’d now come over to stand by his side.
She was the spitting image of the woman in the photo Lucy had given her—older, but a dead-ringer for Meili.
At first Sloane thought it actually was Meili. Then she recognized the subtle differences in features and face shape. But, dear Lord, they could be sisters.
Wallace noted the expression on Sloane’s face, and took it to be curiosity.
“Forgive me. You two haven’t met,” he said. “Sloane Burbank, this is Cindy Liu. Cindy, this is Matthew’s daughter, Sloane. We’ve all known her since she was born.”
“It’s a pleasure.” Cindy shook Sloane’s hand. “And please accept my sympathies over Phil Leary’s death. Wallace has told me how close he and his friends are—your father included. This is a tragic loss.”
“Thank you so much.” Sloane had recovered herself by now. She was dying to ask Cindy if she had a relative named Meili. But now was not the time. Clearly, she and Wallace were an item. Sloane would find another opportunity—soon—to find out what she wanted to know.
For now, she placed a comforting hand on Wallace’s arm, offering her compassion and support. “I’m so sorry. You know that Phil will always be remembered, honored, and loved.” She stepped aside as her mother walked over, giving Wallace a warm hug and some kind words.
The timing couldn’t be better.
“Would you excuse me?” Sloane asked, glancing from Wallace to Cindy. “I want to go inside and see if my father and Leo need some help.”
“Of course.” Wallace nodded his understanding, then turned to introduce Rosalyn to Cindy.
Sloane slipped away and headed back over to Derek.
“Everything okay?” he asked as she reached his side.
“I’m not sure,” Sloane murmured. “Would you mind staying out here and keeping an eye on Wallace and his lady friend? I’m going to see if my dad and Leo need help with Ben. Afterward, you and I have to talk.”
Derek shot her a quizzical look, but held off asking questions. “Not a problem. I’ll be here if you need me.”
“Thanks.” Sloane crossed the room and went into the office.
Both her father and Leo glanced up when she entered. Ben was slumped in a chair, looking totally out of it.
“We can’t get through to him,” her father told Sloane in a low tone. “It’s like he doesn’t even hear our voices. He just keeps saying that Phil is outside, waiting to talk to him. I’m afraid that if we shove his nose in the truth, he’ll start ranting and raving again. The last thing Phil’s family needs is another scene.”
Sloane nodded. Stepping forward, she squatted down in front of Ben and took his hands in hers. “Hi, Ben.”
He blinked. “Sloane,” he slurred her name in surprise. “Is it poker night? Are you here to join the game?”
“No, Ben. It’s not poker night. And we’re not at your apartment, or at Leo’s, Wallace’s, or my dad’s.” She squeezed Ben’s fingers. “We’re in a funeral home. Underneath all that pain you’re feeling, you do know that, right?”
He looked around, as if noticing his surroundings for the first time. “A funeral home,” he repeated. “Yes, I know that. I drove here. I had to…for Phil.”
“That’s right—for Phil,” Sloane agreed, keeping her tone even and quiet. “His passing is a terrible loss. We all feel it. I know how much you loved him. And I know that you’re grieving. But please don’t tarnish his memory by expressing your grief through shouting. It won’t bring him back. And no amount of liquor will make the pain go away. That’s why you’re with friends. We’re all here to help one another—to help you. We’re honoring Phil together.”
“Phil’s dead.” It was as if Sloane’s words of comfort had penetrated Ben’s alcohol-induced stupor. Tears filled his eyes. “Phil’s dead.”
“I know.” Sloane stood up, kissed Ben’s cheek. “I know he is.”
“Then you also know why.”
Dangerous territory. Sloane pondered her answer carefully.
Ben answered his own question before Sloane could speak. “Because I killed them. They’re dead. And they’re dead because of me. Everything…all of it…it’s my fault.”
Them? Sloane turned to shoot her father a questioning look.
He seemed as bewildered as she was. So did Leo, who shrugged at Sloane in noncomprehension.
“I doubt he knows what he’s saying,” Leo muttered. “I’ll take him home. It’ll be fine now. Thanks for calming him down.”
“Leo—wait.” Sloane delayed him for a minute as her father went to help Ben to his feet. She kept her voice down so that only Leo could hear. But if there was anyone who’d know the lowdown on Meili’s look-alike, that someone would be Leo. “Are you acquainted with the woman who Wallace brought with him? I think her name is Cindy Liu.”
“Sure,” Leo acknowledged. “That’s Wallace’s architectural protégé, the one I’ve been collaborating with on design projects. She’s a natural.” Leo’s expression softened. “She’s also become more than a protégé to Wallace. I think he’s fallen for her—hard. Not a surprise. He’s always had a thing for Asian women. And this one’s beautiful, smart, and talented. It’s good to see him alive again. I was really afraid his soul had died with Sophie.”
Sloane’s investigative mind had already kicked into high gear. “You said she’s his protégé. How did that happen—did they meet at one of his galleries?”
“No, actually her uncle’s a longtime business associate of Wallace’s. He’s a big wheel in Hong Kong—rich and influential. His name’s Johnny Liu. He and Wallace worked on deals together back in Wallace’s investment-banking days, when he did a fair amount of traveling to the Far East. I also think that Liu is an art connoisseur and that he buys paintings from Wallace’s galleries. Anyway, Liu asked Wallace to help Cindy kick-start her own architectural firm here in New York. And the rest, as they say, is history.” Leo’s lips curved slightly. “Or, in this case, history in the making.”
Sloane smiled back. “Thanks. I’m glad Wallace is finding some happiness, too.” She moved aside as her father guided Ben over and transferred him to Leo, who took Ben’s arm and looped it around his neck in order to haul him out of the office.
“You sure you don’t need help?” Matthew asked.
“No. You stay here with your family. I’ll drive Ben home and stay with him until I’m sure he’s okay on his own.” He half led, half carried Ben to the door.
“Tell Phil I’m sorry,” Ben begg
ed Sloane and Matthew in a tear-clogged voice. “I’m so sorry.”
“He knows, Ben,” Sloane assured him. “And he’d want you to go home and get some rest.”
Ben was placid when he and Leo left. But he was also totally broken.
“I can’t help hurting for him,” Sloane admitted to her father.
“You’d have to be made of stone not to.” Switching gears, Matthew turned to his daughter. “You handled that really well. Talk about crisis negotiation. You’re every bit as good as the FBI claimed. I’m proud of you.”
“But?”
A heavy sigh. “But I’m not only hurting for Ben. I’m really worried about him. He’s drinking himself to death. And now ICE is coming after him for hiring illegals. I don’t know how much more he can take.”
Sloane absorbed that and gave her father a questioning look. “Why do you think Ben used the plural when he talked about everything being his fault? He kept saying they’re dead because of him. You don’t think he did something for Xiao Long we don’t know about, do you?”
Matthew shook his head emphatically. “I know the world is upside down these days. But Ben is not a killer. He’s many other things, clearly more than I knew about, but he wouldn’t hurt a fly. He’s just so loaded that he doesn’t know what he’s saying.”
“You’re probably right.” Sloane dropped the subject at that point. She could always pick it up again later, but right now she was nagged enough by her reaction to seeing Cindy Liu and absorbing Leo’s comments about Wallace’s propensity for Asian women to pursue something entirely different with her father.
“Dad, have you met Cindy Liu?” she asked.
“Wallace’s Cindy? Not in person, no. Why?”
“Do you know anything about her background?”
Matthew shrugged. “Only that she has some great educational and professional credentials, which I’m sure is why Wallace agreed to sponsor her. I don’t know much about her personal life, except that she’s brought a little of the old Wallace back, for which I’m grateful. Any reason why you’re interested in Cindy?”
“I just met her a few minutes ago. She so closely resembles another woman I’ve seen, it caught me off guard.” Sloane paused, then went ahead and tested her theory. “Dad, does the name Meili mean anything to you?”
Matthew looked startled. “Meili? That’s a name I didn’t expect to hear again.”
“Then you know her?” Now it was Sloane who was surprised.
“We met once. As for knowing her, for several years, she’s all Wallace talked about.”
Wallace.
Sloane’s theory was beginning to seem a lot less far-fetched.
“Were they romantically involved?” she asked.
Matthew glanced uneasily at the door. “Can we have this conversation later? I feel uncomfortable isolating ourselves in the office when Phil’s wake is taking place right outside. Actually, I feel uncomfortable having this conversation at all—especially with my daughter.”
“I’m sorry, Dad. We can’t delay this talk,” Sloane surprised her father by saying. “As for feeling uncomfortable, pretend I’m an agent, not your daughter. The information you give me might be crucial. So I need to know. Tell me everything you recall about Meili. After that, I promise we’ll go right back in and rejoin the others.”
Puzzled, Matthew drew a deep breath, mentally backtracking six years. “Yes, Wallace and she were romantically involved. After Sophie was born, Wallace’s marriage went rapidly down the drain. His and Beatrice’s fidelity to each other went with it. Wallace had a slew of affairs. Then when Sophie was almost two years old, Wallace met Meili. He called her his free-spirited angel—beautiful, lighthearted, filled with laughter, and refreshingly impulsive.”
“And was she?”
“I suppose. She was also half Wallace’s age, so she saw life through very different eyes. But she was just what Wallace needed at the time. So, if anything, her youth was part of her charm.”
“And how did you happen to meet her?”
“The same way Wallace did. She tried to sell the group of us a painting. An early Rothberg, actually. Not one of his more valuable ones, but still, a Rothberg.”
“When did this happen?”
“July 2002. I remember because it was the first time since Cai Wen’s murder that Leo, Phil, and I took the risk of setting foot in Hong Kong. And we only went because we were negotiating a major deal with a Hong Kong gallery owner who insisted on meeting all five of us in person. This young woman—Meili—spotted Wallace during one of his solo visits to the gallery and followed him back to our hotel. She brought the Rothberg with her. She was clearly desperate for money.”
“And?”
“And she ended up selling it elsewhere.”
Sloane’s eyes narrowed. “You lowballed her.”
“We tried to make a healthy profit. That’s what the art-dealing business is about.”
“I’m not naive, Dad. And it doesn’t matter whether or not I approve. I’m just trying to establish the facts.”
“The facts are, yes, we lowballed her. Wallace was against the decision. After the deal fell through, he got in touch with her and took her to dinner. By the time we left Hong Kong, he was already head over heels in love. His feelings only got stronger each time he visited. Which was often. Wallace did a lot of traveling in his previous life. Especially to the Far East. So there was lots of opportunity for him to be with Meili. The rest of us ribbed the hell out of him. We were already calling him Casanova Johnson. This just gave us more ammunition. One night in August…” Matthew broke off, his neck turning red. He was visibly embarrassed by getting into this story with his daughter.
“Go on,” Sloane prompted. “I don’t shock easily. And remember, I’m FBI, not your little Sloane.”
“Okay,” Matthew conceded. “One night in August, during a weekly poker game that involved way too much alcohol, we actually set up a pool on how long it would take Wallace to get Meili into bed. The idea was Ben’s, of course. He was always the clown—and the instigator. Look, we all acted like juvenile asses, and we knew it. It was just one of those stupid, throwback-to-college days.”
“Who won the pool?”
“Actually, Ben did. He counted on Wallace being gallant. And he was right. Wallace held off until November. The ironic part is that Meili didn’t want to go slowly. But Wallace has that decent streak in him. He was so afraid of hurting her.”
“He obviously got over it.”
“Not without a huge surge of guilt,” Matthew assured Sloane. “Trust me, this wasn’t just a fling or even an affair. It lasted three years. And it was serious. Too serious.”
“Meaning?”
“Meaning that Wallace’s marriage might not have been a priority, but his daughter was. He would never, ever have left Sophie. And Meili would never have left Hong Kong. So the relationship wasn’t going anywhere. But Wallace couldn’t let it go. He bought Meili jewelry, expensive clothes, you name it. And he visited her every chance he could.”
“What happened?”
“Like I said, Wallace’s decency always prevailed—which, in this case, backfired. During a playful moment when he and Meili were together, he stupidly told her about the bet. He assumed she’d be amused. She wasn’t. What he considered to be a silly game, she considered to be the ultimate betrayal and humiliation. I don’t know all the details. Nor did I ask. I only know that Wallace was a wreck when he came home. He briefly told us that Meili had ended things between them, and why. Then, he went off like a wounded bear—cut himself off from everyone. He spent the week before the holidays holed up in his town house. He wouldn’t talk to a soul. The only reason he went home to East Hampton the following week was for Sophie. He’d never let her spend a Christmas without him.”
Sloane was mentally calculating dates. “You said the affair lasted over three years, and ended before the holidays. So that was December 2005.”
“That’s right.”
“Did Walla
ce say anything else, describe anything else, that you can remember? Anything about Meili’s background, her family, her life when they weren’t together?”
Matthew frowned. “I remember him saying she didn’t like to talk about her past. I think she had some kind of major falling-out with her family, after which she severed all ties with them. She was a struggling artist when he met her, working in a bar. He put a stop to that right away, and helped get her a job as a hostess in an upscale restaurant while he tried to kick-start her art career. He said there was a fineness about her that smacked of good breeding.” A hint of a smile. “That’s old-money Wallace for you. Always a keen eye for class. Anyway, other than that, all he talked about was the present.”
“Thank you, Dad.”
Sloane had all she needed—well, almost. Her father’s story dovetailed perfectly with Lucy’s. Wallace was the rich, married man Meili had gotten involved with and, ultimately, committed suicide over. And the tragic aftermath of their relationship, which Wallace probably knew nothing about, all stemmed from an idiotic bet about Meili’s virtue. There were pieces to the equation still missing—like what the connection was between Meili and Cindy Liu—but those could be uncovered. As for Cindy’s sudden appearance in Wallace’s life—now that was no coincidence. Not with them being so physically similar. But her father had met Meili. And she wanted a qualified opinion. A picture might be worth a thousand words. But there was nothing like the real thing to confirm the facts.
“Do you want to tell me what this is all about?” Matthew was asking.
“I can’t. Not yet. But I do need one more thing from you.” Sloane clamped a hand on her father’s arm and led him to the door. “I need you to take a quick look at someone and tell me what you see.”
“What I see?” Matthew looked utterly baffled.
“Don’t ask questions. Just wait till I tell you. Then, look.” Sloane eased the door open a crack and peered out, scanning the room. She spotted Wallace and Cindy, talking quietly to each other. An instant later, Wallace nodded, crossing over to get their coats, and leaving Cindy standing alone.
