“We’re always together, kid, you and me. Just like we’ve always been.”
“True love forever, huh?”
“True love forever, darling.” She pulled Beth’s face down to her and kissed her on the forehead before releasing the strong grip on her hand.
“How’s Max doing?”
“He’s fine. A little bent out of shape because I came up here without him.”
“Tell him to read his charts next time,” Beth said, “and watch his depth finder.”
“It wasn’t his fault,” Andi said in his defense, smiling as she remembered the experience.
“I figured that, but what happened?”
“We ran into a submerged container last week while taking a charter party over to Christmas Cove for lunch. The husband was at the wheel, blindly following Max’s instructions and ignoring what his eyes told him.”
“Any real damage?”
“Mostly to Max’s ego, but then the prop started vibrating the next day. We hadn’t booked any charters because we were coming up here, so he stayed down to get it handled.”
Beth went into the kitchen while her mother was taking a shower, grabbed a Diet Coke, and walked back out to the living room. Sitting in the rocker made her aware that her stomach was still tender from the mugging, something she had no intention of mentioning to her mother. She opened up her shoulder bag and dumped out the mail she had picked up from her box in the lobby yesterday.
She put the Christmas catalogs aside for later reading pleasure and tossed the junk mail on the floor for disposal in the trash. For the moment, she also put aside the green envelope that had come directly to her apartment from the Antigua office of the Trans-Caribbean Title Company. She knew that had to be a response to her request for information on Sloane and Paramount.
Her curiosity was aroused, however, by a handwritten express mail envelope addressed to her in a classical European scroll. She ignored its grease stain and the absence of any return address, but was intrigued by the Venezuelan postage. The only thing she found inside was a business card from Dieter Rheinhartz, but when she saw the words Banco Union, Caracas, Eric Leonard, and a phone number carefully printed on the back of his card, she immediately grabbed her phone and began dialing.
—
“Hola, eso es Banco Union, Caracas.”
“This is Elisabeth from Branch 275 of Chase Bank in New York. Do you speak English?”
“Yes, I do. How can I help you?”
“I need to verify some information on a new account at our branch.”
“What is the name on the account, please?”
“Eric Leonard.”
“What is your badge number?”
“AZ10PS467MM.” Beth crossed her fingers as she spouted off a random series of numbers and letters.
“Hold on a minute.”
“No problem.”
“Yes, Eric Leonard has an account here.”
“I’m supposed to verify his address and the age of the account.” Beth felt her heart trying to pound its way out of her chest.
“It’s been open for over two years with an average monthly balance of four thousand seven hundred and fifty U.S. dollars. The address he gave us is on Antigua.”
“Anything else?”
“There was a cash deposit of five hundred thousand in U.S. dollars made just recently. September first, to be exact.”
“Do you know what bank it came from?” she asked, almost certain already that it was Sloane. The deposit had been made a week before Satin Lady sank and was for the same amount withdrawn from the bank in Switzerland that Erica had used.
“Sorry, I can’t give you routing information.”
“Is it still on deposit?”
“No, the money was withdrawn on September twenty-fifth.”
“Do you know where it went to?” It has to be them! That was more than two weeks after Satin Lady sank.
“No. It was taken out in cash, U.S. dollars.”
On Saturday night, they were out of Beth’s apartment by seven fifteen p.m. and in a cab with Amy headed for Lincoln Center. With the trees around the complex sparkling brightly under their year-round net of tiny white lights, the plaza was bathed in crystal brilliance reflecting off the frozen vapor exhaled into the icy air by the arriving crowd.
“How was dinner at Lynn’s?” Amy asked.
“Too much good food as usual,” Beth replied.
“Did you tell your mother about C. K. Leung?”
“Thanks, big mouth. No, I didn’t have a chance to tell her.” The icy dagger Beth shot over to Amy made it clear she hadn’t told her mother about the Jersey Turnpike or the mugging either.
“How was I supposed to know that?” Amy asked.
“Tell me what?” Andi asked.
“I had lunch with C. K. Leung last week. He offered me a chance to do some work for him. A real estate deal.”
“How big?”
“Motels all over the Northeast,” Amy volunteered.
“That’s big!” Andi said, her voice flat with awe. “I’m amazed. I thought for sure you’d never hear from him again.”
“Now tell her the rest,” Amy said.
“Remind me to confide in you again, Mata Hari.”
“What is the rest?”
“I told him we wouldn’t be able to do the work.”
“How come?” Andi asked in an even tone of voice.
“There’s a conflict of interest with another case I’m handling.”
“Right,” Amy interjected. “A three-hundred-and-fifty-thousand-dollar insurance case.”
“You and Clifford couldn’t work your way around it?”
“I didn’t tell Clifford, and don’t you mention it when you have dinner with him tomorrow night.”
“Doesn’t he have a right to know?” Andi asked.
“It was my new business. I decided not to bring it into the firm.”
“That’s a little presumptuous, isn’t it?” Andi asked.
“No. It was my call. By the way, Clifford hasn’t been looking so well lately. He’s been coughing worse than usual, more than his regular smoker’s cough. See what you think when you see him.”
“I will, but don’t change the subject. I have the distinct feeling that the story behind your decision is more interesting than the decision itself.”
“I’ll give you all the sordid details at dinner. Oh, by the way, squealer”—Beth turned to Amy—“C.K. sent a couple of his men over to the office yesterday with two dozen roses. They even set it up themselves on my credenza in a Waterford crystal vase they brought.”
“He must really want you to reconsider,” Amy said.
“Or go to bed with him,” Andi offered.
“I guess, but there’s no chance of new business, and sex was never in the cards. I also got some interesting documents from Antigua today. I’m still carrying the envelope around in my bag.”
“What kind of information?”
“Let’s go in now and I’ll show it to you when we get to our seats.”
“Okay,” Andi said. “I’m getting cold anyhow.”
They entered the Met and gradually asserted themselves through the crowd, absorbing the familiar aroma of old money and new. They slowly went down the grand staircase to the orchestra level, where Andi detoured to the bar for a glass of champagne.
With time to spare, they walked down the aisle to their seats, where Beth resumed the conversation. “I found a company down in the West Indies that does real estate title searches. I asked them to check Guadeloupe and Antigua to see if they could find any records of property owned in the name of Sloane, Crossland, or Paramount.”
“Did they find out anything worthwhile?” Andi asked skeptically.
“They sure did. It turns out that a corporation called Paramount Equities owns a house on Antigua. They sent me a copy of the deed.”
“Are you sure it’s the same Paramount?” Andi still sounded unimpressed.
“Yes, because this
particular Paramount filed an official Antiguan motor vehicle registration form two years ago signed by an Elliot Slanger as its authorized officer. I compared the signature with Sloane’s handwriting. It’s an exact match.”
“He and Erica were planning to rip off Leung even then.”
“It seems Paramount also owns a fifty-one-foot ketch down on Guadeloupe by the name of Sindicator. A bank on Barbados holds the mortgage. I have that documentation too.”
“So? Max told you about the sailboat.”
“Yes, but all he found out was that it was chartered from Gold Coast Charters on Guadeloupe. Now I know it was registered there by this Paramount Equities. I’ll make a copy of the whole report for you to show to Max next week. See what he thinks.”
“What I think is that you’re in a losing game.”
“I don’t agree,” Beth insisted adamantly.
“Sometimes you’re as stubborn as your stepfather.”
“What do you expect? I come from his loins,” Beth explained, knowing her mother only used the step word when one of her two charges misbehaved.
Andi harrumphed and turned her attention to the program on her lap as the Met’s crystal chandeliers started their slow cable ascent skyward to the ceiling.
—
Amy dropped them off in a cab back at the apartment after the opera and dinner. Malden came out of the building, buttoning up his doorman’s jacket, and opened the cab door for mother and daughter.
“Hi, Beth,” he said, and then, surprised to see Andi, “Well, hello, Mrs. Swahn. It’s nice to see you back in New York.”
“Thank you, Malden.”
“Say, Beth, I got some flowers for you in the package room.”
“Flowers? Would you get them for me?” They followed the doorman toward the elevators in the rear of the lobby.
He opened up the locked door to the package room located next to the elevators and brought out the flowers wrapped in bright yellow paper. “Couple of Asian-looking guys dropped them off about an hour ago. They wanted to go up to your apartment, but I told them ‘no way.’ ”
“They’re beautiful,” Andi said, opening them partially. “Who’re they from?”
“I don’t know yet. Here, take my bag and the keys. I’ll carry the flowers up. Thanks, Malden. See you tomorrow.”
“Good night. Nice to see you again, Mrs. Swahn.”
“Good night, Malden,” Andi said.
“The roses smell delicious,” Beth said in the elevator with her arms around the flowers. “The elevator has never smelled so good.”
“Which key is it?”
“The same key opens both locks now, top and bottom. The silver one with the double notch.”
“Did you set the burglar alarm?” Andi asked as the two women walked from the elevator down the corridor to Beth’s apartment.
“I didn’t bother. Hurry, open up the door. These flowers are dripping all over my coat.”
“Just a minute. Let me unlock it,” Andi said as she unsuccessfully tried the two locks, first the top, then the bottom, then in reverse order, and then repeated the process again.
“What’s the problem?”
“You didn’t have the top lock on,” Andi said, finally getting the door open.
“I’m sure I put both locks on.”
“No, you didn’t.”
“Well, so maybe I forgot.”
“Here, let me turn on the light so you can put the flowers down.”
“Don’t forget to double-lock the door,” Beth said as she walked into the kitchen and put the flowers on the counter.
“I did already.”
“They’re from C.K. again,” Beth said, reading the card that had been pinned to the flowers. “I’ll put them in the cloisonné vase Brian bought me.”
“That man makes me nervous.”
“Who? Brian?”
“No. C. K. Leung.”
“Why? Did you ever meet him?”
“No, but what’s that got to do with it?”
“He’s extremely attractive and can charm your pants off. That’s why.”
“Keep your pants on, daughter.”
“Yes, Mother,” she said obediently.
“Did you take out the garbage today?” Andi asked, sniffing at the air.
“Sure. When we left to go shopping this afternoon. Why?”
“This place smells,” Andi responded, testing the air as she walked into the bedroom.
“All I smell is the roses. The apartment smelled fine when we left for the opera.”
“Well, it has a sour smell. Where’s your room spray?” Andi asked from the bedroom.
“Wait, now I smell it too….The spray’s in the bathroom. Try under the sink.” Beth’s senses went on full alert, scanning the apartment carefully. It was body odor she smelled, a bad body odor. She didn’t want to alarm her mother, but something did feel wrong.
Andi came out from the bedroom, her face pale under her year-round tan.
“What’s the matter, Mom?” The look in her mother’s eyes frightened her.
“I just had a terrible thought. Check your jewelry.”
Without another word, Beth quickly opened her top dresser drawer and began rummaging through the lingerie for the antique tortoiseshell powder jar that contained some of her jewelry. “Everything’s here.” She then walked over to the night table by her bed and turned the hollow-based lamp upside down to let the soft red velvet case fall out. She untied the blue ribbon, opened the flap, and scanned the assorted rings and bracelets. “No, everything’s here too. What about your big suitcase in the closet?”
“I didn’t have anything valuable in it. What I’m not wearing, I have in my purse.”
“Wait a moment,” Beth said. She opened the bottom drawer of her bureau and then breathed a big sigh of relief as she pulled out a brown manila envelope. “I just had this paranoiac flash that C.K. had his men steal my Sloane file, but it’s here.” She started to untie the string that held the file closed.
“We’re just imagining it all.” Andi laughed nervously.
“Oh Jesus, Mom!” The sudden and serious alarm in Beth’s voice exploded throughout the apartment.
“What is it?”
“It’s the file. Someone’s been in it. Look.” She held up the papers. “They’re all out of order. I didn’t leave it this way.”
When Beth saw the horror she had created in her mother’s face, her own anger was multiplied by the reflected fear. “I’m calling the cops.” She angrily picked up the phone on her night table.
“What good is calling the police?” Andi asked, quickly regaining control over herself. “Leung is in Taiwan, isn’t he, and there’s nothing missing.”
“I want the cops to have a record of it. That son of a bitch is not going to get away with this.” Beth paced nervously, circling back and forth between the night table and the bedroom door, shifting the phone from ear to ear, her freedom of motion restricted by the length of the telephone cord that connected her to the jack on the wall.
“Hang up the phone and start thinking,” Andi said firmly. “I don’t know what you’re into, but I do know that it’s dangerous and I don’t think you know how nasty it is, either.”
“I do know, and let me tell you I don’t care how much money or power C.K. has. It doesn’t give him the right to invade my home and scare the shit out of you and me.”
“Of course not, but it’s insane to let Leung know you recognize him as the enemy just because you’re mad. Calling the police in a fit of temper may turn out to be dumb.”
Beth slowly put the phone back on the hook. “It would probably be a waste of time to report it anyway,” she said with resignation.
“Why couldn’t you and Max let the whole thing drop when you had the chance?” Uncontrolled tears of frustration started forming in Andi’s eyes. She got up suddenly from the bed and walked into the living room, sitting down on the couch.
All of Beth’s anger vanished, instantly replaced wit
h concern when she saw how consumed with fear and fury her own mother had become. She followed her into the living room and sat on the couch next to her, holding her hand, while she received a lecture on the dangers of ego-driven revenge. It was a disjointed monologue that ended only when Andi brought her own emotions under control.
“Would you feel more comfortable if we went to a hotel for the night?”
“No, I’m okay now. First I want to kill your friend C. K. Leung, and then I want to call Max,” Andi said.
“It’s too late. We’ll call him tomorrow.”
“You two are going to stop this game.”
“We’ll talk about it tomorrow.”
“Wrong, and stop patronizing me, Elisabeth. We’ll talk about it now!”
“All right, but let me make us a couple of brandies first.”
“Excellent idea,” Andi said, her color returning.
“At least he didn’t get to see the letter from Venezuela or those documents I got from Antigua. They’re all safe in my pocketbook. He also doesn’t know that I have his CD.”
“Yeah, boy, are we lucky!” Andi said sarcastically, and then asked as an afterthought, “What CD?”
Beth heard a phone ringing, but it fit into the context of her dream. It was still ringing when she opened her eyes. Then she remembered that she had slept on the sofa bed in the living room, so the phone was on the cocktail table.
“Hello,” she croaked into the receiver.
“Beth?” The male voice at the other end was familiar to her, but the caller was wavering, uncertain himself as to who had picked up the phone.
“Hi, Bob.”
“Are you okay?”
“Yeah. I think so. Why?”
“You sound terminal.”
“You woke me out of a terrific dream. Where are you?”
“I’m here in New York.”
“You’re supposed to be in Providence.”
“I came back yesterday afternoon. The general manager of WKYN invited me to the Ranger game last night.”
“Did you get the job?”
“I’ll tell you later. Listen, I need to see you.”
“Today?” Her mind was fogged with sleep.
“Yes, of course today.”
“Today’s Sunday. I can’t make it today. My mother’s in town. What’s the matter?”
Noble Chase Page 13
