“Oh my God!” Ella exclaimed. “I just met the rudest person ever!” As the hostess led them to a table, she continued. “Seriously! I did her a fucking favor and she slapped me in the face. What the fuck is her problem?”
“You never can tell what people are going through,” Ready said. “You want a glass of wine? It might take the sting off your cheek.”
Ready ordered a bottle of Chardonnay, and a few minutes later they were chatting at ease. “What would you do if you left Santa Barbara?” Ready asked.
“Probably go back to modeling.”
“You like modeling?”
“Not really,” said Ella. “But it’s the only way I’ll ever be able to pay for law school.”
“Law school? Isn’t that...hard?”
“Nothing’s really that difficult if you find it interesting,” she said. “What about you? What do you want to do?”
He shrugged. “I don’t know.”
“Have you ever thought of becoming a model? You have the looks for it.”
He looked down at his lap and mumbled unintelligibly. “Oh, I... moooshoooo....”
Ella laughed. “What?”
Still looking down, Ready mumbled, “I’m not smart enough for that,” but she didn’t hear him.
“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you so embarrassed,” she laughed. “What’s the matter, Warren? Are you shy?” She reached under the table and put her hand on his knee.
Ready looked up at her with a serious expression and nodded yes. This just made her laugh harder.
After the waitress took their order, Ella said, “I have your files. You wouldn’t believe all the crap I found on Will’s phone. He has a girlfriend in every city. He’s got photos of thirty different women in there. And not one of his wife.”
“How do you know what his wife looks like?” Ready asked.
“I don’t,” Ella said. “But I know she’s forty. Will told me that. These women are all in their twenties. And they’re all in bikinis or underwear, or they’re naked. Men don’t carry photos like that of their wives.”
She paused for a moment, looking thoughtful and sad. “The women in the photos all look sad and vulnerable. Maybe it’s just me projecting, but that’s what I see. Are they sex workers? Did someone force them into this? Or were they just reckless like me?”
She looked directly at Ready, and said, “You know he’s a predator. He chooses his targets. I’m so stupid. I knew what he was. I walked into this with my eyes open.”
“Why?” Ready asked.
“I don’t know,” Ella said irritably. “Why do you drink so much when you know how sick it’s going to make you? I wanted to do it. I did it on purpose.”
She looked at him quietly for a moment, and then asked, “What do you think of me, Warren?”
“I think the world of you.”
“What about when you first met me?”
“You came on a little strong. You scared me.”
“I could tell. But then you came back. Why? For sex? Or for me?”
“I wanted to find the person I saw through the window—the graceful girl in white with the sweet voice.”
“You like her?” Ella asked. “More than the crazy woman on the couch?”
“I like them both.”
After a moment, Ella said, “You know what else? When I went through Will’s computer....” She paused and tried to think of how to phrase her thought. “He’s up to something. He didn’t come by his money honestly. Not all of it.”
“What do you mean?” Ready asked.
“He keeps two sets of books. He’s got these spreadsheets that keep track of all the ships and what’s on them and when they went through customs and how much he wound up selling everything for. But then he’s got this other spreadsheet that describes some of the same shipments, with a different set of payments. There’s no information about inventory, just two payments for each shipment. One before the ship leaves China, and one after it arrives in the US. Those payments come to almost two million dollars.”
“What do you think he’s doing?” Ready asked.
“Smuggling something,” Ella replied. She thought for a moment, then added, “I kept thinking about his wife when I was looking at all those young women he runs around with. I feel bad for her. I couldn’t imagine being married to Will. But I really started to get upset when I realized she’ll lose everything if he gets in trouble. The IRS will seize his assets. She’ll be left with nothing unless she can show she didn’t know what was going on. You’re his friend, Warren. Do you know his wife?”
“Yes,” Ready said.
“Do you think she knows what goes on in his business?”
“I don’t think so,” Ready said.
“It’s important that she doesn’t,” Ella said. “If the IRS gets to him, the only protection she has is innocent spouse relief, and she’ll only get that if she really doesn’t know what he’s up to.”
Ready marveled at her. “How do you know all this? You’re like a lawyer.”
“I told you that’s what I’m going to be. I’m not going to spend my life smiling into a camera.” She thought for a moment, then added, “You know what I’m going to do? I’m going to put together a disk with photos of all his little girlfriends, and all his texts and emails, and give that to his wife. I hope she divorces him.”
She thought again then said, “Oh, but I can’t do that. It would be cruel to throw all that in her face.”
“His wife knows he’s cheating,” Ready said.
“She does?”
“Yeah. It might hurt her to see all the evidence, but it would help her get a divorce. That’s what she wants.”
Ella stared at him for several seconds with Susan’s silent measuring gaze. In her eyes was a hardness he had not seen before, and he became uncomfortable.
“Is that why she hired you?” Ella asked.
“What?”
“Did Will’s wife hire you to collect evidence of his affairs?”
Ready didn’t know what to say as his discomfort sank into fear.
“Come on, Warren. You were peeping in my window. You carry pre-paid credit cards with no name on them. You asked me to steal files from Will’s computer. I saw your website. It’s the first thing that comes up when you Google Warren Lane. I know what you do.”
She reflected for a moment then added, “It’s funny. You’re smart in some ways and clueless in others. You know how to keep a low profile. You have no photo on your website. No Facebook. No Tumblr, Instagram or Twitter. No LinkedIn. It’s like you don’t exist. And you got me to do all your dirty work. That was clever. But what if I hadn’t been there? What would you have done? What if it had been some other woman? Would you have seduced her?”
“Excuse me?” said Ready. “Did I seduce you?”
Ella looked down at her lap and said, “You didn’t have to.” She looked back up at him with a hint of fear and said, “I don’t know if you’ll go away, or if you really care for me, but I’ll give you the files, Warren. And I’m going to write a note for his wife to go with them. Will you give it to her?”
“Yes,” Ready said.
“That poor woman.” Ella sighed. “It might sound strange, but I feel like I should look out for her. I know I’d take her side over his if it came to a fight. And here I am, sleeping with the man she loves. I feel awful about that. I’m horrible, Warren. Horrible!”
She put her hand to her cheek and let out a little laugh. “Maybe it was karma.”
“What was karma?”
“That slap in the face. I deserve that, and a lot more.”
“There’s probably a simpler explanation,” Ready said.
Ella’s face brightened, and she said, “Warren? What if I printed out some of those spreadsheets from Will’s computer? You could go to him and ask for some mo
ney. You know, to keep quiet.”
“What?” Ready exclaimed with a look of shock. “Extortion? No!”
“I know. It was just a thought,” said Ella. “It’s not that I want to hurt him. I just want to get out of this life I’m in. If we had some money, we could go away and start a real life. Just you and me.”
Ready looked down at his lap.
“What’s wrong? Wouldn’t you like to run away with me?”
“I don’t know,” he said. Ready avoided thinking about the future, with its prospects of commitment and responsibility. It was that same old fear of his: if he were to let someone close enough to truly see him, he would be exposed as unworthy and then abandoned. By avoiding hope, he avoided disappointment.
He regretted his response, and was ashamed of himself for allowing his fears to prevent him from saying yes to what he knew he wanted. He dreaded looking up and seeing how his hesitation disappointed her. He expected to see in her face some recognition of his cowardice, and to read in her expression the thought, If you don’t think you’re worth my time, why should I bother with you? But when he raised his gaze to meet her open face, he found her clear, bright eyes looking warmly back at him.
“Thank you for being honest with me, Warren,” she said simply. “It means a lot to me.”
Her acceptance of the doubt he had been ashamed to confess now loosened the final restraint on his heart, and he began to fall. She knew this, though he did not. Looking into his eyes, Ella thought, We will be together, you and I. One day you will love me as much as I love you. It’s only a matter of time.
Chapter 21
The following morning, Warren Lane strolled casually into the restoration room in the basement of the art museum. The soft leather soles of his shoes made almost no sound on the concrete floor as he approached the restoration artist.
“Good morning, Mrs. DiBiase,” he said.
“You can call me Sophie,” the woman replied as she shook his hand. She was thin, in her late forties, and her dark hair was tied in a bun on top of her head. She wore a white smock, and he could feel the bones in her long, slim fingers.
Looking around at the paintings and sculptures in various phases of restoration, Lane said in a friendly tone, “Makes me a little nervous to be in here with all this priceless art just sitting out in the open. I’m afraid I might bump into something and break it.”
“Oh,” Sophie smiled. “These works aren’t priceless. Some of them are expensive though. That one,” she said, pointing to a small Roman statue, “is actually a reproduction. A very good reproduction. One of our staff broke its pinky off during a move.”
“Ooh,” said Lane, wincing as is he felt the pain himself.
Maxine had once remarked that watching Lane talk to a woman was like watching a dog walk on its hind legs. It was amusing at first, but after a few minutes, you just wanted the unnatural act to stop. Maxine coached him on some basic manners, but kindness and decency were not native to him, and he was unable to express them with grace or ease. Instead, he came off as overly polite, while inwardly he chafed at the constraints of civility, like a thirteen-year-old boy whose mother had stuffed him into his Sunday School suit when he’d rather be out torturing cats.
“It’s not that bad,” Sophie said with a little laugh. “I’ve fixed worse. What can I help you with?”
“I came across an article the other day, just a little blurb really, about an exhibit from last year.”
“Which one was that?” Sophie asked.
“A Chinese dynasty... um... The article said that a large urn had shattered during shipment.”
“Yes, that was sad.”
“Any idea how that might have happened?”
“Rough seas? I don’t know. It really didn’t make any sense to me. It was still in its crate when it arrived at the museum. I don’t see how it could have shattered in that packaging.”
“Moore Imports handled the shipping and logistics?”
“Yes. We work with them periodically. His wife is a patron of the museum. She’s helped us raise quite a bit of money.”
“She sounds like a fine woman. Where did that urn go?”
“Oh, it was beyond repair. Most of it went back to China. But we sent a few pieces out to labs and universities.”
“What would they want with a broken urn?”
“It’s not what they want. It’s what we want. We want to know what the glazes and dyes are made of. They vary from century to century and from region to region.”
“You have a very interesting job, Mrs. DiBiase,” said Lane gratuitously, and forced what he hoped was a friendly smile. “Did you learn anything new from that urn?”
“Not really,” Sophie said. “It just confirmed some things we knew already.” She paused a moment to recall a detail from the lab reports, then added, “But there was one weird thing.”
“What’s that?” Lane asked.
“All of the labs said they found traces of bleach inside the urn. No one ever cleans those pieces with bleach. I mean, no one in the art world.”
“Why would someone pour bleach into an ancient urn?” Lane asked.
“It’s beyond me,” Sophie replied.
“Unless they’re trying to wash away all traces of its contents.”
“Oh, those urns are just decorative,” Sophie said. “No one puts anything in them, especially during shipment.”
Chapter 22
That afternoon, Ready was back at Susan’s hotel. “Just a minute,” she said in response to his knock. She cracked the door open as far as it would go before the little sliding chain stopped it. Ready could see one side of her wet face and the towel wrapped around her hair.
“Oh, hi, Warren. Can you give me a minute to get dressed?”
“Sure,” he said.
Susan watched him through the crack for just a second longer than he liked. He was amazed at how that one dark eye could at once be so inviting and so intimidating. She shut the door and slid the chain out of its little track. The door opened all the way and there she stood, dripping wet and wrapped in a towel.
“Mrs. Moore?” said Ready nervously.
“Come in,” she said, smiling at his discomfort.
She didn’t give him space to pass, and he could feel the moist heat of the shower radiating from her skin as he brushed by. He went to the far end of the room and looked out the window. Susan picked up her clothes from the bed and took them into the bathroom, where she dressed with the door open.
She returned to the room a minute later and asked, “Do you have something for me, Warren?”
“Um....” He looked fixedly out the window.
“Warren, I’m dressed. You can turn around.”
Ready turned slowly and pulled a little USB drive from his pocket. “Mrs. Moore, I have the files you want on this drive.”
“Why are you calling me Mrs. Moore?” she asked. “You know my name is Susan.”
“Why do you answer the door in a towel?” Ready asked. “You know you’re married.”
“That didn’t stop you from kissing me last time we met.”
“That was a mistake.”
“Was it?”
Ready shrugged, and for the first time he examined her the way she had so often examined him. She did not shrink from it or show any of the discomfort that he felt under her scrutiny.
She said, “When I texted you the other day to ask when we could meet, you texted back, ‘Will you be naked?’ What am I supposed to make of that?”
“I’m sorry,” Ready said. “Things in my world are a little confused right now.”
“Mine too,” Susan sighed. “I’m not even the same person from one minute to the next.”
“I know. I feel it when I’m around you.”
“And it makes you nervous,” Susan said.
“It does.
After I left our last meeting, I kept asking myself what the hell just happened.”
“So did I. What do you have there?” Susan nodded toward the USB stick. “Are we going to watch some more porn?”
“No,” said Ready, looking a little glum. “I don’t really know how to say this, so I’ll just say it. Your husband is having several affairs.”
Susan took a deep breath and looked at him calmly. “OK,” she said.
“And these women are all very young.”
“That doesn’t surprise me,” Susan said, maintaining her calmness with visible effort.
“I just want to warn you that some of these photos are...well, there are a lot of them. I’m just letting you know now, so you’re prepared.”
Susan, now trembling slightly, nodded to indicate she understood.
“There are emails and texts in there too,” Ready said. “It might be better just to let the lawyers read those. Your whole case is right here, Susan.”
“OK,” Susan said. Her voice was beginning to break, but she held on tightly to her composure.
“And there’s one more thing,” Ready added, pulling Ella’s note from his pocket. “I want you to read this. It has some important information to protect you from the IRA.”
“The Irish Republican Army?” Susan asked.
Ready looked at the note. “IRS?”
“May I see that?” Susan asked. Ready handed her the note. In a broad, looping hand, it read:
Mrs. Moore,
In the course of our investigation, we have discovered some troubling implications in your husband’s business records. If your divorce goes to court, your tax returns and other financial documents may come under examination as you battle over alimony and division of assets.
Without giving away anything more, we ask you to avoid looking too far into your husband’s finances. Do not discuss business matters with him. There will come a time when your ignorance of his activities will be what saves you. For now, leave all matters of discovery to your attorneys, and follow their advice.
Please destroy this note.
Warren Lane Page 10
