‘I give police nothing,’ Irena said, pursing her lips. ‘You tell them what I say, I deny.’ She stood up and snatched the mug out of his hand. ‘You no like tea?’ she said accusingly. ‘Not strong enough?’
‘It’s a little too strong.’
‘I know who murdered Paulina,’ she said, just like that.
A chill pervaded his body. ‘Who?’
Another crafty expression crossed her weatherbeaten face. ‘You have Paulina’s box? Her money?’
‘I just gave you—’
‘You want know who stabbed her,’ Irena said flatly, ‘come back, bring me box. It should be mine.’
‘What makes you think I have it?’
‘Someone took it from apartment. I think it you.’
‘And if it wasn’t me?’
‘Then our talk is finished.’
‘Hi, Grams,’ Amy said, arriving unannounced at her grandmother’s hotel apartment.
‘What are you doing here?’ Grandma Poppy asked, shushing her two dogs, who were running around in circles, barking.
‘I came to tell you we’re postponing the wedding.’
‘I heard,’ Grandma Poppy said, calming her yapping dogs with a commanding gesture. ‘Your mother phoned me. In view of the terrible event that has taken place, a postponement is the correct thing to do.’
‘Mom seems to think so,’ Amy said. ‘She’s livid because my name has been dragged into the newspapers.’
‘I’m sure she is.’
‘She wants me to break off my engagement, give Max back his ring, quit my job and leave the country,’ Amy continued, pulling up a chair.
‘Ah,’ Grandma Poppy sighed. ‘Nancy. Overreacting as usual.’ A pause. ‘And how do you feel about breaking your engagement to Max?’
‘Here’s the thing, Grams, I, uh, have another problem that’s even worse.’
‘What could possibly be worse than your overly dramatic mother trying to tell you what to do?’ Grandma Poppy inquired, tapping her elegant long fingers on the table beside her.
‘You’re so wise, Grams,’ Amy said. ‘That’s why I came here.’ She glanced at Hueng, hovering near the door.
Grandma Poppy followed her eyes. ‘Hueng,’ she said, raising her voice and waving a hand imperiously, ‘out. My granddaughter has private things to tell me. Go now.’ Hueng made a rapid exit. ‘What is it, dear girl? Speak up.’
‘Well…’ Amy said hesitantly. ‘It’s something my mother couldn’t possibly understand. I’m not even sure you will.’
‘Try me, dear.’
‘I–I did something foolish,’ Amy stammered, ‘and now I don’t know how to handle the situation.’
‘Go ahead.’
‘Remember I told you about my bachelorette night?’
‘You’d better remind me. My memory’s not what it used to be.’
‘We had, y’ know, drinks and fun and male strippers.’
‘Ooh, male strippers,’ Grandma Poppy said, eyes gleaming as she clapped her hands together. ‘What a pity we didn’t have those when I was young.’
‘Anyway, it got kind of crazy.’
‘Nothing wrong with a young girl getting crazy.’
‘Only I got a little too crazy,’ Amy admitted.
‘What happened?’
‘I slept with a stranger,’ Amy blurted out. ‘I didn’t know his name or anything about him, and he didn’t know who I was. It was just one of those unbelievable things.’
‘I presume you regret it?’ Grandma Poppy said, not appearing to be at all shocked.
‘Yes–I mean, no,’ Amy muttered, totally flustered. ‘You see, it turns out he’s someone I know.’
‘I’m sure you do know him if you went to bed with him.’
‘It’s bad, Grams.’ A long silent beat. ‘He’s Max’s brother.’
‘Excuse me?’
‘Max’s younger brother, Jett. You met him at the rehearsal dinner. He was at your table with the Italian model you thought was so charming. She’s kind of his girlfriend.’
‘I’m a tad confused,’ Grandma Poppy said. ‘You slept with a man whom you didn’t know, and he didn’t know you. Yet you have a fiancé, and he has a girlfriend. Am I correct?’
‘Yes, that’s exactly it.’
‘Have you told Max?’
‘No, I feel too guilty. I want to tell him, but I just can’t.’
‘That’s good, because you have to keep this to yourself.’
‘I do?’
‘Yes,’ Grandma Poppy said firmly, ‘you most certainly do. Telling Max will only create bigger problems.’
‘I have a bigger problem already. I want to be with Jett, and yet I know, especially in view of what’s going on, that I must stay with Max.’
‘And does Jett feel the same way?’
‘Yes.’
‘What about the Italian girl?’
‘She’s not his steady girlfriend. He’s breaking up with her so that he can be with me.’
‘Men always say that,’ Grandma Poppy mused, a faraway look in her eyes. ‘They’re always after the nooky they can’t have.’
‘Grandma! Where did you learn words like “nooky”?’
‘I’m telling you the truth, dear. It’s best that you hear it from me.’
‘I need your advice, Grams,’ Amy said, beginning to feel slightly desperate. ‘You’re smart, you’ve been around the world and you’ve experienced a wonderful marriage, so please tell me what I should do.’
‘This will sound very old-fashioned,’ Grandma Poppy said, scooping up one of her dogs and petting the furry creature.
‘I don’t care.’
‘Well, if Jett is the man for you, then you must follow your heart, dear, follow your heart. Otherwise you could spend the rest of your life regretting it.’
His mind churning with a hundred different thoughts, Max drove home from Brighton Beach to the sanctuary of his apartment.
Mariska’s life was turning out to have been much more complicated than even he could have imagined. First there was Vladimir, who’d probably been splitting the blackmail money with her. Now he’d found out about Alex, and who the hell was he?
The thought occurred to him once more–had she been sleeping with this Alex when they were married? Was she fucking another man while they were together? Was Alex Lulu’s father?
Would Mariska have stooped that low?
Yes, Mariska had been capable of anything.
A fury began to build within him. A fury so white-hot he almost ran his car off the road.
Mariska had always been into sex, much more so than he. She’d often suggested threeways and handcuffs and leather fetishes. He’d turned down all her suggestions, put off by what he considered her kinky desires.
After the birth of Lulu, they’d very rarely had sex at all. Was it then that she’d turned to Alex for the sex she craved? Or had she been sleeping with him before?
Damn the woman. He couldn’t even confront her. She was dead. Murdered. And, according to her loving mother, the killer was out there, and Irena knew who it was.
How should he handle this? Hand over Mariska’s box to Irena–money and all? Or give it to the detectives?
He was torn. If the killer wasn’t Vladimir, what did he care?
Of course he cared. Mariska had been brutally murdered, and however he felt about her it was a terrible act of violence.
Several messages were waiting for him at home. One was from Mrs Conner in Montauk, saying that Lulu was fine and having a lovely time–she had even put Lulu on the phone to say good night. Next there was an abrupt message from Red, requesting his presence at a ten a.m. meeting the next day–no mention of Mariska’s demise. Did the old man think he could summon these meetings at random, and everyone would come running? It was such a joke.
The third message was from Chris, still in town at the Four Seasons, requesting that Max join him and Jett for dinner. The last thing he felt like doing was sitting down for dinner with his brothers. He did
n’t feel like seeing anyone, including Amy–he had too much on his mind.
Fifteen minutes later the desk clerk buzzed up to inform him that Detective Rodriguez was downstairs.
Jesus Christ! Was the annoying detective ever going to leave him alone? Now what was he supposed to do?
‘Send him up,’ he said, thinking he’d get rid of him fast.
A few minutes later Detective Rodriguez lumbered into the foyer of his apartment. This time he was alone.
‘This is getting to be a habit,’ Max said abruptly. ‘And it’s not a habit I care to keep cultivating.’
‘Sorry to bother you, Mr Diamond,’ Detective Rodriguez said. ‘I have a couple of very quick questions to ask you. We’re making progress, and there’s a few things you might be able to help me out with.’
‘Yes?’ Max said, keeping the detective standing in the foyer, determined not to invite him in.
‘According to the doorman at the ex-Mrs Diamond’s apartment, she entertained several male visitors on a regular basis. Did you happen to know this?’
‘I told you,’ Max said. ‘I had no idea who she was seeing after we separated.’
‘I thought you might be able to give me names.’
‘Now why would I be able to do that?’
‘Just a thought, Mr Diamond.’
‘Look,’ Max said, attempting to keep his temper under wraps, ‘in future, kindly contact me through my lawyer. You cannot keep turning up at my apartment whenever you feel like it.’
‘I was under the impression you’d be anxious to get this case cleared up as quickly as possible,’ Detective Rodriguez said, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. ‘I’m getting calls from the captain. He’s getting calls from downtown. It’s becoming a very big deal.’
‘I would imagine a woman being murdered in her own bed in the heart of Manhattan is a big deal,’ Max said.
‘Perhaps if I gave you some descriptions you’d be able to help me.’
‘No,’ Max said sharply. ‘I wouldn’t.’
‘Were you aware that she had three regular male visitors?’
Max thought quickly. One must be Vladimir, obviously one was Alex, but who was the third?
He shook his head. ‘Talk to her mother again–maybe she can help you. I certainly can’t.’
‘Have you spoken to Irena?’ Detective Rodriguez asked, stroking his moustache.
Hmm…a direct question. Should he lie and say no? Or should he admit that he’d gone to visit Irena in Brighton Beach? ‘You pointed out that if she was Mariska’s mother, it would make her my child’s grandmother. So, yes, I did go see her.’
‘Really?’ the detective said, still stroking his moustache. ‘And what did she have to say?’
‘Nothing that she hasn’t already said to you.’
The detective gave him a long, brooding stare. ‘You might be interested to know that we’re putting together new evidence all the time.’
‘What kind of evidence?’
‘DNA samples are being tested, hair, skin.’ Another long beat. ‘You know, murderers never understand how they get caught. Truth is, they get caught because they’re careless. They think a pair of gloves will do it. Not anymore.’
‘Are we done, Detective?’ Max asked impatiently.
‘For now.’
Max flung open the front door, and Detective Rodriguez stepped outside. ‘I’ll keep you informed, Mr Diamond,’ he said.
‘Do that,’ Max said, slamming the door and frowning. His main concern was Vladimir, and if Vladimir hadn’t killed her, could it have been Alex? And who was the third man?
He needed to find out.
Jett didn’t relish the thought of having dinner with Chris, he wanted to be with Amy. But when he called her and told her he was coming over, she gave him a speech about how she needed time and space to work out what she was going to do.
This alarmed him–he’d just broken up with his long-time girlfriend and now Amy was backing off. What kind of crap was that?
Then to disturb him further, his mother called. ‘What the hell’s goin’ on with that damn family?’ Edie slurred, wasted and belligerent. ‘I tole you t’ stay ’way from the bastards. I warned you.’
‘Hey–listen, Mom—’
‘No. You damn well lissen t’ me. They’re degenerates, all of ’em. You stay the hell away, Jett. I mean it.’
He got her off the phone as quickly as possible. Then, to calm his nerves, he decided he needed a drink, one small shot of vodka.
What harm was there in one shot of vodka?
After a quick search of the apartment, he discovered a half-full bottle of Grey Goose nestled in Sam’s kitchen cupboard. One drink after almost three years of sobriety. He could handle it. Right on he could handle it.
I’m in limbo, Amy thought. I’m confused and unhappy and filled with guilt. Maybe my mother is right. Maybe I should get out of town.
She’d made up her mind not to see Jett again until she’d come to a decision about Max. What should she do? Tell Max they were over, then start seeing his brother? How right was that?
Grandma Poppy had told her to follow her heart, and what did her heart say? She didn’t know. She wasn’t sure.
And while she was having these thoughts, it occurred to her that lately Max seemed to have become very distant, making no attempt to see her. She understood why, with all that he was going through–but surely, if they were really close, he would want her to be with him at a time like this.
On her way home she decided to visit Tina in the hospital, hoping they’d have a chance to talk.
When she walked into Tina’s hospital room, Brad was already there and so were Tina’s parents.
‘Hi!’ Tina said, delighted to see her. ‘We’re going home tomorrow. Isn’t that great?’
The baby was thriving and Tina was glowing–no sign of post-partum blues. ‘I’m itching to get out of here,’ Tina said excitedly. ‘Isn’t he the cutest?’
Amy agreed that, yes, indeed Brad Junior was the cutest, and she sat there for a while, feeling out of place and anxious to leave. Close as she was to Tina, it was a family event.
After a polite half-hour she excused herself, hurried home and continued to mull over her situation.
There didn’t seem to be an answer in sight.
‘Her fuckin’ people are drivin’ my fuckin’ people fuckin’ loco!’ The unmistakable voice of Roth Giagante.
‘Listen to me, Roth, I’m Birdy’s lawyer,’ Chris said evenly. ‘I don’t get into those kind of details. Tell them to contact her publicist or one of her assistants.’
‘Fuckin’ pink. She wants everything fuckin’ pink,’ Roth complained. ‘She’s a whack-job. She’s even asked for the water in the pool to be tinted pink!’
‘Did you hear me, Roth?’
‘Yeah, yeah, I heard you.’ A long beat and a change of tone. ‘Where’s my fuckin’ money?’
‘You’ll have it this weekend’ Chris assured him. ‘In cash, just the way you wanted.’
‘About time,’ Roth grumbled.
Chris hung up. Since staying with Max was not on his agenda, he’d checked back into the Four Seasons. Comfortable as Max’s apartment was, he preferred the freedom of a hotel. Besides, after the meeting with Red he planned on flying back to L.A. No more delays. He’d been away almost a week, much longer than he’d anticipated.
He couldn’t reach Max anyway. His brother wasn’t at his office and there was no answer on his cell, so he left a message about dinner.
He hoped that by this time Max had handed Mariska’s box and everything in it over to the detectives. If he hadn’t, he was a fool.
The news stations were still all over Mariska’s murder–it was as if they had nothing else to cover. And yet all Chris could think about were Red’s ominous words concerning his mother’s death.
Tomorrow he’d get to the real truth–if Red was capable of telling the truth. And that was doubtful–very doubtful.
‘La
dy Bentley knows,’ Diahann said, standing in the library.
Sprawled on the leather couch, newspapers scattered around him, Red gave her a canny look. ‘What does the bitch know?’
‘About Liberty,’ Diahann said wearily. ‘You promised me nobody would ever find out.’
‘Promises mean nothing,’ Red said roughly. ‘You’re smart enough to realize that.’
‘What are you going to do?’
‘You’ll see, along with all of ’em. I want you in the meeting I’m having tomorrow morning. I want Liberty there too.’
‘That’s not possible. She’s in Los Angeles.’
‘Get her back.’
‘I’ll try.’
‘Don’t try,’ he said roughly. ‘Do it!’
After Detective Rodriguez left, Max wished he’d given him the box and stepped away, as Chris had suggested. But he couldn’t do it. The information in the box would eventually lead them to Vladimir, and the truth that Mariska had been a bigamist would be revealed.
And where would that leave him and Lulu? The illegitimate child and the husband who never was. The fool who’d married a Russian ex-hooker who had still been married to another man.
He simply couldn’t do it. Not to his Lulu. Not to the light of his life.
He made a sudden decision to take the box to Irena. She’d never give it to the police–she’d hide it away and make good use of the money.
Yes. That was the answer. He’d take it to her tonight, get it over with.
Fearing he’d change his mind, he picked up the phone and called her.
She answered with a raspy ‘Da?’
‘Irena,’ he said. ‘It’s Mr Diamond. About that matter we discussed. I’m bringing you what you requested on the condition you mention nothing about Vladimir or the other men to the police. Do we have an agreement?’
Lovers & Players Page 44
