“Maybe it isn’t.”
“I can’t thank you enough.”
“I need you to keep safe. Do your work, enjoy your work, and let Sean, one of his men, Marty and everyone else keep tabs on the rest. I’m proud of you, Leana. I’ve seen what you’ve done with The Park. I’m sorry I didn’t bring you into Redman International sooner. I just saw Celina, who took the reins so easily. I didn’t mean to overlook you, but I did. I hope we can repair that.”
He’d never said anything like that to her before. She wasn’t sure what to say. “I won’t let you down with this project.”
“I know you won’t. And I’m happy to hear that Pepper is in line.”
“For the moment, she is. We’ll see. You know how she is.”
“She’s aggressive, but she just wants what you want, Leana. Success. If you think of it that way, I think you’ll understand her more. What drives her is what drives you. Do you see that? Can you understand that? I think you can. She can say that she’s from Atlanta all she wants, but we both know that she came from a troubled childhood in Arkansas and that she worked hard to get into Wharton. I respect her for that. That girl had no opportunities, and yet she worked hard in school to get that scholarship. Sometimes, you begin as enemies with someone, but you become friends with them later. You and Pepper are too much alike. You’re also competing for my attention. That’s something I created, and I’ll fix it. Give it a year with her. I think you’ll eventually be friends.”
“I won’t hold my breath, but I’ll wait. And I’ll watch. And I appreciate everything you’ve done to protect me. Like you, I’m using the Columbus Circle project to see how well we work together. If it works out, then we go forward. If not, we wish each other well and part ways.”
“Fair enough,” George said. “But I want you on my side.”
Just as I’ve wanted you on my side for years.
“I’ll talk to you soon,” she said. “And thanks for the heads up about one of Sean’s men following me. I appreciate it. I’ll finish this project for you. I also need to finish The Park and find out who is threatening Michael and me. Then you and I will decide if we work as a team, or independently.”
“Why can’t it be both?”
“Maybe it can. But this is a test. I need to see how it plays out before I decide.”
CHAPTER SIXTY
The following morning, Leana received a text from Pepper.
“I don’t know if I’ll be in today. I either have a stomach bug or I have food poisoning. If I can pull it together, I’ll be in later.”
Whatever.
Leana had plans of her own. She needed to meet Marty Spellman at the Tarot Café on Prince Street. Sean Scott drove her.
“We’re becoming inseparable, Sean.”
“Don’t tell your husband that.”
“My husband knows all about it. He supports it.”
He looked at her in the rearview mirror with a furrowed brow. “Are you all right, Leana?”
She turned to the window next to her and watched the city pass by. “My sense of humor is all I have right now, Sean. Believe me, if I start in with how I’m really feeling, I’ll just sound as if I’m whining.”
“You’re secret’s safe with me. What’s the abbreviated version?”
She shrugged. “Just what you’d expect. I’ve been putting up a brave front for everyone, but the truth is that I’m terrified. I feel like something else is going to happen at any moment. Maybe even my own death. I can’t stop thinking about my sister and how she died. I need answers soon or I’m going to go crazy.”
“There are a lot of eyes on this right now. You’re about to hire another set. Something will break.”
“I’m not convinced. The person who called me the other night? About Michael? How did he get my new number?”
“Obtaining someone’s cell phone number isn’t difficult. If you have the right person behind the right computer, that information can be easily obtained.”
“Great.” She looked ahead of her and saw the café’s sign. “That’s it there. Let’s see if he can help.”
* * *
The café was located in the partitioned basement of an old warehouse. When she spoke to Marty earlier that morning to confirm their appointment, he told her three psychic sisters from Flatbush owned it. The café served imported coffees and herbal teas, ginseng extracts and mushroom shoots, exotic-looking desserts and homemade breads, soups, and sandwiches, as well as glimpses into their clients’ futures.
The latter cost extra. Leana wasn’t sure what to think of any of it.
Marty told her it was through Gloria that he came to know about the place, which was narrow and dim, a hole in the wall, but with heart. And it was through Gloria that he had met the three sisters Buzzinni—Roberta, Carlotta and Gigi—who were all heart.
When he first met the sisters, he told Gloria that he was surprised they had the ability to see beyond their massive breasts, let alone into somebody’s future. But over time, as he got to know them, there were too many coincidences to ignore, too many times when they got it right, and too many reasons to rethink how the universe worked and how some people were gifted in ways that he could not comprehend, but also could no longer dismiss.
“I want you to meet Roberta,” he said when they spoke on the phone earlier. “She’s one of my closest friends.”
“Is she going to read my palm?”
“Let’s not go to the cliché, because it will insult her. We’re going there because no one looking for you will find you there. Trust me. It’s an unusual place.”
Roberta Buzzinni, his favorite of the three sisters, had taken the reins of the café on Prince while Carlotta and Gigi worked to make their satellite café on Christopher Street a success. When Leana and Sean entered the restaurant, Marty was there to greet them. He was a tall, handsome-looking man with sandy brown hair and shoulders so wide, they suggested a swimmer’s build.
They introduced themselves and Leana looked around the space. It was empty, but the smells of soup and freshly baked bread were there in ways that invited her inside.
“There are no customers?” Leana said.
“They open at noon. We’ve got the place to ourselves for privacy. Roberta is in the kitchen getting ready for the lunch crowd, but she said she’d be out soon with some tea. We can sit over here if you’d like.” He indicated the booth behind him. “It’s away from the doors and windows. Does that work?”
Leana and Sean nodded, and sat opposite Marty. She was ten minutes into recapping what she knew for him when the kitchen door swung open and a large woman with hips the size of barrels moved into the room with a tray of tea, cups and saucers, and thick slices of toast with butter and a selection of homemade jellies.
“I knew I got this right,” she said with a knowing smile as she walked toward the booth. “I knew you’d all be too thin. Everyone in this city is too thin, except maybe for those in Little Italy. You’ll still find a few fat mamas’ boys over there, and thank Goddess for that. People need a bit of chunk on them. We’re going into fall, for Goddess’ sake. Pretty soon it will be winter. What are you people going to do then?”
She put the tray on the table next to them, and Leana couldn’t help a smile.
“I’m Roberta,” she said, turning to them. “And you must be Leana. Look at you. You’re beautiful. Who else can make an eyepatch look that attractive?” She shook Leana’s hand, and held it for a moment. “I’m sorry to read about what’s been happening to you.”
“I appreciate that.” But as nice as Roberta appeared, she didn’t want to talk about it with a stranger. She motioned toward Sean. “This is Sean Scott.”
Again, Roberta shook his hand, and held it. “It’s a pleasure. I wish I could stay, but I need to get back in the kitchen or there will be no lunch. So, I’ll leave you three alone. Please have some tea and toast. The bread came out of the oven an hour ago. Carlotta made the strawberry jelly herself. It’s amazing. It’ll make you cry.�
��
“You’re very kind,” Leana said.
Roberta looked at her for a moment and moved to speak, but instead she just touched Leana on the shoulder before going back into the kitchen. The swinging set of doors whispered shut behind her. Leana watched them slow to a close and wondered about the darkness she saw in Roberta’s expression before she walked away.
CHAPTER SIXTY-ONE
Marty let Leana talk for a good hour about what had happened three years ago, and about what was happening now. When she was finished, he sat quiet for a moment. Thinking.
“Did Ryan have any family that you know of?”
“I’m not sure,” Leana said. “I don’t think so. Obviously, I know his wife died. My mother killed her. And I think he lost his mother. I remember him telling me that. I don’t know of any siblings or of a father.”
“How about close friends that you might have met?”
“I met lots of people through Louis. Investors. Board members. Were any close to him? I’m not sure. To me, he always seemed to be a loner. Why?”
“I know this is going to sound crazy, but I don’t think we can rule out Ryan as a suspect.”
“But he’s dead,” Leana said. “I saw him die.”
“I understand that. I don’t mean a suspect in the traditional sense. I know he’s dead. I mean a suspect in another sense. Perhaps through someone’s loyalty to him or friendship with him. Someone who might see this through for him. Because what you’ve just described to me, Leana, is likely what Sean suspects—this might be a copycat crime. A way of making Ryan’s wishes come to fruition through someone else’s actions. If that’s the case—and I’m not saying that it is because I understand how far-fetched that is—then we need to at least discern a few things. Who were Ryan’s closest friends? One good way to find out is to look at his will. Who did he leave his fortune to? That should be a clear indicator of who meant something to him. If anyone is listed, then we dig deeper into their lives. Where are they now? What do they do? Are they here in Manhattan? What are their histories with Ryan? Who was the executor of his will? A lawyer? Was that lawyer a good friend? Or was it someone else? I can find out a lot of this fairly quickly. I just need to have a look at his will, and start questioning who might fit the profile. If there’s nothing there, we rule it out.”
“And then what?”
“Then we look into your father’s life. You mentioned that he said he has his share of enemies. Of course, he does. This brings us back to the copycat angle. To deflect attention from themselves, someone might merely be using Ryan’s well-publicized plot against your family in their favor. The key here is the deaths of Holt and Stout and now what’s happening to you and Michael. All of this could be pure smoke and mirrors to evoke Ryan in an effort to detract from what might be planned for your father.”
“That seems like a lot of trouble to kill one man,” Sean said. “Why risk exposure countless times when you could just take Redman out? It seems to me that your former argument is stronger. Someone who is emotionally invested in Ryan might be finishing this for him. It’s either that, or we’re dealing with some nut job out there who repeatedly sees Leana, Michael and George in the press, remembers what happened three years ago, and decides that it’s their divine calling to end it.”
“That’s a strong possibility,” Marty said. “We could be dealing with a psychopath.”
Leana looked defeated. “We’ve got nothing,” she said.
Marty slid out of his seat and stood. “I disagree. Actually, I think we have a lot.”
* * *
When they left, he found Roberta in the kitchen.
“So, what’s the consensus?”
She was standing at a long, stainless steel table, mixing something that smelled of wheat and lemon in a massive glass bowl. A row of bright lights hung above her head. La Traviata played in the background. “What she’s experienced up to this point is a piece of cake when you consider what’s just down the road for her.”
“Just down the road?”
“Right around the corner.”
“And what’s that?”
“I don’t know. All I know is that as I stood there with her, the area around her got darker and darker to the point that I could barely see her. That suggests to me a build up of events that likely will end with her death if somebody doesn’t stop the people behind this now.”
“People? It isn’t just one person?”
“I felt evil everywhere around her. Masculine and feminine. But the energy wasn’t consistent. Instead, it kept shifting. Sometimes, the energy was weak, but other times, it was strong. Very strong at one point. I interpret that as meaning there are several people behind this, but because of the way the energy shifted, I don’t think they’re all working together. Some are, others aren’t.”
“What am I to make of that? Several people are targeting her at once and they’re doing it independently?”
“You’re the investigator, Marty. I just tell you what I see and feel. I’ve always told you that I could be wrong. I’ve been wrong before.”
“More often you’re right. What about her father, George Redman? Does his name mean anything to you?”
“George Redman?” she said.
“That’s right.”
“I thought he was dead.”
Marty felt a chill. “No, he isn’t.”
Roberta looked at him for a moment, and then turned her attention back to the contents in her bowl. She stirred and folded.
“Anything else?” Marty asked.
“That’s it.”
“What about Sean?”
“That’s where it gets strange. I had no read on him. None. You know it’s rare that I don’t feel at least something. But when I touched him, I got zip.”
“Leana told me he was a former Marine. They’re trained to shut down their emotions. Could that be it?”
Roberta folded and folded. She squeezed fresh lemon into the dish and folded. But she didn’t once look at Marty. It was obvious she was in thought.
“Why shut down your emotions here?” she asked. “Why shut down when people are trying to end a significant problem? What’s the point?”
“I don’t know.”
“Then I’d think about that. I’d give some thought to him.”
CHAPTER SIXTY-TWO
As Leana was leaving the Tarot Café to head back to the Columbus Circle project, Pepper was entering into another world of her own. It was something foreign to her, this underworld into which she was about to step, but something she felt was necessary.
Parker had come through for her. It took him a couple of days, but yesterday morning, connections were made. Now, in a car moving downtown, she sat in the back seat in her smart new Chanel suit, her legs crossed at the knee, a Chanel briefcase at her side, and in it, more cash than she’d seen in her life.
Clearly, a check with her name on it was out of the question, so a trip to the bank occurred yesterday. And here she was, about to make a decision that could derail her cousin’s life or end it completely.
Am I a murderer?
Pepper wasn’t sure whether she was. She remembered Leana and Celina visiting her in Arkansas as children. While they had some good times together, mostly due to the kinder Celina, she always was reminded through them and their fancy clothes and their pretty cars that they were the wealthy Redmans. They were the ones who were prospering in New York, while her father—George’s brother, Robert—decided that he’d rather be a fisherman than accept his brother’s offer of joining him in Manhattan at his growing business.
She hated her father for that. She blamed her family’s years of poverty on his being too proud to go and work for his successful brother. She knew to her core how different their lives would have been if only he had done so. But he didn’t. He chose his own path, and the family suffered because of it.
But now, Celina was dead and Leana, her new boss, was alive, thriving and loving it. With her in the picture, Pepper knew she’
d never ascend into the world that she deserved. If George was going to start championing Leana, where did that leave her? The answer was obvious. All of her dreams of making it in New York City would dissolve because of the one woman who now stood in her way.
I fought for that Wharton scholarship for a reason—to be with my uncle. To learn from him and to be successful because of it. Now, with Leana at his side, what does that mean for me? It means nothing. It means he’s choosing her side. It means I’m finished if I don’t do something.
Her driver pulled alongside a towering building on Forty-Second Street and Fifth. Even though she knew the neighborhood well, she still was surprised that the man she was about to meet had an office on Fifth Avenue, of all places.
“Here we are, Miss Redman.”
She watched the driver step out and come around to her side of the car. She reached for the briefcase and felt a chill. She could stop this now. She could ask the driver to get back in the car, say this was a mistake, and just forget it all.
Am I a murderer?
Her door opened.
Is this who I’ve become?
Pepper felt a cool breeze touch her face, which was flushed with indecision.
“Miss Redman?” the driver said.
“I think I’ve made a mistake,” she said. “Take me to Columbus Circle, Carl. I have work to do.”
He started to close the door. “Of course. I’m sure Miss Redman will be waiting for you.”
And that was that. She stopped the door with her foot and stepped out onto the street with her briefcase at her side. She caught the surprised look on his face, but ignored it.
Park Avenue (Book Six in the Fifth Avenue Series) Page 26
