“Well, well,” he said. “Look at you. A blonde, at last.”
“Miracles happen.”
“Apparently, they do. It looks natural. Your hair was black. Achieving that couldn’t have been easy.”
“I didn’t pay for easy. And let’s just say that my scalp feels scorched. Not that I’m complaining. I look hot.”
“Always so humble.”
“You should have seen the admiring gazes on my walk back to the apartment.”
“From men or women?”
“Does it matter?”
“I’m surprised you didn’t step into an alleyway and do something about it.”
“Who’s to say that I didn’t?”
“We both know better.”
She sighed and stepped into the room. “Yes, we do. I’ll forever be the good Catholic schoolgirl.”
“One with a gun.”
“And one with one hell of a shot.”
“When was the last time you got laid, Carmen. Since Alex?”
When she turned to look at him, the flash of anger in her eyes was just enough to shield her grief. Only once in her life had Carmen Gragera allowed any man in. Vincent knew that. He wasn’t thinking. He crossed a line, and he knew it.
“Don’t bring him up, Vincent. Ever.”
It was as if the air had been sucked out of the room, and any trace of humor between them went with it.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “Seriously. I got caught up in the moment, and my mouth got the best of me. You know I thought a great deal of Alex.”
She didn’t reply.
“I apologize,” he said.
She took a breath, and looked over at him. “I still miss him.”
“You probably always will.”
“I thought I finally found the one.”
“You did, but he was stolen from you. I’m sorry, Carmen. I regret that you lost him.”
The coldness returned to her face, which he knew was her way of protecting herself. “Whatever. We chose to be in this business, didn’t we?”
He nodded, and sensed that she wanted to change the subject. He saw her glance down at his hands.
“Shining shoes?”
“We need to look our best tonight. By the way, your dress arrived from the cleaners. I’ve got to give it to you. It’s beautifully understated. Some people will notice you, but not enough to matter. You nailed it.”
“What do you think of the color?”
“Considering what we’re there for? Red was a good choice.”
“I want to show you something.” She went into her bedroom, and came back with a box, which was opened.
“What is it?”
“The end of Leana Redman.”
“All of that in a box? When did that arrive?”
“Yesterday. You were getting coffee when it came. I forgot to show it to you.”
“I kind of wish I was taking her down.”
“All you have is George. I have Michael and Leana. We can switch if you’d like, Vincent.”
“Can’t. The invitations. Remember?”
“Right. My name on hers. Your name on his.”
He looked at the box. “What do you have?”
“A hair clip that isn’t just a hair clip.” She removed the red band from the box, and held it up for him.
“It matches your dress. What else is it?”
“What do you think?” She pressed a button, shook the clip hard, and a switchblade was revealed.
“How did you find that?”
“Online. There is all sorts of clever equipment to protect women. I even got a can of pepper spray in case I need to blind that bitch before I cut her throat. Since we know they likely are going to use some sort of metal detection, I bought this. It will sound an alarm, for sure, but once they wave their wand over me, they’ll see that it’s just a pretty red hair clip with a metal lock that caused the commotion, and I’ll be allowed to go through. Clever?”
“Always.”
“How are you handling George?”
“I’ll tell you later.”
She shrugged.
“What’s the name on your invitation again?”
“It certainly isn’t Maria Leonard from the Times.”
“That would be something of a giveaway....”
“I’m Ginger Hines.”
“Jesus.”
“I know. I forgot your name.”
“You don’t want to remember.”
“Oh, yes, I do.”
He buffed his shoe, admired it, and put it down. “Worst name ever. What was I thinking? I should have stuck with Antonio Benedetti.”
“So, remind me.”
“Apparently, because I’m Italian, I thought it was good to go with the stereotype. I’m Vicenzo Massara.
“Actually, that’s not bad. At least you got a version of Vincent in there.”
“What matters is that it gets me through the door. I’m ready for this to be over. It all ends in a few hours. It’s going to be intense. Be prepared for that. Security will be everywhere—we need to be aware of that. Not that we won’t be. When we’re finished, we return here, we debrief, we regroup, and we toast with champagne to celebrate.”
“You bought champagne?”
“It’s in the fridge. I’m nothing if not a gentleman.”
“Tell that to Piggy French.”
“I didn’t say I was serving you tea.”
“True.”
“After tonight, Cullen needs to send the additional money to our accounts. If he doesn’t do so immediately, we seek him out, we threaten him, and if he balks, we kill him. He knows who he’s dealing with. Hopefully, he’ll follow through. I’m fairly certain he will, but you never know in these situations. That’s why threats tend to get us what we signed up for. When all is said and done, we kiss cheeks, we part ways, and hopefully we connect again. Would you like that?”
Given their history together, she looked at him coolly. “We’ll see how tonight goes, Vincent. Don’t get your hopes up. I still haven’t forgotten our last job together.”
CHAPTER EIGHTY-THREE
When they arrived at The Park, Leana quickly glanced around the buzzing space. She was beyond pleased with what she saw, but right now, before she got into checking the details, she needed to find Sean.
She spotted him across the room, next to where the orchestra would play. He was pointing to the windows and at each entrance as he talked to his team, some of whom already were in black tie.
“Sean,” she said.
He turned to her.
Leana held out her arms and gave him a hug, which he awkwardly returned while Mario and Anastassios looked on with a smile.
“What’s this?” Sean said.
“Gratitude.”
“You’ve had a hell of a morning.”
“My morning has nothing on what you went through last night.”
He looked over at Mario. “I’m sorry about everything.”
“There’s no need to be sorry, Sean. They got what they deserved. It’s been a long time coming, and frankly, I’m happy that it happened.”
Leana released herself from him, but she held on to his hands, which were so large, they engulfed hers. She looked up at him. “Thank you,” she said.
“Leana, I lied to you about your father. I apologize for that. If anyone should be thanking me, it’s not you.”
“There’s every reason to thank you. Anastassios told me everything. You’ve put your life on the line for me ever since you were brought on board. Last night you went above the call. It doesn’t matter to us that what you were prepared to do involved Mario’s family. Mario and I have discussed it. If he had known what you and Anastassios knew, he said he would have handled it in his own way, with a similar outcome.”
“I hope that’s true, Mr. De Cicco.”
“It’s Mario. And it is true. My father was planning to murder my wife, the one person who means everything to me. I hope he rots in prison until he’s dead, rig
ht along with the rest of them. Leana mentioned her gratitude a moment ago. Please accept mine. Those people you and Anastassios took down are my family only by blood. They mean nothing to me.”
Sean nodded. Leana released his hands, and saw his eyes flick up to meet Anastassios’. “You told them about Pepper?”
“I did.”
“What’s your assessment?” Mario asked Sean.
“That’s difficult to answer, but that doesn’t mean that we don’t act, which I already have. If I’m wrong, so be it. Maybe Pepper really did see a doctor that day and made the mistake of leaving her briefcase behind. But if I’m right? It’s safe to say that right now, Gordon Elling is second-guessing himself, his potential actions, his hopes for a future that doesn’t involve jail, and the loss of all that matters to him.”
“Either that, or he’s going to be more driven than ever,” Leana said.
Sean looked at her. “I’ve prepared for that, too,” he said.
CHAPTER EIGHTY-FOUR
In his office on Forty-Second Street and Fifth, Gordon Elling opened the manila envelope that had just been hand-delivered to a doorman at the lobby’s front desk. The envelope was marked “URGENT: GORDON ELLING” in red ink.
Given the apparent urgency of the situation, the envelope had been hustled up to his office, delivered to his assistant, and walked swiftly to his desk, where he was going over his plans for Leana Redman’s death, and making certain he saw no holes in the plan.
“It’s marked ‘urgent,’” the man said. “Should I stay?”
“I’ll call you if I need you.”
Elling waited for the door to click shut before he spilled everything, which included photographs and a letter, onto his desk. He started with the photographs. Several were of Pepper Redman entering his building with a briefcase, others were of her coming out of the building without one, and a few other shots were of her stepping into his limousine. These must have been taken the other day, when they had their last conversation.
In one of the shots, when the door was at its widest and Pepper’s ass was facing the camera, he clearly could see his own face looking at her as she stepped inside.
The final shot was of the limousine pulling away. The license plate was the main focal point. Gordon Elling didn’t use a limousine service. That limousine belonged to him. Shooting the plate number was intentional.
So, he was dealing with a threat, but from whom?
He picked up the letter and read. It took him a second read to believe what he was reading. He read it a third time to understand exactly what was expected of him.
At first, fear seized him. He knew what this could mean if it happened. He knew it would destroy him. He knew he would go to jail because of this. They would lock him away for life because of this.
But then anger, which always was swift to rise up within Elling, took hold of him and snuffed the fear.
“Seriously?” he said out loud. “You think you can take on me, and this is how you want to play it? You think I’m just going to sit back and let this happen?” He tossed the letter onto his desk. “Game on, motherfucker. Tonight, you die.”
CHAPTER EIGHTY-FIVE
When Marty Spellman arrived at The Park, Leana and Mario wasted no time leading him to her office because there was no time to waste. Leana still needed to double-check everything in the lobby, and speak to Zack Anderson and make certain that he was good to go, and they each needed to get ready for the party.
But this took precedent over all of it.
They sat on the sofas that faced each other. Marty leaned toward them. He had an intense look on his face that unsettled Leana.
He looked at Mario. “First, I’m sorry about what happened last night. To be betrayed like that by a family member is something I can’t imagine. I’m sure you’re still trying to absorb it, Mario. I’ve been thinking of you since I heard the news.”
“I appreciate that,” Mario said. “But this is exactly something my father would do. I’m not surprised—neither is Leana. Should we have seen it coming? I don’t know. Until recently, we’ve had no contact with my family. They’ve been out of our lives for three years. But given their plans to murder my wife? That they humiliated her and nearly cost her her eyesight? My family got exactly what they deserved. I’ve said it several times, and I’ll say it again—I hope they burn in hell for what they’ve done.”
“I imagine you would.”
“But you’re here for another reason, and time is running out. What’s going on?”
“It was a question that came to me this morning, after I saw the news. If your father is behind all of this, why would he target Michael? Have you given any thought to that? Why Michael?”
Leana looked at Mario. So much had happened so quickly, there were still pieces of the puzzle they had yet to put together. “I don’t know,” she said.
Mario parted his hands. “Maybe to rattle her? To fuck with her?”
“If he wanted to do that, I think he would have killed Michael weeks ago. That would have shaken Leana to her core. It would have distracted her even more than she’s distracted now. The death of her brother could have derailed the opening of her hotel. Do you agree with me, Leana? I don’t want to put words in your mouth.”
“In fact, it would have,” Leana said. “I wouldn’t have been able to concentrate, let alone operate. It would have crushed me to lose him. When it comes to family, and I mean blood family, he’s the only person I can fully trust.”
“Would Antonio have known that?”
“I’m not sure what my father knows,” Mario said. “I don’t know if he knows how close Leana and Michael have become. There’s a reason you’re bringing this up. What are you thinking?”
Marty held up a finger. “First, let’s track back. Leana, you told me you received a phone call the night Michael was at the restaurant with his agent. You said you put it on speakerphone so Mario also could listen. You told me a little about the man’s voice, which doesn’t jive with the information we received this morning about Mario’s father’s involvement. That’s an assumption on my part and I mean no disrespect by it, but Mario knows how his father talks. He knows how his family talks. He would know this better than anyone. That voice you heard, Mario. Could it have been a member of your family?”
A darkness consumed Mario’s expression. “No,” he said. “My family isn’t that sophisticated.”
“What does that mean?” Leana asked.
“The way the man sounded was teasing. Almost buoyant. Nobody in my family talks like that. The younger ones are smart and well educated, but at their cores, they don’t want to lose face with their elders, so they act like a bunch of brutes. They talk the talk, and hope to one day walk the walk.”
“What about your father’s lawyers?”
“I know them. That wasn’t them on the phone.”
“So, what does that tell us?”
Leana felt herself go pale. “That someone else is involved.”
“I think it’s Cullen,” Marty said. “I thought it from the start, and it’s kept at me like an itch. Cullen is nothing if not sophisticated. He does have a buoyant clip to his voice. I think Louis Ryan knew he might die that night. I think there’s a portion of the will none of us saw but Cullen. I think he’s carrying out what his old friend couldn’t, and I’m sure there’s plenty in it for him. He received all of Ryan’s stocks in Manhattan Enterprises. He got a seat on his board, an office in the building. And God knows what else.”
“But when you and your detective friend—”
“Hines.”
“Hines. When you and Hines questioned him, you believed him.”
“We did. Maybe he’s that good. Maybe he’s able to put on that kind of a performance twice. But that’s not going to stop me now.”
“What do you mean?” Mario asked.
“I’m calling him out on it. Right here with you.” He stood and pulled out his cell. “If I’m wrong, then nothing is wasted. If he is innoce
nt, he’ll just be pissed off and dismiss me, and then move on with his life as any innocent person would do. But if I’m right, then he might rethink everything, and put a stop to anything more that might be planned. The idea is to be firm and aggressive with him. He needs to hear from me that I’ve learned that it’s him. That isn’t true, but what does he know? We’ll see what happens.”
He switched on his phone, found Cullen’s number, turned on the speaker, and dialed.
“Manhattan Enterprises. How may I direct your call?”
“It’s Marty Spellman for James Cullen. We met the other day, and I have pressing information for him.”
“I’ll see if Mr. Cullen is available. One moment, please.”
“Thank you.” He looked at Mario and Leana. “Pay close attention to his voice.”
“Hello?” Cullen said. “Mr. Spellman?”
“Mr. Cullen. It’s good of you to take my call.”
“My assistant said that it was urgent, so naturally I took it. Have you learned the answers to all of your questions? Do you need my help?”
“Actually, Mr. Cullen, I have learned the answers to my questions. I’ve since spoken to Detective Mike Hines, who questioned you, and I filled him in on what I know. You should soon be hearing from him officially.”
“Officially?”
“That’s right. Mr. Cullen, the reason for my call is simple. For you, it will be complicated. But if you’re smart, you’ll do the right thing.”
“What are you talking about?”
“It comes down to this. Through whatever means, you’re working for Louis Ryan. You have targeted Leana Redman and Michael Archer, and at some point, I’m certain that you will target George Redman. Right now, their murders haven’t been committed, but through you, I know they’re coming. My intelligence sources tell me that things already are underway for their murders to take place as soon as this evening. This is a warning to you, Mr. Cullen. Before you get any deeper into this than you already are, I would recommend that you call off your team now. You already have blood on your hands—specifically, Louis Ryan’s beneficiaries. You had them murdered, which was part of Ryan’s plan. The evidence I have in my possession now, not to mention all I was able to learn about you already, is going to send you to prison. If you add three more people to the list of those you’ve had killed, I can only imagine how long you’ll linger there. I can see you scrubbing toilets with little brushes, just like you said Elizabeth Redman is doing. But in your case, you won’t be dodging dykes, as you put it when you spoke of her. Instead, you’ll be dodging men.”
Park Avenue (Book Six in the Fifth Avenue Series) Page 36
